PAGE: 1€¦ · PAGE: 32 The Panchatantra is a collection of stories written long ago in India. Like Aesop’s Fables, the stories teach how to live a wise life. O nce upon a time

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Table of Contents

3 The Unwelcome Neighbor

5 Clever Hodja, Foolish Hodja

7 Chickcharnies and Guava Duff

9 The True Reward

11 King of All Animals

13 The White Crane

15 The Tailor’s Wish

17 Stop the Hungry Giant Fish!

20 The Woman in the Moon

©Highlights for Children, Inc. This item is permitted to be used by a teacher or educator free of charge for classroom use by printing or photocopying one copy for each student in the class. Highlights® Fun with a Purpose®

ISBN 978-1-62091-264-5

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PAGE: 32

The Panchatantra is a collection of stories written long ago in India. Like Aesop’s Fables, the stories teach how to live a wise life.

Once upon a time a pair of crows came across a huge old banyan tree. The tree had strong branches and a wonderful roof of green leaves that provided shade from the sun. It seemed like the perfect place to build a nest.

The crows immediately set to work.

Soon a round nest was hidden high among the leaves of the tree, ready for the eggs that Mother Crow would lay.

One day, a huge black snake slithered past the banyan. He noticed a deep, dark hole at the bottom of the tree, and he decided to make it his home.

This alarmed the crows. Father Crow discussed the matter with the other animals who lived in the banyan tree. “Beware of the snake,” they said. “He is dangerous. He will wait for a chance to eat up all your babies!”

When Mother Crow heard this, she began to cry. “How can I lay my eggs,

Mother Crow snatched a ruby necklace in her beak and f lew away.

The Unwelcome NeighborA tale from the Panchatantra retold by Santhini GovindanArt by Barbara Knutson


ISBN 978-1-62091-431-1

PAGE: 33

knowing that the snake will gobble up all my babies as soon as they are hatched?” she asked Father Crow. “I want to leave! Let’s go far away and make a new nest.”

“No, we must not leave,” said Father Crow. “The banyan tree is the best place for us to live. I will find some way to drive away the snake.”

Mother Crow was reassured by Father Crow’s words. She laid seven eggs, and before long there were seven baby crows in the nest. They quickly grew big and fat under Mother Crow’s watchful eye. Their noisy chirping could be heard all over the banyan tree. The snake heard it, too, and slithered up and down the branches

of the tree every day, searching for the crows’ nest.

“Please do something to drive away the snake,” Mother Crow begged. “Otherwise he will soon discover our precious babies and eat them up!”

Father Crow decided to ask a wise old fox for help. The fox listened to the crow’s tale of woe and then came up with a brilliant plan. He told the two crows to go to the river the next morning. The ladies of the royal household would be bathing there. Their clothes and jewels would be lying on the riverbank, watched over by servants.

“Pick up a necklace and fly home,” said the fox. “Be sure to make a loud noise so that the servants will follow you. When you reach the tree, drop the necklace into the snake’s hole.”

The crows did exactly as the fox had told them. Mother Crow snatched a ruby necklace in her beak and flew away. Father Crow cawed loudly to attract the servants’ attention.

The servants chased Mother Crow, and as they reached the banyan tree, they saw her drop the necklace into the snake’s hole.

When the servants tried to take the necklace out of the hole with a stick, the angry snake came out hissing. The servants drew back in alarm, and then tried to beat the snake. But the snake, afraid for his life, slithered away as fast as he could and never came back to the banyan tree. Mother and Father Crow lived there happily for many years and raised many babies, too.

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ISBN 978-1-62091-426-7

Nasreddin Hodja was probably a real person who lived in Turkey in the thirteenth century. He is famous in folklore for being both clever and foolish.

Clever HodjaLate one hot summer after-

noon, Nasreddin Hodja strode through his town of Ak Sehir (AHK sheh-heer), heading toward the palace of Tamerlane the Great. Hodja carried an offering—a fat goose roasted to a gleaming brown by his wife, Fatima. Drops of sweat dripped under Hodja’s turban and loose, flowing kaftan. His stomach felt tight with hunger.

Outside town, Hodja stopped to rest under a walnut tree. He pinched his nose, trying to close out the tempting smell of freshly roasted goose. Then, before he could stop himself, he ripped a crispy brown leg from the goose and gobbled down the tender meat. Delicious!

He threw the bone into the dusty roadside weeds, licked his fingers, picked up the goose, and walked on.

As he entered the palace, Hodja wondered how he could explain the one-legged goose. Ever since Tamerlane had conquered Ak Sehir, he and Hodja had enjoyed each other’s company. Still, Hodja feared offending the powerful ruler.

