The pig built himself a house of leaves and it was even snugger and warmer than the straw house had been. “How silly my mother was,” said the pig, “to tell me to build a brick house. What could be warmer and cosier and safer than this.” And he snuggled down among the leaves and was very happy.
Presently along came the great wolf, and he stopped and knocked at the door.
“Piggy-wig, piggy-wig, let me in!” he cried.
“I won’t, by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin!”
“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in.”
The little pig laughed when he heard that, for the walls were thick, and he felt secure.
“Well, then huff, and then puff, and then blow my house in.”
So the wolf huffed, and he puffed, and he did blow the house in, and he ate up the little pig that was inside of it.
Now the third little pig was the smallest pig of all, but he was a very wise little pig, and he meant to do exactly as his mother had told him to do. After he left the forest he met a man driving a wagon-load of straw, but he did not ask for any of it. He met the man with the load of leaves, but he did not ask for any of it. He met a man with a load of bricks, and then he stopped and begged so prettily for enough bricks to build himself a little house that the man could not refuse him.
The pig took the bricks and built himself a little red house with them, and it was not an easy task either. When it was done it was not so soft as the little straw house, and it was not so warm as the little leaf house, but it was a very safe little house.