The Sweet Porridge

One soft evening, a kind little girl named Linnea was walking home through the meadow. The sun sank behind the hills and the sky turned pink like an apple. Linnea pulled her shawl close and thought about warm porridge. Then she saw a friendly old granny sitting on a tree stump with a small earthenware pot in her lap. 'Come here, little friend,' said the granny, and smiled.

The granny held out the little pot. 'This pot is magic,' she whispered. 'Say “Cook, little pot, cook” and it will make sweet porridge. Say “Stop, little pot, stop” and it will rest again.' Linnea practiced the words softly to herself. Then she thanked the granny and carried the pot carefully home toward the little cottage.

Back in the warm kitchen, Linnea said, 'Cook, little pot, cook.' At once, sweet porridge bubbled up, and she and her mama ate until they were full. One afternoon Linnea was outside, and mama got a craving for porridge. She said the cooking words, but forgot the stopping words. The porridge bubbled and bubbled until the whole kitchen was filled with sweet steam, and the cat happily licked porridge from the floor.