“A tasty goose roasted this very morning by my wife, Fatima,” said Hodja, bowing and presenting the platter to Tamerlane.

“I’ve heard that your wife is an excellent cook,” replied Tamer-lane. “But what is this? The goose has only one leg! Where I come from, geese have two legs.”

Hodja stood there, looking out the window. His brain buzzed like bees around flowers, searching for an explanation.

“The geese of Ak Sehir are famous for having only one leg,” declared Nasreddin Hodja. “Just look out into the palace garden.”

“Oh, Hodja, don’t be foolish,” said Tamerlane with a chuckle.

“Let’s go and see,” insisted Hodja. They walked outside.

In the sun-baked garden, near the fountain, stood a flock of sleeping white geese, each balanced on one yellow leg.

“Perhaps I’ve been too busy to notice,” said Tamerlane, “but you

are correct. I see only one leg for each goose.”

Hodja, who was anxious to be gone before the geese woke up, said, “Enjoy the goose. Peace be with you.” Then he turned to leave.

Just as Nasreddin Hodja reached the garden gate, Tamer-lane called for a servant by clapping his hands twice. The two loud claps woke the flock of geese. Flapping and hissing, the geese ran off—each on two yellow legs.

“Ah, Hodja, you fooled me,” cried Tamerlane the Great.

Hodja called back, “I should have clapped my hands twice before Fatima cooked the goose—then it would have had two legs.”

Tamerlane laughed as Hodja waved and disappeared.

Clever Hodja, Foolish Hodja

“Moon, l’ll rescue you!”

“Where l come from, geese have

two legs.”

A Turkish TaleRetold by Gale Sypher JacobArt by Allan Eitzen

PAGE: 41

Foolish HodjaThat evening, Hodja told Fatima

about their goose. “I fooled Tamerlane the Great!” he boasted.

“You spoiled my perfect goose!” she cried. “But you were also very clever . . . instead of foolish.” Fatima hugged him.

Hodja smiled. “Me? Foolish?”“Only once in a while,” Fatima

replied, and they kissed each other good-night.

Sometime after midnight, Hodja woke and was thirsty. The water jug near the bed was empty, so he drowsily plodded outside to draw water from the well. The wind whispered in the cypress trees.

Half awake, Hodja leaned over the well to lower the bucket. Then his sleepy eyes popped open.

“The moon has fallen into the well!” he cried, his thirst for-gotten. “It’s sitting down there, all shiny and round!”

He lowered the bucket into the well and shouted, “Moon, you won’t drown—I’ll rescue you!”

Hodja felt the bucket scraping the jagged rocks inside the well as he let it down. Splash! He heard the bucket hit the water. “Hop in the bucket, Moon,” Hodja called. “I’ll pull you up.”

Hodja braced himself against the side of the well and pulled. The bucket did not move.

Good! The moon has climbed into the bucket, thought Hodja. “Hold on tight!” he cried.

Hodja pulled harder. Nothing happened.

“Moon, I’ll save you if it takes

“Moon, l’ll rescue you!”

all my strength!” Hodja called.He drew a long breath, tight-

ened every muscle, and yanked. CRACK! The bucket’s handle, which had been caught under a rock, jumped loose, and the bucket flew out of the well. SMACK! It hit Nasreddin Hodja, knocking him over. He lay there on his back with his eyes closed, rubbing his head.

When Hodja opened his eyes, he looked up into the night sky. “There it is!” he cried. “I’ve saved the moon!”

PAGE: 6

Sister Felice walked out of her house to the clearing at the edge of the forest.

“Good morning, Barque,” she said to a skinny one-eyed dog. She put a pan of water next to him and scratched behind his ear.

“Good morning, Cheve,” she said to a shaggy gray goat, and she gave him a carrot.

“Good morning, Coquille,” she said to a shiny strutting rooster as she threw down a handful of cracked corn.

“What shall I make today, dear friends?” she asked the animals. Sister Felice was the best cook on all of Andros Island.

“Conch fritters?” she asked. Her fritters made tongues tingle with delight. But the animals didn’t make a sound.

“Johnnycake?” she asked. Her johnnycake made feet dance with joy. The animals just looked at her.

“Guava duff?” she asked. Spicy and light, her guava duff made you want to fly with the birds. All at once, the dog howled, the goat bleated, and the rooster crowed with excitement.

Everyone wanted some of Sister Felice’s guava duff—including those red-eyed, feathery-legged, treetop-dwelling gremlins known as chickcharnies!

Making guava duff was hard work. As Sister Felice peeled and cored the fruit, she sang, “Who makes the best guava duff?”

“You do! You do!” howled Barque.

Sister Felice was the best cook on all of Andros Island.

