“What matters it if I do have the finest vegetables in the kingdom,” he thought, “since I must work myself to death getting them to grow? I mean to go out and see the world and find an easier way of making a living.”
So he locked the door of his house and shut the gate of his garden and started down the road.
A good three miles he traveled, till he came to a cottage almost hidden in a grove of trees. Lovely music sounded around him and Little Pig smiled, for he had an ear for sweet sounds.
“I will go look for it,” he said, following in the direction from which it seemed to come.
Now it happened that in that house dwelt Thomas, a cat, who made his living playing on the violin. Little Pig saw him standing in the door pushing the bow up and down across the strings. It put a thought into his head. Surely this must be easier and far more pleasant than digging in a garden!
“Will you teach me to play the violin, friend cat?” he asked.
Thomas looked up from his bow and nodded his head.
“To be sure,” he answered; “just do as I am doing.”
And he gave him the bow and fiddle.
Little Pig took them and began to saw, but squeak! quang! No sweet music fell upon his ear. The sounds he heard were like the squealing of his baby brother pigs when a wolf came near them.