Chapter 1

Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.

BED TIME STORIES

CURLY AND FLOPPY TWISTYTAIL (THE FUNNY PIGGIE BOYS)

BY

HOWARD R. GARIS

Author of "SAMMIE AND SUSIE LITTLETAIL," "JACKO AND JUMPO KINKYTAIL," "THE UNCLE WIGGILY STORIES," "THE DADDY SERIES," "CIRCUS ANIMAL STORIES," "THE ISLAND BOYS," ETC.

ILLUSTRATED BY LOUIS WISA

CONTENTS

Curly Twistytail Is Named

Floppy Gets His Name

Pinky's Rubber Ball

How Curly Helped Mother

Curly and the Elephant

Flop and the Bag of Meal

Piggy Boys at School

Curly Is Vaccinated

Curly and the Spinning Top

Flop and the Turtle

Curly and the Chestnuts

Baby Pinky and the Doctor

Curly and the Big Apple

The Piggies and the Pumpkin

The Piggies In a Cornfield

Flop Has a Tumble

Mr. Twistytail's Lost Hat

Mother Twistytail's New Bonnet

Curly and the Sour Milk

Flop and the Pie Lady

The Piggies and the Jelly

Flop and the Marshmallows

The Piggies and the Fish

Curly and the Afraid Girl

The Piggies At the Party

Floppy and the Bonfire

Flop and the Skate Wagon

Pinky and the Lemon

The Piggies and Santa Claus

Floppy and the Stockings

The Twistytails' Christmas

STORY I

CURLY TWISTYTAIL IS NAMED

Once upon a time, not so very many years ago, in the days when there were fairies and giants and all things like that, there lived in a little house, on the edge of a wood, a family of pigs. Now these pigs weren't like the pigs, which perhaps you children have seen on most farms. No, indeed! They were just the nicest cleanest, sweetest pigs you ever dreamed of--not that pigs on a farm can't be clean, if they want to, but, somehow or other, no one seems to have time to see that they are clean. I guess it would take some one like Jennie Chipmunk to sweep and dust their pen for them.

Anyhow the pigs I am going to tell you about were very different from most pigs, and they had some very funny adventures.

First, there was the papa pig, and his name was Mr. Archibald Twistytail though no one ever called him anything but Mr. Twistytail except maybe his wife, when he forgot to bring up a scuttle of coal so she could do the washing. And then, of course there was Mrs. Twistytail--she was the mamma pig. And there were two little boy pigs, and for a time they didn't have any names, as their papa and mamma were so busy that they couldn't think what to call them. So they just said "Here sonny!" or "Hi, Bubby," whenever they wanted them to come in, or eat their dinner.

One of these little boy pigs always wore short trousers with stripes painted on them, and the other little piggie chap's trousers were like a checker-board.

And then--oh, but I almost forgot about the little baby pig. She was the sweetest little creature you can imagine, and her right name was Pinky, because she was so pink, just like a baby's toes when she sleeps in her crib. But Pinky was hardly ever called by her right name, almost every one said just "Baby," and that answered very well.

And now I'm going to tell you how one of the pigs got his name. He was the oldest pig of the three children, and one day he and his brother thought they would go out for a walk.

"Come along!" exclaimed the oldest boy pig. "Maybe we will have an adventure, such as Uncle Wiggily Longears used to have," for you see the pigs knew Uncle Wiggly almost as well as you do.

"All right," said the younger boy pig. "Where shall we go?"

"Off in the woods," spoke his brother. "The woods are full of adventures."

So they strolled out of their house, and started for the woods. I forgot to say that the Twistytail family of pigs lived in a regular house--of course not the kind you boys and girls live in, but still it was a very good house for pigs. It had tables in it, and chairs and beds and all things like that. And the reason they were called "Twistytail" was because their tails did have a sort of twist or turn in them.

Well, the two pig boys wandered on through the woods, and pretty soon they came to two paths, one leading to left and the other to the right.

"Let's go this way," said the older pig boy, who yet didn't have any name, and he pointed his leg toward the right-hand path.

"No, I think we will find an adventure on this road," said his younger brother, and he started off to the left.

"Oh, there you go!" cried the older pig boy. "You never want to do what I like!"

"Well, I've got just as good a right to go this way as you have to go that way," answered the younger piggie-iggie, and so those two brothers, instead of keeping together and looking for adventures, separated, and one went one way, while the other went the other way. And now you just wait and see what happens.