While she beat the butter and sugar, she sang, “Who makes the best guava duff?”

“You do! You do!” bleated Cheve.While she waited for the guava

duff to cook, she sang, “Who makes the best guava duff?”

“You do! You cock-a-doodle do!” crowed Coquille.

When she’d finished making the treat, Sister Felice realized that she’d used all of the butter. How would she make sauce for her guava duff? Guava duff without sauce was unthinkable.

Sister Felice decided that she’d trade some of her dessert for some of Sister Sephania’s butter. She wrapped three of the fruit-filled rolls and placed them in her basket. Leaving the rest of the warm guava duff on the table, she hurried down the road.

Through the trees, two pairs of glowing red eyes followed Sister Felice as she walked down the road. Two sets of feathered legs stepped out of the forest. Two elfin creatures decided to make mischief. Chickcharnies!

Chickcharnies and Guava Duff

“What shall I make today?”

A Bahamian TaleBy Christina R. ChilcoteArt by JoAnn E. Kitchel


ISBN 978-1-62091-425-0

PAGE: 7

Coquille, the shiny strutting rooster, sounded the alarm. He puffed up his feathers, stretched tall, and cock-a-doodle-dooed with all his might. But the chick-charnies just smiled and locked him in the chicken coop.

Cheve, the shaggy gray goat, charged and tried to butt the intruders. But the chickcharnies just giggled and stepped aside. Poor Cheve missed them, ran into a tangle of vines, and got stuck.

Barque, the skinny one-eyed dog, growled and barked. But the chickcharnies just laughed. They ran around and around him so fast that he got dizzy and fell over.

Hearing the noise, Sister Felice came running back and shouted, “What’s happening?” When the forest gremlins heard her voice, they grabbed the guava duff and headed for the trees.

Sister Felice chased them behind the chicken coop. She chased them around the panting dog. She chased them past the tangled goat right to the edge of the forest.

Then she stopped to untangle Cheve. “Tricky chickcharnies,” bleated the shaggy gray goat.

She refilled Barque’s pan of water and set it next to him. “Tricky chickcharnies,” howled the skinny one-eyed dog.

She let Coquille out of the coop. “Tricky chickcharnies,” crowed the shiny strutting rooster.

“Those chickcharnies need a lesson,” whispered Sister Felice.

Now, Sister Felice was a woman of magic. She reached into the soft red bag that hung from a leather cord around her neck. Then she sprinkled magic powder on the guava duff still in her basket.

From the corner of her eye, she saw four feathery legs at the edge of the clearing. Loudly she said, “Those tricky chickcharnies ate most of my yummy guava duff, but I still have some left. I’ll just leave it here while I run to Sister Sephania’s for more butter. Dear friends, come with me so I can

keep you safe.”She placed the last of the guava

duff on the table and led the animals down the road.

As soon as they disappeared from sight, the chickcharnies dashed across the clearing and into the cottage, where they greedily began eating the guava duff.

When the last piece was eaten, patou!—the chickcharnies turned into chick-hens. Sister Felice jumped out from behind some bushes, grabbed the chick-hens, and put them into the coop.

The new chick-hens were funny-looking birds with red eyes, spindly legs, and mischievous ways. Whenever they tried to escape, the dog growled, the goat nibbled their tails, and the rooster scolded them.

They scratched the ground and ate cracked corn just like other chick-hens, but somehow their eggs always tasted a little like . . . guava duff.

Chickcharnies!

“Those chickcharnies need a lesson.”

PAGE: 30


ISBN 978-1-62091-430-4

A poor boy named Bold lived alone in a small yurt south of the icy vastness of the Siberian forest.

Bold decided to travel north and request wisdom from the White-Black Shaman to help him overcome his poverty.

As he walked across a field, a horseman approached and reined in his stallion.

“My name is Ten-Thousand-Horse-Owner,” said the man. “You are trespassing on my land.”

“Forgive me,” said Bold. “I am going north to make a request of the White-Black Shaman.”

“Will you also make a request for me?” asked Ten-Thousand-Horse-Owner. “I have a beautiful daughter who has never spoken a word. Will you ask the shaman to help my daughter speak?”

Bold nodded. “I will ask,” he said. And he walked on.

As he approached the edge of

the Siberian forest, Bold heard someone call to him from a small hut.

“Help me,” said an old man in ragged clothes as he crawled from the hut. “My name is Wretched. Could you give me a piece of bread or some mutton jerky?”

“I have no food,” said Bold. “I am going north to make a request of the White-Black Shaman.”

“Will you make a request for me?” asked Wretched. “Will you ask the shaman to help me over-come my life of suffering?”

Bold nodded. “I will ask,” he said. And he went on.

