time-and-again

[time-and-again]

“The entire British museum is an active crime scene” - John Oliver

[time-and-again]

I know the story you mean! Always glad to meet another Bisset fan.

4. St Pancras and King’s Cross

Once upon a time there were two railway stations who lived right next door to one another. One was called St Pancras and the other King’s Cross. They were always quarrelling as to which was the better station.

“I have diesel engines as well as steam engines at my station,” said St Pancras.

“Humph! So have I!” said King’s Cross.

“And I’ve got a cafeteria,” said St Pancras.

“So have I!”

“Open on Sundays?”

“Yes, open on Sundays!”

“Humph!”

There was silence for a few minutes, then King’s Cross said, “Well, I’ve got ten platforms and you’ve only got seven.”

“I’m twice as tall as you are!” said St Pancras. “And anyway, your clock is slow.”

The King’s Cross clock was furious and ticked away as fast as it could to catch up. It ticked so fast that soon the St Pancras clock was away behind, and it ticked as fast as it could too, so as not to be out done. They both got faster and faster; and the trains had to go faster too so as not to be late.

Quicker and quicker went the clocks and faster and faster went the trains, till at last they had no time even to set down their passengers, but started back again as soon as they had entered the station. The passengers were furious and waved their umbrellas out of the windows.

“Hi, stop!” they called. But the engines wouldn’t.

“No!” they said. “We can’t stop or we’ll be late. Can’t you see the time?”

By now the clocks were going so fast that almost as soon as it was morning it was evening again.

The sun was very surprised. “I must be going too slow!” it thought. So it hurried up and set almost as soon as it had risen and then rose again. The people all over London were in such a state getting up and going to bed, and then getting up again with hardly any sleep at all— and running to work so as not to be late, and the children running to school and hardly having time to say twice two are four and running home again.

Finally the Lord Mayor of London said to the Queen, “Your Majesty, this won’t do! I think we ought to go and give a medal to Euston Station, then the other two will be so jealous they may stop quarrelling.”

“That’s a good idea!” said the Queen. So she set out from Buckingham Palace with the Lord Mayor and the Horse Guards and the Massed Bands of the Brigade of Guards, and in front of her walked the Prime Minister carrying a gold medal on a red velvet cushion.

When they got to King’s Cross the two stations stopped quarrelling and looked at them.

“Do you see what I see, St Pancras?” asked King’s Cross.

“I do indeed!” said St Pancras. “A medal being taken to Euston Station, just because it’s got fifteen platforms! It’s not fair! Why, you’re a better station than Euston!”

“And so are you, St Pancras,” said King’s Cross.

St Pancras was surprised, but it thought it would be nice to be friends again after all the quarrelling, so it said, “Let’s be friends.”

“Yes, let’s!” said King’s Cross.

So they became friends and stopped quarrelling, and their clocks stopped going too fast and their trains stopped having to hurry. Everyone was very pleased.

“You are clever, Lord Mayor!” said the Queen.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said the Lord Mayor.

[time-and-again]

12. Fog

Once upon a time, on the Queen's birthday, the fog had come to London to see the Trooping of the Colour. But when it got there the Queen said to the General, “We won't have Trooping the Colour today because it's foggy.” And this happened every time the fog came. So it felt sad, it did want to see Trooping the Colour. But how could it if every time it came to London the Queen said, “Cancel the parade”?

Now, at Buckingham Palace, under the Queen's chair, there lived a cat, whose name was Smokey,

and he felt sorry for the fog and wanted to help it. So next year, just before the Queen's birthday he wrote it a letter:

Under the Queen's chair, The Palace. Tuesday.

Dear fog, Please come to the Palace.

Yours sincerely, Smokey.

That night, before she went to bed the Queen put the cat out at the back door at Buckingham Palace and went upstairs to bed.

And, sure enough, before Smokey had time to mieow three times, he saw the fog. They were pleased to see each other!

“I do want to see Trooping the Colour,” said the fog. “But they always cancel the parade when it's foggy so I never get to see it.”

“I know,” said Smokey. “Now, tomorrow you must arrive just as the soldiers are going on parade and when the General sees you he'll say 'Your Majesty, there's a fog. Shall I cancel the parade?'”

