But the largest of the little pigs had his wits about him, I can tell you. “Oh, very well,” says he; “if I am the shoe that fits there is no use in hunting for another; only, have you a roasted apple to put in my mouth when I am cooked? for no one ever heard of a little pig brought on the table without a roast apple in its mouth.”
No; the ogre had no roasted apple.
Dear, dear! that was a great pity. If he would wait for a little while, the largest of the little pigs would run home and fetch one, and then things would be as they should.
Yes, the ogre was satisfied with that. So off ran the little pig, and the ogre sat down on a stone and waited for him.
Well, he waited and he waited and he waited and he waited, but not a tip of a hair of the little pig did he see that day, as you can guess without my telling you.
And Tommy Pfouce tells me that the great, wicked ogre is not the only one who has gone without either pig or roast apple, because when he could get the one he would not take it without the other.
“And now,” says the cock and the speckled hen and the black drake and the old grey goose who laid her eggs under the barn, and had never been out into the world beyond the garden-gate—“and now perhaps you will run out into the world and among ogres no more. Are there not good enough acorns at home?”
Perhaps there were; but that was not what the three little pigs thought. “See, now,” said the smallest of the three little pigs, “if one is afraid of the water, one will never catch any fish. I, for one, am going out into the woods to get a few acorns.”
So out into the woods he went, and there he found all of the acorns that he wanted. But, on his way home, whom should he meet but the great, wicked ogre.