As he walked through the forest, Bold reached a large scaly log and began to step over it. The log moved, and up reared the head of an enormous snake.

“My name is Titan Snake! Why are you walking in my forest?”

“My name is Bold. I am going

north to make a request of the White-Black Shaman.”

“Will you also make a request for me?” asked Titan Snake. “A shaman told me that if I waited nine years I would be transformed into Rainbow Dragon. Nine years have passed, and I am still Titan Snake. Will you ask the White-Black Shaman to help me become Rainbow Dragon?”

Bold nodded. “I will ask.”North of the frozen waters of

Lake Baikal, deep in a valley surrounded by snow-covered Siberian cedars and silver firs, Bold found the yurt of the White-Black Shaman.

Inside the yurt was a tall man with a long mustache, seated on a reindeer hide. “My name is White-Black Shaman,” he said. “Your name is Bold, is it not?”

Bold nodded in amazement. “Yes,” he said. “I have come to

“Will you ask the shaman to help me?”

The True Reward A Mongolian Folktale

Retold by Stephen CookArt by Philip W. Smith

PAGE: 31

make requests.” He repeated the requests of the three he had met in his travels.

“As for Titan Snake,” said the White-Black Shaman, “inside him is a topaz gem. Have him spit out the gem.

“As for Wretched, help him dig under a single birch tree.

“As for Ten-Thousand-Horse-Owner, his daughter will speak when she first sees the man who will one day become her husband.”

“I would like to make a request of my own,” Bold said.

“No,” said the shaman. “Each person may make only three requests in a year.”

Bold hung his head.“It is admirable that you asked

for the others before you asked for yourself,” said the shaman. “Continue to help others with a pure heart, and you will have your true reward.”

Bold returned to Titan Snake and told him what the shaman had said. The snake spit out the gem. The gem f lashed brightly. Suddenly Bold wore a precious silk robe, a velvet hat, and fine leather boots.

The gem f lashed again. Titan Snake became Rainbow Dragon. He soared through the sky, and a beautiful rainbow stretched behind him.

Bold returned to Wretched and helped him find the lone birch tree. Beneath the tree they found nine golden plates.

“You will have your

true reward.”

“My suffering and poverty have ended!” shouted Wretched. He gave three of the plates to Bold, and thanked him warmly.

Bold went to the home of Ten-Thousand-Horse-Owner. He felt confident now, and his travels had made him wiser. His knock was answered by the beautiful daughter who had never spoken.

“Please tell your father that I have traveled to see the White-Black Shaman,” Bold said. “He told me you will speak when you first meet the man who will become your husband.”

The daughter stepped from the home and smiled at Bold. “How kind you are,” she said. “And how brave you must be to have made such a journey. What is your name?”

PAGE: 22

When Tiger walked openly through the jungle, he was Fear.

The deer fled in alarm. The monkeys swung, screaming, to the highest branches. The frogs dived into the deepest pools. And the turtles closed their shells and hoped to be mistaken for mere rocks. Even the wild oxen and wild boar, crashing their way through the undergrowth, kept a respectful distance.

Truly, thought Tiger as he uttered a roar that shook the jungle, I am King.

When Tiger stalked and hunted, none could see him.

He crouched, unmoving, in the dappled shadows. The light that filtered through the leaves and branches made patterns on the jungle floor that matched his coat. The deer grazed quietly. The monkeys played in the lowest branches. The frogs basked on the lily pads, and the turtles lumbered by. Even the wild oxen and wild boar crashed through the undergrowth, just inches from Tiger’s nose.

With one swift bound, Tiger could have the dinner of his choice.

There were times, however, when Tiger got bored—bored with deer and monkey and frog and turtle and ox and boar. During those times, Tiger roared his dissatisfaction into the night and went looking for other prey.

One day, Tiger hid in the tall grass at the edge of the jungle. Even there, the grass shadows blended with his stripes, and none could see him.

Mice and voles scurried by. A snake slid into its hole. Tiger kept waiting.

It was evening when a strange creature with a pointed nose and a

King of All AnimalsA Chinese Folktale Retold by Vashanti RahamanArt by Allan Eitzen


ISBN 978-1-62091-427-4

PAGE: 23

bushy tail appeared, creeping stealthily through the grass.

Tiger watched the stranger. He had heard of such a creature, but he had never seen it before. Stories told of how difficult this creature was to catch, but Tiger welcomed the challenge.

He watched as the bushy-tailed stranger stalked a mouse. He waited with his powerful muscles tensed. Then, just as the stranger pounced on his unhappy prey, Tiger leaped out.

The mouse darted away, but Tiger kept a firm grip on the stranger, who snarled in fury.