“Yes, he always says that,” said the fog with a sigh.

“Then,” continued Smokey, “just as the Queen is going to say, 'Yes, cancel the parade!' you mieow.”

“All right!” said the fog. “But how do I mieow?”

So Smokey showed him and the fog practiced till it was good at mieowing.

Next morning the soldiers were all lined up for the parade when the General said, “Shall I cancel the parade, Your Majesty? I see a fog.”

“Where?” said the Queen.

“There!” said the General, pointing to the fog.

Just then the fog mieowed.

“Really, General,” said the Queen. “Can't you tell the fog from a pussycat? I distinctly heard it mieow. Of course you can't cancel the parade!”

So the fog stayed and saw Trooping the Colour after all. It felt happy now and went away to live on top of the mountains in Wales where there were other fogs to play with.

Once the Queen wrote to it:

The Palace, 1st June.

Dear Fog,

Please stay away.

Yours sincerely, The Queen.

And the fog wrote back:

Wales Friday

Your Majesty,

I am very happy here.

It was fun seeing the Trooping of the Colour. Thank you for having me.

Yours sincerely, Fog.

P.S. Love to Smokey.

The Queen can't understand it. “How did the fog manage to see Trooping the Colour, Smokey?” she asks, looking under her chair.

But Smokey just purrs. That's his secret.

[time-and-again]

11. Ring! Ring!

Once upon a time there was a man and a telephone. The telephone went, “Ring ring! Ring ring!”

“Hello!” said the man, picking up the receiver.

His wife, who was far away, spoke.

“Hello!” she said. “I can't find the cat's dinner. Where did you put it? The poor little thing is ever so hungry!”

“What a shame!” said the man. “I put the cat's dinner in the refrigerator.”

All the words he said rushed along the telephone line back to his wife, at the other end of the wire. All except the last word, REFRIGERATOR, which was such a big word— bigger than all the others— that it got very squashed in the wire. It couldn't go as fast as the little words, so it got left behind and began to cry.

“I'll go back the other way again,” it decided. What a fuss there was! It had to squeeze past other words.

“Oh, don't push!” they said. “You're going the wrong way.”

The man was very surprised when the word came back. “You are silly!” he said. “I told my wife to look in the refrigerator for the cat's dinner. If she didn't hear me say ‘REFRIGERATOR’, she won't know where to look and the cat won't get any dinner. It will get thinner and thinner till there is nothing left of it but its mieow. You wouldn't like that to happen, would you?” “Now, you be a good word and I'll send you off again and mind you don't get stuck this time,” the man added. So he listened very carefully.

“Where did you say the cat's dinner was?” he heard his wife ask.

“I said it's in the refrigerator,” he said.

This time the REFRIGERATOR word was ready to have a really good try. Off it went along the wire, faster than a space rocket. In fact it went so fast it almost reached the end before all the other words in the sentence, and that wouldn't have been very helpful. So it got to the other end at the right time— exactly right.

The lady was very pleased indeed and sent it back. “All right! I'll look in the refrigerator,” she said.

So the cat got its dinner.

[time-and-again]

10. Olive Snail and Geldie

Thousands of years ago, when the King of Tipperary was a very young man, a canary sang in a golden cage at the bottom of the King's garden. The canary's name was Geldie.

One morning when he was having his breakfast – he had cornflakes with milk and sugar – he ate so fast that he swallowed some down the wrong way and nearly choked. He coughed and coughed and coughed.

He coughed so loudly that a snail, whose name was Olive, who lived at the other end of the King's garden, got very worried and decided to hurry across the garden to pat Geldie on the back so that he could stop coughing and finish his  breakfast.

First of all Olive Snail sent a letter to her mother to say where she was going.

“Mrs. G. Snail, The Potato Patch, Bottom of the Garden, The Palace, Tipperary.”

Then she started off. All day long the hot sun beat down on her, but she struggled bravely on, determined to help him, and at dusk she arrived at Geldie's cage.

Poor Geldie was still coughing, so Olive patted him on the back as hard as she could with her horns. What a relief it was, because you see, the patting loosed the cornflakes and Geldie stopped coughing, and felt so pleased that he opened his beak and sang.

