The Pancake

Once upon a time there was a mother named Goody Poody. She lived in a little house on a green hill. She had seven hungry children. And she had a father too. In the kitchen stood a big frying pan on the stove. In the pan lay a pancake. It hissed and bubbled. It was thick and golden. It smelled lovely, of butter and sweet milk. The children stood around the pan in a ring. The father sat on a chair and watched. Everyone was waiting for the pancake.

'Mama, please, give me a bit of pancake,' said the first child. 'Mama, darling mama,' said the second. 'Mama, darling, sweet mama,' said the third. 'Mama, darling, sweet, fine mama,' said the fourth. And so it went on. Each child was a little sweeter than the last. The seventh child said: 'Mama, darling, sweet, fine, clever, lovely mama!' Mama smiled. 'Yes, yes, little friends. Just wait till it turns itself. Then you shall all have a bit. See how fine it lies there.'

The pancake lay there in the pan and heard everything. Then the pancake grew afraid. Really afraid. 'Seven hungry children want to eat me!' it thought. 'And mama. And papa too!' The pancake turned itself over. Hop! It jumped up out of the pan. Plop! It fell down on the floor. It landed with one side up and one side down. Then it rolled away. Like a wheel it rolled out the door. Hop and roll. Out of the kitchen. Out of the hallway. Out of the door. And down the hill, as fast as it could.

'Stop! Stop the pancake!' cried Goody Poody. She ran after it. In one hand she held the frying pan. In the other hand she held the ladle. Behind her ran the seven children. Last of all came the father, and he limped along. 'Stop! Stop! Catch it!' they all shouted. But the pancake rolled and rolled. It hopped over little stones and twigs. It whooshed past flowers and bushes. It was faster than anyone in the whole house. Soon it was so far away that no one could see it anymore. The family stopped and caught their breath. 'That pancake,' sighed Goody Poody.