The Little House

The Little House

At the edge of a wide green meadow, where birch trees whispered with their delicate leaves, stood a little wooden house.

Someone had lived there once, but they had gone away long ago. The door hung slightly crooked, grass grew through the porch, and swallows had built a nest under the roof. Yet the little house was still charming, with a round window, a carved awning, and a small bench beside the doorstep.

One morning, Mouse came running along the path. She carried three grains of wheat in her paws and was looking for a dry place to rest.

She saw the little house and called in surprise:

“Little house, little house, who lives in the little house?”

No one answered.

Mouse carefully peeked inside. It was empty, with only a beam of sunlight lying across the floor.

“If no one lives here, I’ll put the place in order,” she decided.

Mouse swept the floor with her tail, stacked dry leaves beside the stove, wiped the dust from the window, and placed her three grains on a shelf.

By evening, the little house already felt like a real home.

The next day, Frog came hopping across the meadow. She noticed a curl of smoke above the roof and knocked on the door.

“Little house, little house, who lives in the little house?”

“I do, Mouse. And who are you?”

“I’m Frog. May I live here too?”

Mouse thought for only a moment.

“Come in. It’s more cheerful with two.”

Frog settled near the round window. She knew where to find the cleanest water, and she was also a wonderful evening singer. Her “croak-croak” could be heard all the way to the stream, but Mouse liked it.

Before long, Hare came running up.

“Little house, little house, who lives in the little house?”

“Mouse and Frog. And who are you?”

“I’m Hare. Is there a little corner for me?”

“We’ll find one,” they replied.

Hare brought dry grass for soft beds and taught everyone how to patch cracks in the walls quickly.

A few days later, Fox came to the little house.

“Little house, little house, who lives in the little house?”

Three little faces appeared at the window.

“Mouse, Frog, and Hare. And who are you?”

“I’m Fox. You won’t send me away, will you?”

The animals moved closer together and let her in. Fox turned out to be an excellent housekeeper. She knew where fragrant herbs grew, could weave baskets from willow twigs, and always noticed when someone was feeling sad.

Then Wolf arrived.

He was big, grey, and a little shy. He stood by the door and asked quietly:

“Little house, little house, who lives in the little house?”

“There are four of us already!” Mouse called. “And who are you?”

“I’m Wolf. I suppose there isn’t any room left?”

The animals looked at one another. The little house truly was getting crowded.

“If we sleep a little closer together, there will be room,” said Hare.

“And I can sleep by the door,” Wolf offered. “In return, I’ll bring enough firewood for everyone.”

And that was what they did.

They lived together happily. In the mornings, Mouse cooked porridge. Frog fetched water. Hare swept the yard. Fox repaired baskets. Wolf chopped dry branches for firewood.

In the evenings, they sat by the window and told one another stories.

One cold day, Bear came to the little house.

He was so large that his head nearly touched the lower branch of a birch tree.

He saw the little chimney, smelled the porridge, and politely knocked with the tip of one claw.

Knock, knock.

“Little house, little house, who lives in the little house?”

Mouse peeked out through the door.

“There are many of us: Mouse, Frog, Hare, Fox, and Wolf. And who are you?”

“I’m Bear,” said the visitor. “The wind is cold outside. May I come in and warm myself too?”

Mouse looked at the tiny doorway, then at the enormous Bear.

“Try to come in carefully.”

Bear sucked in his belly, ducked his head, and pushed one paw through the doorway.

The boards creaked.

“Oops,” said Bear, backing away. “I think I’m too big.”

“Then sit on the porch,” Frog suggested. “We’ll bring you some hot fruit drink.”

Bear was delighted and sat on the edge of the porch.

Crack!

One board split.

“Never mind,” said Wolf. “We’ll fix it tomorrow.”

But Bear wanted to help. He stood up so quickly that his shoulder bumped the post supporting the awning.

The post wobbled.

The awning tilted.

Then the wall began to lean.

“Everyone outside!” shouted Fox.

One after another, the animals dashed onto the meadow. Mouse carried out the little sack of grain, Frog grabbed a cup, Hare pulled out a blanket, Fox rescued a basket, and Wolf carried away the bench.

And just then, the old little house gently folded over onto its side with a bump, a crack, and a rustle.

No one was hurt.

For a moment, everything was quiet.

Bear lowered his head.

“It’s my fault,” he said. “I only wanted to warm up, and I broke your home.”

Mouse looked at her friends.

“The house was old even before you came.”

“And there were too many of us for such a small place,” Hare added.

“So instead of arguing, we should build a new one,” Wolf decided.

Bear lifted his head.

“I’ll bring logs. The strongest logs in the whole forest!”

And everyone got to work.

Bear carried the great logs. Wolf set the sturdy beams in place. Fox packed moss into the cracks. Hare made wide shutters. Frog built a gutter from the roof so rainwater would collect in a barrel. And Mouse drew a plan on the ground showing where the pantry would go, where the kitchen would be, and where they would have a big room for evening stories.

A few days later, a new little house stood in the meadow.

It was larger than the old one, but just as cozy. It had six sleeping places, a big table, a strong porch, and even a separate wide entrance for Bear.

Above the door, the friends nailed up a wooden sign. Mouse carefully wrote on it:

“There is always room for those who come with kindness.”

That evening, they sat at their new table for the first time. The forest whispered beyond the windows, firewood crackled in the stove, and a pot of warm fruit drink steamed on the cooktop.

“You know,” said Bear, “I’m glad you didn’t send me away after I broke everything.”

“And I’m glad you didn’t run away, but stayed to help put everything right,” Fox replied.

Everyone agreed.

From then on, whenever someone came to the meadow and called:

“Little house, little house, who lives in the little house?”

several cheerful voices answered from the windows at once:

“Friends live here! And who are you?”

And if a guest came with a kind heart, there was always a cup of warm tea, a place beside the fire, and a new story waiting for the evening.

And if a guest came with a kind heart, there was always a cup of warm tea, a place beside the fire, and a new story waiting for the evening.