Olive was charmed, she felt she could listen to him for hours, and wished that she could sing too. After that they became great friends and went to tea with each other nearly every day.

[time-and-again]

9. The grasshopper and the snail

Once upon a time there was a grasshopper who was very very proud and his name was Sandy. When he was a baby grasshopper and learning to hop with the other grasshoppers, he always hopped great big hops, and the teacher said, “You must hop little hops as well as big ones, Sandy.”

“No,” said Sandy, “I'm an important grasshopper. I'm only going to hop big hops.” So he never learned to hop little hops at all.

Well, one day, when he was out for a hop, he met a snail whose name was Olive.

“Don't you find things rather slow, my dear?” he said to her. “Crawling along all day with your house on your back?”

“Oh no,” said Olive. “I like crawling. And I like being a snail, especially when it rains, because I never get wet under my nice shell. And I'm never late home because I'm here all the time, if you see what I mean. So it's fun being a snail.”

“Oh well,” said Sandy, “there's no accounting for tastes I suppose.  Good-bye!” And he hopped away. He was proud!

Still, he was very good at hopping. Grasshoppers are. Sandy could hop twelve inches at one hop which is a lot of hop when you are only an inch long. But there was one thing Sandy couldn't do, of course. He couldn't hop small hops. He couldn't hop say six inches or three inches but only twelve inches. Every time – twelve inches.

After he had finished talking to Olive Snail it was tea time so he started to hop home. But when he was nearly there – just six inches from his house, which was a little hole – he found he couldn't get in because every time he hopped, he hopped right over his house and found himself on the other side. He tried again and again but because he could only hop big hops, he always hopped over his hole and never into it.

Poor Sandy was getting very tired and ever so cross when who should come crawling by but Olive, with her house on her back.

“There, you see, Sandy,” she said, “it has its advantages being a snail. At least one can get home without any bother.”

However she was a kind snail. (Most snails are, except when they wake up first thing in the morning – then they are a bit grouchy.) So she said to Sandy, “ If you get on my back I'll give you a ride.”

So Sandy got on her back and she crawled home with him. He was pleased! “Thank you, dear Olive,” he said. “I see now that hopping big hops isn't everything.”

“That's true!” said Olive. “Little hops are just as nice as big ones. Bye-bye, Sandy.”

[time-and-again]

8. Nelson’s egg

[CW food]

One warm summer's day, Lord Nelson was standing on top of his tall column when a little cloud came sailing by.

“Please wash my face,” said Lord Nelson.

“Certainly,” said the cloud, and it rained on Lord Nelson till his face was clean.

“Thank you,” said Nelson, “I suppose you are a magic cloud, aren't you?”

“Well, my lord, I suppose I am,” said the cloud.

“Of course you are,” said Lord Nelson. “Only magic clouds can talk and that proves it. But, you know, little cloud, I get rather lonely up here, just being a statue, with no one to talk to.”

”You just look through your telescope,” said the cloud, “and if you see anyone you'd like to talk to I'll go and tell them.”

So Lord Nelson put his telescope to his good eye and looked all round Trafalgar Square and up the Strand and down Whitehall and along St Martin's Lane and there, in St Martin's Lane, he saw a chicken crossing the road.

“Why does a chicken cross the road?” said Lord Nelson to the cloud.

“I don't know,” said the little cloud. “Shall I fetch her?”

“Yes, please!” said Lord Nelson.

So the little cloud went and said to the chicken, “Lord Nelson would like to talk to you.”

The chicken was very pleased and went over to Nelson's Column and Lord Nelson let down a piece of string and the chicken climbed until she got to the top. Nelson was pleased to see her.

“What is your name?” he said.

“Martha, my lord,” said the chicken.

“Now, why,” said Lord Nelson, “why does a chicken cross the road?”

“Well, my lord,” said Martha, “when I lay an egg on one side of the road so that someone on that side can have an egg for breakfast, to lay the next egg, I cross the road so that someone on the other side can have an egg for breakfast too.”

“An egg for breakfast!” said Lord Nelson, dreamily. He gave a big sigh and a tear rolled down his cheek.

“Don't cry, my lord,” said Martha, “I'll stay with you and lay you an egg for breakfast every morning.”

