Once upon a time, in a green forest glen, lived a kind mother goat and her seven playful children. Their pristine white coats shone like snow, and their happy laughter filled the meadow.

One morning, Mother Goat called her children close. “I must go to the market,” she said. “Beware of the wolf! His voice is rough and his paws are black.” The little goats nodded earnestly, promising to stay safe.

No sooner had Mother Goat gone than a deep, gruff voice growled at the door: “Open up, little ones! Your mother has come home.” But the eldest goat cried, “No! Your voice is too rough and your paws are black. You are the wolf!” The wolf stomped away in anger.

Determined, the wolf went to the miller and smeared flour all over his dark paws, making them white. Then he drank sweet honey to make his rough voice soft and pleasant. “Now they will never know it’s me,” he chuckled to himself.

He returned to the cottage and knocked softly. “Open the door, my darlings,” he crooned in a sweet, gentle voice. The smallest goat peered through the crack. “Show us your paw!” A white paw appeared, and believing him, the little goats slowly opened the door.

With a sudden leap, the wolf burst into the cottage! The little goats screamed and scattered in terror—one hid in the clock, one under the table, one in the cupboard, and another beneath the bed. One by one, the wolf found them all, except for the youngest, who was cleverly squeezed inside the tall grandfather clock.

When Mother Goat returned home, she found the cottage door torn open, chairs overturned, and an eerie silence in every corner. Then she heard a tiny, trembling voice whisper from the grandfather clock, “Mother, the wolf captured them all in his big belly!”

Mother Goat ran out to the meadow, her heart pounding. Soon, she heard loud, rumbling snores coming from under an old oak tree. There lay the wolf, his belly swollen round and heavy from his meal. Mother Goat’s eyes blazed with fury and sorrow, but also with a plan.

Mother Goat fetched her sewing kit and quietly cut open the wolf’s belly. One by one, the seven little goats tumbled out—alive and bleating softly with relief! They hugged their brave mother, trembling but finally safe.

“Now, my brave children, bring me some heavy stones,” said Mother Goat. Together, they quickly filled the wolf’s empty stomach with the heavy stones. Then, Mother Goat neatly stitched it closed, and they all hid behind the bushes, waiting.

When the wolf finally awoke, he felt very thirsty. He lumbered towards the nearby well for a drink. But the heavy stones in his stomach dragged him down, and he tumbled deep into the water with a mighty splash!

The next morning, the sun rose golden over the peaceful forest. The seven little goats danced around their mother, singing with joy and relief. “Clever minds and brave hearts will always find the light again,” said Mother Goat, smiling proudly.