Little Red Riding-Hood had a grandmother who was so old that sometimes she lay in bed all day and felt too weak to get up.
One day the mother called the little girl to her and said, “My child, I have put a pat of butter and some fresh eggs and a wheatcake in this basket. Take it and carry it to your grandmother. Run along quickly, and do not loiter nor stop to talk to anyone along the way, for I want you to get back before the afternoon is late.”
“Yes, dear mother,” said the little girl, and she took the basket in her hand and set out for her grandmother’s house.
At first she ran along briskly and stopped for nothing, but the fields were full of pretty flowers. “I am sure,” thought Red Riding-Hood “that my grandmother would be glad to have a bunch of daisies and buttercups.” She began to pick one here and another there until she had quite a handful.
Presently she heard feet padding along the path, and the old gray wolf came trotting by.
“Good-day, Red Riding-Hood,” said the wolf.
“Good-day,” answered the child.
“And where are you going this fine bright day with your basket on your arm?”