And so she did.

Sometimes the little cloud passes and rains so that they can wash their faces, and sometimes they have a little chat. Lord Nelson isn't lonely any more and he always has an egg for breakfast.

[time-and-again]

7. The tiger who liked baths

[cw: food]

Once upon a time there was a tiger whose name was Bert. He had big, white, sharp teeth and when he growled it made a noise like thunder.

But Bert was a very nice tiger, always kind and gentle, except when someone else wanted to have a bath.

He loved having a bath and lay in the water all day until Mr and Mrs Smith and their baby daughter, who lived with him, were very cross. Because every time they wanted to have a bath Bert growled and showed his teeth.

“Come on, Bert! Do come out and have your supper,” said Mrs Smith, holding out a big plate of bones.

“No, thank you,” said Bert, and growled.

Poor Mrs Smith nearly cried. “It's time to bath the baby,” she said, “and there's Bert still in the bath. Whatever shall I do?”

“I know what we'll do,” said Mr Smith, and he went and bought twenty bottles of black ink and, when Bert wasn't looking, he poured them into his bath. It made the water all black so that Bert got all black too.

A few hours later Bert decided it was supper time so he got out of the bath.

“Oh, look at that big black pussy-cat,” said Mr Smith.

“Oh yes, what a beautiful pussy-cat!” said Mrs Smith.

“Pussy-cat?” said Bert. “I'm not a pussy-cat. I'm a tiger.”

“Tigers have stripes,” said Mr Smith. “They are not black all over like you.”

“Oh dear!” said Bert. “Perhaps I am a pussy-cat after all.”

“And pussy-cats,” said Mr Smith, “don't like having baths. You know that!”

“That's true!” said Bert.

After supper Bert went into the garden. And Prince, the dog next door, who liked chasing pussy-cats, saw Bert, and said, “ There's a pussy-cat! I'll chase him!”

He felt a bit nervous because Bert looked the biggest pussy-cat he had ever seen. Still, pussy-cats had always run away before when he barked at them, so he ran up to Bert, barking and showing his teeth.

Bert turned his head lazily and growled just once, like this: GRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Prince had never been so frightened in his life, and he jumped over the fence and ran home.

A little later, when Mr Smith came into the garden, Bert asked him, “Am I really a pussy-cat? Don't you think I'm too big?”

“Well, you're not really a pussy-cat,” said Mr Smith. “You're a tiger. A special kind of tiger, who never likes staying in the bath for more than half an hour. And that's the very best kind of tiger.”

Bert was pleased. “That kind!” he said to himself. “The very best kind!” And he purred and then licked all the black off till he was a lovely yellow tiger again with black stripes.

Then he went into the house and said to Mr Smith, “I think I'll just go and have a bath.” And he turned the water on and had a lovely bath. But he stayed in the water only for half an hour, and Mrs Smith said he was a very good tiger and gave him a big bucket of ice-cream.

Bert put his head in the bucket and licked. “Yum! yum! yum!” he said. “I do like ice-cream.”

[time-and-again]

6. The winding road

Once upon a time a little blue car was going along a winding road.

“Why are you so bendy?” it said to the road.

“Well,” said the road, “shall I tell you the story of how I was made?”

“Yes, please!” said the little blue car. “Tell me the story.”

“Well,” said the road, “some men with pick-axes and shovels made me. I started off straight, and, after a little while, I met a cow who was lying asleep so I said, ‘Wake up, Cow! I'm the new road just being made. I want to go straight and you are in the way.’

“The cow opened her eyes and said ‘Moo!’ But she wouldn't go away, even when the men went and shouted in her ear. So they built the road(that's me) round her; and that was the first bend.

“Then, when they had gone a little farther, a bull in the field bellowed at the men very fiercely so they turned away, and that was the second bend.

“After that one of the men said, ‘I would like a nice ice cream!’

“‘So would I!’ said the others.

“So they bent me round to the place where the ice cream shop was and they each bought an ice cream, and that was the third bend. Then they all lay down to sleep.

“When they woke up the foreman said, ‘Now, lads, let's be getting on with it!’ So they got up and started again, but they were still so sleepy they didn't notice where they were going and went the wrong way round another bend. That was the fourth!

