“Oh, yes. It is beyond that mill, at the first house in the village.”
“Well,” said the Wolf, “I will go and see her, too. I will go this way; do you go that, and we will see who will be there soonest.”
At this the Wolf began to run as fast as he could, taking the nearest way, and Little Red-Riding-Hood went by the farthest. She stopped often to chase a butterfly, or pluck a flower, and so she was a good while on the way. The Wolf was soon at the old woman’s house, and knocked at the door—tap, tap!
“Who is there?”
“Your grandchild, Little Red-Riding-Hood,” replied the Wolf, changing his voice. “I have brought you a cake and a pot of butter from mother.” The good grandmother, who was ill in bed, called out:—
“Pull the string, and the latch will go up.” The Wolf pulled the string, and the latch went up. The door opened, and he jumped in, and fell upon the old woman, and ate her up in less than no time, for he had not tasted food for three days. He then shut the door, and got into the grandmother’s bed. By and by, Little Red-Riding-Hood came and knocked at the door—tap, tap!
“Who is there?”
Little Red-Riding-Hood heard the big voice of the Wolf, and at first she was afraid. Then she thought her grandmother must have a bad cold, so she answered:—
“Little Red-Riding-Hood. I have brought you a cake and a pot of butter from mother.” The Wolf softened his voice as much as he could, and called out:—
“Pull the string, and the latch will go up.” Little Red-Riding-Hood pulled the string, and the latch went up, and the door opened. The Wolf was hiding under the bedclothes and called out in a muffled voice:—