The Little Red Hen a personalized book with your child as the hero

Early one bright morning, a little red hen was scratching about beside the farmyard gate when she found something that glittered in the dust. It was a handful of wheat seeds. A child who had come out to feed the chickens knelt down beside her, and the two of them looked at the seeds together.

"Wheat," said the little red hen. "Wheat can become bread, if someone is willing to work for it."

"I'm willing," said the child, and the hen gave a pleased cluck.

Under the apple tree lay a white duck, a tabby cat and a brown dog, all enjoying the sun. The little red hen marched up to them. "Who will help me plant this wheat?" she asked.

"Not I," quacked the duck, tucking her bill under her wing.

"Not I," purred the cat, stretching out a paw.

"Not I," yawned the dog, rolling over.

"Then we will do it ourselves," said the little red hen, and the child nodded. So the child fetched a small trowel and loosened the soft soil beside the gate while the hen scratched out neat rows. They pressed the seeds into the earth and covered them over.

Every day the child filled a little watering can and the hen kept watch. After a few days, tiny green shoots pushed up through the dirt, and the child laughed to see them. "Who will help me water the wheat?" asked the little red hen, but the duck, cat and dog were napping again, so the child did it, drop by drop.

The sun shone and the rain fell, and the shoots grew taller than the child's knees, then taller than the child's waist. At last the field turned golden and the heavy heads of wheat bowed in the breeze. The child and the hen stood together among the stalks and admired them. Beside the fence, the duck, the cat and the dog dozed in the shade.

"Who will help me gather the wheat?" asked the little red hen.

"Not I," said the duck, the cat and the dog, without even opening their eyes.

So the child gathered the ripe grain carefully, and the hen pecked up every stray kernel. When the basket was full, the child lifted it with both arms, and the two set off down the dirt path to the small mill. The miller waited at the door and took care of the heavy grinding stones. The child stayed well back from the machinery, watching the grain become soft, pale flour. Then the child carried the flour home in the basket, a little lighter but still very precious.

Back in the farmhouse kitchen, the hen set a low wooden table with a bowl. "Who will help me make the dough?" she asked. The duck, the cat and the dog were far away, so the child washed up, rolled up both sleeves, and mixed flour and water into cool, soft dough. The child pressed and folded it and shaped it into a round loaf. The hen watched from her stool and kept everyone clear of the warm oven. When it was time to bake, a grown-up helper tucked the loaf inside, and the hen kept guard.

Soon a wonderful smell drifted out of the kitchen, across the yard and under the apple tree. The duck lifted her head. The cat's nose twitched. The dog sat up and sniffed.

On the table lay a golden loaf, crisp and warm. The child and the little red hen set out two small plates.

"Who will help me eat this bread?" asked the little red hen with a twinkle.

"I will!" said the duck.

"I will!" said the cat.

"I will!" said the dog, wagging his tail.

The little red hen shook her head kindly. "The ones who planted the wheat, watered it, gathered it and made the dough have earned this bread," she said. "That is the child and me." The child broke the loaf, and the two of them shared it, warm and sweet.

The duck looked at her feet. The cat looked at his paws. The dog hung his head. "We should have helped," he said quietly. "May we help next time?"

The little red hen thought about it. Then she smiled and held out a small pouch of seeds. "The next planting begins tomorrow," she said.

The next morning, the duck, the cat and the dog were at the gate before the sun was fully up. The child showed them where the soil was soft, and they all began to plant together.