“‘Hi!’ said the big foreman. ‘You're going the wrong way. We're supposed to go that way!’ And he pointed a different way. So they turned a fifth bend and went that way.

“After a while they saw a hen who had a family of chickens.

“‘Will you please move your chicks?’ said the men. ‘They are in the way.’

“‘Well, there's one more egg to hatch yet,’ said the hen.

“‘Oh no!’ said the men. ‘That will take too long!’ So they built me round them.

“By then it was nearly time to go home, so they put their pick axes and shovels away and the foreman looked at me. ‘You're not very straight, are you?’ he said. ‘Oh well, never mind!’ And then he went home.

“So you see, little blue car, that's why I am so bendy,” said the road.

“I do see!” said the little blue car. “I do like bendy roads. Toot-toot!”

[time-and-again]

5. The hot potato

[CW: food, cows, fire]

Once upon a time there lived a cow whose name was Dot, who was very fond of hot potatoes. One day she swallowed one whole without chewing it, and it was so hot inside her that it hurt, and she began to cry. Great big tears rolled down her cheeks.

The farmer, whose name was Mr Smith, got a bucket to catch the tears in, so that they wouldn't make the floor all wet.

"Whatever is the matter, Dot?" he said.

"I swallowed a hot potato," said Dot.

"You poor thing," said Mr Smith, "open your mouth."

Dot opened her mouth and smoke came out. What was to be done? Mr Smith picked up the bucket of tears and poured it down Dot's throat. There was a sort of sizzling noise, and Dot smiled because she felt better.

That evening, when Dot was lying in her byre, eating some hay, she made up a song:

When you eat potatoes hot, Be sure you chew them quite a lot Or you'll get a pain inside, Like the time I did and cried, Because I didn't stop to chew My potato through and through. What a silly cow I am! What a silly cow I am!

Dot stopped and she sharpened her pencil. "Now, what rhymes with ‘am’?" she thought.

Jam and spam and pram and tram, I'll send myself a telegram: "This is to remind you, not To eat potatoes when they're hot." Address the telegram to cow.

And that is all Dot wrote because, just then, she fell asleep.

[time-and-again]

4. St Pancras and King’s Cross

Once upon a time there were two railway stations who lived right next door to one another. One was called St Pancras and the other King's Cross. They were always quarrelling as to which was the better station.

"I have diesel engines as well as steam engines at my station," said St Pancras.

"Humph! So have I!" said King's Cross.

"And I've got a cafeteria," said St Pancras.

"So have I!"

"Open on Sundays?"

"Yes, open on Sundays!"

"Humph!"

There was silence for a few minutes, then King's Cross said, "Well, I've got ten platforms and you've only got seven."

"I'm twice as tall as you are!" said St Pancras. "And anyway, your clock is slow."

The King's Cross clock was furious and ticked away as fast as it could to catch up. It ticked so fast that soon the St Pancras clock was away behind, and it ticked as fast as it could too, so as not to be out done. They both got faster and faster; and the trains had to go faster too so as not to be late.

Quicker and quicker went the clocks and faster and faster went the trains, till at last they had no time even to set down their passengers, but started back again as soon as they had entered the station. The passengers were furious and waved their umbrellas out of the windows.

"Hi, stop!" they called. But the engines wouldn't.

"No!" they said. "We can't stop or we'll be late. Can't you see the time?"

By now the clocks were going so fast that almost as soon as it was morning it was evening again.

The sun was very surprised. "I must be going too slow!" it thought. So it hurried up and set almost as soon as it had risen and then rose again. The people all over London were in such a state getting up and going to bed, and then getting up again with hardly any sleep at all— and running to work so as not to be late, and the children running to school and hardly having time to say twice two are four and running home again.

Finally the Lord Mayor of London said to the Queen, "Your Majesty, this won't do! I think we ought to go and give a medal to Euston Station, then the other two will be so jealous they may stop quarrelling."

"That's a good idea!" said the Queen. So she set out from Buckingham Palace with the Lord Mayor and the Horse Guards and the Massed Bands of the Brigade of Guards, and in front of her walked the Prime Minister carrying a gold medal on a red velvet cushion.

