The Industrious Tailor

Once there was a pleasant and industrious (by which I mean hard working) tailor who had a beautiful seamstress (female tailor) wife.  They lived in a small cottage on the edge of a quaint (nice, in an old fashioned way) village by the side of a rippling mountain stream.  Life was very good for the industrious tailor and his beautiful seamstress wife and their eleven contented (happy) children, all of whom were loved dearly. 

One day the industrious tailor needed to go to the neighbouring (nearby) village to conclude (finish) some business, which involved supplying a bride and groom with fine outfits for their forthcoming wedding.  The industrious tailor and his beautiful seamstress wife had worked together for many days, and sometimes well into the evenings under the light of smelly tallow (animal fat) candles, to complete the order.  He loaded the fine outfits onto his a rickety (wobbly) wooden cart then hitched (tied) his faithful old donkey to the rickety wooden cart. Bidding (saying) goodbye to his beautiful seamstress wife and eleven contented children with a kiss and a smile, he set off for the neighbouring village.

Now, the industrious tailor and his beautiful seamstress wife and eleven contented children had always been very jolly, but they were not very worldly (street wise).  They thought everyone was as nice and honest as they were.  This was about to change. 

For, a little way down the road between the two villages, the tailor, sitting on his rickety wooden cart pulled by his faithful old donkey, rounded a bend in the road and passed by the mouth of an ancient (old) cave. As the wheels of the rickety wooden cart clattered (made a noise) on the stones near the mouth of the ancient cave, the industrious tailor and his faithful old donkey heard a mighty growl, which made the hairs on the neck of the industrious tailor and his faithful old donkey stand on edge.

At the mouth of the ancient cave stood a massive (large) mean (not very nice), green, angry ogre.  The ogre was angry because the noise of the cart approaching (getting nearer) had woken him up.  As for being mean, well that is true for all ogres, all of the time.

The ogre now stood in the middle of the road and, feeling hungry after his long sleep, was about to start eating the faithful old donkey.  “Wait!” said the industrious tailor. “If you let us pass safely to go about our business (work), I will bring you something nice to eat from the village when we return.” The ogre thought about this for a while and, taking one last longing (wanting it) look at the faithful old donkey, he said, “Very well, you may pass, but be sure to bring something fresh and tasty so that I don’t have to eat that old stringy (tough to eat) donkey.

At this, the industrious tailor and the faithful old donkey wasted no time in heading (moving) off toward the next village.  Once there, he conducted (carried out) his business with the bride and groom, who were delighted (very pleased) with the quality of their new outfits. He then gave some thought to what he could take back with him to give to the ogre. Passing a butcher’s shop he saw a plump (fat) fresh, dead chicken hanging in the window.  “Ah, that should do nicely”, he thought.  He went in and purchased (bought) the chicken then set off toward home with the chicken on the seat next to him.

Soon enough, the industrious tailor and the faithful old donkey were within sight of the cave and they saw the ogre standing in the middle of the road waiting for them.  The ogre sniffed the air as they approached and roared with delight. “I can smell fresh meat, let me have it quickly”, said the ogre.  The industrious tailor handed over the dead chicken and, in a flash it was gone down the ogre’s throat.

“Is that all you have brought me?” said the ogre, in a rage (angrily).  “That was very tasty but hardly a mouthful. I can see that I am going to have to eat the donkey and then you after all.”  It was at this point that the industrious tailor realised that not everyone was nice and honest as he was.

“Wait”, he shouted. “Let us pass once more and I will return (come back) with plenty of fresh meat for you to eat.  I have eleven contented children who are nice and plump. I can spare you a couple of those.”  Of course, ogres, by nature, are greedy as well as mean. So, this ogre agreed to the deal and let the industrious tailor and the faithful old donkey pass by.  As they went on their way the ogre shouted, “They better taste as nice as the last thing you brought for me.”

Shortly, the industrious tailor and faithful old donkey arrived home and told the beautiful seamstress wife all about what had happened.  At first, she was terribly upset and scolded (told off) the industrious tailor for coming up with such an awful (bad) idea.  “Trust me”, he said, “for I have seen how wicked the ogre is, and I intend (mean to) teach him a lesson.

For the whole of the next week the industrious tailor and his beautiful seamstress wife worked tirelessly to make two very detailed mannequin (life sized model) copies of their two eldest children, out of scraps of cloth.  They stuffed these with straw and brussel sprouts soaked in chicken blood and juice. This made the mannequins smell as good as the real dead chicken given to the ogre previously (before). The industrious tailor then set off toward the ogre’s cave. 

Once again, as he approached the cave the ogre roared with delight. “I can smell fresh meat, let me have it quickly”, he said.  The industrious tailor pushed the two mannequins off the rickety old cart onto the road.  Now, ogres have a reasonable sense of smell, but their eyesight is not good on account (because) of their living in dark, damp caves. The ogre leapt hungrily onto the two mannequins and they were gone into his belly in just a few moments.

Gingerly (carefully) the industrious tailor eased the cart backward and started to head for home.  Before he had turned the bend in the road, he heard a loud groaning and noises a bit like thunder coming from the cave. He stopped the cart just in time to see the ogre running from the cave pulling up his tattered (old and ripped) trousers and shouting, “I’m not staying here a minute longer.  The people here taste awful and give one the most terrible flatulence (wind)”.  With that he was gone in a puff of smoke, never to be seen or heard of again.

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