The Tale of the Little Red Hen; W. A. Paton

THE T ALE OF THE LITTLE RED HEN (Adapted from earlier versions) tg W -4. paton EARLY ONE MORNING the Little Red Hen was out looking for something to eat, and in the course of her search she came upon several plump, fresh kernels of wheat, spilled by somebody in the road. She was just about to swallow them when the thought occurred to her that perhaps she might instead get into the wheat business in a small way by planting the kernels. So she called to some of her farm friends: "Look, I've found some wheat. Who will help me dig up some ground so that we can plant this wheat and raise a crop?" The "friends" didn't take kindly to the idea. "Not I," quacked the duck. "Not I," honked the goose. "Not I," grun ted the pig. "Well, I will then," said the Little Red Hen. She picked out a nice piece of ground near the fence and worked hard scratching it up into good loose soil. Then she made some holes, well spaced, dropped a kernel in each hole, and filled them carefully with dirt.

Dr. Paton is Professor Emeritus of Accounting and of Economics, School of Business Administration, University of Michigan. 435 436 w. A. PATTON Hard Work and Loving Care The Little Red Hen visited her bit of wheat field every day, pulled out the weeds that came up, used her sprinkling can to water the soil when there wasn't enough rain. Soon the green wheat sprouts broke through the ground and grew into sturdy plants, and finally the stalks and wheat heads appeared and ripened. When the wheat was ready to cut, the Little Red Hen appealed to her "friends" again: "Who will help me cut the wheat and take it to the mill?" "Nat I," said the duck. "Not I," said the goose. "Not I," said the pig. "Well, I will then," said the Little Red Hen. She cut the wheat stalk by stalk with her shears, bound it into several bundles and carried each bundle on her back over the hill and down by the river to the mill. The miller spread the wheat out on his threshing floor and pounded the heads with his flail until the kernels were all separated from the husks. Then he blew away the straw and chaff and ground the beautiful red wheat into flour. He put the flour in a sack (after taking out his toll for the work he'd done), tied up the sack, and gave it to the Little Red Hen. She carried it on her back all the way home-a long, hard trip. When she had the sack of flour safely in her house, she went out and called to her "friends" once more. "Who will help me make my flour into dough and bake it into bread?"

"Not I," said the duck. "Not I," said the goose. "Not I," said the pig.

THE TALE OF THE LITTLE RED HEN 437 "Well, I will then," said the Little Red Hen. She bus tled about making the flour into dough, and putting it in her round baking pan. After the dough had risen, she put it in the oven and late in the afternoon she took it out (being careful not to burn herself), and there on the table was a round loaf of the loveliest brown bread anyone ever saw or smelled! Sharing the Gains The Little Red Hen then went to the door and-with a bit of a glint into her eye-called out: "Who will help me eat this lovely loaf of bread that I have baked?" "I will," quacked the duck, very loudly. "I will," promptly honked the goose. "I will," squealed the pig. And all three rushed to the door of the Little Red Hen's house. But they didn't get any encouragement from that point on. "No," said the Little Red Hen. "I found the wheat; I prepared the soil and planted it; I pulled the weeds and watered the ground when it got too dry; I cut the wheat and carried it all the way to the mill; I carried the flour home myself; I made the flour into dough and baked it. None of you would help until it came time to eat. And I'm going to eat my own bread all by myself." She shut the door with a bang, and sat down to a good meal of hot bread, with plenty of butter on it! And it didn't bother her a bit that she was not sharing the results of her foresight, initiative, and labor with those unwilling to contribute to production but 438 w. A. PATON very eager to consume what someone else had produced.

:I(: :I(: :I(: Unfortunately., the fable~s ending doesn~t square with the facts of life in America today. The duck) the goose., and the pig) constituting a democratic majority) have au thorized their income tax collector to take from the very productive little hen up to nine-tenths of the bread she has earned. Added to this ruinous levy there may be a sizable fine to which she is subject for having grown wheat in excess of the quota allowed her under the farm price-support program. Far from enjoying the whole loaf she produced by her own efforts., she~ll be lucky these days if her "needy" neighbors leave her as much as a crumb.