Frederick, Why Don T You Work? They Asked

Frederick

-by Leo Lionni

All along the meadow where the cows grazed and the horses ran, there was an old stone wall.

In that wall, not far from the barn and the granary, a chatty family of field mice had their home.

But the farmers had moved away, the barn was abandoned, and the granary stood empty. And since winter was not far off, the little mice began to gather corn and nuts and wheat and straw. They all worked day and night. All- except Frederick.

“Frederick, why don’t you work?” they asked.

“I do work,” said Frederick.

“I gather sun rays for the cold dark winter days.”

And when they saw Frederick sitting there, staring at the meadow, they said, “And now, Frederick?”“I gather colors,” answered Frederick simply, “For winter is gray.”

And once Frederick seemed half asleep. “Are you dreaming, Frederick?” they asked reproachfully. But Frederick said, “Oh no, I am gathering words. For the winter days are long and many, and we’ll run out of things to say.”

The winter days came, and when the first snow fell the five little field mice took to their hideout in the stones.

In the beginning there was lots to eat, and the mice told stories of foolish foxes and silly cats. They were a happy family.

But little by little they had nibbled up most of the nuts and berries, the straw was gone , and the corn was only a memory. It was cold in the wall and no one felt like chatting.

Then they remembered what Frederick had said about sun rays and colors and words. “What about your supplies, Frederick?” they asked. “Close your eyes,” said Frederick, as he climbed on a big stone. “Now I send you the rays of the sun. Do you fell how their golden glow…” And as Frederick spoke of the sun the four little mice began to feel warmer. Was it Frederick’s voice? Was it magic?

“And how about the colors, Frederick?” they asked anxiously. “Close your eyes again,”Frederick said. And when he told them of the blue periwinkles, the red poppies in the yellow wheat, and the green leaves of the berry bush, they saw the colors as clearly as if they had been painted in their minds.

“And the words, Frederick?”Frederick cleared his throat, waited a moment, and then, as if from the stage, he said:

“Who scatters snowflakes? Who melts the ice?

Who spoils the weather? Who makes it nice?

Who grows the four-leaf clovers in June?

Who dims the daylight? Who lights the moon?

Four little field mice who live in the sky.

Four little field mice… like you and I.

One is the Springmouse who turns on the showers.

Then comes the Summer who paints in the flowers.

The Fallmouse is next with walnuts and wheat.

And Winter is last… with little cold feet.

Aren’t we lucky the seasons are four?

Think of a year with one less… or one more!”

When Frederick had finished, they all applauded. “But Frederick,” they said, “you are a poet!”

Frederick blushed, took a bow and said shyly, “I know it.”

Green Eggs and Ham

-by Dr. Seuss

I am Sam. I am Sam. Sam I am.

That Sam-I –am! That Sam-I-am! I do not like that Sam-I-am!

Do you like green eggs and ham?

I do not like them, Sam-I-am. I do not like green eggs and ham.

Would you like them here or there?

I would not like them here or there. I would not like them anywhere.

I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-am.

Would you like them in a house? Would you like them with a mouse?

I do not like them in a house. I do not like them with a mouse.

I do not like them here or there. I do not like them anywhere.

I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them Sam-I-am.

Would you eat them in a box? Would you eat them with a fox?

Not in a box. Not with a fox. Not in a house. Not with a mouse.

I would not eat them here or there. I would not eat them anywhere.

I would not eat green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam-I–am.

Would you? Could you? In a car? Eat them? Eat them Here they are.

I would not, could not, in a car.

You may like them. You will see. You may like them in a tree!

I would not, could not in a tree. Not in a car! You let me be.

I do not like them in a box. I do not like them with a fox.

I do not like them in a house. I do not like them with a mouse.

I do not like them here or there. I do not like them everywhere.

I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-am.

A train! A train! A train! A train! Could you, would you, on a train?

Not on a train! Not in a tree! Not in a car! Sam! Let me be!

I would not, could not, in a box. I could not, would not, with a fox.

I will not eat them with a mouse. I will not eat them in a house.

I will not eat them here or there. I will not eat them anywhere.

I do not eat green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-am.

Say! In the dark? Here in the dark! Would you, could you, in the dark?

I would not, could not, in the dark.

Would you, could you in the rain?

I would not, could not, in the rain. Not in the dark. Not on a train.

Not in a car. Not in a tree. I do not like them, Sam, you see.

Not in a house. Not in a box. Not with a mouse. Not with a fox.

I will not eat them here or there. I do not like them anywhere.

You do not like green eggs and ham? I do not like them, Sam-I-am.

Could you, would you, with a goat? I would not, could not, with a goat!

Would you, could you, on a boat?

I could not, would not, on a boat. I will not, will not, with a goat.

I will not eat them in the rain. I will not eat them on a train.

Not in the dark! Not in a tree! Not in a car! You let me be!

I do not like them in a box. I do not like them with a fox.

I will not eat them in a house. I do not like them with a mouse.

I do not like them here or there. I do not like them ANYWHERE!

I do not like them, Sam-I-am.

You do not like them. So you say.

Try them! Try them! And you may. Try them and you may, I say.

Say! I like green eggs and ham! I do! I like them, Sam-I-am!