All of a sudden, as the older piggie boy was walking along, digging up nice sweet roots with his nose--for you know that is the way piggies dig--all of a sudden, I say, there was a growling noise in the bushes, and before the little pig boy could jump out of the way, or even call for his mamma or papa, a big black bear sprang out from inside a hollow stump, and grabbed him. Right in his paws he grabbed that little pig boy.

"Oh, ho!" growled the big black bear. "You are just what I've been waiting for. Now for a nice roast pork dinner. Oh, yum! yum!"

"Oh!" squealed the little pig boy. "Surely you don't mean to eat me, Mr. Bear! Please let me go!"

"Indeed I'll not!" exclaimed the bear. "I was hiding here, hoping Sammie Littletail or Uncle Wiggily would come along, so I could have a rabbit dinner, but you will do just as well. Come along!"

And so the bear carried off the little piggie boy farther into the woods, intending to take him to a den where there was a good hot fire. And all the while the little piggie tried to get away but he couldn't because the bear held him so tightly in his paws.

Pretty soon the bear came to his den. Then he said:

"Let me see, now. I must have some apple sauce to go with my roast pork dinner. I'll just tie this little pig to the fence while I go off and get some apples to make into sauce. I can cook the apples and the pig on the same fire."

Then the bear looked blinkingly at the little pig, and said:

"Let me see. How can I tie him to the fence? Oh, I know, by his tail. I'll just fasten him by his tail." And that's what he did, tying the poor little piggie to the fence by his tail, with a piece of wild grape vine for a string. And the bear wound the grape vine string, that was fast to the little pig's tail around and around the round rail of the fence. Then the bear went off after apples for sauce.

Well, of course the poor little pig felt very badly, and he didn't know what to do. He even cried a little bit, but I'm sure you won't blame him for that, will you? And he said:

"Oh, I wish my little brother was here. He might help me!"

And then, all of a sudden, there was a rustling in the bushes, and the little pig, who was tied by his tail to the fence, thought it was the bear coming back. But it wasn't, for all at once a voice called out:

"Oh, brother! What has happened to you?" And there was the piggie's little brother looking for him.

"Oh!" cried the pig boy who was tied to the fence by his tail. "A bear caught me. A big black bear! He is going to eat me as soon as he comes back with the apple sauce. Save me!"

"Indeed I will," said the little brother. And with his sharp teeth he gnawed through the grape vine string, and then his brother was free. "Come on!" exclaimed the littlest pig. "We must run home away from the bear!"

And they did, getting back to their house safely, and oh! how disappointed that bear was when he returned with the apples and found his pig dinner gone. He was so peevish that he threw all the apples away.

And when Mrs. Twistytail saw her little boy she exclaimed:

"Oh, my sakes alive! How did you get that curl in your tail?"

"I--I guess that was where the bear tied me to the fence," said the piggie boy, and so it was. His tail was all curled tight, like a little girl's hair. His mamma tried to take the curl out with a warm flatiron, but the kink stayed in the tail, and so Mr. Twistytail said:

"I guess we'll have to call our piggie boy by the name of Curly after this," and so they did, and that's how one piggie boy got the name of "Curly Twistytail."

And in case the shells don't all come off the eggs and leave the feathers sticking out for a sofa cushion, I'll tell you next how the other little pig got his name.

STORY II

FLOPPY GETS HIS NAME

One day, oh, I guess it must have been about a week after Curly Twistytail, the little pig boy, had the adventure with the bear, and his brother rescued him, as I told you in the story before this one,--one day Curly's brother, who hadn't any name as yet, said:

"Oh, Curly, let's go out for another walk, and maybe something will happen to us."

"All right," agreed Curly, "only I hope a bear doesn't happen. It's no fun to think you're going to be turned into roast pork and eaten with apple sauce," for that is what the bear was going to do, you know.

So off the two little pig brothers started, and their mamma called after them:

"Now, stay together. Don't go one on one path, and one on another, as you did before, and have trouble. Stay together, and help one another."

"We will!" they answered, and really they meant to, but, you see, little pigs sometimes forget, just as real children do.

On they went together. Curly and his brother who hadn't any name, except that sometimes people called him "Bub," or maybe "Son," or even "Hey, Johnnie!" though that wasn't his real name at all.