“How dare you!” cried the stranger with great indignation. “How dare you bare your fangs and claws to me, Fox, King of All Animals!”

“King, indeed!” said Tiger in surprise. “What gives you the right

to make that claim?”“Listen, and know,” said Fox.

“When I prowl the jungle, the deer flee in alarm. The monkeys swing to the highest branches. The frogs dive into the deepest pools. And the turtles close their shells and hope to be mistaken for mere rocks. Even the wild oxen and wild boar, crashing through the undergrowth, keep a respectful distance.”

Tiger roared with fearsome laughter. “If you can show me that this is so,” he said, “I will let you go free. But if you cannot, I will eat you.”

“Very well,” said Fox, smiling slyly. “Follow me. We will walk

Tiger looked around in wonder at the

frightened animals.

together in the jungle.”So Fox and Tiger strolled openly

along the jungle paths. Fox went first, and Tiger followed close behind. And indeed, the deer fled, as did the monkeys and frogs. The turtles lay still in fear, and the oxen and boar kept their distance.

Tiger looked around in wonder at the frightened animals. Could it be possible that this small doglike creature in front of him was truly King of All Animals? Something smelled of trickery.

But Tiger had made a promise, and he always kept his promises.

“Go, strange one,” he said to Fox. “I do not know whether or not you are King of All Animals. But you have shown that Fear can walk the jungle with you. Go!”

And, lifting his bushy tail in triumph, Fox disappeared into the underbrush, leaving Fear behind.

PAGE: 26

Swirls of snow blew across the path as the old man started home. He had stayed out hunting longer than he should have, but he still had no luck. There would be no meat to put in the soup that his wife was cooking.

He quickened his pace so that the storm would not overtake him before darkness set in. But then he heard a plaintive cry. Slowing his pace to look, he saw that a great bird had been caught in a trap. It was struggling to free itself, its wings beating the ground and stirring up the snow.

He drew nearer and saw that it was a white crane. Hunger gnawed at the old man’s stomach, but the crane was so beautiful that he could not kill it. He released it from the trap, and the crane f lew away swiftly and silently through the falling snow.

Later that evening, after fin-ishing their thin soup, the old man and his wife sat by the fire, glad to be warm while the storm

howled outside. Soon there was a knock on the door, a timid knock scarcely able to be heard above the wind.

“Who can that be?” said the old woman. “Who would be out on such a night?”

Her husband went to the door at once. Opening it a crack, he saw a surprising sight. A tall, slender girl, clad only in a summer garment, stood there trembling from the cold.

“Come in! Come in!” said the old man. He led her to the fire.

“You poor child!” said his wife. “Where did you come from, and why are you out on such a cold night?”

“I lost my way,” said the girl. “Can I stay with you until the storm is over?”

“Of course,” the old couple said. Seeing that she was extremely tired, they didn’t ask any more questions that night. The girl was so beautiful and looked so frail that they were a little in awe of

her. Soon the wife had tucked her into bed, where the girl fell into a deep sleep.

For a week the storm raged. The old man finally went to the village to see if anyone knew the lost girl, but no one did. When he returned home, the girl was helping the old woman as she did every day.

After talking it over with his wife, the old man said to the girl, “We would be pleased if you would stay with us for a while. Maybe someone will come looking for you, but until then, please stay as long as you’d like.”

The days passed pleasantly and quickly. The girl was a great help around the house, and the old couple soon grew to love her gentle ways. One day the girl said to them, “You have been very kind to me. I think of you as my parents, and I want to repay you for your kindness. If you will buy me some thread, I will weave cloth that you can sell in the village.”

The White Crane

“Come in! Come in!”

A Japanese Folktale

Retold by Marilyn BolchunosArt by Dennis McDermott


ISBN 978-1-62091-432-8

PAGE: 27

“You are like the daughter we never had,” said the old woman. “You do not need to repay us.”

“Ah, but it would be my pleasure to weave,” said the girl. “I have only one request. While I am weaving, please do not come into my room. No one must watch me weaving.”

Soon the loom was clicking and clacking, ton-ka-la-ton, ton-ka-la-ton. Far into the night and all the next day the girl worked.

Early the following morning she brought out the cloth. Never had the old man and his wife seen such beautiful material—such colors, such delicacy!

“Now,” said the girl, “you must take it to the village. You will get a good price for it, I think.”

She was right. The old man was very pleased when he returned with much gold. “This will take care of us for some time,” he said delightedly.

A few weeks later the girl again went to the loom. Ton-ka-la-ton, ton-ka-la-ton. Again she came out with gorgeous cloth to be sold in the village.

Winter gave way to spring, and pink cherry blossoms bloomed outside the window. Birds f lew about singing in the sweet warm air. How good it was to plant the garden and to walk about together after the work had been done.

