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RED THREAD！
The Hillsmen had paid greater honour to their heroic foes than to the
bravest of their own brave dead。
Another instance is the short poem； which； while being perfectly
simple； is rich in suggestion of more than the young child will see for
himself。 The following example shows the working out of details in order
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to provide a satisfactorily rounded story。
THE ELF AND THE DORMOUSE＇1＇
＇1＇ Adapted from The Elf and the Dormouse； by Oliver Herford； in A
Treasury of Verse for Little Children。 （Harrap。 1s。 net。）
Once upon a time a dormouse lived in the wood with his mother。 She
had made a snug little nest； but Sleepy…head； as she called her little mousie；
loved to roam about among the grass and fallen leaves； and it was a hard
task to keep him at home。 One day the mother went off as usual to look for
food； leaving Sleepy… head curled up comfortably in a corner of the nest。
〃He will lie there safely till I come back；〃 she thought。 Presently； however；
Sleepy…head opened his eyes and thought he would like to take a walk out
in the fresh air。 So he crept out of the nest and through the long grass that
nodded over the hole in the bank。 He ran here and he ran there； stopping
again an again to cock his little ears for sound of any creeping thing that
might be close at hand。 His little fur coat was soft and silky as velvet。
Mother had licked it clean before starting her day's work； you may be sure。
As Sleepy…head moved from place to place his long tail swayed from side
to side and tickled the daisies so that they could not hold themselves still
for laughing。
Presently something very cold fell on Sleepy… head's nose。 What could
it be？ He put up his little paw and dabbed at the place。 Then the same
thing happened to his tail。 He whisked it quickly round to the front。 Ah； it
was raining！ Now Sleepy…head couldn't bear rain； and he had got a long
way from home。 What would mother say if his nice furry coat got wet and
draggled？ He crept under a bush； but soon the rain found him out。 Then he
ran to a tree； but this was poor shelter。 He began to think that he was in for
a soaking when what should he spy； a little distance off； but a fine
toadstool which stood bolt upright just like an umbrella。 The next moment
Sleepy… head was crawling underneath the friendly shelter。 He fixed
himself up as snugly as he could； with his little nose upon his paws and his
little tail curled round all； and before you could count six； eight； ten；
twenty； he was fast asleep。
Now it happened that Sleepy…head was not the only creature that was
caught by the rain that morning in the wood。 A little elf had been flitting
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HOW TO TELL STORIES TO CHILDREN AND SOME STORIES TO TELL
about in search of fun or mischief； and he； too； had got far from home
when the raindrops began to come pattering through the leafy roof of the
beautiful wood。 It would never do to get his pretty wings wet； for he hated
to walkit was such slow work and； besides； he might meet some big
wretched animal that could run faster than himself。 However； he was
beginning to think that there was no help for it； when； on a sudden； there
before him was the toadstool； with Sleepy…head snug and dry underneath！
There was room for another little fellow； thought the elf； and ere long he
had safely bestowed himself under the other half of the toadstool； which
was just like an umbrella。
Sleepy…head slept on； warm and comfortable in his furry coat； and the
elf began to feel annoyed with him for being so happy。 He was always a
great mischief； and he could not bear to sit still for long at a time。
Presently he laughed a queer little laugh。 He had got an idea！ Putting his
two small arms round the stem of the toadstool he tugged and he pulled
until； of a sudden； snap！ He had broken the stem； and a moment later was
soaring in air safely sheltered under the toadstool； which he held upright
by its stem as he flew。
Sleepy…head had been dreaming； oh； so cosy a dream！ It seemed to
him that he had discovered a storehouse filled with golden grain and soft
juicy nuts with little bunches of sweet… smelling hay； where tired mousies
might sleep dull hours away。 He thought that he was settled in the sweetest
bunch of all； with nothing in the world to disturb his nap； when gradually
he became aware that something had happened。 He shook himself in his
sleep and settled down again； but the dream had altered。 He opened his
eyes。 Rain was falling； pit…a…pat； and he was without cover on a wet patch
of grass。 What could be the matter？ Sleepy… head was now wide awake。
Said he；
〃DEAR ME； WHERE IS MY TOADSTOOL？〃
From these four instances we may； perhaps； deduce certain general
principles of adaptation which have at least proved valuable to those using
them。
These are suggestions which the practised story…teller will find trite。
But to others they may prove a fair foundation on which to build a
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HOW TO TELL STORIES TO CHILDREN AND SOME STORIES TO TELL
personal method to be developed by experience。 I have given them a
tabular arrangement below。
The preliminary step in all cases is
Analysis of the Story。
The aim； then； is
to REDUCE a long story or to AMPLIFY a short one。
For the first； the need is
ELIMINATION of secondary threads of narrative； extra personages；
description； irrelevant events。
For the second； the great need is of
Realising Imagination。
For both； it is desirable to keep Close Logical Sequence； Single Point
of View； Simple Language； The Point at the End
CHAPTER IV
HOW TO TELL THE STORY
Selection； and； if necessary； adaptationthese are the preliminaries to
the act of telling。 That； after all； is the real test of one's power。 That is the
real joy； when achieved； the real bugbear； when dreaded。 And that is the
subject of this chapter； 〃How to tell a story。〃
How to tell a story： it is a short question which demands a long answer。
The right beginning of the answer depends on a right conception of the
thing the question is about； and that naturally reverts to an earlier
discussion of the real nature of a story。 In that discussion it was stated that
a story is a work of art；a message； as all works of art are。
To tell a story； then； is to pass on the message； to share the work of art。
The message may be merely one of humour；of nonsense； even； works of
art range all the way from the 〃Victory〃 to a 〃Dresden Shepherdess；〃 from
an 〃Assumption〃 to a 〃Broken Pitcher；〃 and farther。 Each has its own
place。 But whatever its quality； the story…teller is the passer…on； the
interpreter； the transmitter。 He comes bringing a gift。 Always he gives；
always he bears a message。
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This granted； the first demand of the story… teller is not far to seek。 No
one can repeat a message he has not heard； or interpret what he does not
understand。 You cannot give； unless you first possess。 The first demand of
the story… teller is that he possess。 He must FEEL the story。 Whatever the
particular quality and appeal of the work of art； from the lightest to the
grandest emotion or thought； he must have responded to it； grasped it； felt
it intimately； before he can give it out again。 Listen； humbly； for the
message。
I realise that this has an incongruous sound； when applied to such
stories as that of the little pig at the stile or of the greedy cat who ate up
man and beast。 But； believe me； it does apply even to those。 For the
transmittable thing in a story is the identifying essence； the characterising
savour； the peculiar quality and point of view of the humour； pathos； or
interest。 E