Sweet Porridge

Tonight’s story comes from Germany. Long ago, people there often made millet porridge, from tiny, round, pale yellow grains cooked with milk and sugar until it was sweet. The Brothers Grimm wrote this story down in their collection more than two hundred years ago.

Once upon a time there was a poor but good little girl who lived with her mother in a small house in a town. They were very poor. Some days there was nothing at all to eat.

One day the girl went into the forest, and there she met an old woman. The old woman seemed to know all about her troubles. She gave the girl a little pot and said, “Whenever you want to eat, say, ‘Cook, little pot, cook!’ and it will cook you a pot of lovely sweet millet porridge. When you’ve had enough, say, ‘Stop, little pot, stop!’ and it will stop.”

The girl thanked her and ran home with the pot. At home she put it on the table and said, “Cook, little pot, cook!”

At once the pot began to bubble, and there was golden, sweet-smelling porridge, steaming hot. The girl and her mother ate until they were full. Then the girl said, “Stop, little pot, stop!”

And the pot stopped.

From then on, mother and daughter were never hungry again. Whenever they liked, they had sweet porridge to eat.

One day the girl had to go out. At home, her mother felt hungry and said, “Cook, little pot, cook!”

The pot started cooking at once. The mother ate until she was full. Now she wanted the pot to stop. But she didn’t know what to say.

“That’s enough, pot!” The pot kept cooking. “No more, pot!” The pot kept cooking.

The porridge rose up and spilled over the edge. Still the pot kept cooking. The porridge ran across the table, onto the floor and filled the kitchen. Still the pot kept cooking. It filled the whole house, then the house next door, then out into the street.

On and on it flowed, as if it wanted to feed the whole world. The people of the town ran out in a panic, and nobody knew what to do.

At last, when there was only one house in the whole town left without porridge in it, the girl came home. She saw the porridge filling the streets and said straight away, “Stop, little pot, stop!”

And the pot stopped.

And anyone who wanted to get back into town had to eat their way through the porridge, all the way to their own front door.