When they got to King's Cross the two stations stopped quarrelling and looked at them.

"Do you see what I see, St Pancras?" asked King's Cross.

"I do indeed!" said St Pancras. "A medal being taken to Euston Station, just because it's got fifteen platforms! It's not fair! Why, you're a better station than Euston!"

"And so are you, St Pancras," said King's Cross.

St Pancras was surprised, but it thought it would be nice to be friends again after all the quarrelling, so it said, "Let's be friends."

"Yes, let's!" said King's Cross.

So they became friends and stopped quarrelling, and their clocks stopped going too fast and their trains stopped having to hurry. Everyone was very pleased.

"You are clever, Lord Mayor!" said the Queen.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," said the Lord Mayor.

[time-and-again]

3. The little penguin

[cw: food]

Once upon a time a little penguin lived with his mother at the North Pole. His name was Ian. He was sitting on an iceberg one day when the edge broke off and he fell into the sea, sitting on a small piece of ice.

The ice drifted south till it came to the Caribbean Sea. Now, in the Caribbean Sea there lived a turtle whose name was Jock.

One day he was swimming in the sea, when looking up, he saw— well, he  wasn't quite sure what he saw.

"What is that?" he said. "Can it be the bottom of a small penguin seen looking upward through a piece of ice? I believe it is."

He swam to the surface and there was Ian sitting on his ice. Ian and Jock became friends, they played and caught fish and swam in and out among the rocks.

Then Jock said, "Would you like to see how turtle soup is made?"

"Oh, yes!" said Ian.

"Well, first I'll tell you how it's done," said Jock. "You choose a nice hot day with the sun shining. Then you put a large tin can on the beach and fill it nearly to the top with three parts fresh water and one part sea water. Then you find a turtle and he gets in and has a lovely hot bath.

"The sun gets hotter and hotter, the water in the tin gets hotter and the turtle gets hotter. After a while the turtle gets out and goes for a cooling swim in the sea. And another turtle gets in the tin.

"And when he gets too hot he gets out and goes for a swim too. It takes five turtles to make a tin of soup this way. Then, a man comes along and pours the turtle soup from the big tin into a lot of little tins and he fixes the tops down and puts a label on them. Come with me and I'll show you."

They swam ashore and there with two big tins were ten turtles all making turtle soup.

"Well!" said Ian. "That is interesting. And now, you know, it's time I went home, or my mother will be worried."

"Right," said Jock, "but it would take you much too long to swim home, so I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll put you in a tin and send you by post."

So Ian got a tin, and Jock fixed the top down, and crossed out TURTLE on the label and wrote PENGUIN on it.

Then he stuck a stamp on and gave the tin to a man at the post office.

Next day, the postman knocked on Mrs. Penguin's iceberg and gave her the tin.

"Thank you," said Mrs. Penguin, and put the tin down and went on with her dusting.

Then she looked at the tin again and read the label. "Soup," she said, "how nice! Soup! ... PENGUIN Soup? Quick! Help!" And she got a tin opener and opened the tin and out popped Ian.

[time-and-again]

2. The thin king and the fat cook

[Content warning: food, body image]

Once upon a time there was a very fat King who said to his very thin cook, "Bake me a cake! The lightest, nicest, scrumpiest cake you've ever made."

So the cook got a big bowl and two dozen eggs and some butter and five pounds of flour and a pound of yeast.

He mixed the flour and the eggs and the butter in the big bowl, then put in the yeast. Then he lit the gas and when the oven was hot he put the cake in.

Soon there was a lovely smell of baking cake, and the King came running in.

"My, my!" he said. "What a lovely smell. I'm sure it's going to be a delicious cake, cook."

"Ah yes, Your Majesty," said the cook. "And it's going to be the lightest cake in the world, I put in a whole pound of yeast to make it rise."

"That's the stuff!" said the King. "But what's this?" They looked round and saw that the top of the gas stove was beginning to bend and suddenly, with a Crack! it shot up in the air and the top of the cake appeared, rising slowly.

"Tch, tch!" said the King. "Now, look what you've done! You've put in too much yeast!"

The cake went on rising until, at last, it was pressing against the ceiling, which began to crack.