One morning the girl said that she had envisioned weaving the most beautiful cloth of all. She danced about the house and could hardly wait for the old man to bring home the weaving thread. Then she went to her room and shut the door.

For two days she worked. Ton-ka-la-ton, ton-ka-la-ton, day and night, hour after hour. On the third day, the old woman noticed that the door stood open—only a crack, but enough to see inside. She pointed it out to her husband.

Perhaps they only meant to pass by, but curiosity got the best of them. They peeked in. There at the loom stood a great white crane, plucking out its feathers and weaving them into the cloth.

Seeing this, the old woman gave a little gasp. The crane looked up. The old man and his wife turned away immediately, but it was too late. They went outside and sat down, saying nothing.

A short time later, the girl came out carrying the most beautiful cloth anyone had ever seen. It was beyond description. “Ah, my parents,” she said, “now that you have seen me in my true form, I cannot stay with you any longer. This cloth will bring much gold. It is my farewell gift to you.”

“Don’t go! Don’t go!” said the old man and the old woman. “We want you to stay with us forever. You are our daughter.”

“I’m sorry, my parents. I love you, but I must go.” So saying, she changed again into the great white crane. She f lew under the cherry tree, causing a shower of pink petals, then she rose up, up into the pale-blue spring sky.

PAGE: 40

Once, in a small village in Russia, there lived a svitnik—a tailor—who was very poor. But he felt he had the wealth of the world because he had a devoted wife who always praised him and spoke loving words to him.

The tailor wished for nothing more than to make her happy. And so he toiled day and night making svita, or clothing, in the hope of earning enough money to buy lovely gifts for her.

One day, while making a woman’s coat and matching hat, the tailor had a joyful thought. When he finished the clothes, he showed them to his wife. “For you,” he said.

“For me? For me, Josef? They are too fine for me. They are fit for the wife of the tsar, not me.”

Josef took his wife’s hand into his and said, “Svetlana, my love, nothing is too fine for you. But I shall listen to your wisdom. I

shall take them to the tsar for his wife. Then, upon my return, I shall make a coat and hat for you exactly to your bidding.”

And so Josef placed the coat and hat in a large clean cloth, mounted his horse, and rode many miles to the tsar’s palace. He arrived tired, but jubilant in the thought that he had the finest gift in the land for the tsarina.

He approached the guard at the gate to the palace grounds. “I have a handmade coat and hat for the tsar’s wife, and I wish entry, please,” Josef said.

“A gift for the tsarina?” With a greedy look in his eye, the guard said, “Remain here. I will deliver it for you.”

“I need to deliver it myself to determine if she’ll need any changes,” Josef replied, surprised at his own daring.

The guard thought for a moment, then said, “Very well. I will let you pass. But you must know that whoever gives the tsar a gift will be granted one wish, and I want one-third of whatever the tsar gives you.”

Reluctantly, Josef agreed. “I shall give you one-third of whatever the tsar gives me.” Then he continued on his way to the palace. He went past the orchard in full bloom and past the field of growing vegetables. Suddenly a second guard approached him.

“Stop,” ordered the guard. “What is in that package?”

“A handmade coat and hat for the tsarina,” replied Josef.

The guard eyed the valuable parcel. “You need not go farther. I shall deliver it for you. You may

A Russian FolktaleRetold by Dorothy LeonArt by Phil Smith

“The coat and hat are fit for the wife of

the tsar, not me.”

The Tailor’s Wish


ISBN 978-1-62091-429-8

PAGE: 41

stay here and wait.”“I wish to deliver it myself.”

Josef spoke more sternly than he had ever dared speak to anyone.

The guard paused in thought. “Surely you know that whoever gives the tsar a gift will be granted one wish. I will let you deliver it, but I want one-third of whatever the tsar gives you.”

Josef sighed. “I promise to give you that.” Then he continued past the stables, past the meadow filled with grazing horses, cows, and bulls, past the chicken house. At last he was near the palace doors. But before he could enter, he was met by a third guard.

“And where do you think you are going?” said the guard.

“I am going to see the tsar,” replied Josef. “I have a handmade coat and hat for the tsarina.”

The guard smiled greedily. “I am the chief guard. I’ll be happy to deliver them for you.”

“I must deliver them myself,” Josef said firmly. “The tsarina may need changes made.”

Sensing Josef’s determination, the guard said, “I will permit you to do that. But you may know that the tsar offers one wish to the giver of a gift, and if I let you enter the palace, I want one-third of whatever the tsar gives you.”

Josef had expected this reply. He nodded, for he now had a plan. “You shall have one-third.”

At last Josef entered the palace and presented his gift to the gracious tsarina. As she tried on the new coat and hat, the tsar looked on admiringly.

