IASWECE Book

For the Children of the World
For the Children

of the World
Stories and Recipes from the International Association
for Steiner/Waldorf Early Childhood Education
Edited by Louise deForest

Illustrations by Gudrid Malmsten
WALDORF EARLY CHILDHOOD

ASSOCIATION OF NORTH AMERICA
For the Children of the World
First English Edition
© 2012 Waldorf Early Childhood Association of North America
ISBN: 978-1-936849-05-5
Editor: Louise deForest

Cover art and illustrations: Gudrid Malmsten
Copy editing and graphic design: Lory Widmer
We are grateful to all who contributed stories and recipes to this collection.
Please see page 127 for more about the stories and their tellers.
This publication was made possible by a grant

from the Waldorf Curriculum Fund.
Proceeds benefit IASWECE, the International Association
for Steiner/Waldorf Early Childhood Education.
Waldorf Early Childhood Association of North America

285 Hungry Hollow Rd.
Spring Valley, NY 10977
845-352-1690
[email protected]
www.waldorfearlychildhood.org
For a complete book catalog, contact WECAN or visit our online store:
store.waldorfearlychildhood.org
Contents
INTRODUCTION • ix
AFRICA
SOUTH AFRICA The Name of the Tree • 3
ASIA
ISRAEL Tunjur, Tunjur • 9
JAPAN Momotaro, the Peach Boy • 15
AUSTRALIA
AUSTRALIA The Little Flame • 21
AUSTRALIA The Little Possum Who Wanted a Peach • 25
AUSTRALIA Time for Bed • 31
AUSTRALIA Where Has Father Sun Gone? • 35
RECIPE: PEPPERCORN BIRTHDAY CAKE • 39
v
EUROPE
AUSTRIA The Duckling’s Journey • 43
BELGIUM The Story of the Cat with the Long, Long Tail • 45
DENMARK Tailor Tom • 51
FRANCE Little Ash Squirrel and Little Oak Squirrel • 55
FRANCE Turlutin • 59
GERMANY The Lantern • 63
HUNGARY Speaking Grapes, Smiling Apples and Ringing Peaches • 67
SWEDEN The Old Woman and the Little Mouse • 71
UKRAINE Sir Cat-O-Puss • 75
UNITED KINGDOM The Soupstone Story • 79
RECIPES:
SPITZBUBEN COOKIES • 81
MICHAELMAS SOUP • 82
ST JOHN’S ELDERFLOWER DRINK • 83
POTATO POGATCHA • 84
SALTY PRETZELS • 86
HOT CROSS BUNS • 87
vi
NORTH AMERICA
CANADA How the Robin Got Its Red Breast • 93
MEXICO Tajin and the Seven Thunders • 95
MEXICO The Legend of the Tepozteco • 99
UNITED STATES TheStory of Jumping Mouse • 103
RECIPES:
CREE BANNOCK BREAD • 109
TAMALES • 110
BIRTHDAY MUFFINS • 112
SOUTH AMERICA
BRAZIL The Magic Stone • 117
BRAZIL The Golden Fish and the Magic Star • 121
BRAZIL The Little Seed • 123
ABOUT THE STORIES AND CONTRIBUTORS • 127
ABOUT IASWECE • 129
vii
Introduction
As one of two representatives from North America on the Council of the
International Association for Steiner/Waldorf Early Childhood Education
(IASWECE), I attend two Council meetings a year, often hosted in a different
member country each time. It is a privilege to sit around the table with
representatives from twenty-nine countries, all of us dedicated to the support
and protection of the young children of the world, and I often marvel that life
has unfolded in such a way that we have been able to meet each other and to
work together as colleagues. I also am humbled by the level of commitment,
dedication, and sheer years of experience of those who represent their
countries in these meetings and I have often wished that others could have
the same experience of a world-wide movement.
It was in one such Council meeting that this little book came into being.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful, I thought to myself, if I could find a way for my
English-speaking colleagues to experience the cultural richness and diversity
of our Waldorf early childhood movement! And, since we were discussing
the budget as I daydreamed, if we could raise funds to support the ongoing
training of teachers around the world (which is one of the main commitments
of IASWECE), while at the same time serving as a resource for English-
speaking teachers and parents, all the better!
ix
I shared my idea with the other Council members, who responded with
enthusiasm. I asked them to send me stories that gave a feel for their particular
country or that have been meaningful in their own lives as teachers. I also
asked that they share recipes they have used in their classrooms with their
children and that again reflect something of their country. Most of the stories
and recipes that follow were sent to me by country representatives on the
IASWECE Council; a few others I have found and adapted for the young child.
All come with the hope of forging a sense of connection and colleagueship
with all those dedicated to protecting and preserving childhood.
Gudrid Malmstrom, the country representative from Sweden, donated her
beautiful illustrations to this project, and WECAN will donate all profits from
the sale of this book to IASWECE to fund early childhood projects in many
parts of the world.
Each one of these stories comes with the warmest good wishes of Waldorf/
Steiner teachers from around the world. You may never meet them in person,
but I hope that when you tell these stories to your children, you will feel your
international colleagues sitting by your side, sharing in the joyful work of early
childhood education.
—Louise deForest
December, 2011
x
The Name of the Tree
A TALE FROM SOUTH AFRICA
A LONG, LONG TIME AGO, there was a famine in the land and everyone was
hungry. However, a great tree grew in that land and it was covered with
delicious fruit. But it was known that the fruit from that great tree would only
fall when someone spoke the name of the tree.
People grew hungrier. They gathered round the trunk of that great tree and
there they waited for the fruit to ripen and fall. When the fruit was almost ripe,
they were horrified to discover that no one knew the name of the tree!
“Let’s send the swift hare to cross the mountains to the Chief’s house. He
knows the name of the tree and the hare can quickly bring it back to us. Go
quickly, and bring us the name; over fields and mountains, run, run!” Thus
spoke the villagers.
“Greetings, O Great Chief; can you tell me the name of the great tree that
grows in our village?” asked the hare.
“The name of the tree is U-won-ge-lay-ma. When you return to your village,
stand in front of the tree, say the name, and the fruit will fall,” said the Chief.
“Thank you, great Chief,” said the hare.
But the hare ran so quickly on the way back home that he did not watch
where he was going and he tripped on a root and fell and rolled down a hill.
3
Finally he arrived in his village. He stood before the tree and shouted, “U-won-
ga-tu-ma!”
“U-won-ga-tu-ma,” repeated the villagers. But no fruit fell from the tree.
“Out! Out! Leave the village! You have forgotten the name!” the angry villagers
shouted. And the hare hung his head and left the village.
“Let us send the goat; she is strong and determined and will not stop to eat the
leaves on her way,” said the villagers. “Go quickly and bring us the name. Over
fields and mountains, run, run!”
grows in our village?” asked the goat.
“The name of the tree is U-won-ge-lay-ma,” said the chief.
“Thank you, Great Chief,” said the goat.
Then she ran quickly home, but on the way her horns became stuck in a tree.
She struggled to free her horns for a long time until finally she freed herself,
but by then she had forgotten the name of the tree. She arrived in the village,
stood before the tree and shouted, “U-won-tu-gay-la!”
But no fruit fell from the tree.
“Out! Out! Leave the village! You have forgotten the name!” the angry villagers
shouted. And the goat hung her head and left the village.
“Now we should send the lion, who is as fast as he is strong, and he does not
have horns to get stuck in a tree.”
“Go quickly and bring us the name. Over fields and mountains, run, run!” said
the villagers.
4
The lion, too, came to the Chief and said, “Greetings, O Great Chief; can you
tell me the name of the great tree that grows in our village?”
“The name of that tree is U-won-ge-lay-ma,” said the Chief.
“Thank you, Great Chief,” said the lion.
As the lion was returning to the village, he became very sleepy and he lay
down to rest by the side of the road. When he awoke, the name had left his
mind. He arrived in the village, stood before the tree and shouted, “U-way-ma-
luna!”
“U-way-ma-luna!” shouted the villagers. But no fruit fell from the tree.
“Out! Out! Leave the village! You have forgotten the name!” shouted the angry
villagers. And the lion hung his head and began to leave the village.
“Well, friends, let us now send the tortoise,” said the villagers.
“Let her go; we have all failed, let her fail, as well,” said the lion.
Before setting off, the tortoise went to her mother. “Mother, how can I
remember a difficult name?” she asked.
“My dear, if you wish to remember something, say it to yourself over and over
again, and do not stop saying it for any reason,” advised her mother.
Off went the tortoise on her journey and the villagers cried out,
How will we ever learn the name?
First the hare, who tripped on the way;
Then the goat who got stuck by the horns.
Then the lion, who yawned and slept,
And now the tortoise, who goes slowly, slowly on her way...
5
“Slowly and surely I go on my way. But today I shall return with the name,” said
the tortoise to herself.
grows in our village?”
“The name of the tree is U-won-ge-lay-ma.”
“Can you say it once more?” asked the tortoise.
“U-won-ge-lay-ma,” answered the Chief.
“U-won-ge-lay-ma. Thank you, Great Chief!” said the tortoise.
The tortoise took to the road again, repeating the name to herself as she
walked along. When she passed her neighbor’s house, her neighbor called out
to her.
“My dear, you must be tired. Why don’t you rest a moment?”
“U-won-ge-lay-ma! One stops when one has arrived,” said the tortoise calmly.
“U-won-ge-lay-ma!” said the tortoise in front of the great tree.
“U-won-ge-lay-ma!” said all the villagers.
The great tree swung its branches and the delicious fruit fell to the ground.
The villagers sang in happiness. They joined hands and danced around the
great tree, singing:
We know the name and happy are we.
Forever more we’ll be hunger-free.
Thank you, little tortoise! Thank you, Great Tree!
6
Asia
Tunjur, Tunjur
A TALE FROM ISRAEL
There was once a woman who could not have children of her own, much as
she wanted one. One day she prayed, “O Lord! What an unfortunate woman
am I! Would that I could have a child! May Allah give me a girl, even if she is an
old cooking pot!” And one day she found she was with child. A day came and a
day went, and behold, the time to deliver her child came and she gave birth to
a cooking pot. What was the poor woman to do? She washed it and cleaned it
well, put the lid on it and placed it on a shelf.
One day the pot began to talk. “Mother, mother,” she said, “take me down
from this shelf.”
“Alas, daughter, where am I to put you?” said the mother.
“What do you care?” said the daughter, “Just bring me down and I will make you
rich for generations to come.”
The mother brought her down. “Now put my lid on,” said the pot, “and leave
me outside the door.”
The mother did as she was asked. She put the lid on and left the pot outside
her door.
The pot started to roll, singing as she went:
Tunjur, tunjur, clink, clink, clink, O my Mama!
9
She rolled until she came to a place where people gathered. In a little while,
people were walking by. A man came and found the pot all settled in its
place. “Eh!” he exclaimed, “who has put this pot in the middle of the path? My
goodness but it is a beautiful pot! It must be made of silver!” He looked it over
well. “Whose pot is this?” he called to the crowd. “Who put it here?” No one
claimed it. “By Allah,” he said, “I will take it home with me.”
On his way home he met a honey seller. He had the pot filled with golden
honey and brought it to his wife. “Look, wife,” he said, “how beautiful is this
pot!” The whole family was greatly pleased with it.
A few days later they had guests, and they wanted to offer them some honey.
The woman of the house brought the pot down from the shelf. Push and pull
on the lid, pull and push, the pot would not open! She called her husband to
help her. He pushed and pulled, pulled and pushed, but he could not open it
either. His guests pitched in to help, as well, but to no avail. Lifting the pot
up and dropping it, the man tried to break it open, but it would not break. He
tried a hammer and a chisel but it was no use; the pot remained tight shut.
What was the man to do? “Curses on your owner,” he cried and he threw it out
the window.
When the family and guests had turned their backs to the window, the little
pot began to roll, singing as she went:
Tunjur, tunjur, O my Mama,
In my mouth I brought the honey,
Clink, clink, clink.
In my mouth I brought the honey,
O my Mama.
10
“Bring me up the stairs,” she called to her mother when she had arrived home
again.
“Yee!” exclaimed the mother, “I thought you had disappeared, that someone
had taken you!”
“Pick me up,” said the daughter.
Picking up her little darling, the mother took off the lid and found the pot full
of golden honey. Oh, how pleased she was!
“Empty me,” said the pot. The mother emptied the pot and returned her to her
shelf.
“Mother,” said the pot the next day, “take me down.”
The mother brought her down from the shelf.
“Mother, put me outside.”
The mother placed her outside the door and she began to roll, singing as she
went:
Tunjur, tunjur, clink, clink, clink, O my Mama!
She rolled until she reached a gathering place and then she stopped. A man
passing by found her.
“Eh,” he thought. “What kind of a pot is this?” He looked it over and how
beautiful he found it.
“To whom does this belong? Who is the owner of this pot?” he called out. He
waited but no one said it was theirs. “By Allah,” said the man, “I will take it
home.”
11
He took it, and on his way home he stopped by the butcher’s shop and had it
filled with meat. Bringing it home to his wife he said, “Look wife, how beautiful
is this pot I found! By Allah, I found it so pleasing I filled it with meat and
brought it to you.”
“Yee!” cheered his family. “How lucky we are! What a beautiful pot!” And they
put it on a shelf. Toward evening, they wanted to cook the meat. Push and
pull on the lid, pull and push, the pot would not open. What was the woman
to do? She called her husband and her children to help her. Lift, strike, drop—it
was no use. They even took it to the blacksmith but they could not get it open.
The man threw the pot as far as his arm could reach.
As soon as he turned his back, the little pot began to roll, singing as she went:
Tunjur, tunjur, O my Mama,
In my mouth I brought the meat,
In my mouth I brought the meat,
O my Mama.
She kept repeating the song until she reached home again.
“Lift me up,” she said to her mother. The mother lifted her up, took the meat,
washed the pot and put it away on the shelf.
“Take me out of the house,” said the pot the next day. The mother brought
her out, and she sang Tunjur, tunjur, clink, clink, clink as she rolled away. She
reached a spot close by the king’s house and there she stopped. In the
morning, it is said, the son of the king went out and behold! There was the pot
settled in its place.
12
“Eh! What’s this? Whose pot is it?” No one answered. “By Allah, I will take it
home.” He took it home and called to his wife. “Wife,” he said, “take this pot. I
brought it home for you. It is the most beautiful of pots!”
The wife took the pot. “Yee! How beautiful it is! By Allah, I am going to put all
my jewels in it, even the ones I am wearing.” She put her jewels in the pot, and
all her money and gold and filled the pot until it was full to the brim. Then she
put the lid on and placed the pot on a shelf.
Two or three days went by, and it was time to attend a wedding. She put
on her most beautiful dress and brought the pot out so she could wear her
jewels. Push and pull on the lid, pull and push, the pot would not open. She
called her husband, but he could not open it either. All the people who were
in the palace tried, but none could open it. They took it to the blacksmith,
and he, too tried, but to no avail. In frustration, the prince threw the pot out
the window. “Curses on your owner!” he cried. “What use are you to us!” Of
course, he was not pleased to lose what was in the pot, so he went to fetch
the pot again. No sooner had he turned his back when she began to roll,
singing as she went:
Tunjur, tunjur, O my Mama.
In my mouth I brought the treasure,
In my mouth I brought the treasure,
O my Mama.
“Lift me up,” she said to her mother when she reached home. Lifting her up, the
mother removed the lid.
“Yee! Oh my goodness!” she cried out. “Wherever did you get this? What in the
13
world is this?” The mother was now rich and she had no more worries.
“It’s enough now,” she said to her daughter, taking away the treasure. “You
should go out no longer, as people will begin to recognize you.”
“No, no,” begged the daughter, “Let me go one last time.”
The next day, the little pot went out, singing: Tunjur, tunjur, clink, clink, clink.
The man who found her the first time saw her again.
“Eh, what in the world is this I see!” he exclaimed. “It must have some magic in
it, since it is always tricking people. Curses on it! By Allah, I will fill it up with
tar.” And that is just what he did. He closed the lid and the pot rolled away,
singing:
Tunjur, tunjur, O my Mama.
In my mouth I brought the pitch,
In my mouth I brought the pitch,
O my Mama.
“Lift me up,” she said when she arrived home. The mother looked in the pot
and saw that it was filled with pitch.
“I told you not to go out again, that people would recognize you! Don’t you
think it’s enough now?” And the pot said nothing at all.
The mother scrubbed and scrubbed the pot but she could not get it clean. And
from that day forth, the little pot never left her shelf again.
This is my story. I’ve told it and in your hands I leave it.
14
Momotaro, the Peach Boy
A TALE FROM JAPAN
O NCE THERE LIVED an old woodcutter and his wife. They had lived long and
well, but never been blessed with children to love. They were often sad
and lonely.
One day the woodcutter went to the forest and his wife went to the river to
