Once upon a time, in the middle of a gentle green forest, lived three little pigs. They had curly tails, pink snouts, and very wiggly ears. They lived with their mother, but the house was becoming much too small for three growing pigs. One sunny morning, Mother Pig wiped her hands on her apron and said, "My little dears, you are big enough now to go out into the wide world. You must build your own houses. But remember, whatever you do, do it the best that you can, because the world has a Big Bad Wolf in it." The three little pigs kissed their mother goodbye. They packed their spotted handkerchiefs with snacks and trotted down the dusty road, singing a happy tune. They felt brave and excited. But as they walked deeper into the woods, the trees grew taller and the shadows grew longer. Suddenly, a twig snapped loudly behind them. SNAP! The three little pigs froze in their tracks.

The pigs looked around, but they saw nothing. "It was just the wind," said the first little pig. He was a bit lazy and wanted to build his house quickly so he could play. Just then, a man walked by carrying a large bundle of golden straw. "Please, sir," asked the first pig, "may I have that straw to build a house?" The man agreed, and the pig set to work. He piled the straw up—swish, swoosh, crinkle. It wasn’t very sturdy, but it was done in an hour! The first pig danced a jig and went inside to take a nap on his soft straw floor. He was just closing his eyes when he heard a noise outside. It wasn't a bird. It wasn't a bunny. It was a heavy, thumping footstep. Thump. Thump. Thump. Then, a low, scratchy voice knocked on the door. Rat-a-tat-tat. "Little pig, little pig, let me in!"

The little pig peeked through a crack in the straw. It was the Wolf! He had big yellow eyes, sharp white teeth, and he looked very hungry. "No, no, by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin!" squealed the little pig. "I will not let you in!" The Wolf grinned a toothy grin. "Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in!" The Wolf took a deep breath. He inhaled so much air that his chest puffed out like a giant balloon. The trees swayed and the leaves swirled around his feet. The little pig hid under his chair, trembling. The Wolf leaned forward, ready to release all that air.

WHOOSH! The Wolf blew a mighty gust of wind! The straw house didn't stand a chance. The golden stalks flew everywhere—into the trees, into the sky, and all over the ground. The house was gone! The little pig squealed and took off running on his four little legs. "Help! Help!" he cried. He ran as fast as the wind, his ears flapping behind him. The Big Bad Wolf licked his lips and chased after him. His big paws pounded the dirt road. The little pig could hear the Wolf getting closer and closer. He could almost feel the Wolf’s hot breath on his curly tail! Just ahead, the little pig saw his brother standing by a new house made of sticks. He was only a few steps away!

The second little pig had built his house out of sticks he gathered from the woodcutter. It was a bit stronger than straw, full of twigs and branches woven together. He saw his brother running and quickly opened the door. The first pig dove inside, and SLAM! They locked the door just in time. "Safe!" gasped the first pig. "Don't worry," said the second pig. "My house of sticks is tough." But outside, the woods went quiet. The birds stopped singing. The two little pigs huddled together in the corner. Then, the shadow of two pointy ears appeared on the window shade. "Little pigs, little pigs, let me in!" growled the voice, louder than before. "No, no! By the hair of our chinny-chin-chins!" the brothers shouted together. The Wolf growled. "Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in!" The house of sticks creaked and groaned. The Wolf was preparing to blow harder than he ever had before.

The Wolf huffed. He puffed. And then—ROAR! He blew with the force of a storm! The sticks rattled and shook. Snap! Crack! Pop! The wooden walls began to bend. The roof lifted right off the top of the house! With a terrible crash, the house of sticks collapsed into a pile of firewood. The two little pigs scrambled out of the rubble. They were covered in dust, but they didn't stop to shake it off. They ran! They ran toward the hill where the third brother lived. The Wolf was furious now. He was very hungry and very grumpy. He sprinted after them, snapping his jaws. Snip, snap, snip! The pigs saw a beautiful red house ahead. It looked very solid. The door was made of heavy oak. They scrambled toward it, but their legs were getting tired. The Wolf was right at their heels!

The third little pig was the smartest and most hardworking of all. He had spent days laying heavy red bricks and sealing them with sticky mortar. He heard the commotion and threw open his heavy oak door. His two brothers tumbled inside, panting and puffing. CLANG! The third pig bolted the door shut and locked it with a big iron key. "You are safe here," said the third pig calmly. He stoked a roaring fire in the fireplace. Outside, the Wolf banged on the heavy door. BANG! BANG! BANG! "Little pigs, little pigs, let me in!" he roared. "No, no! By the hair of our chinny-chin-chins!" all three pigs yelled. The Wolf laughed. "Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in!" He took the biggest breath of his life. His face turned purple. He blew until the grass flattened and the trees bent over. The wind hit the house—WHOOSH!

The brick house did not move. It didn't even shiver! The Wolf huffed again. And he puffed again. He blew until he had no air left at all. He fell onto the grass, wheezing and coughing. The house of bricks stood tall and strong against the blue sky. The Wolf realized he could not blow this house down. He was furious! He paced back and forth, growling to himself. He looked at the strong walls. He looked at the locked door. Then, he looked up. He saw the chimney on the roof. It was wide and open. A sly smile spread across the Wolf's face. "If I can't blow my way in," he whispered, "I'll come down from the top." He began to climb the side of the house, digging his claws into the bricks. Scritch, scratch, scritch, scratch. Inside, the pigs heard the scratching sound on the roof. They looked at the fireplace. They looked at each other.

"He's on the roof!" whispered the first pig. "He's coming down the chimney!" cried the second pig. But the third pig just smiled. "Quickly," he said, "take the lid off the big cooking pot!" A giant iron pot was hanging in the fireplace, right under the chimney opening. The water inside was boiling and bubbling hot. The three pigs took the heavy lid off and waited. Up on the roof, the Wolf licked his lips. "Here I come, little pigs!" he shouted. He swung his legs into the dark chimney and let go. Wheeeee! He slid down the dark tunnel, faster and faster! He thought he was sliding into a tasty dinner. But he wasn't sliding toward the floor. He was sliding straight toward the bubbling, boiling pot of water!

SPLASH! The Wolf fell right into the boiling water! "YEOUCH!" he howled. He shot out of the pot like a rocket, flew back up the chimney, and tumbled off the roof. He ran away into the woods, holding his burnt tail, howling all the way home. He never, ever came back to bother the three little pigs again. The three brothers danced around the room, singing and laughing. The two brothers learned their lesson: hard work pays off. They all lived together happily and safely in the strong brick house, and they lived happily ever after. The End.