And I would eat them in a boat. And I would eat them with a goat…

And I will eat them in the rain. And in the dark. And on a train.

And in a car. And in a tree. They are so good, so good, you see!

So I will eat them in a box. And I will eat them with a fox.

And I will eat them in a house. And I will eat them with a mouse.

And I will eat them here and there. Say! I will eat them ANYWHERE!

I do so like green eggs and ham! Thank you! Thank you, Sam-I-am!.

Froggy Gets Dressed

-by Jonathan London

It was cold. Froggy woke up and looked out the window. “Snow! Snow!” he sang. “I want to play in the snow!”

“Go back to sleep, Froggy,” said his mother. “Don’t you know? Frogs are supposed to sleep all winter. Wake up when the snow melts.”

“No! No!” cried Froggy. “I’m awake! Awake! I want to go out and play in the snow.”

So Froggy put on his socks—zoop! Pulled on his boots—zup! Put on his hat—zat! Tied on his scarf—zwit! Tugged on his mittens—zum! And flopped outside into the snow—flop flop flop.

“FRRROOGGYY!” called his mother. “Wha-a-a-a-a-t?” yelled Froggy. “Did you forget to put something on?”

Froggy looked down. “Oops!” cried Froggy. “I forgot to put on my pants!”

He flopped back inside—flop flop flop. Tugged off his mittens. Untied his scarf.

Took off his hat. Pulled off his boots (he left his socks on) and slipped his pants on—zip!

Then he pulled on his boots—zup! Put on his hat—zat! Tied on his scarf—zwit! Tugged on his mittens—zum! And flopped back outside into the snow—flop flop flop.

“FRRROOGGYY!” called his mother. “Wha-a-a-a-a-t?” yelled Froggy. “Did you forget to put something on?”

Froggy looked down. “Oops!” he cried. “I forgot to put on my shirt!” “And your coat!” added his mother.

He flopped back inside—flop flop flop. Tuggged off his mittens. Untied his scarf. Took off his hat (he left his pants, boots, and socks on) and buttoned up his shirt—zut! zut! zut!

Then he snapped on his coat—znap! Put on his hat—zat! Tied on his scarf-zwit! Tugged on his mittens--zum! And flopped back outside into the snow—flop flop flop.

“FRRROOGGYY!” called his mother. “Wha-a-a-a-a-t?” yelled Froggy. “Did you forget to put something on?”

Froggy looked down. He had on his mittens. He had on his scarf. He had on his coat. He had on his shirt. He had on his pants. He had on his boots. He had on his socks. He reached up--Yep! He had on his hat. What could be missing?

“YOUR UNDERWEAR!” His mother laughed. “Oops!” cried Froggy, looking more red in the face than green.

He flopped back inside—flop flop flop. Tugged off his mittens. Untied his scarf. Unsnapped his coat. Unbuttoned his shirt. Unzipped his pants.

Pulled off his boots. Took off his socks (he left his hat on) and slipped his long johns on—with a zap! Of elastic.

Then he put on one sock—zoop! Pulled on one boot—zup! Tugged on one mitten—zum! Started to tug on the other……and let it drop. And said, “I’m too tired.”

And went back to sleep.

GOOD NIGHT, FROGGY.

PIGGYBOOK

-by Anthony Browne

Mr. Piggott lived with his two sons, Simon and Patrick, in a nice house with a nice garden, and a nice car in the nice garage.

Inside the house was his wife.

“Hurry up with the breakfast, dear,” he called every morning before he went off to his very important job.

“Hurry up with the breakfast, Mom,” Simon and Patrick called before they went off to their very important school.

After they left the house, Mr. Piggott washed all the breakfast things, made all the beds, vacuumed all the carpets, and then went to work.

“Hurry up with the meal, Mom,” the boys called every evening when they came home from their very important school.

“Hurry up with the meal, old girl,” Mr. Piggott called every evening when he came home from his very important job.

As soon as they had eaten, Mrs. Piggott washed the dishes, washed the clothes, did the ironing, and then cooked some more.

One evening when the boys got home from school, there was no one to greet them.

“Where’s Mom?” demanded Mr. Piggott when he got home from work.

She was nowhere to be found. On the mantelpiece was an envelope. Mr. Piggott opened it. Inside was a piece of paper. (“You are pigs.”)

“But what shall we do?” said Mr. Piggott. They had to make their own meal. It took hours. And it was horrible.

The next morning they had to make their own breakfast. It took hours. And it was horrible.

The next day and the next night and the day after that, Mrs. Piggott was still not there. Mr. Piggott, Simon, and Patrick tried to take care of themselves. They never washed the dishes. They never washed their clothes. Soon the house was liked a pigsty.

“When is Mom coming home?” the boys squealed after another horrible meal. “How should I know?” Mr. Piggott grunted. They all became more and more grumpy.

One night there was nothing in the house for them to cook. “We’ll just have to root around and find some scraps,” snorted Mr. Piggott.

And just then Mrs. Piggott walked in.

“P-L-E-A-S-E come back,” they snuffled.

So Mrs. Piggott stayed. Mr. Piggott washed the dishes.

Patrick and Simon made the beds.

Mr. Piggott did the ironing.

And they all helped with the cooking. Sometimes they even sort of liked it.

Mom was happy too.

She fixed the car.