wash clothes. But just as she dipped them in the water, she was astonished to
see a beautiful, big peach floating down the river. It was much bigger than any
peach she had ever seen.
“What a good supper that peach will make for my husband!” she said, and pulled
it out of the river.
She proudly showed it to the old man that evening, and he said it was more
than enough for both of them to share. So she was about to cut it in half when
a voice called from inside, “Wait! Don’t cut me!” The skin of the peach split and
a baby boy, as round and rosy as a peach himself, jumped out.
“Don’t be frightened,” he said to the astonished old man and woman. “You are
too good to be sad and lonely, so God in heaven has sent me to be your son.”
And fortunate they were to have such a fine boy as their son. They named him
Momotaro, which means Peach Boy.
When Momotaro had grown quite big, he went to his father one day and said:
“Father, you have taken good care of me, but now I am grown. I must go into
15
the world to make my own way. I have heard that on an island far away there
live terrible ogres who attack people and steal their belongings. Please let me
go to fight them and bring back the treasures they have taken.”
“We will miss you, my son, but it is good that you want to help others,” said the
old man. He gave him a sword and armor, while the old woman made a good
lunch of millet dumplings.
Momotaro set off, walking toward the sea. As he went along he met a spotted
dog. The dog growled at Momotaro and was about to bite him, but then he
smelled the dumplings. He sang,
Momotaro-san, Momotaro-san,
You’ve got dumplings in your pocket,
Please, oh please, won’t you give me one?
Momotaro sang,
Yes, I may, yes, I might,
If the ogres you will fight.
Momotaro gave the dog one of his dumplings and he gobbled it all up. He
became very friendly and said he would go along to fight the ogres.
I will follow, I will follow,
I will go wherever you go.
Momotaro and the spotted dog walked along and soon they met a monkey.
The monkey was about to start a quarrel but then he smelled the dumplings.
He sang,
16
Momotaro sang,
Momotaro gave the monkey one of his dumplings and he gobbled it all up. He
became very friendly and said he would go along to fight the ogres.
The three friends continued on, and soon they met a pheasant. He was about
to fight fiercely with the other animals but then he smelled the dumplings. He
sang,
Momotaro sang,
Momotaro gave the pheasant one of his dumplings. He gobbled it all up and
became very friendly, and said he too would go along to fight the ogres.
The three friends continued on with Momotaro as their leader. When they
came to the sea shore, Momotaro built a boat for them to sail to Ogre Island.
When they reached the islands, they found a strong fort full of ogres, green
17
and blue and red. The pheasant flew over the walls and began to peck at
their faces, and while they were trying to hit him with their clubs the monkey
opened the gate. Then Momotaro and the dog ran through.
They fought long and hard. The pheasant pecked, the monkey clawed, and
the dog bit, while Momotaro’s sword flew like lightning. Finally the ogres were
defeated. They swore never to trouble Momotaro or his people again, and
brought out all the treasure they had stolen.
It was the most wonderful treasure you could imagine, with gold and silver
and precious jewels. Momotaro and his friends carried it all back to their boat
and sailed home. They made a strong cart to carry all the treasure back to
Momotaro’s house.
Along the way, they returned as much of the treasure as they could to the
people the ogres had stolen it from. There was still plenty left to bring back to
Momotaro’s parents and make them rich for the rest of their days.
But the old couple were happiest of all to have their dear son back again, and
with him his companions, the dog, the monkey, and the pheasant. True to their
word, the three friends followed and served him for the rest of their lives.
18
Australia
The Little Flame
A STORY BY SANDRA BUSCH • AUSTRALIA
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This story was written with young children in mind as a response to the
bush fires that have threatened Australia each summer for the last few years. Fire means many
things. The Aboriginal people used fire to burn the bush, create grasslands, and prompt new
growth. There are many native plants that need the heat of the fires to open their seedpods for
germination. While we use fire to heat, cook, and process, it can threaten and overwhelm us
when it runs wild, and I wonder whether the fire element in the soul of human beings can also
do this when we lose our human control. It was important in the story for the fire element to be
redeemed, to be again contained and cared for, and to give of itself. The story also includes the
gifts of our social sense, of Mother Earth, of the spiritual world, and of the elemental beings.
O NCE UPON A TIME a weary traveler wandered along the dusty road. He
was tired and hungry for he had been walking for many days, and when
he came to the forest he took off his pack, gathered some sticks and leaves,
and lit a small fire to make himself some tea. Then he lay down beside his fire
and went to sleep.
While he slept a naughty wind came and blew a little flame out of the fire.
Wind and flame started playing together, running through the grass, over the
bushes and up the trees. They didn’t look where they were going, burning
everything in their path. The traveler woke and ran from the flames, and the
animals ran too. Kangaroo leapt and wombat rolled along, and the birds flew
high into the sky.
21
The wind and the flame puffed themselves up and grew big and wild. They
leapt from the forest into gardens and houses and the people had to leave
their homes. Mother Earth asked the wind and flame to stop, to settle down,
but they took no notice of her pleas. So Mother Earth asked our Father in
Heaven to help, and he called on the moon and the stars, asking them for help
too.
Soon there was a cloud filled with rain moving across the sky. Good winds
blew it to where the fire was burning. When the rain began falling, the flames
shrank smaller and smaller, and the fire was subdued. “Thank you,” said Mother
Earth.
Two little children returned to their home near the forest the next day. Around
them they could see all their tree friends, black and sad. Mother said they
could take the bath water to the trees, so they filled buckets and took the bath
water out to the forest, where they saw the traveler. He said he would help,
and together they took the buckets to all the trees nearby, giving each a little
drink of water.
As they worked, the children saw a little stick that was still burning. “This must
be the flame that jumped out of the fire,” they said, and ran home to mother
to get a container to put the little flame in. They brought the container back
to the traveler and he picked up the burning stick with its little flame and
carried it carefully in the container back to the children’s home, where he put
it in the wood oven.
“This is where you belong, little flame,” he said. The little flame helped to heat
the oven and the children helped to bake bread and cake for dinner. It was a
special dinner for the traveler, who was asked to stay the night. “And whenever
22
you pass by, you must come here to stay with us,” said Father, making the
traveler very happy.
All the next day the two children carried water to the trees. While they worked,
somebody saw them. It was a wise old gnome who was wandering through
the bush to see what work needed to be done, and when he saw the busy
children he went straight down beside a tree root to tell Mother Earth what
was happening. The fairies listened in while the gnome told Mother Earth of
the children’s care for the trees, and the fairies started dancing and singing.
“We knew the children would help, we knew the children would help,” they
sang, and Mother Earth smiled as her heart was gladdened.
23
The Little Possum Who
Wanted a Peach A STORY BY CHRISANTHI MCMANUS
T HIS IS A STORY that began many, many years ago on a midwinter’s night,
when the sun went to bed particularly early and woke extremely late. The
frost was thick, and it made a white blanket which covered the ground. In the
very early morning before the sun had woken up the world, a mother possum
and her young child were making their way back to their home in a large old
gum tree. They were very tired and very cold for they had been out all night in
search of food.
“I’m still hungry!” complained the young possum.
“We could find a few more leaves,” said his tired mother.
“But I don’t want leaves. I want a peach!” he said sadly, “or an apricot. A
nectarine would be all right.”
The mother possum sighed. It was the very middle of winter and the trees
in the farmer’s orchard beside their bush home were bare. There were no
peaches or apricots or nectarines to be found anywhere. Even food in the bush
was scarce.
“Oh dear,” said mother possum, “I’m sorry, but they’re all gone.”
“Gone!” cried the young one.
25
“Yes, gone,” his mother replied.
“Where did they go?” he wanted to know.
Some gallahs perching in the trees above were woken by the fuss and flew
down to see what it was all about.
“Hey!” they cried “What’s all the noise? The sun’s not up yet.”
“Terribly sorry,” said the mother possum, “but you see little possum wants a
peach.”
“Or a nectarine or an apricot,” piped up the young possum.
“Peaches gone!” cried one of the gallahs.
“Apricots gone!” cried another.
“Nectarines gone too!” cried another
“All gone!” squawked the gallahs. “Gone, gone, gone.”
“You could have some grass seeds?” suggested a helpful gallah. “We had grass
seeds yesterday.”
“And the day before,” squawked another.
“And the day before that,” squawked another one.
The gallahs and the possums all looked at the grass. It was icy and white.
“I don’t want frosty grass!” cried the little possum, “I want a peach!”
At that moment a whole family of bush rats appeared in the clearing. They
were on their way to the farmer’s house. They had a plan to find a way inside.
They were hungry too and they were hoping to sneak into the kitchen where
26
there was a plentiful supply of food. They heard the chatter and stopped to
see what was the matter.
“Oh,” sighed the mother rat, “I remember all the peaches growing on the
farmer’s trees in summer! We would creep under the fence at night when no
one was about. What a feast we had. But now they’re all gone. There’s none
around. That’s why we are moving house.”
While they had been talking the sun had started to rise in the morning sky. Old
Wombat was on his way back from his night time feed. He was late getting
back to his burrow because he had had to go further than usual to get food.
He’d gone to a neighbor’s garden and found a few tasty morsels there. He
came upon the little groups of animals talking. They were sitting not far from
the entrance to his burrow.
“What’s the trouble here?” he asked.
“The young fellow wants a peach,” squawked the gallahs.
“A peach?” asked the old wombat.
“Yes! Or a nectarine or an apricot,” piped up the young possum.
“But peaches gone!” cried one of the gallahs.
“Apricots gone!” cried another.
“Nectarines gone too!” cried another.
“All gone!” squawked the gallahs, “Gone, gone, gone.”
“Maybe Mother Earth has forgotten to feed us!” suggested mother rat. “Food is
so scarce at the moment.”
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Now the wombat was old and he had lived through many a cold winter in the
bush. “Mother Earth wouldn’t forget us!” he said.
“But where have all the peaches gone?” the young possum wanted to know.
“Why don’t we ask Mother Earth?” suggested old wombat.
“Ask her?” squawked the gallahs.
“What a good idea,” said Mother Possum.
“But how?” asked the young possum.
“Yes, how?” asked the gallahs.
“Well,” said the wombat, “you could come down my burrow. I have tunnels that
go deep under ground.”
So old wombat led the way down into his burrow. Down, down, down he
went. The young possum followed along behind, then mother possum, and
the whole rat family and even the gallahs waddled along too, for they didn’t
want to miss out.
Down, down, down went the tunnel and down, down, down went old
wombat with all the others following along behind.
“Oooh, it is dark!” squawked a gallah.
“Yes, very dark,” said another.
But still old wombat just trundled along.
After what seemed like a very long, long time the tunnel opened out into what
looked like a very large room. It was Mother Earth’s winter room where many
of Mother Earth’s children slept through the winter. She was busy helping her
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gnome workers tuck baby seeds into soft cosy beds.
They all looked up when they saw the animals. “Ah, visitors,” said Mother Earth
with a happy smile. “What can I do for you?”
Old wombat spoke up, “The young fellow here,” he said, pointing to the young
possum, “wants a peach.”
“Yes! Or a nectarine or an apricot,” piped up the young possum.
Mother Earth chuckled. “Is that so?” she asked, with a twinkle in her eye.
“Yes,” continued the young possum, “but they’re all gone.”
“Gone, gone, gone,” squawked the gallahs.
“Where have they gone, Mother Earth?” he asked.
“Well, peaches are fruits of the Sun, for you see they need the sun to make
them juicy and sweet. But the Sun is on his winter journey and so it is time for
nature to have its winter rest. The peach trees are having their rest, too. They
will wake when the Sun returns to warm the earth. When the days are long
and warm, then there will be peaches on the trees.”
“But, I’m hungry now!” said the young possum sadly.
“I know,” said Mother Earth kindly, “but do not be sad. I have a winter store
of food for my children who do not sleep.” And she beckoned to one of her
gnome workers who brought a truly wonderful feast of food for the animals.
There were nuts and berries, some fruits the sun had dried, some wattle gum
toffee, and many other delicious bush foods.
“Oh, thank you, Mother Earth!” said the young possum and his friends.
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“Now you must be patient, Little Possum, for your peach. You must be patient
while the earth has a rest.”
“How long do I have to be patient, Mother Earth?” asked Little Possum.
“Well, when you see the wattle blossoms on the trees in the bush, you will
know that Father Sun is starting his journey back and that it is time for the
fruit trees to wake.” Then Mother Earth bid the animals goodbye and they
began their long journey back up to their bush homes.
Now Little Possum looks for the blossoms on the wattle trees each day, and
when he sees them he knows that Father Sun has started his long journey back
to warm the earth and there will soon be more peaches for him to eat on the
trees.
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Time for Bed
A STORY BY CHRISANTHI MCMANUS • AUSTRALIA
O NCE THERE WAS A LITTLE BOY, about the same age as you, who loved
to play.
He liked to run,
and hop,
and jump,
and climb.
Most of all the little boy liked to play with the animals who lived nearby. They
were his friends.
One summer evening, after a busy day of playing, the boy had his bath and
dinner and his mother said that it was time for bed. But the little boy didn’t
want to go to bed, he wanted to keep playing. The sky was still light so he put
on his dressing gown and boots and went out to find someone to play with.
He set off to find the goats to see if they would run and jump with him. But
they weren’t on the hill where they usually sat.
“They must be playing a game,” said the little boy. “They’re hiding. I like hiding
games.”
So the little boy went looking.
He looked in the paddock.
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He looked under the trees.
Then he looked in the shed,
and there were the goats, getting ready for bed.
“Never mind,” said the little boy, “I’ll play with the dog instead.”
So he set off to find the dog to see if she would play ball with him. By now
the sky was starting to get dark. But the dog wasn’t in the garden where she
usually sat.
“She must be playing a game,” said the little boy. “She’s hiding. I like hiding
games.”
He looked under the house.
He looked behind the shed.
Then he looked in her dog basket,
and there she was, getting ready for bed.
“Never mind,” said the little boy, “I’ll play with the birds instead.”
So he set off to find the birds to see if they would sing and laugh with him. But
the birds weren’t in the orchard where they usually were.
“They must be playing a game,” said the little boy. “They’re hiding. I like hiding
games.”
He looked on the fences.
He looked in the veggie garden.
He looked in the tall gum trees,
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And there they were, fast asleep.
“Never mind,” said the little boy, “I’ll play by myself instead. I can play lots of
games by myself. I can swing, I can build sand castles and I can throw a ball.”
He went to the swings but it was too dark to see.
Then he went to build sand castles but it was too dark to see.
Then he went to throw a ball but now it was really dark and he couldn’t find
the ball.
“They’re all hiding,” he said.
Just then his mother came looking for him. “Where have all my play things
gone?” he asked her.
“Your play things have gone to bed,” his mother told
him. “Father Sun has pulled a blanket over the
earth so that everything can go to sleep. You
can still see his light through the starry holes
in the blanket. When he gets up in the
morning he will pull back the blanket and
it will be light again. Then you will be able
to find all your play things again.”
The little boy went back inside with
his mother. After a story the little
boy curled up in his bed, snug and
warm, and before long he, too, was
fast asleep.
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Where Has Father Sun
Gone? A STORY BY CHRISANTHI MCMANUS • AUSTRALIA
O NE COLD FROSTY MORNING a young wallaby was looking for something

