But no; the little pigs would go out into the world, whether or no; “for,” said they, “if we stay at home because folks shake their heads, we will never get the best acorns that are to be had;” and there was more than one barley-corn of truth in that chaff, I can tell you.
So out into the woods they went.
They hunted for acorns here and they hunted for acorns there, and by and by whom should the smallest of all the little pigs meet but the great, wicked ogre himself.
“Aha!” says the great, wicked ogre, “it is a nice, plump little pig that I have been wanting for my supper this many a day past. So you may just come along with me now.”
“Oh, Master Ogre,” squeaked the smallest of the little pigs in the smallest of voices—“oh, Master Ogre, don’t eat me! There’s a bigger pig back of me, and he will be along presently.”
So the ogre let the smallest of the little pigs go, for he would rather have a larger pig if he could get it.
By and by came the second little pig. “Aha!” says the great, wicked ogre, “I have been wanting just such a little pig as you for my supper for this many a day past. So you may just come along with me now.”
“Oh, Master Ogre,” said the middle-sized pig, in his middle-sized voice, “don’t take me for your supper; there’s a bigger pig than I am coming along presently. Just wait for him.”
Well, the ogre was satisfied to do that; so he waited, and by and by, sure enough, came the largest of the little pigs.
“And now,” says the great, wicked ogre, “I will wait no longer, for you are just the pig I want for my supper, and so you may march along with me.”