Bird. Yes, little Red Riding-Hood. I will sing to you because you love all the birds and can understand my song. Soon I'll show you my little birds who are just big enough to fly.
Little Red Riding-Hood. Thank you, dear bird, I shall be glad to see the cunning little things. But now I must hurry to grandmother's with the butter and the honey. Good-by!
Bird. Good-by, little friend! Chirp, chirp; chirp, chirp!
Little Red Riding-Hood. Now the little bird has flown away. I must put this moss in my basket and then hurry along—
Wolf. Ugh, ugh!
Little Red Riding-Hood. Oh! how you frightened me, Mister Wolf! Where did you come from?
Wolf. From my pretty cave, far, far in the dark wood, little girl. What is your name?
Little Red Riding-Hood. Why, don't you know me? I'm little Red Riding-Hood.
Wolf. I'm a stranger in this place, little girl; but I shall know you the next time I see you—ugh, ugh! What have you in your pretty basket, little Red Riding-Hood? It smells like honey.
Little Red Riding-Hood. It is honey, Mr. Wolf. I am taking it to my dear grandmother.