Pretty soon, in about as long as it takes to eat a lollypop if you don't hurry to get down to the stick part of it--pretty soon the two piggie boys met Grandfather Squealer, who was the grandpapa of all the pigs in that part of the country.

"Oh, ho!" exclaimed the old gentleman pig, "Oh, ho! How are you today, Curly?"

"Very well, sir, thank you," replied the pig boy politely, and he looked around to see if the curly kink had come out of his tail where the bear had tied him to the round fence rail, but the curl was still there.

"And how is this other little chap?" went on Grandpa Squealer, as he took a pinch of snuff, and then looked in his vest pocket to see if he had any spare pennies. "How are you, Bub?" he asked. "You haven't any name yet, have you?"

"No sir," answered the brother of Curly. "I wish I had, though," and he also wished that Grandpa Squealer would find a penny so that he and his brother could buy a lollypop, and that wish came true, if you will kindly believe me. For the old gentleman pig did find two pennies.

"There now, boys," he said, "run along to the candy store. And maybe you can buy a name for yourself," and he playfully pulled the ears of Curly's brother. Then Grandpa Squealer sneezed again and walked on, and so did the two boy pigs.

"I'm going to buy a corn lollypop," said Curly.

"I think I'll buy a sour-milk one," said his brother, for you know little pigs, and big ones, too, like sour milk as much as you like yours sweet. Isn't that funny?

So they walked on together, talking of different things, and pretty soon they came to a place where there were two stores. One was painted red and the other was painted blue.

"I'm going in the red store for my lollypop," said Curly.

"Oh, let's go in the blue one," suggested his brother. "Maybe I can buy a name for myself in there. I am tired of being called 'Bub' and 'Johnny,' and names like that."

But the two brothers couldn't agree, so Curly went in the red store and his brother in the blue one. The blue store was kept by an old lady dog, and when the little pig, who, as yet, had no name, entered, the old lady dog storekeeper looked over the counter and asked:

"Well, little pig boy, what do you want?"

"If you please," he answered, "do you keep names to sell?"

"Why, what a funny question!" barked the dog lady. "The only names I have are names of candy, and I'm sure you don't want any of those, do you? There is peppermint and spearmint and cinnamon and lemon drops and cocoanut kisses and lollypops and jaw-breakers and tootsie rolls and chocolate--do you want any of those names?"

"No," replied the little pig boy, "I don't think I like any of those names for myself. I wouldn't want to be called Cocoanut Kisses, nor yet Lollypops, nor even Tootsie Rolls. Oh dear! I wish I could get a name such as my brother Curly has. But maybe I will some day. And now, if you please, I'll have a sour-milk lollypop."

So the old lady dog storekeeper gave it to the little pig boy, and he handed her his penny. He was just taking the paper off the lollypop, and was going to eat it--the lollypop, not the paper, you understand--and go out and see if his brother had come out of the red store, when, all of a sudden, a little puppy dog boy who had just come in from school saw the pig boy in the store, and right at him he sprang with a bow wow bark.

"Here! Come back!" cried the lady storekeeper who was the mother of the puppy dog boy. "Let that little pig alone."

"I'm only going to play tag with him," answered the puppy dog, and with that he sprang at the piggie and caught him by the ear. He really didn't mean to, but his teeth closed fast on poor piggie's ear, and there they stuck.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" howled piggie. "I'm caught! Oh let me go. Please let me go!"

"Yes, let go of him at once, you naughty boy!" cried the doggie's mamma, as she made a grab for his tail. But just then piggie began to run, squealing as hard as he could, and as the doggie did not let go of his ear, the little barking chap was dragged along too. And then out from the red store ran Curly and he squealed and his brother squealed, also, and the boy dog barked, and so did the storekeeper lady dog, and such a time you never heard in all your life! Oh! such a racket!

"Let go my ear! Let go my ear!" squealed the pig, and the doggie boy tried to let go but he couldn't, until Curly got hold of him by the left leg and pulled him loose.

"Oh dear! Oh dear!" cried the piggie who had bought the sour milk lollypop. "Is my ear pulled off, Curly?"

"No, but it is hanging down like anything," said his brother. "I guess its broken!"

"Oh, I am so sorry!" exclaimed the little boy dog. "I didn't mean to do it. I was only going to tag you, but I slipped. Come in the house and my mamma will put some salve on your ear, and I'll give you an ice cream cone."

