Soon
afterward the old goat came home again from the forest. Ah! what
a sight she saw there! The house door stood wide open. The table,
chairs, and benches were thrown down, the washing-bowl lay broken to
pieces, and the quilts and pillows were pulled off the bed. She sought
her children, but they were nowhere to be found. She called them one
after another by name, but no one answered. At last, when she came
to the youngest, a soft voice cried, "Dear mother, I am in the
clock-case." She took the kid out, and it told her that the wolf had
come and had eaten all the others. Then you may imagine how she wept
over her poor children.
At length in her grief she went out, and the youngest kid ran with
her. When they came to the meadow, there lay the wolf by the tree
snoring so loud that the branches shook. She looked at him on every
side and saw that something was moving and struggling in his gorged
body. "Ah, heavens!" said she, "is it possible that my poor children,
whom he has swallowed down for his supper, can be still alive?" Then
the kid had to run home and fetch scissors, and a needle and thread,
and the goat cut open the monster's stomach. Hardly had she made one
cut than one little kid thrust its head out; and, when she had cut
further, all six sprang out one after another. They were all still
alive and had suffered no injury whatever, for in his greediness the
monster had swallowed them down whole.
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