One’s Own Children Always Prettiest
Reading edition
Once upon a time a man went out shooting in a forest, and there he met a woodcock.
“Pray, don’t shoot my children,” cried the woodcock.
“What are your children like?” asked the man.
“Mine are the prettiest children in the forest,” answered the woodcock.
“I suppose I mustn’t shoot them, then,” said the man.
When he came back he carried in his hand a whole string of young woodcocks which he had shot.
“Oh, dear, oh, dear! Why, you have shot my children after all!” wept the woodcock.
“Are these yours?” said the man. “Why, I shot the ugliest I could find.”
“Yes, yes,” answered the woodcock; “but don’t you know that every one thinks his own children the prettiest?”
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