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Updated: June 22, 2025
The Lady of Berkely showed no craven spirit at these warlike preparations; she advanced, closely followed by the faithful Bertram, and a female in a riding-hood, whose face, though carefully concealed, was no other than that of the unfortunate Margaret de Hautlieu, whose worst fears had been realized as to the faithlessness of her betrothed knight.
But the children were so tired out they finally let them go to bed in their fancy costumes, and thought perhaps they would come off better in the morning. So Red Riding-hood went to bed in her little red cloak, holding fast to her basket full of dainties for her grandmother, and Bo Peep slept with her crook in her hand.
Good for Christmas-time is the ruddy colour of the cloak, in which the tree making a forest of itself for her to trip through, with her basket Little Red Riding-Hood comes to me one Christmas Eve to give me information of the cruelty and treachery of that dissembling Wolf who ate her grandmother, without making any impression on his appetite, and then ate her, after making that ferocious joke about his teeth.
"I should like to have one dress," said Nora. "I am not anything at all. All the fun is in the dress. You are to have four dresses." "Well, so are you to have four." "No, I am not. What four?" "This one, you know; and Red Riding-hood and the Princes in the Tower and Cinderella."
"I should like to be the angel " murmured Nora, low enough to have no one's attention but Daisy's. The rest were agreeing that the picture would be excellent and had just the right performers assigned to it. Daisy was puzzled. It seemed to her that Nora had a general desire for everything. "Ella will be one of the princes in the tower," Preston went on. "Nora will be Red Riding-Hood."
"That means that they like it, I suppose," said Daisy. "You will have to go now, Nora, I know. Little Red Riding-Hood comes next. Come we'll all go." "Horrid Little Red Riding-Hood!" said Nora. "I hate that picture!" "Why do you hate it?" "Because! It is nothing but a red hood." Mrs. Sandford's bell sounded.
As the cook came up to acquaint her that the fowl was ready, Jonathan begged she would see whether there was any woman waiting at his door. The lady, without minding the mystery, did as he desired her, and perceiving a woman in a scarlet riding-hood walk twice or thrice by Mr. Wild's house, her curiosity prompted her to go near her.
Besides the tales that the child-world of all ages is familiar with, Red Riding-Hood, the Giant-Killer, Cinderella, Aladdin, the "Sleeping Beauty," and the rest, she had picked up somewhere most of the folk-stories of Ireland and Scotland, and also the wild legends of Germany, which latter were not then made into the compact volumes known among juvenile readers of to-day as Grimm's "Household Tales."
And there, in the shadow of a heavy curtain draping it, stood a little girl. She might have passed for a picture of Red Riding-Hood; for she wore a small scarlet cloak over her muslin frock, and the hood of it had been pulled forward and covered all but a margin of hair above the brows.
"What do you suppose I have been amusing myself with all this while, Miss Fleda?" said he, after walking for some time alongside of her in silence. "I have been trying to fancy what you looked like as you travelled on before me with that mysterious tin pail." "Well what did I look like?" said Fleda laughing. "Little Red Riding-Hood, the first thing, carrying her grandmother the pot of butter."
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