The Ugly Duckling a personalised book with your child as the hero

It was summer in the countryside, and everything was lovely. The corn stood golden, the hay was piled in green stacks, and the stork walked about on his long red legs. In the middle of it all lay an old manor house with a deep moat around it, and under the great burdock leaves by the water, a mother duck sat on her nest.

She had been sitting there a long time, and she was getting rather tired of it. At last, one egg after another went crack, crack, and out came the little ducklings, yellow and fluffy, poking their heads out from under the leaves.

"Peep, peep!" they said. "How big the world is!"

But the biggest egg of all was still lying there.

"Will it never hatch?" sighed the mother duck, and she sat down on it again.

At last the big egg cracked. "Peep, peep," said the little one, and out he tumbled. He was very big and very grey, and he did not look one bit like the others.

"Goodness, what a great big duckling," said the mother duck. "None of the others looks like that."

The next day the sun shone on the green leaves, and the mother duck led her whole family down to the moat. Splash! In she went. "Quack, quack!" she called, and one duckling after another plopped in after her. The water closed over their heads, but up they came again and floated beautifully. The big grey duckling swam along with them.

"Look how well he uses his legs," said the mother duck proudly, "and how straight he holds himself. He is my own child after all, and really quite handsome when you look at him properly."

Then she took them into the duck yard to meet everyone. But the ducks there stared at the big grey one.

"Look at that one!" they quacked. "What a fright he is! We don't want him here."

The hens clucked and the turkey cock, who had been born with spurs and thought himself an emperor, puffed himself up like a ship in full sail and gobbled until he was red in the face.

"Leave him alone," said the mother duck, spreading her wings. "He isn't doing anyone any harm."

But it went on day after day. Everyone laughed at the poor duckling because he was so big and so ugly, even his own brothers and sisters. And at last he was so unhappy that he ran away and fluttered over the hedge. The little birds in the bushes flew up in fright.

"That's because I am so ugly," thought the duckling, and he closed his eyes and ran on.

He came to the great marsh where the wild ducks lived, and lay there all night, tired and sad. In the morning the wild ducks looked at him. "What sort of bird are you?" they said. "You are dreadfully ugly. But never mind, you may stay in our marsh if you keep out of the way." Two young wild geese laughed at him too. Then a big dog came splashing through the reeds, put his nose close, sniffed, and went splashing away again without touching him.

"I am so ugly that even the dog won't bother with me," sighed the duckling.

Towards evening a storm blew up, and he found a crooked little cottage with a broken door, and crept in through the crack. There lived an old woman with her cat, who could arch his back, purr and even give off sparks, and her hen, who laid good eggs. The old woman could not see very well and thought he was a fat duck who would lay eggs too.

"Can you lay eggs?" asked the hen.

"No."

"Can you arch your back and purr?" asked the cat.

"No."

"Then you will kindly keep quiet when sensible people are speaking."

The duckling sat in a corner and felt very low. Then he began to long so much for the fresh air and the sunshine, and to float on the water, that he had to tell the hen.

"What a silly idea," said the hen. "Ask the cat whether he likes floating on water. Ask the old woman!"

"You don't understand me," said the duckling. And he went out into the wide world.

Autumn came. The leaves in the forest turned yellow and brown, and the wind made them dance. One evening, as the sun was setting, a flock of big, beautiful birds rose out of the bushes. They were dazzling white, with long, graceful necks. They were swans. They spread their great wings and flew away to warmer lands. The ugly duckling stretched his neck up after them and gave a cry so strange that it frightened even himself. He did not know their name or where they were flying, yet he loved them as he had never loved anything before.

Then the winter came, so very cold. The duckling had to swim round and round in the water to keep a little hole from freezing, but every night it grew smaller, until at last he could not move and was frozen fast in the ice.

Early in the morning a kind farmer came by. He saw him, went out and broke the ice with his wooden clog, and carried him home to his wife. There, in a basket of straw by the warm stove, the duckling came back to life. The farmer's child brought him breadcrumbs every day, holding them out very gently so as not to frighten him, and so the duckling spent the long winter warm and safe while the snow fell outside.

When the sun began to shine warmly again and the larks were singing, the duckling lifted his wings. They were stronger than before, and they carried him up and away, until he came down in a great garden where the apple trees were in blossom and the lilac hung its long green branches down over a winding lake.

Out of the thicket came three beautiful white swans, rustling their feathers and floating lightly on the water. The duckling knew them, and a strange sadness came over him.

"I will fly to those royal birds," he thought, "even if they laugh at me for being so ugly." And he flew out onto the water and swam towards them. As they came rushing towards him with their feathers ruffled, he bowed his head down to the water, ready to be laughed at.

But what did he see in the clear water? He saw his own reflection, and he was no longer a clumsy, dark grey bird, ugly to look at. He was a swan!

It does not matter if you are born in a duck yard, if only you have lain in a swan's egg.

The great swans swam round him and stroked him with their beaks. Some little children came into the garden and threw bread into the water, and the smallest one cried, "There's a new one!" And the others shouted with joy, "Yes, a new one has come! And the new one is the most beautiful of all, so young and so lovely!"

Then he felt quite shy and hid his head under his wing. He was happy, very happy, but not at all proud, for a good heart is never proud. He rustled his feathers, lifted his slender neck and said from the bottom of his heart, "I never dreamed of so much happiness when I was the ugly duckling."