What luck. by Jopie Mul, (me) age 10 or 11.
Softly the balmy summer wind rustles through the leaves of the trees of the forest. It is quiet in the big forest.
Suddenly there is a rustling sound. A girl of seven years is walking and singing, while picking berries.
Her basket is already filling up quite well.
“Ho. Ho,” she sighs. “I must rest a moment.”
She puts her basket down and sits down.
Soon she is in the land of dreams.
Tweet. Tweet. Peep. Twitter. Twitter. What is that?
Birds are flying towards her.
Within a very short moment. (Within a few counts.) the berries have vanished.
Rrrrrrrrrrrts! The birds are sitting in a tree.
That wakes Marjolein up.
“Hey. Where am I?” she asks herself. Then she discovers where she is. Cheerfully she stands up. But. Oh shock! There she sees her empty basket.
Crying she kneels down by her basket.
Step. Step. Step. Cheerfully, a boy of about 10 years, walks through the forest.
“Hey! There sits Marjoleintje,” he thinks. “She’s weeping.”
Oh. He sees! Her basket is empty.
“Shall I help you, Marjo?” he asks.
“Huh? What?” she asks in a startled manner “Oh. It’s you?”
And, within a quarter of an hour the basket is full again. What good luck that Hein was passing by.
I suspect that Marjolein was based on this class-mate or perhaps her younger sister, with whom I walked to school.
PLEASE READ about the goats who fought like Robin Hood and Little John