"Not so very far if you go by the straight road," replied little Red Riding-Hood. "You only have to pass the mill and the first cottage on the right is Grannie's; but I am going by the wood path because there are such a lot of nuts and flowers and butterflies."
"I wish you good luck," says the wolf politely. "Give my respects to your grandmother and tell her I hope she is quite well."
And with that he trotted off. But instead of going his ways he turned back, took the straight road to the old woman's cottage, and knocked at the door.
Rap! Rap! Rap!
"Who's there?" asked the old woman, who was in bed.
"Little Red Riding-Hood," sings out the wolf, making his voice as shrill as he could. "I've come to bring dear Grannie a pot of butter and a cake from mother, and to ask how you are."
"Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up," says the old woman, well satisfied.
So the wolf pulled the bobbin, the latch went up, and—oh my!—it wasn't a minute before he had gobbled up old Grannie, for he had had nothing to eat for a week.
Then he shut the door, put on Grannie's nightcap, and, getting into bed, rolled himself well up in the clothes.
By and by along comes little Red Riding-Hood, who had been amusing herself by gathering nuts, running after butterflies, and picking flowers.