The little red hen lived in the yard. She spent almost all her time walking around the yard searching everywhere for worms. She loved worms very much; their taste was delicious, and she considered them essential for her chicks’ health.
In the coop was a lazy cat lying at the barn door, not bothering even to scare the mice running here and there. As for the sheep, he was uninterested in what was going on around him as long as he found his food.
One day, the little red hen found seeds. They were wheat seeds, but the little red hen was very accustomed to lice and worms, which she assumed this was a new type and perhaps another delicious type of meat. She found it resembled a worm in any case, but its taste was more delicious.
She carried these seeds and asked her neighbors what they might be. She learned they were wheat seeds, and if planted, they would grow, and when mature, could be ground into flour and then into bread. When she discovered this and knew they must be planted, she was very busy hunting food for herself and her little ones. Naturally, she thought she didn’t have time for farming.
So she thought of the sheep, the cat, and the big mice. She called out loudly: “Who will plant the seeds?” But the sheep said: “Not me.” The cat said, “Not me either.” The rat said, “Not me either.” The little red hen said: “All right, I will do it.”
Then she went about her daily duties in the long summer days, hunting worms and feeding her chicks, while the sheep slept in slumber, as did the cat and the rat. The wheat grew until it became tall and ready for harvest. The little red hen found much wheat and many ripe grains. So she ran to her owners innocently shouting: “Who will cut the wheat with me?”
The sheep said: “Not me.” The cat said, “Not me either.” The rat said, “Not me either.” The little red hen said: “I will do it.” She got the sickle from among the farmers’ tools in the barn and began cutting the wheat stalks.
In reality, the wheat was beautiful with its golden color and ready to be gathered and threshed. But her chicks began to weaken and wither, and it became clear, especially on them, that their mother was neglecting them. The little red hen felt confused, and her concern was sharply divided between her duty toward her children and her duty toward the wheat she felt responsible for.
So, again, in a tone begging for hope, she called out: “Who will thresh the wheat?” The sheep replied: “Not me.” The cat, with a meow, said, “Not me.” The mouse, with a squeak, said, “Not me.” The little red hen said: “There is no other choice, all right, I will do it.”
Naturally, she had to feed her children first, and when their nap time came, she would go out and thresh the wheat. Then she called out: “Who will carry the wheat to the mill to become flour?” They turned their backs and with their usual refusal answered: “Not me.”
She carried the bag of wheat and took it to a distant mill, where the wheat was transformed into beautiful white flour. She brought the flour and walked slowly again along the road to her yard. She managed, despite her load, to go hunt worms for her chicks, who were very happy to see their mother after her return.
After this hard day, the hen fell into a deep sleep earlier than usual. She was thinking how she would make bread. So the little red hen said again: “I will do it.” She said she would, and offered them to help her make bread, but they refused as usual, so she answered them: “She would do it.”
She began kneading and cutting the bread, then placed it inside the oven. When the bread was close to being done, everyone in the barn smelled that pleasant fragrance emanating from it. The hen wanted to dance and sing for what she saw as a beautiful result behind her fatigue and toil. Here the hen shouted: “Who will eat?”
The cat said: “All the animals in the yard are watching your bread and licking their lips in anticipation.” The sheep said: “I will do it.” The mouse said: “I will do it.” But the little red hen said: “No, rather I am the one who will do it.”