er, to take her a good piece of cake for her
Sunday treat to-morrow.'

'And where does she live, your Grandmother?'

'She lives at the other side of the wood, in the first house in the
village, near the windmill, you know.'

'Ah! yes! I know now,' said the Wolf. 'Well, that's just where I'm
going; I shall get there before you, no doubt, with your little bits of
legs, and I'll tell her you're coming to see her; then she'll wait for
you.'

Thereupon the Wolf cuts across the wood, and in five minutes arrives at
the Grandmother's house.

He knocks at the door: toc, toc.

No answer.

He knocks louder.

Nobody.

Then he stands up on end, puts his two fore-paws on the latch and the
door opens.

Not a soul in the house.

The old woman had risen early to sell herbs in the town, and she had
gone off in such haste that she had left her bed unmade, with her great
night-cap on the pillow.

'Good!' said the Wolf to himself, 'I know what I'll do.'

He shuts the door, pulls on the Grandmother's night-cap down to
his eyes, then he lies down all his length in the bed and draws the
curtains.

In the meantime the good Blanchette went quietly on her way, as little
girls do, amusing herself here and there by picking Easter daisies,
watching the little birds making their nests, and running after the
butterflies which fluttered in the sunshine.

At last she arrives at the door.

Knock, knock.

'Who is there?' says the Wolf, softening his rough voice as best he can.

'It's me, Granny, your little Golden-hood. I'm bringing you a big piece
of cake for your Sunday treat to-morrow.'

'Press your finger on the latch, then push and the door opens.'

'Why, you've got a cold, Granny,' said she, coming in.

'Ahem! a little, a little...' replies the Wolf, pretending to cough.
'Shut the door well, my little lamb. Put your basket on the table, and
then take off your frock and come and lie down by me: you shall rest a
little.'

The good child undresses, but observe this! She kept her little hood
upon her head. When she saw what a figure her Granny cut in bed, the
poor little thing was much surprised.

'Oh!' cries she, 'how like you are to friend Wolf, Grandmother!'

'That's on account of my night-cap, child,' replies the Wolf.

'Oh! what hairy arms you've got, Grandmother!'

'All the better to hug you, my child.'

'Oh! what a big tongue you've got, Grandmother!'

'All the better for answering, child.'

'Oh! what a mo