The Three Faerie Sisters

This book contains six stories, all of them about The Three Little Faerie Sisters. It begins when a little man, called Yoruk, dressed entirely in green, appears in front of the started sisters one day. Yoruk tells them they are faerie, real honest to goodness faeries. After that, their wonderful adventures begin.

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Contents

1. Their First Adventure                                            

 2. The Three Little Sisters and the Dragon    

3. The Faerie Bags                                           

4. The Three Little Sisters Meet the Big Bad Wolf 

5. Humpty Dumpty and the Three Faerie Sisters   

6. Be Careful Of What You Wish For Because You Might Get It

The Faerie Song

We three sisters, faeries are we,

Lisa, Mildred and Greta, you see,

Magical children, fairytale splendour,

Adventure for all to see.

 

Fairies by nature, faeries by right,

Enchanting the earth, the air and sky,

Using our powers, making things better,

In fairytale land this night.

 

We three sisters, faeries are we,

Lisa, Mildred and Greta, you see,

Magical children, fairytale splendour,

Join us this night, so free.

How it began…

Once upon a time, there lived three little sisters, three pitifully small girls whose poor, bedraggled mother, after trying so hard – and for so long – to get them to eat more,  had all but given up they might ever grow to be any bigger.

Despite their diminutive size, however, their mother loved her three daughters to bits. She loved them with a passion and never allowed anyone in the village to make fun of them because of their size.

The names of these sisters were Greta, Lisa and Mildred. Although they were girls, which most people consider far easier to raise than rascally boys are, they were a handful for their mother to control, to keep inline. She had to keep a tight rein on them to ensure they did not get into trouble.

They were not naughty children, mind you. If anything, they were fastidiously good. At times, however, they got a bit giddy and mischievous. They had an unfortunate knack of getting into sticky situations, causing their mother to wonder if she might ever steer them into acting like other, more normal children. Let me explain…

It all began on a dark and dreary Saturday morning, one of those horrible days we get all too many of, in late October. Despite the weather being so bad, it was surprisingly mild, perhaps a bit too mild, their mother thought…

“I don’t like it,” she said, as she plonked a huge spoonful of porridge into each of her daughters’ breakfast plates, “I don’t like it at all.”

“I don’t like porridge.” Lisa whispered jokingly, staring into her bowl, behind her mother’s huge back.

“Me, neither,” Greta replied, with a mischievous laugh.

“Now eat up your porridge,” their mother ordered, pouring creamy fresh milk over the piping hot meal.“It’s good for your bones, and heaven knows they need something to get them growing.”

Picking up their spoons, the sisters sang out, “Bones, bones, good for our bones.” With that, they mixed the porridge and milk together.

The mother, having seen it all before, ignored their disrespectful – yet funny – little song. After filling her bowl with porridge and lashings of milk, she pulled out a chair and sat down beside them, tucking into it.

“Get it down, it’ll do you good,” she said, heaping her spoon full of sugar, and sprinkling it over her porridge.

 “Get it down, it’ll do you good, do you good, good, good, good.” the sisters sang, giggling and laughing together.

After mixing her porridge, sugar and milk into a creamy consistency, the mother said, “Look at this, it’s so fine to eat.”

Giggling and laughing even more, the three sisters were hardly able to contain themselves, and they sang, “Now look at this, it’s so fine to eat, so fine and good it is a treat.”

“I don’t know what’s got into you three, this morning,” the mother said, with a hint of a smile creeping onto her wrinkly old face.

The three girls, each one taking a huge spoonful of sugar, copying their mother, sprinkled it over their porridge and stirred it in. 

As the three spoons stirred around and around, the sisters began singing again, “Porridge, porridge it’s good for our bones, bones, bones, good for our bones. Get it down; it’ll do you good, do you good, good, good, good. Look at this now, it’s so fine to eat, so fine and good, it is a treat.”

Spooning the sweet and creamy substance into their mouths, Greta, Lisa and Mildred chewed each spoonful three times before swallowing it. Rapping their spoons on the table, they showed their appreciation for every spoonful of the creamy delight.

 “That’s more like it,” said the mother, her eyes following the girl’s spoons into their bowls for the umpteenth time.

Bursting into song yet again, the girls sang, “That’s more like it, it’ll do you good, good, good, good, good, good, good.” And they didn’t stop singing until the very last spoonful of porridge had been consumed.

 “Off with you now,” said the mother as she collected the abandoned bowls and spoons from the table, “and remember to come home if it rains…”

“Bye,” the girls sang out, running through the open doorway and into the front garden.

A few minutes later, Greta, Mildred and Lisa, strolling along the quiet, county lane beside which their home was located, wondered what they might do, play at, for the day.

“I have an idea,” said Greta as she picked up a shiny new conker from under an ancient and ever so big Horse Chestnut tree, “let’s play Conkers Bonkers.”

“Nah, we played that yesterday,” said Lisa, “and, anyhow, it’s really a boy’s game.”

“I would like to know who made up that silly rule,” Greta grumbled, reluctantly throwing away the conker.

Raising a hand, Mildred suggested, “Why don’t we play Hide and Seek?”

“Hide and Seek?” said Lisa and Greta in unison, “That’s PERFECT.”

“Who is going to be the Seeker?” asked Greta.

“I was the seeker last time,” said Lisa, doing her best to avoid being the dreaded Seeker.

“So was I,” Mildred added, with a squeal of delight.

That leaves you,” the two girls said, pointing to Greta.

“Me and my big mouth,” Greta replied, realizing that she had been well and truly outmaneuvered. “Okay,” she grumbled, “I’ll be the Seeker.” Ambling across to the ancient old tree, she faced into its trunk and began counting.  “But I’m only counting up to fifty,” she insisted. “I get bored going all the way to one hundred.”

“Okay,” her sisters shouted as they hurried away.

Greta began counting, “One, two, three, four, five…”

“Psst.”

“Six, seven, eight…”

“PSST!”

With her head still firmly set against the tree trunk, and her eyes closed, Greta whispered, “Who’s there?”

No reply.

Thinking that she had been imagining it, Greta resumed her counting, “Nine, ten…”

” PSSSSST!” the mysterious person called out again.

CONTD

 

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