The cook and the King rushed upstairs and when they got to the top they saw the cake had gone right through the ceiling to the floor above.

"Do something, my good man!" shouted the King. The poor cook didn't know what to do. So he jumped up and sat on the cake to stop it rising.

But it went on rising just the same till the cook felt his head bump on the ceiling. A moment later his head went through the roof and still the cake went on rising.

"Oh, Your Majesty! Please go and turn the gas off!" shouted the cook.

The King rushed downstairs and turned the gas off. Then he got his telescope and went into the garden.

The cake had stopped rising, but the top was very high up in the air.

"Oh, drat the man!" said the King. "If he doesn't come down soon there won't be anyone to cook the dinner." Then he thought, "If the cook was to start eating the cake, then he would get lower and lower." So he called out, "Cook, eat the cake at once!"

"Delighted, Your Majesty," called back the cook, and he took a bite. "Yum, yum!" he said. "This is nice cake!"

"Oh, stop talking," said the King, "and eat it up as fast as you can, or I shall have no dinner."

"Right, Your Majesty," said the cook, and ate as fast as he could. But it was such a big cake that it took him two weeks to eat it all and it made him very fat. But the poor King who was waiting for his dinner, got thinner and thinner.

So instead of the King being fat and the cook being thin, there was a very thin King and a very fat cook!

"Never mind. Your Majesty," called the cook when he had eaten the cake and reached the ground. "I'll cook you a lovely dinner now!" And he did.

[time-and-again]

1. The river of words

Once upon a time there was a river which was made of words. It flowed down to the sea and the sea was made of story books.

As the river flowed along, the words and the letters tumbled over each other and buffeted the rocks just like ordinary rivers.

"I know," said the river. "Let’s write a story! Once upon a time..."

"Hooray!" shouted all the other words. "That's the way to begin a story. Now what comes next?"

This is the story the river told them.

Once upon a time there was a river made of words and it was going down to the sea and all the words were going into story books, when suddenly a little otter swam across the river and the words got into the wrong order so that instead of writing "Once upon a time’ it wrote "on at Once up time" and it got in a frightful muddle.

"Oh, you are a naughty otter," the river said to the otter whose name was Charlie. "Now you've spoilt our story."

“I’m terribly sorry!” said Charlie. “Perhaps if I swim back again it’ll put things right.”

He swam back and then clambered on the bank and looked at the words, “time upon a Once”, he read. “Surely that’s not right!”

However the river swirled about a bit and soon got it right. “Once upon a time,” he read, “there was an otter who is name was Charlie.”

“Why that’s me! My name’s Charlie. It’s a story about me!” He got so excited and jumped up and down and then slipped and fell in the river and jumbled up the words again. Oh, the river was annoyed!

The otter got out as quickly as he could and looked at the words: “otter was Charlie time upon a Once.” Worse and worse!

“What do you expect?” said the river. “Every time we start you fall in and get it all jumbled. Now we’ve got to start all over again.”

“Once upon a time there was an otter whose name was Charlie and he lived by the river of words... Now what happens next?“

They thought and thought but couldn’t think of a story about Charlie. So he said, “I’ll help,” and got back from the river and then ran as fast as he  could and jumped right into the miuddle of the river. Then he swam ashore and looked at the words. (He’d jumbled them right, this time.)

“Once upon a ttime there was a very naughty otter,” he read, “and one day he met a pussy-cat.”

“Mieow!” said the pussy-cat. “Do you like ice-cream?”

“No!” said Charlie.

“Mieow! Do you like milk?”

“No!”

“Mieow! Do you like fish?”

“Yes, I do!” said Charlie.

“Mieow,” said the pussy-cat. “Well, if you come to my house my auntie will give you a fish tea. Brown bread and butter and fish paste.”

“That will be nice!” said Charlie. “It makes me feel quite hungry. I think I’ll go home to tea now. But before I go tell me, what are you going to do with the story?”

“It’s going to be a story in a book called Time and Again Stories,” said the river.

Charlie was pleased. “That’s nice!” he said. “Now I’m going! Good-bye!”

“Good-bye!” said the river.

The words all jumbled around and then spelt “Love and kisses to Charlie.” And tumbling and tossing they flowed on into rhe story-book sea.