to eat.
But the grass was frozen, so he couldn’t eat that.
And the leaves were frozen, so he couldn’t eat them.
Even the earth under his feet was frozen and that made his toes cold.
The young wallaby looked up at the sky.
Father Sun was not high overhead in the sky;
Father Sun looked far away.
“Father Sun is going away,” the wallaby cried. “I’ll never be warm again.”
And little wallaby began to cry—“Boo Hoo Hoo.”
Just then a bush mouse came scurrying by. “Why are you crying, little wallaby?”
asked bush mouse.
“Father Sun is going away,” little wallaby cried. “I’ll never be warm again.”
“Oh,” cried bush mouse, “I don’t want Father Sun to go away.”
And she sat down next to little wallaby and began to cry too.
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“Boo hoo,” cried little wallaby.
“Boo hoo,” cried bush mouse.
The crying woke an old wombat down in his burrow and he came out to see
what was the matter. “Why are you crying, little wallaby and bush mouse?”
asked old wombat.
“Father Sun is going away,” cried little wallaby and bush mouse, “and we’ll never
be warm again!”
“Oh,” cried old wombat, “I don’t want Father Sun to go away!”
And he sat down next to wallaby and bush mouse and began to cry too.
“Boo hoo,” cried the wallaby.
“Boo hoo,” cried old wombat.
The crying was so loud that a lyre bird couldn’t hear himself sing. “Why are you
crying, little wallaby, bush mouse and old wombat?” asked the lyre bird.
“Father Sun is going away,” cried little wallaby, bush mouse, and old wombat,
“and we’ll never be warm again.”
“Oh,” cried lyre bird, “I don’t want Father Sun to go away.”
And he sat down next to little wallaby, bush mouse and old wombat and
began to cry too.
“Boo hoo,” cried little wallaby.
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“Boo hoo,” cried old wombat.
“Boo hoo,” cried lyre bird.
A wedge-tailed eagle flying high in the sky heard the commotion and swooped
down to see what the noise was about. “Why are you crying?” asked the eagle,
“What’s the matter?”
“Father Sun is going away,” cried little wallaby, bush mouse, old wombat, and
lyre bird, “and we’ll never be warm again.”
And they all began to cry once more.
“Why don’t you ask Father Sun to come back then?” said eagle.
“Oh,” said little wallaby, “I’d never thought of that.”
“Oh,” said bush mouse, “Neither did I.”
“But how?” asked old wombat, “I can’t fly.”
“Yes, how?” asked lyre bird, “The sun’s too high.”
And they all looked at the eagle. “But you can fly high.”
So eagle set off to ask Father Sun to come back.
All the animals watched as he flew higher and higher in the sky until he was
just a tiny speck.
Then they watched as he came closer and closer back to the ground.
“Did you see him?” asked little wallaby.
“What did he say?” asked bush mouse.
“Will he come back?” asked old wombat.
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“Tell us,” said lyre bird.
And so the eagle told them that he had seen the sun and brought back a
message for them.
“Father Sun is coming back. If you look around the bush you’ll see his light in
the little golden balls of the wattle blossom and they will let you know that he
is on his way.”
And that made the animals happy because they could see the golden wattle all
around them and they knew that they would be warm again soon.
38
Peppercorn Birthday Cake
AUSTRALIA
This recipe comes from the Peppercorn Kindergarten

of the Melbourne Rudolf Steiner School.
Ingredients:
4 cups gluten-free flour
1 cup honey
1 cup oil
5 eggs
5 grated carrots
1 teaspoon cream of tartar
1 teaspoon baking soda
To make:
Mix all ingredients together and pour into a cake pan.
Bake for 55 minutes at 350°F (175ºC).
Let cool and slice and serve with fresh fruit.
Shared by Leanne Moraes
39
Europe
The Duckling’s Journey
A TALE FROM AUSTRIA
O NCE UPON A TIME, there was a duckling who was all eager to see the
world. As she waddled along, Lumpy Bumpy Frog crossed her path.
“Where are you headed, Duckling?”
“I’m off to see the world!”
“Can I come along, Duckling?”
“Sit on my tail,” said the Duckling. The Frog jumped onto her tail, and the
Duckling waddled off with him.
Soon, along came the fat millstone and asked, “Where are you headed,
Duckling and Lumpy Bumpy Froggie?”
“We’re off to see the world!”
“Can I join you?”
“Sit on my tail,” said Lumpy Bumpy Froggie. The fat millstone got on and they
settled into a trot. It was not long before a piece of coal with red-hot cheeks
rolled up to them.
It asked, “Where are you headed, Duckling, Lumpy Bumpy Frog, fat millstone?”
“We’re off to see the world!”
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“Can I come along?”
“Sit on my tail,” said the fat millstone. Now the coal, with its red-hot cheeks
hopped onto the millstone and was happy to be taken along to see the world.
They had the time of their lives—Duckling quacked, Lumpy Bumpy Frog
croaked, the fat millstone ground and crunched, and the coal hissed. They
marched and marched along and came to a stream. What now? There was no
bridge to the other side, no foot plank or stepping stones. . .
The Duckling cheerfully glided into the water and swam with the others in tow.
When she reached the middle of the stream, she said, “Hold on tight! I want
to dive down a little and catch a worm.” Alas, that was the end of the millstone
and the coal with the red-hot cheeks.
With a splash, the millstone sank to the bottom of the stream.
The coal hissed and its red cheeks turned black as death.
“Croak,” said Lumpy Bumpy Frog and he swam to the other shore where the
Duckling was already waiting. They laughed and laughed until their bellies
ached, and they laughed happily ever after.
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The Story of the Cat with the
Long, Long Tail A TALE FROM BELGIUM
CONTRIBUTOR’S NOTE: This is a story told by my father while we children would sit on his
lap, facing him. He would now and then pause before the last word of a sentence and let us fill
in that last word. In the beginning, when we were still very small children, we would just imitate
the sounds until we were able to speak the words. As we grew older, he would tell the story with
more expression and suspense. This is how I remember learning to speak, purely out of joy while
sitting warm and safe on my father’s lap.
Thinking back on it now, many years after my father’s death, I realize that by letting us
contribute in the telling, he allowed us to take part in this wonderful magic of creating the story.
This magical process of telling this story together continues in our family with each grand- and
great-grandchild that is born. I hope that it will continue to bring joy to many children.
—Clara Aerts, Belgium
Suggested “pauses” in the story are indicated in the first stanza, like. . . this. The teller
should feel free to adopt this method of telling for the whole story if desired.
T HERE WAS ONCE an old lady,

who sat on a. . . chair.
And under the chair,
was a cat with fur so. . . fair.
Soon the old lady fell fast asleep,
a sleep so deep, so very. . . deep.
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Suddenly the lady started to snore,
And made a terrible, terrible roar.
The cat jumped up and ran with fear,
She thought she heard thunder and the world would disappear!
And so she ran into the wide, wide world.
There she came upon a farm,
And saw a bright rooster with lots of charm.
The rooster saw the cat running by and asked:
“Pussy, pussy, why such fear? Why so fast?”
“Ah, I heard thunder and the world will disappear!”
“Pussy, pussy, please can I come along?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” said the cat, “just jump on my tail so long, so long.”
So the rooster jumped on the cat’s long, long tail,
And off the two ran into the wide, wide world.
After a while they passed a pond,
And in it a duck with feathers so long.
“Pussy, pussy, why so fast? Why such fear?”
“Pussy, pussy, can I come along?”
The duck jumped behind the rooster on the cat’s long, long tail,
And off the three ran into the wide, wide world.
At the side of the road they passed a dog,
who was digging for a bone behind a log.
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The dog jumped behind the duck and the rooster on the cat’s long, long tail,
And off the four of them ran, into the wide, wide world.
Passing a meadow, a horse came close.
He looked at our friends and stuck out his nose.
The horse jumped behind the dog, the duck and the rooster on the
cat’s long, long tail,
And off the five of them ran into the wide, wide world.
They reached a wood and dark set in,
“What now, what shall we do, how to begin?”
The rooster flew high, to the top of a tree,
And looked all around, a light to see.
“A light, a light, a house so small,
I’m sure there will be room for us all.”
And so they went to the house in the wood,
And looked through the window, as quietly as they could.
Nobody seemed to be at home,
The house was left all alone.
“This small, little house is just right,
Let’s all stay here and spend the night.”
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The dog lay down on the front doorstep;
The horse went to the back and slept and slept.
The duck made her nest in the old iron sink;
The rooster flew up the chimney in a wink.
And the cat made her nest in the ashes so warm,
And not long after, they all fell asleep,
And dreamed and dreamed so deep, so deep.
But at midnight the owners of the house came back.
They were robbers loaded with goods in their sack.
“It looks as if someone has turned off the light,
We better be careful and see who came in here tonight.”
So they sent out the youngest to see that all was right.
The night was black,
There was no moon that shone,
When the robber went back
To the house all alone.
As he stepped on the doorstep
The dog barked and bit,
So he went in the house
To find a place to sit.
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Inside the house, all was as black as night;
He couldn’t see left; he couldn’t see right.
So he went to the chimney
To find himself a light,
But the rooster pecked his hand with all his might,
And the robber, afraid, began to shout:
“There are ghosts in this house, please let me get out!”
He stirred up the ashes,
To give him some light,
But the cat blew the ashes,
So he was left with no sight.
He went to the iron sink,
To rinse out his eyes
But there was the duck
And she wasn’t so nice.
Finally he fled through the back door
And was kicked in the air
By the horse who stood waiting
To give him his share.
The robber went running to the others and cried:
“There are ghosts in the house, let us run and hide!”
So away they ran, far, far away
And they never came back, not to this day,
And our friends in this house will always stay.
49
Tailor Tom
A TALE FROM DENMARK
O NCE A LITTLE MAN went to the tailor with a small piece of cloth.
“Good afternoon, Tom,” said the little man to the tailor as he bowed.
“Good afternoon,” said the tailor. He sat on the table as tailors do.
“Can I have a coat made from this piece of fabric, please?” asked the man.
“Yes,” answered the tailor.
“When will it be done, Tom?”
“On Tuesday.”
“Thank you, Tom, and goodbye.” And the little man went home.
Monday came and went, and Tuesday came.