And just then Grandfather Squealer came past, and he saw Curly's little brother, with his ear hanging down, going flippity-flop, and the old gentleman said:

"Oh ho! I think I will call you Flopear, or Floppy for short. That is a good name, and it just fits you." And so after that the second little pig was always called Floppy for his ear never stood up again but always hung down like a bell clapper. But the salve soon made it well, and the storekeeper lady gave Floppy and Curly each an ice cream cone.

So that's all now, if you please, but in case the butcherman doesn't throw the loaf of bread at the candlestick and scare the lamp chimney I'll tell you in the story after this about Pinky Twistytail's rubber ball.

STORY III

PINKY'S RUBBER BALL.

"Now, children," exclaimed Mrs. Twistytail, the pig lady, one morning, when she had given Curly and Floppy and Baby Pinky their breakfast of sour milk with cornmeal stirred in it, "now, children, run out and play. I have the sweeping and dusting to do, and then I am going to make an apple pie."

"Oh, goodie!" cried Curly. "Do you want us to help you, mamma?"

"No, I'm afraid you would eat more apples than you would put in the pie," said Mrs. Twistytail with a laugh. "Run along now."

"Come on Curly," said Floppy and he ran out and turned a somersault, even though it was near winter, for he felt happy, now that he had a name and didn't have to be called "Bub" or "Johnny" or something like that.

"What shall we do?" asked Curly.

"Let's build a fort and play soldier," suggested Floppy. "Pinky can be a prisoner and we'll make believe capture her, and then we'll rescue her, and shoot off make-believe guns, and--"

"No--No!" cried Baby Pinky, as she tried to stand up on the end of her twisty tail, but she couldn't, for it was too slimpsy and not stiff enough. She fell down, but her brothers picked her up, and then the curl came back in her tail.

You see, after the bear had tied Curly to the fence and made his tail all frizzy-like, all the other pigs, including Pinky and Floppy wanted their tails to curl also, and their mamma had to do it for them, twisting them around the rolling-pin. And she even curled her own, and her husband's, that that's why all pigs have curly tails now, because it's stylish, you see.

"Why don't you want to play soldier?" asked Floppy of his little sister.

"Oh, it's too scary!" she said. "And the guns make so much noise. If you won't shoot off any guns I'll play."

"Pooh!" exclaimed Curly, "all soldiers have to shoot guns! You couldn't be a soldier with a gun that didn't make any noise."

"Then I'm not going to play," said Pinky, who was just the color of the inside of a shiny sea shell. "I'll bounce my rubber ball," she went on, "and you boys can play soldier."

So she bounced her ball that Grandfather Squealer had given her, while Curly and Floppy as I'll call him for short, made a fort out of cobs from which they had gnawed all the corn, and they had a fine time. They were off playing in the woods, while Pinky stayed near the house.

She was hoping her mamma would soon have the apple pie baked and would call her in and give her a piece, when, all of a sudden, as Pinky bounced her ball, it went high in the air, but it didn't come down again right away.

"My! What can have happened?" thought little Pinky, and she looked around, and there she saw a great big fuzzy fox, standing behind her. And the fox cried out, as he rubbed his nose:

"Did you hit me with that rubber ball?"

"Yes--yes--perhaps I did," said poor Baby Pinky, trembling so that she nearly shook the curl out of her tail. "I tossed my ball up in the air, but I'm sure I didn't mean to hit you with it. Please forgive me."

"No, indeed, I will not!" exclaimed the fox. "Your rubber ball hit me right on the nose when it came down, and I caught it. And, just for that, I am going to carry you away with me and make a pork pie of you!"

"Oh, please don't!" begged Pinky, shaking more than ever, and she squealed as loudly as she could, but her mamma did not hear her, for she was beating up some eggs to make a cake, and the egg beater made so much noise that she couldn't hear her own little girl. And Curly and Floppy were shooting off their make-believe guns, and making so much noise in the woods that they couldn't hear, and there was the fox about to carry off the poor little piggie girl to his den. Oh, wasn't it terrible?

"Here we go!" cried the fox, and with that he grabbed up poor Pinky, tossing her rubber ball on the ground. Up it bounced, and, hardly knowing what she did, the little pig girl caught it in her foot, holding it tight. Then the fox slung her across his back and ran off with her, Pinky squealing all the while as hard as she could.

"Squeal away!" growled the old fuzzy fox. "You'll soon stop it when I put you in the pork pie!"