“Thank you, Josef,” the tsarina said. “This is a most elegant coat and hat. They fit me well. I shall wear them with pride.”

The tsar turned to Josef and said, “What fine gifts you have made for my tsarina. As thanks, I will grant any request you make.”

Josef had already decided what

he would wish for. “I appreciate your generosity, my lord,” said Josef. “I wish for ninety-nine hours of hard labor picking fruit in the orchards and vegetables from the garden, feeding the animals, grooming the horses, milking the cows, gathering eggs, and plowing the land. Ninety-nine hours of hard labor—no less, no more.”

The tsar was astonished. He asked, “Why would anyone make such a request?”

“Your majesty, the wish is not for me alone,” said Josef. “I promised to give each of the three guards one-third of my wish, and I always keep my promises.”

A broad smile spread over the face of the tsar. “Your wish will be granted. And since you possess intelligence as well as skill, from now on you shall be known as the Tailor of the Tsar.”

“Tailor of the Tsar! I? Thank you, my lord,” Josef said humbly. And in his mind he began com-posing the words he would use to tell his beloved Svetlana about their unbelievable good fortune.

“Your majesty, the wish is not for

me alone.”

PAGE: 22

Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!

The earth trembled beneath Nineti’s feet. She ran toward Hagatna Bay. Out of the water surged a giant parrotfish with a mouth like a gaping cave and a beak as sharp as spiraling coral. It splashed as its mighty jaws approached the jutting rock, and . . .

Chomp!The earth shook.“Eeeee!” Nineti cried. “I must

warn the others!” She f led toward her village.

Between gasps, she told the maga’lahi, the chief, that a giant sea creature was eating their island.

Stop the Hungry Giant Fish!Based on a Legend from the Island of GuamBy Pam Calvert Art by Jamison Odone

The chief gathered the men, who were known to possess great strength. They decided they could use their strength to seize the fish.

The men jumped into their flying proas and soared out in the fast-sailing canoes to catch the beast. But the men could not find the fish, even though they could hear the rumbling of each bite.

Snap!The giant fish continued to

devour the rock, but each time the fish heard the men approaching, it slipped into deep underwater caves to hide.

Heart pounding, Nineti ran toward the home of the maga’haga, the wisest woman in the village.

There at the outside kitchen she saw a gathering of maidens sitting in a circle, weaving mats and singing.

“A sea creature is eating our island!” Nineti cried. “What can we do so that our entire island does not end up in the belly of a fish?”

The wise old woman replied, “I have seen the great parrotfish that eats rock instead of coral. Come join us. Together we will think of a plan.” She motioned Nineti to sit down with the others. As she sat, Nineti noticed that

some of the best singers in the village were there.

With every minute, the ground shook more violently as the parrotfish’s chomping brought it closer. Nineti’s heart beat faster.

Nineti tried to concentrate on the clean scent of the maidens’ long hair, f lowing like pools on the f loor beside her. In order to keep the maidens’ minds off the

Snap!

PAGE: 23

Stop the Hungry Giant Fish!

shaking, the maga’haga started to sing a new Kantan Chamorrita. Nineti listened as the women added verses about catching the attention of the village’s strongest fishermen. One girl sang about catching him with her long hair. This gave Nineti an idea. Words formed in her head. She sang:

A light f lashed in the maga’haga’s eyes. “Yes, child! You are wise!”

The old woman brought out a sharp shell knife and said, “We need to cut off our hair and weave it into a net if we are to defeat the

Weave, weave with fingers quickthe nets to catch this giant fish. Let us use our flowing hairto grant this life-saving wish . . .

creature. Let us work together. Quickly, quickly!”

The maidens let their hair fall to the ground in mounds. With the speed of a sailfish, they nimbly wove the black tresses into a web. Songs f loated through the air until the powerful net was

complete. Then together the maidens set off to find the great fish.

But when the maidens arrived at the bay, there was no sign of the parrotfish. They saw only men shaking their heads, with faces full of worry.

Boom! Another bite was felt underneath the island.

Nineti noticed lemon peels bubbling up from the water. “Look!” she said, pointing. “What

is happening, Maga’haga?”The old woman answered,

“They must be from Pago Bay. The women there use lemon to wash their hair.”

Nineti’s face grew hot, and she whispered, “But Pago Bay is on the other side of the island!”

The fish must have eaten a tunnel underneath their island and started to munch on the other side. The island would soon split in two! They needed to find a way to get the fish to swim back to Hagatna Bay.

The old woman shouted, “Hurry, girls! Use your beautiful voices. We will set a trap for the fish.”