And Nunsy Zunsy Zip, the little man, went to the tailor.
“Good afternoon, Tom. Is my coat ready?”
“No, it is not. No coat could be made.”
“What can be made then?” asked the little man.
“A pair of pants.”
“When will they be done, Tom?”
“On Wednesday.”
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Monday came and went. And Tuesday came. And Tuesday went. And
Wednesday came.
“Good afternoon, Tom. Are my pants done yet?”
“No, they are not. No pants could be made.”
“What can be made then?”
“A vest.”
“When will it be done?”
“On Thursday.”
Monday came and went. And Tuesday came and Tuesday went. Wednesday
came and Wednesday went. And Thursday came.
“Good afternoon, Tom. Is my vest done?”
“No, it is not done. No vest could be made.”
“A pair of mittens.”
“When will they be done?”
“On Friday.”
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came and Wednesday went. And Thursday came and Thursday went. And
Friday came.
“Good afternoon, Tom. Are my mittens done?”
“No, they are not. No mittens could be made.”
“A pair of suspenders.”
“When will they be done?”
“On Saturday.”
came and Wednesday went. And Thursday came and Thursday went. Friday
came and Friday went. And Saturday came.
“Good afternoon, Tom. Are my suspenders done?”
“No, they are not. No suspenders could be made.”
“Nothing.”
“Thank you, Tom, and goodbye.” And the little man went home. And he never
went back.
Snip, snap, snout,
Our tale is now told out.
53
Little Ash Squirrel and
Little Oak Squirrel A TALE FROM FRANCE
I N A VALLEY BEHIND A MOUNTAIN there ran a small river:
Run, run little river,

Jump, jump high the waves,
Slip, slide o'er the river bed,
Shine, shine in the light.
And the river ran so clearly and babbled so gaily that all the brightly colored
flowers came to the river bank to listen to the river laugh, and the trees
stretched their branches and their leaves closer, to better hear the river’s
song. Rabbits and foxes came by often to drink the clear water and even the
shepherds built a little hut so they could rest by the shores.
There were also two families of squirrels who lived there: one in an ash tree
on one side of the river and the other in an oak tree on the other side. The ash
tree baby squirrel was a friend of the oak tree baby squirrel, and if one would
jump from branch to branch, and if one would play hide and seek in the hollow
logs, the other was sure to follow.
One day, while they were both searching for nuts in an old nut tree, they
found an especially beautiful nut, bigger than the others and so sweet and so
tasty. . . never before had they had such a nut as this! As they turned it over
55
and over, looking at it from all sides, the nut slipped from their little paws
and fell to the rocks below, where it split in two. As fast as the wind, little ash
squirrel and little oak squirrel climbed down the tree to look for it. But what
a surprise they had when they found it! Inside, the two halves were made of
pure gold! And the minute they put the two halves together. . .
Sweet music played,

The flowers sang,
The hares and foxes danced,
The wind sprites played their violins,
The sunbeams rang their golden bells,
And the nut tree shook her branches, showering down her nuts.
Oak squirrel and ash squirrel ate their fill. Suddenly, the music stopped and the
sky darkened. Where were the two golden halves of the nut? They had rolled
into the water! Two fat crabs were sitting on each half, arguing and pinching
each other with their long claws. So loud was their fighting that the river
turned grey, and the two little squirrels began to cry.
Just then, Mr. and Mrs. Fox came by and, seeing what the crabs were fighting
over, decided that they, too, wanted the golden nut. They scared away the
crabs by slapping the water with their paws. The foxes each took a nut-half
in their mouths and disappeared into their den. Inside the den, they began to
argue because each one wanted the other’s nut half. The little squirrels could
hear them arguing.
Mr. and Mrs. Rabbit also heard them and happily exclaimed, “The foxes are
arguing! We can hop about with no worries!” When they heard that, the foxes,
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who were tired and hungry, dropped the nuts and chased after the rabbits,
who quickly escaped. However, ash squirrel and oak squirrel had slipped into
the den, picked up the nuts and quickly climbed up the trunk of a very tall tree.
There they once again joined the two halves of the nut.
Sweet music played,

The flowers sang,
The hares and foxes danced,
The wind sprites played their violins,
The sunbeams rang their golden bells. . .
When the day was over, each squirrel went back to her home, one to the ash
tree and one to the oak tree. And each family admired the golden nut half.
But the next morning, when the two friends wished to meet each other and to
join their nut halves together, their parents said, “No!” They were afraid that
the little squirrels would lose their nuts, so they were not allowed to leave their
homes.
How sad they were! As each one sat in a hole in her tree, for a moment it
seemed to them that the little river did not gurgle as happily as was its custom.
It was as if the river were saying to them, “Dig! Dig inside your tree, right down
to the roots.”
Little ash squirrel and little oak squirrel went to work right away and they
dug and they dug with their sharp pointed teeth until they reached the roots
and had made a secret passageway. There they found the entrance to an
underground passage, so dark and so cold that they did not dare enter. “Bring
your half of the nut,” said Mrs. Mole to the ash squirrel and said Mr. Mole to
57
the oak squirrel. The two squirrels climbed back to their homes and the next
night, when everyone was sleeping, they each found their nut half and climbed
down to the roots again. The oak squirrel entered the dark hallway and went
forward until she bumped into something warm and soft: it was the little snout
of her friend, the ash squirrel. They embraced with joy and quickly put the two
nut halves together.
Sweet music played,

The flowers sang,
Mr. and Mrs. Mole danced,
And the light of the crystals deep below
Rang thousands of little golden bells. . .
And there, under the ground, were plenty of nuts. The squirrels ate their fill
and brought the rest to their families, who were never again hungry during the
long, cold winters, because little ash squirrel and little oak squirrel met often in
the crystal cave under the singing river.
58
Turlutin
A TALE FROM FRANCE
O NCE UPON A TIME there was a little imp, dressed all in red, whose name
was Turlutin. As everyone knows, all the imps, dwarves and gnomes go
back into the earth each winter to care for the seeds and the earthworms until
spring comes again. Turlutin did not like to stay under the ground; he liked to
frolic in the woods. One day, when it seemed that winter would never end and
Turlutin was tired of staying in his underground cave, he decided to leave. All
his friends were shocked, and said to him, “But Turlutin, you should not leave
yet; you must help us prepare for spring. It is too cold up above and you will
freeze!”
But Turlutin was stubborn and he would not listen to anyone. One sunny,
cold morning, when everyone awoke, Turlutin was not there—he had tiptoed
out just as the sun was waking. When he walked out into the world above, it
was so beautiful that he was not sorry he had left his hole. Snow covered the
whole forest and the sunbeams made everything sparkle like a thousand stars.
He ran in the snow, sliding and doing cartwheels. He sang, he danced, so
happy was he to be outside once more. But evening soon came and the sun
began to set. An icy mist began to fall and it became very cold. Turlutin began
to shiver; his little hands and feet were freezing! He wanted to go back home,
under the ground, but in all his dancing and singing, he had lost his way. Afraid,
59
he began to cry. Just then, a little rabbit hopped by and Turlutin told her his
story.
“Don’t worry; I’ll help you,” said the rabbit. “Stay here and I will be right back.”
and she ran to find her forest friends: the squirrel, the doe, the bear and the
fox. She told them all about Turlutin’s troubles.
“He should come to my house,” said the doe.
“No, he should come to mine, where it is warmer,” said the fox.
“Bring him to my house; it is more comfortable,” said the squirrel.
“Mine is bigger,” said the bear.
Then they all began to argue about whose house would be better for the little
imp. Suddenly, little rabbit had an idea: “Let’s all go to little imp and each one
of us will give him a little piece of our fur to make a warm and soft bed for him.”
When they finally found Turlutin, he was asleep on the snow, shivering in his
sleep. Quietly, without making a sound, everyone gave a piece of his or her fur.
The fox and the squirrel chose the softest fur from their bushy tails; the bear
made a small pillow using the short brown hair from his back. The doe offered
the soft white fur from her belly and the rabbit gave some long, beautiful hairs
from her ears. They covered Turlutin with the fur blanket, without waking him,
and all the animals lay around him, keeping him warm.
Turlutin woke with the first rays of sun. He opened his eyes and saw all the
animals around him. He had slept very well and had been toasty warm all night
long. He thanked the animals, hugging each one. The rabbit said, “Now that
it is day, we will take you to your door.” Turlutin climbed up on the rabbit’s
back and they set off on their way. The rabbit knows all the paths in the forest
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and quickly found the door to Turlutin’s house. Turlutin bid good-bye to all
his new friends and promised to see them again in the springtime, when all
the snow would be gone. Then into his house he went and there he found his
friends the dwarves, who had been very worried. Turlutin was so tired from his
adventure that he climbed into his little bed and fell fast asleep, and he slept
until springtime came again.
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The Lantern
A TALE FROM GERMANY
O NCE UPON A TIME there was a little girl. Through the dark streets she
carried her little lantern and happily enjoyed its shine.
Wheeh! came the wind and blew with might!
It snuffed out the candle—blew out the light!
“Who can light my lantern again?” She looked all around, there was no one to
be found.
A hedgehog scampered along the path. “Oh, dear hedgehog,” asked the girl,
“the wind blew out my candle. Who can light my lantern again?”
“Cannot tell you, ask the bear. Cannot stay—home to my children I must go.”
The girl walked on. A big brown bear came tramping along. “Oh, dear Bear,”
said the girl, “the wind blew out my candle. Do you know who can light it
again?”
The bear shook his furry head. “Cannot tell you. Ask the fox. I’m tired and
sleepy and need to rest.”
Next came the fox, sneaking through the pass. “What are you doing here in
the woods?” he said to the girl. “Go back to your home. You are chasing away
my mouse.”
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The girl sat on a stone and cried. “Is there no one who will help me?” The stars
heard her crying and said, “To Father Sun next do go. Father Sun is the one
who’ll know.”
The girl took new courage and went on. Finally she came to a small hut. In the
hut sat an old woman at her spinning wheel. The girl opened the door and
asked the kind woman, “Do you know the way to the sun? Will you come with
me?” “Oh no!” said the old woman, “I must turn the wheel and spin, spin, spin
a fine, fine thread. But sit awhile with me, you still have a long way to go.” The
girl sat and rested. After she had rested, she took her lantern and went on.
And again she came to a small hut; in it sat an old cobbler, hammering his
shoes. “Good day, dear Cobbler. Do you know the way to the sun? Will you go
with me?”
“Oh no!” replied the cobbler. “I have to patch many more shoes. But rest a little
while with me; you still have a long way to go.” The girl sat and rested. And
when she had rested, she took her lantern and again went on.
At last she saw a tall mountain in the distance. “There the sun must live,” she
thought to herself and ran as fast as a deer. Near the mountain she saw a
small boy playing with his ball. “Come with me, “called the girl, “I am going to
Father Sun!” But the boy wanted to play with his ball and went skipping over
the meadow.
So the girl continued on her path alone. Higher and higher up the mountain
she went. When she got to the top, she did not see Father Sun. “I shall wait
here until he comes,” she thought, and sat down on the ground and was soon
fast asleep.
But Father Sun had been watching the little girl all day. As evening came,
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Father Sun came down and lit the lantern. When the girl awoke, she saw the
light shining in her lantern. “Oh! My lantern is shining again!” she cried out.
She jumped to her feet and went happily back down the path.
Again she met the little boy. “I lost my ball and cannot find it anywhere,” he
said. “I will light your way,” said the girl, and with her help the ball was found.
The boy thanked her and skipped away.
The girl kept walking down into the valley until she came to the cobbler’s shop.
Sad, the cobbler was sitting in his shop. “My fire went out. Now my hands are
cold and stiff from the cold and I cannot patch the shoes any more.” “I will
light your fire again”, cried the girl. The cobbler warmed his hands and again
could busily hammer and sew.
On went the girl through the forest. She came to the old woman’s hut. “My
light is burnt out,” said the old woman. “I have not been able to spin for a long
time.” “I will light it for you,” said the girl happily. The old woman went back to
her spinning wheel and spun, spun, spun a fine, fine thread.
At last the girl came onto the open field and all the animals awoke from the
light of her lantern. The fox sniffed and blinked into the light. The big old
bear growled and grumbled and hid deeper in his winter’s den. Curious, the
hedgehog came along. “What a big firefly you have!” The little girl laughed and
bid him goodnight.
Happily the girl returned home, singing the song:
Glimmer, lantern, glimmer, little stars a-shimmer,
Over meadow, moor and dale,
Flitter, flutter, elfin veil.
Peewitt, peewitt, tick-a-tick-a tick, roucou, roucou.
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Speaking Grapes, Smiling
Apples and Ringing Peaches A TALE FROM HUNGARY
T HERE WAS ONCE a king who had three beautiful daughters. One day he set
off to the market, but before he left he asked his daughters:
“Tell me girls, what would you like me to bring back for you from the market?”
“Please buy me a golden dress,” said the eldest daughter.
“I would like a silver dress,” said the middle daughter.
“And what would you like?” the king asked the youngest princess.
“My dear father,” said she, “bring me some speaking grapes, smiling apples and
ringing peaches.”
The king scratched his head. “Hmmm, I have never heard of those, but I’ll
certainly bring them to you if they exist.” With that, the king went to the
market.
He bought a golden dress for his eldest daughter and a silver one for his
middle daughter, but speaking grapes, smiling apples and ringing peaches were
not to be found anywhere in the whole market. He was sad that he could not
fulfill his dearest daughter’s wish.
“Alas,” he said to himself, “as soon as I get home, I’ll make an announcement
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that whosoever can bring me some speaking grapes, smiling apples and ringing
peaches should come to my palace and will be rewarded with riches for their
whole life.”
Just then his carriage suddenly shuddered and came to a stop. It was stuck fast
in the mud—so stuck that the horse could not move it at all. The king tried
everything he could think of but the horse just stood still. The king did not
know what to do. His horse was so strong, at other times, that it could pull
anything; now it would not even pull the small cart.
He asked for help from the nearest village. People came with more horses and
all kinds of animals but nobody could move the cart. Suddenly a pig appeared
and said: “Your Majesty, if you give me your youngest daughter’s hand in
marriage, I’ll help you out of the mud.”
The king’s mouth opened wide with astonishment, but he couldn’t say a word.
Then without thinking he said, “All right. Show me what you can do.” He shook
hands with the pig and said, “If you help me get out of here, I promise I’ll give
you my youngest daughter.”
The pig immediately put his snout into the mud under the cart wheels, gave a
push and the cart was out of the mud in no time at all, and the horse took the
king home in a flash, galloping the whole way.
When he arrived, he gave the golden dress to the eldest daughter and the
silver one to the middle daughter and then he said to his youngest daughter:
“Why didn’t you also wish for a dress? I couldn’t find speaking grapes, smiling
apples and ringing peaches anywhere.”
The words had hardly passed his lips when he heard the pig approaching. He
looked through the window and sure enough, there stood the pig at the gate.
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He had even brought a wheelbarrow with him to put the princess in. He
shouted up to the king: “Your Majesty, I am here to take your daughter home
with me.”
“You horrible pig,” thought the king. “I know what I’ll do,” he said to himself.
Quickly he dressed the servant girl in beautiful silken clothes and sent her
downstairs, but the pig immediately realized he had been cheated and he cried:
“Your Majesty, this is not your daughter. Give me your true daughter.” The king
was beside himself with remorse that he had been so careless as to promise his
dearest daughter to this ugly pig. Why, he’d even shaken hands on it!
The little princess was very upset. The tears fell down her face and she cried so
loudly that the whole palace shook. She said she’d rather die than marry a pig.
The king, too, was in tears as he said, “I promised I would give you to him, so
you must go.”
But he tried yet another idea. They dressed the princess in an ugly, old, grey
and dirty gown, hoping that the pig might no longer want her. But they were
mistaken. The pig rejoiced when he saw the princess. He gently put her in his
wheelbarrow and carried her away. “Don’t cry, little princess; you’ll be happy
with me,” he said. But the princess just cried and cried.
“Don’t cry, little princess, we’ll be home soon.” said the pig. The princess cried
even harder when the pig stopped at the pigsty, led her in and bade her sit in
the dirty hay. “This is my house, little princess,” and he gave her some corn to
eat. The princess cried herself to sleep. “Sleep, little princess, your grief will
soon turn to happiness tomorrow,” said the pig.
She slept and slept until midday and when she opened her eyes—oh wonder
—everything was shining brightly around her. She had fallen asleep in a pigsty
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and awakened in a palace! She had lain down on straw and awakened on silken
bed sheets. When she opened her eyes, a dozen maidens came to ask her how
they could serve her. They brought beautiful dresses made of silver and gold
for her to wear, and then they accompanied her to the dining hall. There, the
table was already laid with food, and a handsome prince came towards her. He
led her to the table and spoke: “Please sit down, beautiful princess. All that
your eyes can see here belongs to you, even myself; I am yours if you so wish.”
“But who are you?” she asked.
“I will tell you everything. Come with me into the garden.” And as they were
walking, lo, a vine branch brushed against her, its bunch of grapes speaking,
saying, “Take me, beautiful princess.”
“These are the speaking grapes,” said the youth. They went on and, oh wonder,
there was an apple tree covered with smiling little red apples. As they
continued to walk, all at once the air was filled with the sound of many bells.
“Look at that tree,” said the prince, “it bears ringing peaches.” Well, you can
imagine how happy the princess was; she cried and laughed at the same time.
“You see, I have everything you wished for here in my garden,” said the prince.
“Will you stay with me and be my wife?” Embracing him, she answered, “I’ll stay
with you and we’ll be together forever.”
Then the youth told her that he used to be a prince but an enchantress had
changed him into a pig and that he had to be a pig until a maiden came along
who wished for speaking grapes, smiling apples and ringing peaches.
They invited the princess’s father, the king, with all his court and celebrated a
grand wedding. They lived for a long time and if they are not dead yet, then
they still live.
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The Old Woman and the
Little Mouse A TALE FROM SWEDEN
T HERE ONCE WAS an old woman who sat spinning at her wheel. While she sat
spinning, she sang a little song:
Spin, spin,
Spin my spinning wheel.
All of a sudden, a little mouse scurried out from a hole in the wall behind the
oven.
“Whatever do you want, little mouse?”
“Excuse me, ma’am, but I have a question from my mother—what are you going
to do with the wool you are spinning?”
“Well,” said the old woman, “I am going to knit a sweater for my husband, the
farmer. His is so old and worn that it no longer keeps him warm.”
“Pip,” said the little mouse, “I will tell mother.” And the little mouse scurried into
the hole in the wall behind the oven.
The old woman continued to spin and while she sat spinning, she sang a little
song:
Spin, spin,
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Soon, the little mouse scurried out of the hole in the wall behind the oven.
“Whatever do you want now, little mouse?” asked the old woman.
“Well,” said the little mouse, “I have a question from mother: what are you
going to do with your husband’s old sweater when you knit him a new one?”
“Well,” answered the old woman, “I will mend it and use it myself, as my old
sweater is so old and worn that it doesn’t keep me warm any longer.”
The little mouse listened carefully and then said, “Pip, thank-you, ma’am, I will
tell my mother,” and then scurried off into the hole in the wall behind the oven.
The old woman carried on spinning, and while she sat spinning, she sang a
little song:
Spin, spin,
After a little while, the mouse scurried out from the hole in the wall behind the
oven.
“Whatever do you want now, little mouse?” asked the old woman.
“Well,” said the little mouse, “I have a question from my mother: what are you
going to do with your old sweater when you use your husband’s old one?”
“Ah,” answered the old woman, “I will give it to our old dog, to have in his
basket, as his old blanket no longer keeps him warm.”
“Pip,” answered the little mouse, “I will tell mother.” And the little mouse
scurried back into the hole in the wall behind the oven.
The old woman carried on spinning, and while she sat spinning, she sang a
little song:
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Spin, spin,
Then all of a sudden, the little mouse scurried out from the hole behind the
oven.
“Whatever do you want now, little mouse?”
“Well,” said the little mouse, “I have a question from mother: what are you
going to do with your dog’s old blanket when you give him your old sweater?”
“Well,” said the old woman, and her blue eyes sparkled as she smiled at the little
mouse. “You can have it if you like.”
The little mouse was so happy that she jumped up in the air and did a little
mouse dance, and while she danced, she sang,
Now I will sleep tight,
warm and snug all through the night.
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Sir Cat-O-Puss
A TALE FROM THE UKRAINE
T HERE WAS ONCE a man who had a cat so old that he could not even catch
mice.
“What shall I do with this old cat of mine?” said the man to himself. “How will I
feed him? I think I’ll take him to the forest and let him take care of himself!”
And he took the cat to the forest and left him there.
By and by a fox came running up and saw the cat.
“Who may you be?” she asked.
And the cat replied: “I am Sir Cat-O-Puss.”
“Why don’t we get married, Sir Cat-O-Puss?” said the fox. “I will be a good wife
to you.”
The cat agreed to marry the fox and the fox took him with her to her house.
She tried very hard to please him. If she caught a chicken she would not eat it
herself but bring it to him first, even if it meant that she had to do without.
One day the fox met a rabbit who said to her: “I am going to come and pay
you a visit, little Sister Fox.”
“You mustn’t do that,” the fox said. “I have Sir Cat-O-Puss living in my house
now. He might claw you to death.”
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Off ran the rabbit and he told the wolf, the bear and the wild boar what the
fox had said. So they all got together and began to think how they were to get
to meet Sir Cat-O-Puss.
“Let’s invite him to dinner!” said they.
“They talked over the menu and the Wolf said: “I will go and get the meat for
the borscht.”
“And I will go and fetch the beets and potatoes,” said the Boar.
“And I will bring some honey for dessert,” said the Bear.
And as for the Rabbit, he ran off to get some cabbage.
They brought all these good things and set to cooking them. But when
everything was ready they couldn’t agree as to which of them was to go and
invite Sir Cat-O-Puss.
“What will I do if I am forced to run for it?” said the Bear. “I will never be able to
do it.”
“I’m rather clumsy, too, I’m afraid,” said the Boar.
“And I am old and do not see well,” said the Wolf.
So that only left Rabbit.
Off he made at a run for the Fox’s house, and wasn’t the Fox surprised to see
him standing on his hind paws in front of it!
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Please, Fox, the Wolf, the Boar, the Bear and I, too, would very much like to
have you and Sir Cat-O-Puss dine with us today,” the Rabbit said.
“That’s nice of you!” said the Fox. “I’ll certainly come and Sir Cat-O-Puss will
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come with me, only the four of you must hide or he might claw you to death!”
Back ran the Rabbit and he told his friends about it. And oh, how frightened
they were! The Bear climbed a tree, the Wolf crouched behind a bush, the
Rabbit hid under it, and the Boar tried to hide benath a pile of brushwood.
By and by the Fox arrived with Sir Cat-O-Puss at her side. She led him to the
table, and when he saw the meat he was pleased and said, “Miaow-miaow-
miaow!”
And the four friends said to themselves: “Was there ever a beast so fierce!
Nothing seems to be enough for him. At this rate, he might eat us up, too!”
Sir Cat-O-Puss climbed up onto the table and began to gobble up the food.
And when he had eaten his fill, he curled up and fell fast asleep.
Now, the Boar was hiding nearby beneath a pile of brushwood, with only his
tail out, and a mosquito flew up just then and bit it. The Boar could not help
himself, he twitched his tail, and Sir Cat-O-Puss, who thought it was a mouse,
rushed at it and caught it between his teeth. The Boar sprang up and away he
ran as fast as his legs would carry him!
And Sir Cat-O-Puss leapt up into the tree close to where the Bear was sitting.
Seeing him, the Bear climbed higher, but the branches broke under him and he
tumbled down straight onto the Wolf’s back and nearly crushed him! Up the
two of them jumped and away they rushed, and the Rabbit ran after them so
fast that he could not have said afterwards where his feet had taken him!
All four of them came together again after a while and they talked it all over.
“Sir Cat-O-Puss is small, but he nearly ate up all four of us!” they said.
And snip, snap, snout, this tale is told out.
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The Soupstone Story
A TALE FROM THE UNITED KINGDOM
O NCE THERE WAS a little girl walking through the forest. She was lost, and
tired, and hungry, and cold.
She came to a little hut in the middle of a clearing and knocked at the door.
A man came out and she said, “I’m lost, and I’m tired, and I’m cold, and I’m
hungry. Can I please come in and warm up, sleep on the floor and have a bit of
bread to eat?”
The man said, “You’re welcome to come in, and I can make you up a bed by the
fire. But I’m afraid that I do not have any food for you to eat.”
“Well,” said the little girl, “I have a magic soupstone in my pocket.”
“A magic soupstone? What’s that?” asked the man.
“If you put it in a pot of water and cook the water, it will make lovely soup.”
“That’s amazing, said the man. “Let’s try it.”
So he found a pot, filled it with water and put it on the stove. The little girl
dropped the soupstone in it and they waited while the water heated.
After a few minutes, the man said, “How’s that soup of yours doing?”
The little girl took a ladle and tasted it, and said, “It’s pretty good, but it would
be even better if there was some potato in it.”
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“Potato!” said the man. “I have a potato here somewhere.” So he found a potato,
cut it up and put it into the soup, and they waited.
After a few minutes, the man said, “How’s that soup doing?”
The little girl took the ladle and tasted it. She said, “It’s pretty good, but it
would be even better if there were some leeks in it.”
“Leeks!” said the man. “I have some leeks here somewhere.” So he found the
leeks, cut them up and put them into the soup, and they waited.
After a few minutes, the man said, “How’s the soup doing?”
The little girl took the ladle and tasted it, and said, “It’s pretty good, but it
would be even better if there was some carrot in it.”
“Carrot!” said the man. “I have some carrots here somewhere.” So he found the
carrots and cut them up and put them into the soup, and they waited.
After a few minutes, the man said, “How’s that soup doing?”
The little girl took the ladle and tasted it and said, “It’s pretty good, but it
would be even better if there were some herbs in it.”
“Herbs!” said the man. “I have some herbs here somewhere.” So he found the
herbs, chopped them up and put them into the soup, and they waited.
After a few minutes, the man said, “How’s the soup doing?”
The little girl took the ladle and tasted it, and said, “It’s ready, and it’s lovely!”
And it was.
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Spitzbuben Cookies
AUSTRIA
We make these cookies together with our children and serve them at
festive events; in that case, of course, the recipe can easily be doubled
or tripled. They are delicious!
Ingredients:
1 and 3/4 cup flour (280 grams)
1 cup butter (210 grams)
1/2 cup sugar (110 grams)
1 egg yolk
To Make:
Mix ingredients well, roll out dough and cut into shapes with cookie cutters.
Bake on a greased cookie sheet at 350°F (175ºC) for 15 minutes.
Shared by Brigitte Goldmann
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Michaelmas Soup
DENMARK
Traditionally, elderberries are the last food to be harvested in Denmark.

