The Hat Cottage

Once there was a mother who lived with her three lively boys in a little red cottage by the forest. The mother worked hard every day. She cooked, washed, and mended, and she hoped her boys would learn to help.

One morning the mother said, "I must go to town. Be good while I am gone. Sweep the floor, fetch water, and do not touch the matches. Promise me."

"We promise," said the boys. They watched their mother walk down the road with her basket on her arm.

At first the boys tried to help. They held the broom, they carried the bucket, but soon they began to play. "I’m hungry," said the youngest. "Let’s make porridge!" said the middle one. "I can light the stove," said the oldest, and he took a match.

Snap! went the match. Whoosh! went a flame. It nibbled the straw broom, then the curtain. "Oh no!" cried the boys. They ran for water, but the fire crackled and grew. The little red cottage burned and burned until only a dark heap and the tall chimney were left. The boys stood in the yard and sobbed. "What will Mother say? Where will we live?"

Out from the forest stepped three little old men in pointed caps. Their eyes were bright and kind, but their voices were firm. "You played with fire when you were told not to," said the first.

"Now you must learn to take care," said the second.

"Come with us," said the third, and they led the boys along a mossy path to a snug, hidden house.

The days that followed were busy days. The little old men taught the boys how to help properly. "Sweep from the corners," they said, showing the boys how to gather every speck. "Carry water without spilling," they said, and the boys learned to walk slowly and steady with the pail. They scrubbed pots until they shone and washed clothes until they were clean and sweet.

In the kitchen they measured oats, stirred gently, and watched the flame. "A little fire is your friend," said the first little man. "Too much fire is trouble," said the second. "Mind your matches," said the third. The boys listened. They worked hard. Their hands grew clever and careful. Each evening they were tired but proud.

Meanwhile the mother came home and found only ashes. She wrung her hands and wept. "Where are my boys? Where is our home?" she cried. Just then the three little old men appeared at the edge of the clearing. "Do not be afraid," they said. "Come with us."

They led her along the mossy path to the hidden house. There she saw her three boys, sweeping, stirring, and smiling with bright, clean faces. "Mother!" they cried, and ran into her arms. "We are sorry. We will never play with matches again. We have learned to help!"

The little old men nodded. "They have learned well," they said. "Now let us build you a new, safe home."

They all worked together. The boys fetched straight logs and smooth boards. The mother planted geraniums for the windowsills. The little old men hammered and fitted. At last they lifted a clever roof they had made—a round, wide, laughing roof that looked just like a great hat set on the walls. The brim made a neat eave, and the chimney stood up like a feather.

"There!" said the first. "A strong house."

"A cozy house," said the second.

"The Hat Cottage," said the third, and everyone clapped.

They moved in that very day. The boys laid the table, the mother stirred the porridge, and a small, steady flame warmed the room. Smoke curled from the chimney like a plume.

"Thank you," said the mother to the little old men. "We will keep it tidy and safe."

The boys nodded. "We will help every day," they promised. And they did. Sometimes, when the forest was quiet, three small caps could be seen between the trees, and soft voices could be heard saying, "Mind your matches. Help with your hands."

In the Hat Cottage, they lived happily, wisely, and well.