At once, the maidens sang a sweet, melodious song. Their hearts were full of love for their people and

(Continued on next page)

The island would soon split in two.

“A sea creature is eating our island!”

PAGE: 24

their island. Tears sprang up in Nineti’s eyes as she sang.

Suddenly, the rumbling stopped.A giant gurgling came up from

the bay. The huge fish swam toward the soothing melody of the maidens’ enchanting voices.

“It’s time to throw the net!” the maga’haga said.

Together, the women hurled the net over the fish and pulled.

“Harder!” the maga’haga ordered.

But the fish was too strong.Then the hundreds of men

and children looking on rushed to the bay to help the women

pull on the net. And it was the combined

strength of all the people on the island—men, women, and children—that was finally great enough to haul the enormous creature to shore.

That night, Nineti shared in a feast of the huge parrotfish that fed all the people. Everyone was thankful and proud of the bravery of their women.

For generations since, the native people have pointed out the narrow coastal “waist” to their children and shared the tale of how, working together, the maidens miraculously helped to save the island of Guam.

Guam’s “Waist”

The island of Guam is a U.S. territory in the Pacific Ocean, southeast of Japan and west of Hawaii. The island is 30 miles long and 8 miles wide, except in the middle, where it is only 4 miles wide (so it looks like a waist). The indigenous people of the island, the Chamorros, tell this legend to explain how the “waist” came to be—and to honor the bravery of the women on the island.

The fish swam toward the soothing

melody.

(Continued from page 23)

Everyone on the island rushed to help.


ISBN 978-1-62091-428-1

PAGE: 36

A long time ago, a group of native people in Southern California traveled between the mountains and the ocean in search of food and comfort. They gathered acorns, mushrooms, and berries from the mountains. They fished and found sea plants and crabs by the sea. What they found to eat depended on each season’s gifts. These people called themselves Kumeyaay.

Since travel was a natural part of their lives, they had no need for

building permanent homes. They often lived in dwellings made of branches and clay, which could

easily be taken apart when no longer in use.

The Kumeyaay knew that all people and animals belonged to

the Earth equally, like brothers and sisters. So they shared the Earth’s gifts and never took more than they needed.

Still, one year was very hard. There wasn’t enough food, no

matter how far they traveled. The people felt weaker every day, and their babies grew restless. Soon the people became too tired to travel at all.

One spring night, a young Kumeyaay mother took her

baby into an open field to sleep under the moonlight. But because she was hungry and concerned for her people, she had trouble sleeping.

The young mother looked into the fullness of the moon and asked for help for all the people.

The people got weaker every day.

“I came when I heard you

calling.”

A great ball of light fell across the sky. Where

did it come from?

A Kumeyaay LegendRetold by Jeannie BeckArt by Katie Flindall

The Womanin theMoon


ISBN 978-1-62091-343-7

PAGE: 37

She turned to soothe her baby and prepare herself for sleep. Just then, she saw a great ball of light falling across the sky. It appeared to land close to where she was.

She stood and found the glow in a nearby meadow. The trees, grass, rocks, and stream were all bathed in a pleasing light, so she was not afraid to step into its circle.

Then she saw the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. The beautiful woman smiled as if she had always known the young mother. “I came when I heard you calling,” she said.

“Where have you come from?” the young mother asked.

The beautiful woman pointed up at the full moon. “I came down because you asked for help unselfishly, for all the people.” Then the moon woman opened her hand, revealing a pile of bright kernels, gleaming like stardust in the night. The young mother had never seen anything like this.

“Plant these when the moon is full, and remember me,” said the moon woman. And she explained how to harvest and prepare the kernels, which she called corn. The young mother took the kernels in her hand.

Just then, the baby started to cry. “Bring her to me,” said the moon woman. She smiled. “I have a gift for her also.”

When the young mother returned, the moon woman took the baby in her arms and began to sing. The young mother had

Kumeyaay mother taught the people how to grow corn, and she also taught them to sing lullabies. After this, the people didn’t have to travel so often or far in search of food, and they sang their restless children into peaceful sleep. And some children, even today, have seen the face of that woman smiling down from the moon. The elders say that as long as there are generous hearts, the moon woman will be remembered.

heard many types of songs in her life, but never one so sweet and enchanting.

The baby soon fell into a peaceful sleep. “That was a lullaby,” the moon woman said. She handed the baby back to the mother’s arms. “Sing it to all the children who have trouble sleeping, and remember me.” With those last words, the moon woman disappeared in a ball of light.

That spring, the young

“Plant these when the moon is full, and remember me.”

Documents

PAGE: 1€¦ · PAGE: 32 The Panchatantra is a collection of stories written long ago in India. Like Aesop’s Fables, the stories teach how to live a wise life. O nce upon a time