This ending of the harvest is a grand occasion and this soup, a wonderful source
of Vitamin C, has been served in the fall for generations—a last fling before the winter!
It will turn your lips and teeth temporarily blue, and servings
should be limited to a maximum of two.
Pick 20–30 sprigs of elderberries;

be sure to leave some for the birds and deer and for St. Michael!
Pick the berries off the stems (or leave them on, removing the whole stem
at the end of cooking) and put them in a deep pot with a bit more than
2 quarts (2 liters) of water.
Add four to five chopped cooking apples.

Cook over medium heat for 15 minutes, stirring constantly,
as this soup can boil over.
Taste and add turbinado sugar, if needed. Strain out berries and apples,
or leave them in if the berries have been removed from the stems.
Serve topped with whipped cream.
Shared by Helle Heckmann
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St. John’s Elderflower Summer Drink
DENMARK
Early in the morning, pick twenty or so sprigs of elderflowers from the bush
before the sun has touched the flowers. Put flowers in a gallon (3-4 liter) container,
adding four to five lemons, sliced thinly and roughly 1 pound (1 ⁄ 2 kilo)
of raw (turbinado) sugar.
Add about three quarts of boiling water to fill the container

(if the water is not boiling, the flowers will turn brown)
and quickly cover.
Refrigerate for three days, shaking the jar vigorously once a day.
On the third day, strain out the flowers and the lemon slices.
This is a concentrated drink, so serve it in a ratio of

1 part concentrate to 3 parts water.
Shared by Helle Heckmann
83
Potato Pogatcha
HUNGARY
Ingredients
4 cups (2 lb/1000 g) all-purpose (wheat) flour
2 cups (1 lb/500 g) wholegrain rye flour
2/3 oz (20 g) yeast
1 Tbsp honey
4–6 cups (32–48 fl oz/1–1.5 l) lukewarm milk or water
2–3 tsp sea salt
2–3 potatoes, peeled, diced, cooked, mashed and cooled
1 ⁄ 2 lb (200 g) unsalted butter, warmed, melted and cooled
2/3 cup (5 oz/155 g) shredded cheese, cheddar type
To make:
Pour 1 cup (2.5 dl) of the milk or water and honey into a bowl,
and stir to dissolve the honey.
Sprinkle the yeast over the top of the liquid, and add 2 Tbsp wheat flour.
Stir until smooth, cover with dishcloth and let stand in a warm place until
the yeast bubbles and forms a creamy layer, about 15–20 minutes.
Grease the baking sheets, melt the butter, shred the cheese.
Place the rye flour in a large bowl. On the top sift the white flour
and mix the flours with your hands.
Create a well in the center, and pour in the yeast mixture.
Add the mashed potato, salt and almost 1 liter of milk or water.
Mix together and knead with your hands.
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When the mixture begins form a dough, add the melted but not too warm butter.
Add milk or water if necessary and knead for 5-6 minutes to form
a smooth and springy dough.
Form the dough into a ball, and throw it onto a well-floured surface three times.
Knead for 2-3 minutes, then separate it into little balls.
Sift flour on the desk in front of children. Each of them gets a dough ball.
They knead the dough well, then with little rolling pins they can roll out each ball
until it is about 1 inch (2.5 cm) thick, as they see the adult doing.
Using a knife the children can score the dough horizontally, then vertically
to make a grid of 1/4–1/5 inch (0.5 cm) squares.
Flour the edge of 2- to 4-inch round cutters or glasses and have the children cut out
rounds from the dough. Spread the shredded cheese on top of the rounds.
Place the pogatchas on the greased baking sheets, leaving about 1 inch (2.5 cm)
between them. Bake the pogatchas in a 400°F (200°C) preheated oven
for 20-25 minutes or until they turn light golden brown.
Shared by Joli Kiss
85
Salty Pretzels
HUNGARY
Ingredients:
7 cups flour (1 kg)
8 ounces butter or margarine (25 dkg)
2 tablespoons salt
1 package instant yeast
1 teaspoon sugar
Water
Topping: 1 tablespoon salt, 3 tablespoon flour and water
(This should be a liquid, but thick substance)
To make:
Crumble flour with butter or margarine. Add yeast, sugar and salt,
and add enough lukewarm water to form a soft dough (don’t let it be gluey,
but make sure it holds together). Let rise until it doubles in bulk.
Tear a piece of dough and form a rope which is about 9 inches long, and as thick as
your little finger. Fold into the shape of a pretzel. Repeat with remaining dough. Bake
at 350ºF (175ºC) until pretzels are set, and drip on the topping. Bake until light brown.
There is a little rhyme that goes with the making (and specially the eating) of this pretzel:
Salty pretzel tasty when frizzled,
that’s what children like to nibble.
But you need to be real quick,
not to miss the last bit.
Shared by Joli Kiss
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Hot Cross Buns
UNITED KINGDOM
Hot Cross Buns,

Hot Cross Buns,
One a penny, two a penny,
Hot Cross Buns.
If you have no daughters,
Give them to your sons.
One a penny, two a penny,
Hot Cross Buns.
Ingredients:
4 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon nutmeg
½ teaspoon cinnamon
½ teaspoon allspice
1/4 cup butter
1/4 cup sugar
1 cup warm milk (can use water or almond or soy milk)
1 ounce yeast
1 egg
4 ounces dried currants or raisins
1 grated lemon or orange peel
Continued on next page...
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To Make:
Cut butter into the flour, sugar and spices.