And Pinky kept on squealing. Pretty soon the fox ran through the woods where Curly and Flop were playing soldier, but the fox didn't know that. Pinky did, however, and when she got beneath the trees she squealed louder than ever, hoping her brothers would hear.

"Keep quiet!" barked the fox.

"No! No!" exclaimed Pinky, and she squealed again. Oh! she squealed like anything. Then Curly heard her. So did Flop.

"That sounds like Pinky," said Curly, blinking his eyes.

"It surely does," agreed his brother. "Something must have happened to her." They ran out of the fort they had made of corncobs piled one on the other, and they saw their little baby sister being carried off by the fox. Wow! Think of that!

"Here, you let our Pinky alone!" cried Curly bravely.

"No! No! No!" answered the bad fox.

"Then we'll shoot you!" shouted Flop. "Shoot him, Curly!"

Then those two brave pig boys shot their make-believe guns at the fox. "Bang! Bang! Bung! Bung!" But do you s'pose he stopped for that? Not a bit of it! On he ran, faster than ever, carrying away Pinky, and Curly and Flop ran after him, but what could they do? It looked as if the little pig girl would soon be made into pork pie, when she suddenly called out:

"Oh, boys! My rubber ball! Fill it with water and squirt it at the fox!" and she threw her ball to Curly.

"Don't you dare squirt rubber-ball water at me!" howled the fox, for he was very much afraid of getting his tail wet.

"Yes we will!" shouted Curly and with that he caught the ball his sister tossed to him. It only took him a second to stop at a mud puddle and fill the ball with water. Then, taking careful aim, just as a brave pig soldier boy should, he squeezed the ball, and "Zip!" out squirted the water all over the bad fox.

"Oh wow! Double wow, and pumpkin pie! That water went right into my eye!" howled the fox, and then, with his tail all wet, so that it weighed ten pounds, or more, that fox was so utterly frightened and kerslostrated that he let go of poor little Pinky and ran off to his den, and he didn't have any pork pie for a long time afterward.

"Oh, you saved me!" cried Pinky to her two brothers, when they had picked her up, and started back home with her.

"You helped save yourself," said Curly. "You and your rubber ball," and he and Flop were very glad their sister had not been carried off by the bad fox.

And on the next page, if the washtub doesn't fall out of its crib and knock a hole in the tea kettle so that all the lemonade runs out, I'll tell you how Curly helped his mamma.

STORY IV

HOW CURLY HELPED MOTHER

"Well, this is certainly a fine day for washing!" exclaimed Mrs. Twistytail, the pig lady, one morning as she got up from the nice, clean, straw bed where she had slept with little Pinky. "I must get right to work and hang out the sheets and pillow-cases so the sun will make them nice and white."

So she hurried through with the breakfast of sour milk with corn meal and sugar cakes, and as soon as Mr. Twistytail had gone to the factory, where he helped make sausage for buckwheat cakes, Mrs. Twistytail said:

"Now, children, do you want to help me wash?"

"Oh, yes, mamma!" they all cried at once.

"I'll turn the wringer," said Curly, "for I am good and strong."

"And I'll put the clothes pins in the basket and have them all ready," said Pinky, for, though she was only a little girl pig she could easily carry the clothes pins.

"What can I do?" asked Flop, the other little pig boy. His real name was Floppy, or Flop Ear, but I call him Flop for short you see.

"Oh, you can bring me in the sticks to make the fire," said his mamma, and soon the three piggie children were working away as fast as they could, helping their mamma, who was busy sorting out the clothes.

Soon the fire was made, and the sudsie-soapy water was boiling the clothes to sort of cook them nice and clean, and Pinky had the clothes pins all ready. Flop had put up the line, after he had brought in the firewood, and Curly was all ready with the wringer.

Well, you should have seen Mrs. Twistytail rub-adub-dub the clothes up and down on the washboard. My! how she did scatter the suds all over, and once some splashed right up in her eye, but she only laughed and sang a funny little song.

"Ready now, Curly!" she called to her eldest little boy. "Ready to wring out the clothes through the first water!"

So Curly turned the wringer, which doesn't ring like a bell, you know, but squeezes all the water out of the clothes so they will dry better. Around and around Curly turned the wringer handle, and the clothes came out like corn out of the popper.

"Oh, what fun!" cried the little pig boy, and his brother and sister thought it was very jolly to help their mamma.