The Three Little Pigs

Once upon a time, there were three little pigs who lived in a beautiful green valley. Each pig had a house. The first had a house made from straw. The second pig had a house made from wood, and the third pig had a house made from bricks. The pigs loved their houses and each of them secretly thought that their house was the best house. All in all, they were three very happy little pigs. But not for long.

One day a hairy, old wolf came sniffling and snuffling through the valley. He was a mean and cunning wolf, a greedy and sly wolf, but most of all he was a hungry old wolf.

“Yum, yum,” the wolf thought to himself. “Three juicy little piggies for my supper.”

He prowled around the houses working out how to get in, and it wasn’t long before he had a plan.

The first pig was sitting in his straw house reading a book when the wolf knocked at the door.

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in,” said the wolf.

The pig thought a moment about opening the door, but he had been told about wolves and how dangerous they could be.

“No, I won’t,” he said. “Go away, you hairy, horrible wolf.”

“Very well then,” the wolf replied. “I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down.”

The wolf blew and he blew and he blew. Clouds of straw were sent flying up into the air and the house fell down. The poor little pig had no protection from the wolf and ran as fast as he could to the second pig’s wooden house.

 They closed all the windows, and pushed a chair up against the door. Then they huddled together, shaking with fear.

The wolf didn’t take long to find them.

“Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in,” said the wolf.

“No way,” said the second little pig. “Go away, you hairy, old wolf.”

“Oh no I won’t,” the wolf replied. “I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down.”

The wolf blew and he blew and he blew. Sure enough the planks of wood began to loosen and crack, and the house fell down.

There was no time to hang about. Both pigs ran as fast as they could to the third pig’s brick house. The third pig told them both not to worry. But the wolf was outside. He was desperately hungry now and the little pigs could hear his stomach grumbling. Only the third pig was not scared, so the other two held on to him for comfort.

“Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in,” said the wolf.

“You don’t scare me,” shouted the third pig. “Go away, you hairy, old wolf.”

The wolf was angry now, but he knew that this was the last house. If he could get inside this house he would not be hungry for long.

“I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down,” he said.

So the wolf blew and he blew and he blew. But the bricks would not budge. So he blew and he blew and he blew again, until his cheeks ached and his sides split. But the bricks would not budge. The hairy, old wolf choked, and then gasped, and then sighed. Finally he collapsed in a heap on the ground. The brick house had beaten him.

The pigs held hands and danced about and had a party to celebrate. No more wolves came visiting, and from that day forward the little pigs all lived together in the brick house. They were much happier that way.