Add yeast to warm milk and let sit a few minutes until yeast begins to bubble.
Add yeast mixture and everything else to flour mixture. Knead until smooth, cover with
a damp cloth and let rise until double.
Divide dough into 12 to 16 “buns.” Place on a greased tray, cover, and let rise again.
Bake at 400°F (200°C) for 15-20 minutes.
Glaze finish: boil together 2 tablespoons of sugar and 2 tablespoons of water.

Brush on top of buns when they have cooled.
To decorate, mix confectioners’ sugar with a small amount of water and a drop or two
of orange or lemon juice and drip onto the buns in the shape of a cross
when the buns are completely cool.
Adapted and shared by Louise deForest
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North
America
How the Robin Got Its Red
Breast A TALE FROM CANADA
I N THE VERY BEGINNING, when the world was young, the Sechelt people lived
in a cave. Every morning, bright and early, the robin would wake the first
people with his cheerful song, just like the robins do today. But in those days,
the robin did not have a bright red breast; the robin was brown and grey and
dull all over.
One winter, the snow fell and fell and it was bitterly cold outside. It was so
cold and the snow was so deep that the people had to stay in their cave day
after day. The grandfather, the grandmother, their children and their children’s
children all huddled together around the fire to keep warm.
One day they saw that there was almost no food left to eat and almost no
firewood left to keep them warm. They sent their strongest and bravest young
people out into the snow, some to gather firewood and some to find food. The
old folk and the children and their mothers stayed in the cave.
The old grandfather tended the fire and kept it going. Day and night he
watched over it, knowing that the children must be kept warm. Soon, however,
all that was left were some twigs and wood chips.
The young people stayed away for many days and all those days the
grandfather kept the fire burning, never stopping in his tending of it, not even
to sleep. The women lay by the fire with their children tucked into their cedar
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bark blankets beside them. And each morning, the fire was a little smaller.
Finally, only a few little embers were left. The grandfather kept them alive by
adding dried leaves and pine cones and blowing on them until they glowed
brightly. But grandfather was growing very tired and late one night he fell
asleep. The cave grew dark and cool as the glow of the embers faded.
The next morning, before the sun rose, the robin came to sing his cheerful
song to the people, as he always did. When he peeked into the cave, he could
hardly believe his eyes—the fire was almost dead! He hopped into the cave,
past the mothers and children and the old grandfather, who were all fast
asleep, and he hopped right up to the fire pit and began to beat his wings.
A draft swept through the cave, touching the grey embers and scattering
ashes over the sleeping people. The robin beat his wings faster, and slowly the
embers began to glow again, first weakly and then with a rich red glow that
warmed the dark cave. Closer he hopped until his grey breast reflected the
glow of the embers. It was hot, so close to the embers, but little robin moved
closer still and flapped his wings even faster so the fire would not die.
Just then, the call of the hunters was heard as they returned from their search
for food and firewood. As they entered the cave, the robin flew out. But the
little grey bird was dull no longer. His breast was the color of the glowing
embers!
The robin had saved the first people and ever since then, and even today, the
robin has had a red breast.
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Tajin and the Seven
Thunders A TALE FROM MEXICO
O NE SUMMER MORNING, a little boy named Tajin came to the jungles of

Totonacapan. He was not a very good boy; he could not be at peace with
anyone or anything. He threw stones at the monkeys, he kicked the trees, he
jumped on top of anthills—it is no wonder that he lived all by himself; no one
liked his company!
One day he met a strange old man at a curve in the road. The old man had a
long, long grey beard, a droopy moustache and such bushy eyebrows that they
almost covered his eyes.
“Good morning, lad. My brothers and I are looking for someone who will help
us plant and harvest and who will watch the fire and tend our house.”
“Who are your brothers?” asked Tajin.
“We are the Seven Thunders. Our task is to go up in the clouds and to make
the rain fall. With our capes, boots and swords, we walk in the air until we
unloosen the rain.”
Tajin had barely heard this when he imagined himself romping among the
clouds, and he immediately entered into the service of the Seven Thunders.
The Seven Thunders lived in a stone house atop a tall pyramid full of nooks
and crannies. When the nooks and crannies heard who was coming and what
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he was going to do, they complained bitterly:
“A stranger in our house?”
“We will no longer be able to keep our secrets!”
“He will learn all our tricks!”
“He certainly looks like a lazy fellow!”
“Peace, brothers, peace,” said the Seven Thunders. “We have always wanted to
go out together to do our work but we always have to argue about who will
stay and tend the house. This boy will solve all our problems.”
That afternoon, some clouds floated along the shore of the ocean. The Seven
Thunders, laughing and joking, opened the big wooden chest and took out
their work clothes. They put on their capes and their heavy boots and cinched
their swords around their waists and hurried off to the clouds. Their waving
capes made the wind blow, their boots echoed in the clouds and made
thunder, and their shiny swords flashed like lightning.
And so it was that the rain started, warm and soft like a blessing over the land.
For many days, Tajin was an excellent helper. But each time that he cleaned
the brothers’ boots, the same thought came to his head: “I have to go up there
myself.”
One day, the dreamed-of opportunity came. That morning the Seven Brothers
said they had to go to the market and off they went, very happy to have an
outing together. As soon as he was alone, Tajin threw down the broom, ran to
the wooden chest and dressed in the brothers’ clothes. Tajin rose up into the
sky. He ran through the clouds, shaking his cape so much that the clouds came
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all together, and he twirled his sword in the air. The sky, the earth and even
the deep sea were filled with a blinding light. Torrential rain fell over the jungle
amid the thunder and the lightening. It was not the blessed rain of the Seven
Thunders; it was a devastating storm. The day became dark, the wind broke
branches from the trees and the rain made the rivers grow.
As soon as the brothers saw what was happening, they knew it was the work
of the boy. They hurried home and as soon as they were dressed, they set off
to catch Tajin.
And there was Tajin, jumping from one cloud to the next. Every time he
moved, the storm became bigger; the wind howled, the rain grew thicker and
lightning and thunder covered the earth.
Many hours passed before the Seven Thunders could catch Tajin. When they
finally caught him, they carried him back to earth, tied him securely and took
him to the shore, to throw him into the ocean.
They threw him into the middle of the ocean and that’s where he has
lived ever since. He has grown, of course, and now he is called el Huracán.
Sometimes he leaves the depths of the ocean and, galloping on the wind, he
relieves the clouds of all their rain, while thunder and lightning fill the sky.
Then the Seven Thunders must catch him again and throw him back into the
deeps of the sea.
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The Legend of the Tepozteco
A TALE FROM MEXICO
NOTE: High on the cliffs above the town of Tepoztlán in the hills south of Mexico City perches
the Tepozteco Pyramid. It was dedicated to the Aztec god Tepoxtecatl and the hill on which it
is located is known as Ehecatepetl, or “hill of the wind.” You may still climb this hill today to see
the sites mentioned in this story, which is just one of the many legends about the hero Tepozteco.
The marks of his great battle are still visible, gouged into the rock of the hillside.
M ANY, MANY YEARS AGO, before anyone in Mexico spoke Spanish, there
was a beautiful princess called Chimalli. She lived in a village called
Tepoztlán, which was surrounded by tall, majestic mountains.
Close by the village there was a river and Chimalli often bathed in its crystal-
clear, clean water, surrounded by colorful flowers. One day when the hot
sun had warmed the waters of this river, Chimalli spent long hours bathing.
Ehecatl, God of the Wind, noticed her.
From high in the heavens, Ehecatl blew and blew and Chimalli found that she
was with child. Afraid that her parents would scold her, Chimalli hid herself
until the child was born.
When her strong and beautiful son was born, she did not want him, so she
placed him in a basket and set the basket adrift in the river. The next day, when
she returned to the river, she was surprised to see the basket caught in the reeds
on the shore and nightingales bringing the child drops of water and bits of food.
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Next, Chimalli took the basket with the child and brought it to a giant anthill
and there she again abandoned him to his fate. The ants did the child no harm;
they brought him drops of their honey and thus the child survived the night.
When Chimalli discovered that the child still lived, she took the basket with
the child and left it on top of a giant maguey cactus, with long, sharp thorns.
But the cactus made a soft bed for the child with its thorns and fed the child
drops of honey water.
Once again Chimalli took the basket and brought it to the high plains and left
the child and the basket on the rocky ground. This time she did not return to
see what happened to the child.
An old man and old woman found the child in the basket and they took him
home with them to their cave, to live with them as their own son.
Tepozteco, for that is what they named him, grew tall, strong and handsome.
High in the mountains, he learned how to shoot with a bow and arrow and
was able to bring meat home to his parents. He walked often in the high plains
and mountains and came to know the land as well as he knew his own hand.
He knew the name of all the plants growing about and of all the animals who
lived in this lonely place.
In those days, the people of Tepoztlán lived in fear of the wrath of the great
giant of Xochicalco. This giant was a terrible monster, enormously big, with an
appetite to go with his size, and his favorite meal was to eat the old people of
the villages. Every village in the area had to send him one old person each year.
When Tepozteco turned fourteen, the giant’s soldiers came to his house asking
for his father, whose turn it was to be fed to the giant.
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“My father is not home. He has gone to the far mountains to hunt. Why don’t
you take me instead?” said Tepozteco, hoping to save his father’s life.
One of the soldiers said, “The giant does not like to eat young people.”
“But it will be even worse if we make him wait too long,” said another soldier.
And so they decided to take the lad with them.
As they walked along the road, Tepozteco picked up a large and sharp stone
and hid it in his clothes.
They could hear the giant’s roars echoing through the mountains; he was very
hungry and very angry.
When they finally arrived at the giant’s lair, the lad was frightened by the size
of the giant and by his ugly face. The giant picked up the lad in his hand and
looked at him for some time. Then he shouted to his soldiers, “Don’t you know
that I don’t eat young people? They give me indigestion!”
However, he was so hungry that he put Tepozteco in his mouth and swallowed
him in one gulp. And so the lad found himself in the giant’s stomach.
The young man took out the sharp stone he had hidden in his clothing and
began to cut open the giant’s stomach. The giant gave a terrible scream and
fell dead to the ground.
Tepozteco escaped from the giant through the hole he had cut and he began
to run. The giant’s soldiers ran after him, waving their swords over their heads.
The brave youth jumped between the mountain peaks while the soldiers cut
away the sides of the mountains. Try as they might, they could not catch the
brave lad.
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Finally, when Tepozteco reached the Pass of the Wind, high up in the
mountains, he turned and faced his enemies. The youth and the soldiers
battled night and day until finally Tepozteco vanquished them all. Even today,
one can see the marks of their swords on the Pass of the Wind.
The villagers were greatly relieved; they were freed from the giant! They held
a grand celebration where everyone danced and sang and Tepozteco was
proclaimed King of all those lands. And he ruled wisely all the days of his life.
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The Story of Jumping
Mouse A TALE FROM THE UNITED STATES
O NCE UPON A TIME there was a little mouse. He was as busy as a mouse
could be, rustling and sniffling and sniffling and rustling, looking for food
all day long. But no matter where he was, he always heard a roaring sound in
the distance. What could it be?
One day, he asked another mouse about the sound. “Do you hear that roaring
sound, brother?”
But the other mouse did not even stop to listen. “I hear nothing,” he said as he
sniffed along the ground looking for food.
The mouse asked the same question of all the other mice he saw, but they only
looked at him strangely and scurried off.
The little mouse wanted to be like them and forget the roaring noise, but
he couldn’t. At last he decided that he had to find out what was making
that noise. He left his busy world and followed the sound. As he walked, the
roaring grew louder and louder until his ears were filled with the sound. He did
not even hear the footsteps of someone drawing near.
“Hello, little brother,” said a voice, and little mouse squeaked in surprise. He was
about to run away but then he saw it was only brother Raccoon. “What are
you doing here, far from your mouse brothers?” asked the raccoon.
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“I hear a roaring noise and I want to find out what it is,” said the mouse timidly.
“Oh, that’s easy,” said the raccoon. “It’s the river. I wash my food in it each day
and I can take you there.”
The mouse did not know what a river was, and he was afraid. But he also had
to know what made that roaring sound that always rang in his ears. He walked
along with the raccoon along strange paths with new and frightening smells.
The roaring grew louder and louder until they came to the river. It was a huge
snake of water that thundered along through the valley. He could not even see
the other side.
By the shore was a place where the water grew still and quiet among reeds
and lily pads. The mouse walked to the edge and peeked in. He saw another
mouse looking back at him!
“A mouse in the water?” he cried in astonishment.
“Only your reflection, friend,” said a voice. It was Brother Frog, sitting on a lily
pad.
“Aren’t you afraid, sitting right in the middle of the water like that? The river
may swallow you up!”
“No, little brother,” said the frog kindly. “I have the gift to live both above and
below the water. I live in both worlds, and I can tell you how to find a new
world. Do you dare?”
“Oh, yes,” cried the mouse. He was so interested that he forgot to be afraid.
“Then jump!” said the frog.
The mouse crouched down and jumped as high as he could jump. Soaring
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above the water, he saw the most wonderful sight he had ever seen: the
Sacred Mountains, rising towards the heavens far away.
After just a glimpse, though, he fell into the water. He was wet, frightened and
angry.
“You tricked me!” he shouted at the frog.
“Are you harmed?” asked the frog. “Do not be blinded by anger and fear. Did
you not see what I promised?”
“I saw the Sacred Mountains,” said the mouse with a far-off look in his eyes.
“One who has seen the Sacred Mountains cannot remain the same as before. I
give you a new name,” said the frog. “It is Jumping Mouse!”
The mouse climbed out of the water. Now he longed only to reach the Sacred
Mountains and climb until he reached the heavens. He left his safe home and
went into the bare plains where spots circle high in the sky. Each spot was an
eagle that could swoop to the ground in an instant to catch a mouse, and he
was very afraid. But he ran on until at last he reached a patch of sweet sage,
where an old mouse lived.
The old mouse welcomed him into his safe haven and shared a meal of seeds
with him.
“This is a wonderful place! The eagles cannot see you here,” said Jumping
Mouse.
“It is,” said the old mouse. “From here I can see and name all the creatures of
the prairie: buffalo, antelope, rabbit and coyote.”
“Can you see the river and the Sacred Mountains?”
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“No,” said the old mouse. “I have heard of the river, but the Sacred Mountains
are only a story. Forget them and stay with me.”
But Jumping Mouse had seen the Sacred Mountains and he could not forget
them. He went on, though he could see the shadows of the eagles and feel
them pass over his back.
He ran, his heart beating heavily in his chest, until he came to a stand of
chokecherries. He hid in their brambles, and when his breathing returned to
normal he could hear something stirring nearby. He looked and saw a great
buffalo lying on his side. Jumping Mouse had never seen such a large and
magnificent beast before and he wondered what could have happened to fell
him to the ground.
He crept closer. “Hello, little brother,” said the buffalo. “Thank you for coming.”
“Hello, Great One,” said the little mouse. “Why do you lie here?”
“I am dying,” said the buffalo with a great sigh. “Only the eye of a mouse can
heal me. But I have never seen a mouse and there is no such thing.”
Jumping Mouse scurried away in a fright. But the sighs of the buffalo touched
his heart and he crawled back to the buffalo.
“I am a mouse, and you may have one of my eyes,” he said.
The moment he spoke one of his eyes was gone and the buffalo was healed.
He shook the earth as he stood.
“Thank you, little one,” said the buffalo. “I know you have visited the river and
have seen the Sacred Mountains. You have given me life, that I may give it
away to others. Run under my belly. The eagles will not see you there, and I
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will take you to the mountains.”
The buffalo led Jumping Mouse all the way to the foot of the Sacred
Mountains, but could go no further.
“I am a child of the prairies and cannot go into the mountains,” said the buffalo.
“I must leave you.”
“Farewell,” said Jumping Mouse. “And may your feet always walk the Sun Dance.”
The mouse looked around and had never seen a place such as this. He sniffed here
and there and suddenly came upon a wolf who was sitting doing nothing at all.
“Hello, brother Wolf,” said Jumping Mouse.
But the wolf behaved very strangely. He looked up when he heard the mouse’s
voice and said, “Wolf! Wolf!” but the light in his eyes grew dim and he again
sat, doing nothing at all. The mouse spoke to him many times, reminding him
who he was, but the wolf always forgot.
Jumping Mouse was very quiet in this new place. He listened to its strange
sounds and he listened to his heart.
“Such a great beast should not lose his memory,” said Jumping Mouse to himself.
“One of my eyes healed the buffalo, and one of them will heal this brother.”
“Listen to me,” he said to the wolf. Take my eye. I have one left and it will be
medicine to bring you back to yourself. I am only a mouse, but you are meant
to be more than you are now.”
No sooner had he said these words than his other eye was gone and the wolf
stood up, tears streaming down his furry cheeks. But Jumping Mouse could not
see them; he was blind.
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“You are a great brother,” said the wolf. “You have given me my memory. I know
you want to see the Sacred Mountains. I will take you to a lake there where
the whole world—all the people of the earth and the sky—finds its reflection.”
“Yes! That is where I want to go!” said the blind little mouse.
The wolf guided him to the lake and there Jumping Mouse felt great peace.
The wolf went on his way to guide others through the mountains and Jumping
Mouse rested by the shore and was no longer afraid. As he fell asleep a
shadow from above seemed to stoop down, but he did not see it.
When he awoke, how different he felt! He could see colors! He could see light!
Everything was blurry, but so beautiful.
“Jump!” he heard a voice say.
Jumping Mouse crouched down low and jumped with all his might. He jumped
higher than he had ever jumped before. He caught onto the arms of the wind.
He was flying! His eyes grew clearer and clearer, until he could see everything,
no matter how small. He saw all the people of earth and sky.
Far below he saw his friend the frog, who called up to him: “I give you a new
name. You are now called Eagle!”
And so it was. To this day he soars above the mountains, looking down on all
his brothers and sisters of the world.
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Cree Bannock Bread
CANADA
The Cree are one of the largest Native American groups, with 200,000 members
living in a large area of central Canada, mainly north and west of Lake Superior.
Ingredients:
6 cups flour
1 cup lard
3 tablespoons baking powder
1 tablespoon salt
2 cups dried currants or raisins
3 1/2 cups of water
To Make:
Mix the flour and the lard together by hand in a large mixing bowl.
Add the baking powder, salt and the currants or raisins. Mix well.
Add the water and work mixture into a dough.
Traditionally, Bannock Bread is cooked over an open fire.

