The Little, Little Old Woman

Once there was a little, little old woman. She lived in a little, little red house. In the house lived a little, little cat.

One day the little, little old woman cooked a little, little pot of porridge. She set a little, little table. She put out a little, little bowl and a little, little spoon.

“Wait, my little, little cat,” she said. “The porridge is hot.” She went to the little, little pantry for a little, little bit of sugar.

The little, little cat sniffed. He looked. He licked. Lick, lick! The porridge was tasty. Soon the little, little bowl was empty.

Back came the little, little old woman. “Oh, you little, little naughty cat!” she cried. She took a little, little birch twig. “I will tap you, tap you!”

The little, little cat was scared. He ran, ran, ran! He jumped up to the little, little roof and sat there with a little, little tail flick.

The little, little old woman looked up. She put down the little, little twig. “Come down, my little, little cat,” she said kindly. “I will not tap you. Come and be my friend.”

Down came the little, little cat. Purr, purr. The little, little old woman smiled. They shared a little, little supper of bread and milk. And that was very, very good.