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Storytelling is the conveying of events in words often by improvisation or embellishment.
Stories or narratives have been a means of entertainment, education, preservation of culture and in order to instill moral values.
Crucial elements of stories and storytelling include plot and characters, as well as the narrative point of view.
The occupants of the carriage were a small girl, and a smaller girl, and a small boy.
An aunt belonging to the children occupied one corner seat, and the further corner seat on the opposite side was occupied by a bachelor who was a stranger to their party,
however, the noisily restless children were attached to his corner and most of the aunt's remarks seemed to begin with "Don't,"
and nearly all of the children's remarks began with "Why?" The bachelor said nothing out loud.
"Come over here and listen to a story," said the aunt, when the bachelor had looked twice at her and once at the communication cord.
The children moved listlessly towards the aunt's end of the carriage. Evidently her reputation as a story-teller did not rank high in their estimation.
In a low, confidential voice, interrupted at frequent intervals by loud, petulant questionings from her listeners, she began an unenterprising and
deplorably uninteresting story about a little girl who was good, and made friends with every one on account of her goodness,
and was finally saved from a mad bull by a number of rescuers who admired her moral character.
"It's the stupidest story we've ever heard," said the children, with immense conviction.
"You don't seem to be a success as a story-teller," said the bachelor suddenly from his corner.
"Perhaps you would like to tell them a story," was the aunt's retort in instant defence at this unexpected attack.
"Tell us a story," demanded the bigger of the small girls.
"Once upon a time," began the bachelor, "there was a little girl called Bertha, who was extra-ordinarily good."
The children's momentarily-aroused interest began at once to flicker; all stories seemed dreadfully alike, no matter who told them.
"She did all that she was told, she was always truthful, she kept her clothes clean, learned her lessons perfectly, and was polite in her manners - in a word - she was horribly good."
There was a wave of reaction in favour of the story; the word horrible in connection with goodness was a novelty that commended itself.
It seemed to introduce a ring of truth that was absent from the aunt's tales of infant life.
"She was so good," continued the bachelor, "that she won several medals for goodness, which she always wore, pinned on to her dress.
There was a medal for obedience, another medal for punctuality, and a third for good behaviour.
They were large metal medals and they clicked against one another as she walked. No other child in the town had as many as three medals and the
Prince of the country got to hear about it, and he said that as she was so very good she might be allowed once a week to walk in his park.
It was so beautiful that no children were ever allowed in it, so it was a great honour for Bertha to be allowed to go there."
"Were there any sheep in the park?" demanded Cyril, the boy.
"No;" said the bachelor, "there were no sheep."
"Why weren't there any sheep?" came the inevitable question arising out of that answer.
The aunt permitted herself a smile, which might almost have been described as a grin.
"There were no sheep in the park," said the bachelor, "because there were lots of little pigs running all over the place."
The story-teller paused to let a full idea of the park's treasures sink into the children's imaginations; then he resumed:
"Bertha was rather sorry to find that there were no flowers in the park. She had promised her aunts, with tears in her eyes,
that she would not pick any of the kind Prince's flowers, so of course it made her feel silly to find that there were no flowers to pick."
"Why weren't there any flowers?"
"Because the pigs had eaten them all," said the bachelor promptly.
"The gardeners had told the Prince that you couldn't have pigs and flowers, so he decided to have pigs and no flowers."
There was a murmur of approval at the excellence of the Prince's decision; so many people would have decided the other way round. The aunt suppressed a gasp of admiration.
"There were lots of other delightful things in the park.
There were ponds with variegated fish in them, and trees with beautiful parrots that said clever things at a moment's notice,
and humming birds that hummed all the popular tunes of the day. Bertha walked up and down and enjoyed herself immensely, and thought to herself:
'If I were not so extraordinarily good I should not have been allowed to come here to enjoy all that there is to be seen,'
and her three medals clinked against one another as she walked and helped to remind her how very good she really was.
Just then an enormous wolf came prowling into the park to see if it could catch a fat little pig for its supper.
The first thing that it saw was Bertha; her pinafore was so spotlessly white and clean that it could be seen from a great distance.
Bertha saw the wolf and ran as hard as she could, and the wolf came after her with huge leaps and bounds.
She managed to reach a shrubbery of myrtle bushes and she hid herself in one of the thickest of the bushes.
The wolf came sniffing among the branches. Bertha was terribly frightened, and thought to herself:
'If I had not been so extraordinarily good I should have been safe in the town at this moment.'
However, the scent of the myrtle was so strong that the wolf could not sniff out where Bertha was hiding,
and the bushes were so thick that he could not catch sight of her, so he thought he might as well go off and catch a little pig instead.
Bertha was trembling very much at having the wolf prowling and sniffing so near her,
and as she trembled the medal for obedience clinked against the medals for good conduct and punctuality.
The wolf was just moving away when he heard the sound of the medals clinking in a bush quite near him.
He dashed into the bush and dragged Bertha out and devoured her to the last morsel.
All that was left of her were her shoes, bits of clothing, and the three medals for goodness."
The children all agreed that it was the ONLY beautiful story they had ever heard.
A dissentient opinion came from the aunt.
"A most improper story to tell to young children! You have undermined the effect of years of careful teaching."
"Unhappy woman!" he observed to himself as he walked down the platform of the station;
"for the next six months or so those children will assail her in public with demands for an improper story!"
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