To do this, divide the dough into four lumps and firmly wrap each one
around the end of a long stick and hold over a fire, turning regularly.
To cook in the oven, spread the dough out into a 16-inch square pan.
Bake at 425ºF (220ºC) for about 20 minutes or until golden brown.
Shared by Ruth Ker
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Tamales
MEXICO
In Mexico, we celebrate Candlemas Day on February 2, forty days after the birth of
Christ. This is the day we remove the Nativity scenes from our homes, some taking the
figure of the Christ child to the churches to be blessed.
As with all holidays, we eat special foods to mark the day; in this case we eat tamales
and atole (a drink made with corn flour and water). On King’s Day, January 6th, we
always eat a King’s Cake, a sweet cake which has hidden within it a small figure of the Jesus
child, or else a black bean, a symbol for Balthazar. Whoever gets the piece of cake with
the figure in it must now host the feast on Candlemas Day, making the tamales and
atole and inviting all those who were present at the King’s Day gathering.
In pre-hispanic times there was also a special celebration around this time, when the
people would bring their corn kernels to their temples to be blessed before the planting
season began a few days later.
In our early childhood classes, we, too, make tamales with the children. It’s an all-day
affair, with plenty for everyone to do—from grinding the grain to wrapping the dough—
and ends in a much-loved treat.
Ingredients:
dried corn husks (available in many Mexican/South American food stores)
corn tortilla dough (also available in specialty food stores)
Green sauce (see recipe below)
Grated cheese
Refried beans (which the children can mash from canned beans)
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Green Sauce:
Peel 30 small green tomatoes (tomatillos) by dropping them into boiling water for a
few minutes and then placing them in cold water; the skins should easily slip off.
Cook in water to cover the bottom of the pan until they are soft and a clear green
color. Puree the tomatoes with a little raw, diced onion, cilantro, a garlic clove and salt
to taste. Cook for about 20 minutes on low heat to blend the flavors.
Assembly:
Soak the corn husks in lukewarm water to soften.
Knead the tortilla dough with salt to taste and a small amount of water—
about 1/4 of a cup.
Place a little bit of the dough in a corn husk, putting it in the widest part of the husk,
leaving space at each side of the husk. Add any fillings: cheese, refried beans, green
sauce. Traditionally we use either the green sauce and the cheese
OR the refried beans and cheese.
Wrap the tamale, closing first the lateral sides, one over the other, and then
bringing the point down to the base of the husk.
Place tamales in a steamer with enough water to last a few hours.
Put a coin in the bottom of the steamer; when you hear it rattling, you know
it is time to add more water.
Steam for 2 to 2 1/2 hours. Taste to see if the corn dough is done.
Practice this a few times before doing it with the children.
Shared by Sol Velázquez

Translated by Louise deForest
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Birthday Muffins
UNITED STATES
After years of struggling with the kinds of food that parents would bring for their child’s
birthday snack in the classroom, I finally came up with this recipe for very simple and well-
loved birthday muffins. I give the parents a letter, giving them an overview of the birthday
itself and include this recipe for them to make at home. On THE day, parents bring a fruit
salad for the class to share and a batch of these muffins. The birthday child carries them
in a basket and hands them out to everyone in the class at snack time and we all have a
wonderful celebration! Makes about 15.
Ingredients:
2 1/4 cups whole wheat pastry flour
3 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup honey
1/2 cup oil
1/2 cup milk
1 grated apple
1/2 cup of milk
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla
To Make:
Mix flour, baking powder and salt. Add honey, oil and 1/2 cup milk.
Beat for two minutes. Add the other 1/2 cup milk, eggs, one at a time, and vanilla.
Fold in the grated apple. Mix well.
Pour into greased cupcake tins and bake 15 to 20 minutes at 350ºF (175ºC)
Shared by Louise deForest
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South
America
The Magic Stone
A STORY BY ANANDA ELUF • BRAZIL
O NCE UPON A TIME there was a little girl who lived with her mother and her
father in a cottage by the woods. Nearby, there was a beautiful mountain,
and every day the little girl would follow the yellow stone path and would
climb to the top of the mountain. There she would sit all day long, looking out
over the world.
She believed that everything was more beautiful seen from the top of the
mountain; the sky was bluer, and when there was a rainbow, she would be so
close, so very close to the colors, that she could feel what it was like to be one
of those colors.
One day as she sat on the mountain top she was pretending to be one of the
silent stones, and in the quiet, she heard some voices singing:
Plaf, plaf, there’s no stopping,
Go the dwarves a-walking, walking;
Their hats are moving here and there
As they go walking, pair by pair.
To the mountain top they go,
Off to work in sun or snow.
She looked down and saw many dwarves with colorful hats walking into the
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mountain. As she watched ever so quietly, she saw them pass through a little
door in the side of the mountain.
The next day she hurried back and again she saw the little men:
She saw that they walked together, singing, and each one carried a little axe
in their hands and over their shoulders hung little sacks. When they walked
into the mountain, their sacks were empty, but when they came out again, at
the end of the day, the sacks were full and looked heavy. She wanted to know
what it was they were carrying in their little sacks.
On the third day she again returned, hoping to discover their secret. Again, she
was as quiet as a silent stone and again she heard them singing:
She waited until the last dwarf went into the mountain; then as quickly and
as quietly as she could, she ran to the door and, making herself as small as an
armadillo—zupt!—she squeezed through the doorway.
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Many little dwarves were working and singing, digging out colorful gems from
the mountain’s walls. The stones were so shiny that the whole cave was full of
light!
She was looking at everything with such wonder that she forgot to hide and
one dwarf with a purple hat saw her and said, “Who are you?”
“I am this mountain’s friend and I wanted to know what you are doing here
inside.”
And so it was that she became friends with the dwarves, and every afternoon
she went to the mountain, not to sit on top as she used to do, but to go inside.
She would sing for the little dwarves as they worked and often brought them
cakes and biscuits, fruit and tea.
The little dwarf with the purple hat loved to hear her sing so much that he
gave her the most special stone he had in his bag—a purple one that shone
and shone.
“When you feel sad, always hold this stone in your hand and everything will be
fine and you will be happy again,” he said to her.
The little girl carried the purple stone everywhere she went. Even when it
was time for bed, she put it under her pillow and it always brought her sweet
dreams.
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The Golden Fish and the
Magic Star A STORY BY ANANDA ELUF • BRAZIL
T HERE WERE ONCE TWO FRIENDS who were very happy and who loved each
other dearly. They were never able to meet or to play together, however,
because one lived in the immense blue sky and the other lived in the deep
blue sea.
They had one thing in common: they were both golden and they shone so
brightly, so very brightly, that both the sea and the sky were made happy by
their light.
Whenever they saw each other, they had long talks, even though they were so
far apart.
One day, the Magic Star asked the Golden Fish what it was like to live in
the deep sea. The fish said that in the depths of the sea, everything was so
beautiful; fish of all colors and sizes, large and small, swam there among the
sea shells, and the ocean plants danced with the waves.
One late afternoon, the Golden Fish went with his friends to hear the old
octopus tell stories. The sea was calm and all was quiet at that time of day.
Just then, a beautiful whale passed by. She told stories, too, and she told them
that stars lived in the ocean, too, but they were red and crawled along the
bottom of the sea.
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The Golden Fish also wanted to know about the starry skies. “Tell me, little
star, how is it to live up so high?”
The star was glad to tell him how wonderful it was in the starry heavens. “By
day, the Sun shines so warmly and gives color to all the world below. And the
dear clouds make themselves into cushions for the birds. When it rains and
it is still sunny, at the same time, the rainbow makes a bridge on the horizon.
When the Sun goes behind the mountain, my friends, both large and small,
and I begin to shine our lights. Plim! Plim! Plim! go our lights. At this hour,
Mother Moon, so contented, comes to tell us stories and to give light to her
friend, the Earth.”
The Golden Fish marveled at the stories of life in the sky, and the Magic Star
was enchanted by the stories of life in the sea.
“We live in such special places,” they said, “but never shall we meet. . .”
One day the Magic Star had an idea, which made her shine even more brightly
than ever before.
“Fish, Fish! Wait a minute! Soon, soon we shall meet together,” said the star.
One beautiful starry night, the Magic Star went to Mother Moon and asked
if she could jump into the sea. The star told Mother Moon that she had a
beloved friend with whom she wanted to meet.
A strong wind blew and a streak
of bright light fell dancing to the
sea. The Magic Star changed
from a shooting star into a
starfish and now the two friends
could be together forever.
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The Little Seed
A STORY BY ANANDA ELUF • BRAZIL
T HERE WAS ONCE A LITTLE SEED that fell from a boy’s hand. The little seed
looked upon the earth and saw so many beautiful things that she began to
feel sad that she was only a very little seed. She longed to be like the cherries
hanging above her or a sweet and juicy orange and not just a little seed.
She looked up at the sky and saw a flock of birds flying and playing in the sky,
turning somersaults in the air, and she imagined how good it would be to be a
bird, to have wings, to FLY!
But she was only a very small seed.
She looked to one side and saw a lovely rose. “How full of life it is! I would like
to be like that—so bright!”
But she was just a very small seed. She was tired of being such a small seed, so
small that no one even saw her.
She looked to the other side and saw a blue butterfly. It had such light, airy
wings with such beautiful designs, and she thought, “I would also like to be a
butterfly, or at least to have such special wings. . . then everyone would see
me!” But it would be strange for a little seed to have wings. . .
And she became sad, and sadder and sadder—so sad that she began to sink
down and down.
123
And she sank into the earth. She felt good down in the warm earth.
It rained.
And it was sunny.
And suddenly a little green shoot came up out of the earth.
More rain.
And more sun.
And the shoot began to grow! She felt very happy to know that a little seed
could change into a lovely little plant!
More rain. And more sun.
She continued to grow and to grow, until one day she looked at herself and
saw that she was now a beautiful tree covered with delicious cherries.
All the birds flew to her and settled in her branches to sing and to make their
nests. The most beautiful butterflies came and danced around her leaves.
The animals of the fields and woods came to sleep in her cool shade, but she
was happiest when the boys and girls climbed her branches to gather cherries
and took them home to eat.
A little boy climbed the tree. He picked a cherry and he ate it. And a little seed
fell from his hand. . .
124
About the stories and contributors
Page 3: The Name of the Tree is a Bantu story found in Cuentos para Chiquitines (Editorial
Rudolf Steiner, Madrid), and translated from the Spanish by Louise deForest.
Page 9: Tunjur, Tunjur is an Arab-Palestinian tale from Israel. It was submitted by Stefanie
Allon and revised by Louise deForest.
Page 15: Momotaro, the Peach Boy is a traditional Japanese story retold by Lory Widmer.
Page 21: The Little Flame, an original story by Sandra Busch, was originally published in Star
Weavings, the newsletter of the Australian Association for Steiner/Waldorf Early Childhood
Education.
Page 25: The Little Possum Who Wanted a Peach, Time for Bed, and Where Has Father
Sun Gone? were submitted by Heather von Zyl and are included by permission of the au-
thor, Chrisanthi McManus.
Page 43: The Duckling’s Journey was translated from the German by Matthew Goldmann
and submitted by Brigitte Goldmann.
Page 45: The Story of the Cat with the Long, Long Tail was translated from the Flemish
and submitted by Clara Aerts.
Page 51: Tailor Tom was translated from the Danish and submitted by Helle Heckmann.
Page 55: Little Ash Squirrel and Little Oak Squirrel and Turlutin were submitted by Philipp
Reubke, and translated from the French by Louise deForest. The authors are unknown.
Page 63: The Lantern is an old German story revised by the teachers of the Emerson Wal-
dorf School, North Carolina, who have used it for years as a Martinmas puppet show.
127
Page 67: Speaking Grapes, Smiling Apples and Ringing Peaches was translated from the
Hungarian by Zsuzsa Magyari and submitted by Joli Kiss.
Page 71: The Old Woman and the Little Mouse was translated from the Swedish and sub-
mitted by Gudrid Malmsten.
Page 75: Sir Cat-O-Puss was sent from the Ukraine by Svetlana Eks.
Page 79: The Soupstone Story was submitted by Janni Nicol. It comes from the teachers of
the Soupstone Kindergarten, who did much research trying to find a version of this well-
known story that was more in keeping with the young child.
Page 93: How the Robin Got Its Red Breast is a legend from the Sechelt people, a Coast
Salish group native to British Columbia. It was submitted by Ruth Ker and retold by Louise
deForest based on the version published by Nightwood Editions.
Page 95: Tajin and the Seven Thunders was retold from a Mexican legend by Felipe Gar-
rido, sent by Alida Gonzalez, and translated from the Spanish by Louise deForest.
Page 99: The Legend of the Tepozteco was adapted and submitted by Sol Velásquez
Suárez and translated from Spanish by Louise deForest.
Page 103: The Story of Jumping Mouse is a story in the tradition of the peoples native to
the Great Plains area of the United States, originally published in the book Seven Arrows by
Hyemeyohsts Storm. This version was retold by Lory Widmer.
Page 117: The Magic Stone, The Golden Fish and the Magic Star, and The Little Seed are
original stories by Ananda Eluf. They were submitted by Silvia Jensen and translated from
Brazilian by Louise deForest.
128
About IASWECE
Waldorf early childhood educators seek to nurture the development of each child’s unique
capacities by offering warm, homelike environments with opportunities for imaginative play,
meaningful purposeful work, and experiences in the arts, in nature and in community. There
are nearly 2000 Waldorf kindergartens, home programs, child care centers, and preschools
in more than sixty countries throughout the world.
The International Association of Waldorf Kindergartens was originally founded by Dr.
Helmut von Kügelgen and a circle of Waldorf kindergarten educators in 1969 in Stuttgart,
Germany. For over 35 years, it served as the association for both the Waldorf kindergartens
in Germany and the Waldorf kindergarten movement worldwide, fostering the development
of kindergartens and training centers in Europe, North and South America, Australia, Africa,
and Asia. The Association also hosted international conferences, published resources and
newsletters, and formed collaborative working groups around issues relating to the care and
education of the child from birth to school entrance age.
As Waldorf early childhood education established itself broadly throughout the world,
these growing international activities required their own independent organization, and
in 2005 the new International Association for Steiner/Waldorf Early Childhood Educa-
tion (IASWECE) was founded. In many countries, Waldorf early childhood educators have
formed associations to support their collaboration. These associations may apply to join the
International Association as Full Members and thus participate directly in the activities of
IASWECE. Each Full Member Association sends a representative to the IASWECE Council,
which meets twice each year.
On the following pages you will find contact information for IASWECE and its current Member
Country Associations. Please contact them to learn more about Waldorf early childhood education.
129
INTERNATIONAL ASSOCIATION FOR
STEINER/WALDORF EARLY
CHILDHOOD EDUCATION
General information:
[email protected]
BOX 34, 161 26 Stockholm, Sweden
Project support, Partnerships and sponsorships, Collaboration:

