“Your mother, my dears, come home again,” answered the wolf, in his smooth buttery voice.
“Put your paws up on the windowsill.”
The wolf put his paws up on the windowsill, and they looked quite white because of the dough. Then the little kids felt sure it was their mother, and they gladly opened the door.
“Woof!” In bounded the wicked wolf.
The little goats cried out and away they ran, some in one direction, and some in another. They hid themselves one behind the door, and one in the dough-trough, and one in the wash-tub, and one under the bed, and one (and he was the littlest one of all) hid in the tall clock-case. The wolf stood there glaring about him, and not as much as a tail of one of them could he see.
Then he began to hunt about for them, but he had to be in a hurry, because he was afraid the mother goat would come home again.
He found the kid behind the door, and he was in such a hurry he swallowed it whole without hurting it in the least. He found the one in the wash-tub, and he swallowed it whole, too. He found the one in the dough-trough, and it, too, he swallowed whole. He found the one under the bed and he swallowed it whole. The only one he did not find was the one in the clock-case, and he never thought of looking there. He hunted around and hunted around, and he was afraid to stay any longer for fear their mother would come home.
But now the old wolf felt very heavy and sleepy. He looked around for a place to go in order to lie down and rest.
Not far away were some rocks and trees that made a pleasant shadow. Here the wolf stretched himself out, and presently he was snoring so loudly that the leaves of the trees shook overhead.
Soon after this the mother goat came home. As soon as she saw the door of the house standing open, she knew at once that some misfortune had happened. She went in and looked about her. The furniture was all upset and scattered about the room. “Alas, alas! My dear little kids!” cried the mother. “The wicked wolf has certainly been here and eaten them all.”