Once there were three little pigs who grew up and set out into the world to seek their fortunes and build houses of their own.
The first little pig was in a hurry, and not fond of hard work. When he met a man carrying a bundle of straw, he bought it on the spot and built himself a house of straw that very afternoon, and was done in time to spend the rest of the day lazing in the sun. “A fine house,” he said, “and no trouble at all.”
The second little pig was a little less idle, but only a little. When he met a man carrying a bundle of sticks, he bought them and built himself a house of sticks. It took him until the evening, and he thought that quite enough labour for any pig, and he too sat down to rest, well pleased with himself.
The third little pig was of a different sort. When he met a man with a cart of bricks, he bought them, and he built himself a house of brick, and it was slow, hard work. He laid every brick square and true, and mortared them fast, and put in a good stout door and a proper chimney, and it took him many days. His brothers laughed at him for troubling so, but the third little pig only smiled and went on building.
Now there was a wolf in that country, and one day he came prowling down the lane and smelled pig, and he stopped at the little house of straw and knocked upon the door.
“Little pig, little pig, let me come in.”
“No, no, by the hair of my chinny chin chin, I will not let you in.”
“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in.”
And he huffed, and he puffed, and he blew the house of straw to pieces as easily as blowing out a candle. But the first little pig was quick on his trotters, and he shot out the back and ran as fast as he could to his brother’s house of sticks, and the two of them bolted the door behind him.
The wolf came after, and knocked upon the house of sticks.
“Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in.”
“No, no, by the hair of our chinny chin chins, we will not let you in.”
“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in.”
And he huffed, and he puffed, and he puffed, and he huffed, and though the house of sticks stood a little longer than the house of straw, down it came at last in a clatter. But the two little pigs were already away out the back, squealing, and they ran as fast as their legs would carry them to the house of brick, and their brother let them in and barred the door.
The wolf came after, and by now he was very angry and very hungry, and he knocked upon the house of brick.
“Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in.”
“No, no, by the hair of our chinny chin chins, we will not let you in.”
“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in.”
So he huffed, and he puffed. And he puffed, and he huffed. And he drew in the greatest breath of all and blew until he was quite out of wind. But the house of brick did not so much as tremble, for it was well and truly built, and the three little pigs inside only listened and waited.
The wolf was not done yet. If he could not blow the house down, he thought, he would come down the chimney and catch the pigs that way, and he climbed up onto the roof. But the third little pig, who was as clever as he was hardworking, heard him scrabbling above, and quickly he hung a great pot of water over the fire and made it roar and boil.
Down the chimney came the wolf, and down he fell, straight into the boiling pot. Up he sprang again with a yelp that was heard three fields away, and out through the door and off down the lane, and he ran and ran and never once looked back, and he never troubled those three little pigs again.
And the two idle brothers, who had lost their houses of straw and sticks, learned their lesson and built in brick after that, and set to work beside their wiser brother, and the three of them lived snug and safe together ever after.
The house that is quick to raise is quick to fall, and it is patient labour, dull as it seems, that stands when the wind comes.