Clara Aerts, Belgium
[email protected]
Tel: 0032 498 223 281
Membership, Council correspondence, Research and Working Groups:

Susan Howard, USA
[email protected]
Tel: 001 413 549 5930
Conferences, website, newsletter:

Philipp Reubke, France
[email protected]
Tel: 0033 977 197 137
Waldorf early childhood programs exist in over sixty countries.

The following participate in IASWECE as Member Country Associations:
130
AFRICA
SOUTH AFRICA
Federation of Waldorf Schools of South Africa • Mary-G Hauptle
Centre for Creative Education, McGregor House, 4 Victoria Road, Plumstead, Capetown 7801
Tel: +27-21-797-6802 / Fax: +27-21-797-7095
[email protected]
ASIA
ISRAEL
Israeli Kindergarten Teachers Circle • Stefanie Allon Grob
Shoshanim 32, Kiriath Tiv’on IL-36056
Tel: +972 4 9832067/+972 509832067
[email protected]
JAPAN
Waldorf Early Childhood Association of Japan • Kai Iruma
Nasu-gun, Nasu-machi, JP-Oaza Takakuko 6394-1 / 325-0001
Tel: +287 621350 / Fax: +287 62 1353
[email protected]
AUSTRALIA AND OCEANIA

AUSTRALIA
Australian Association for Rudolf Steiner Early Childhood Education • Heather Van Zyl
PO Box 3602, Tuggerah NSW 2259
[email protected] / www.steineroz.com
NEW ZEALAND
Federation of Rudolf Steiner Schools of New Zealand • Kathy MacFarlane
5 Helios Place, Titirangi 0642, Auckland
Tel: +64 9 817 4386 / Fax: + 64 9 817 2584
[email protected] / www.steiner.federation.co.nz
131
EUROPE
AUSTRIA
Freie Bildungsstätten auf anthroposophischer Grundlage • Brigitte Goldmann
Endresstrasse 100, Vienna 1230
Tel: +43-1-888-6471 or -888-0647
[email protected]
www.waldorf.at
BELGIUM
Federatie voor R. Steinerscholen in Vlaanderen • Clara Aerts
Gitschotellei 188, Antwerpen 2140
Tel: +03-2132333
[email protected]
www.steinerscholen.be
CZECH REPUBLIC
Asociace waldorfských materských skol • Tánja Smolková
c/o Waldorfska materskn skola, Konevova 240 a/2497, Praha 13000
Tel: + 42 -84 862 7617
[email protected]
DENMARK
Sammenslutningen af Rudolf Steiner Børnehaver • Helle Heckmann
Johannevej 20, Charlottenlund DK-2920
Tel: +45 39 63 21 37
[email protected]
www.steinerboernehaver.dk
ESTONIA
Estonian Association of Waldorf Schools and Kindergartens • Kristina Rosin
Ploomi 1, Tartu 50110
Tel: +372 51 08 294
[email protected]
www.waldorfyhenus.ee
132
FINLAND
Varhaiskasvatusjaosto c/o Steinerkasvatuksen Iiitto • Tina Iwersen
Syrjälänkatu 11 A, Jyväskylä 40700
Tel: +358 44 358 88 26
liitto@steinerkasvatus.fi
FRANCE
Fédération des Écoles Steiner-Waldorf en France • Philipp Reubke
13 Rue Gassendi, Paris F-75014
Tel: +33-143222451
Fax: +33-143221429
[email protected]
www.steiner-waldorf.org
GERMANY
Vereinigung der Waldorfkindergärten e.V. • Claudia Freytag, Erika Henning, Anne-Kathrin Hantel
Le Quartier Hornbach 15, D-67433 Neustadt
Tel: +49-6321-959 686 / Fax: +49-6321-959 688
[email protected]
www.waldorfkindergarten.org
HUNGARY
Hungarian Waldorf Fellowship - Magyar Waldorf Szövetség • Joli Kiss
1075 Budapest, Asbóth u. 17
Tel: +36-1461 0090 / Fax: +36-30 328 7448
[email protected]
IRELAND
Irish Steiner Kindergarten Association • Ulrike Farnleitner
Mulhare House, Main St., Mountshannon, Co. Clare
Tel: +353-61-927 944
[email protected]
133
ITALY
Sole Luna Stelle • Luciana Pederiva
Via privata Vasto 4, Milano I-20121
Tel: +39-02-832-2012
[email protected]
NETHERLANDS
Vereniging van vrijescholen • Els Blacquière-Biesta
Hoofdstraat 14 B, Driebergen 3972 LA
Tel: +31-343-536060 / Fax: +31-343-531772
[email protected]
NORWAY
Forbundet Steinerbarnehagene i Norge • Mette Johannessen
Kantarellen Terasse 26, Oslo N-1286
Tel: +47-95723918 / Fax: +47-73572434
[email protected]
www.steinerbarnehagene.no
POLAND
Ogólnopolski Związek Stowarzyszeń Wspierających Pedagogikę Waldorfską • Maja Rebkowska
ul. Żytnia 79, Warszawa 01-149
Tel: +48 33 863 33 59
[email protected]
www.ozs-waldorf.neostrada.pl
ROMANIA
Asociatia Educatoarelor Waldorf din Romania • Sorin Tigareanu
Str. Anatole France 14, CLUJ RO-400 463
Tel: +40-264-441528 / Fax:40-264-441528
[email protected]
134
RUSSIA
Zusammenschluss der Waldorfkindergarten Pädagogik • Jelena Gramotkina & Svetlana Efremova
Stremjany per. 10/1, Moskau 115054
Tel: +7-495-237-21-83 / Fax: 495-237-21-83
[email protected]
SPAIN
Asociación de Centros Educativos Waldorf • Lourdes Tormes
c/ Zénit 10, Aravaca (Madrid) 28230
Tel/Fax: +34-91-307 1210
[email protected]
SWEDEN
Riksföreningen Waldorfförskolarnas Samråd, RWS • Gudrid Malmsten
Box 55689, Stockholm S-10215
[email protected]
SWITZERLAND
Koordinationsstelle Elementarpädagogik • Jacqueline Walter-Baumgartner
Grundstr. 12, Adiswil CH-8134
Tel: +41-(0)44-709 27 18 / Fax: +41-(0)44-7092716
[email protected] / www.elementarpaedagogik.ch
UKRAINE
Assoziation der Waldorfinitiativen in der Ukraine • Svetlana Eks
a/c 42-B, Kyjiw, Ukraine 01001
Tel: +38 067 407 02
[email protected]
UNITED KINGDOM
Steiner Waldorf Schools Fellowship - Early Years Group • Janni Nicol
11 Church Street, Stourbridge DY8 1LT
Tel: +44 (0)1384 374116
[email protected] / www.steinerwaldorf.org.uk
135
NORTH AMERICA
Waldorf Early Childhood Association of North America • Susan Howard & Louise deForest
285 Hungry Hollow Road, Spring Valley NY 10977
Tel: +1-845-352 1690 / Fax: +1-845-352 1695
[email protected]
www.waldorfearlychildhood.org
SOUTH AMERICA
BRAZIL
Federation of Waldorf Schools in Brazil (FEWB) • Silvia Jensen
Rua Benedito São No 1365, São Paulo 04735-003
Tel: +11- 55240473 / Fax: +11- 55240473
[email protected] / www.fewb.org.br
136
A Note on the Type
This book was set in Calluna Sans, created by Dutch designer
Jos Buivenga in 2010. Its clean, modern look is actually based on
the style and proportions of fifteenth-century Italian “Humanist”
typefaces, which replaced the earlier dark, Gothic type to give
a lighter and more open feeling.
The titles were set in ITC Cerigo, created by French designer

Jean-Renaud Cruz in 1993. This typeface recaptures the grace and
elegance of Renaissance calligraphy without attempting to produce
an imitation script. Cruz calls it a “vertical italic.”

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What is the purpose of the book?

What is the purpose of the book?

What regions and cultures are featured in the stories and recipes?

What regions and cultures are featured in the stories and recipes?

For the Children of the World

For the Children

Edited by Louise deForest

WALDORF EARLY CHILDHOOD

Editor: Louise deForest

This publication was made possible by a grant

Waldorf Early Childhood Association of North America

ABOUT THE STORIES AND CONTRIBUTORS • 127

ABOUT IASWECE • 129

O NE COLD FROSTY MORNING a young wallaby was looking for something

This recipe comes from the Peppercorn Kindergarten

Shared by Leanne Moraes

T HERE WAS ONCE an old lady,

Monday came and went, and Tuesday came.

I N A VALLEY BEHIND A MOUNTAIN there ran a small river:

Run, run little river,

Sweet music played,

Sweet music played,

Sweet music played,

Shared by Brigitte Goldmann

Traditionally, elderberries are the last food to be harvested in Denmark.

Pick 20–30 sprigs of elderberries;

Add four to ﬁve chopped cooking apples.

Serve topped with whipped cream.

Shared by Helle Heckmann

Add about three quarts of boiling water to ﬁll the container

This is a concentrated drink, so serve it in a ratio of

Shared by Helle Heckmann

Shared by Joli Kiss

Shared by Joli Kiss

Hot Cross Buns,

Continued on next page...

Cut butter into the ﬂour, sugar and spices.

Bake at 400°F (200°C) for 15-20 minutes.

Glaze ﬁnish: boil together 2 tablespoons of sugar and 2 tablespoons of water.

Adapted and shared by Louise deForest

O NE SUMMER MORNING, a little boy named Tajin came to the jungles of

Traditionally, Bannock Bread is cooked over an open ﬁre.

Shared by Ruth Ker

Shared by Sol Velázquez

Project support, Partnerships and sponsorships, Collaboration:

Membership, Council correspondence, Research and Working Groups:

Conferences, website, newsletter:

Waldorf early childhood programs exist in over sixty countries.

AUSTRALIA AND OCEANIA

The titles were set in ITC Cerigo, created by French designer

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