The Tortoise and the Hare

The hare could run faster than anyone in the meadow, and he said so every single day, usually before breakfast and always to somebody who had not asked.

The hare“Nobody here can beat me,”

said the hare, turning a small circle so that everyone could admire the whole of him.

The hare“Not far, not near, not ever!”

The tortoise listened to all of it for a long while, eyes half shut, face very still. Then the tortoise put one foot in front of the other and said something that made the whole meadow turn round.

Your child“I will race you,”

said the tortoise. The hare laughed until he had to sit down.

Everyone came to watch, because nobody was going to miss this. The mice sat along the fence in a row like buttons. The crows took the high seats. A very small mouse was given a leaf to drop as the signal, and took the job very seriously.

The mouse“Ready,”

said the mouse, holding up the leaf.

The mouse“Steady.”

The hare was gone before the word was finished. He was a brown streak through the buttercups, up the long hill, past the gate, past the big tree, gone.

The hare“See you tomorrow!”

he shouted, without looking back. Behind him, the tortoise lifted one foot, put it down, and lifted the next one. The crowd made a polite little noise, because nobody wanted to be unkind.

Your child“One step. Then the next one.”

Halfway up the hill the hare stopped and looked back. He saw nobody behind him. No tortoise, no crowd, just a long empty road and the sun coming through the trees. There was a patch of clover beside the path, the good kind, thick as a cushion.

The hare“There is time,”

said the hare.

The hare“There is time for a nap.”

So he lay down in it, just for a moment, with his long ears folded back and his nose in the flowers.

The hare“Just a small one,”

said the hare, to the clover, and the clover did not argue. Bees went over him. The sun went over him. Somewhere far below, a slow sound kept coming up the hill and did not stop.

Step, and step, and step, and step. The tortoise came up the hill the whole time. Not fast, not slow, just the same from the bottom to the top.

Your child“Step,”

said the tortoise, quietly.

Your child“And step. And step. And step.”

Past the sleeping hare, past his folded ears, past the clover, on towards the flat stone where everybody was standing up and shouting.

The hare woke up to a strange sound. It was everybody cheering for somebody else. He ran. He ran better than he had ever run in his life. He arrived at the flat stone just after the tortoise.

The hare“Where—”

said the hare.

Your child“Over here,”

said the tortoise, from the finish line, and let the hare sit down first.