Chapter I

The old man lived in a wood. He had a wife and a bag. The bag was quite a large bag. One day the old man went out for a walk. He took the bag with him. By and by he saw a hen in a field. Now when you see a hen in a field you say "Chuck, chuck!" The old man said "Chuck, chuck!" And the hen came to him. So that he caught her by the neck and put her in his bag. She made a great to-do, but he put her in.

The old man said "Chuck, chuck!" and the hen came to him.

On his way home, just as he turned a corner, the old man saw a policeman. The policeman had a red suit. He was one of those policemen who wear red suits because they are tired of wearing blue. The red policeman looked very hard at the old man and very hard at his bag. In fact he looked so very very hard that the old man got frightened and turned round and ran away.

Of course the red policeman ran after him. When they had run about five miles the old man dropped his bag in order that he might run quicker. The red policeman had made up his mind to catch him; so that he did not stop to pick up the bag but kept on running after the old man. At length when they had run about ten miles he caught him.

The red policeman ran after him.

"Now, sir," said the red policeman, "what have you got in that bag?"

"Nothing," said the old man.

"Oh, you wicked old person," said the red policeman. "You know perfectly well that you have a hen in it. But you must come back with me, and we will soon find out."

So the red policeman took the old man back to the place where he had dropped the bag. The bag was there, and the red policeman picked it up and opened it with great care. But the hen had got away. There was a big hole in the corner of the bag, and through this the hen had squeezed herself and run home as fast as ever she could. When the policeman found that the bag was empty he looked much puzzled. The old man for his part smiled a great deal. "I told you there was nothing in it," he said.

The red policeman said, "Well, I expect I shall have to let you go this time. BUT MIND YOU DON'T DO IT AGAIN."

And the old man went home quite cheerfully with his bag under his arm.

Chapter III

The next day was market day. On market day people who have butter or cheese to sell take it into the market to sell it. And people who have money and happen to want butter or cheese go into the market to buy it. The old man's wife had nothing to sell. Neither had she any money. But she wanted some butter very badly. So she took the old man's bag off the nail and carried it to market. She walked round the market with the bag under her arm and looked at all the stalls and enquired how much the strawberries were a pound; but she did not buy anything because she had no money. In a little while she came to a stall on which there were six rolls of fine fresh butter, and in front of them was a card on which the man who brought the butter to market had written--

BUTTER IS CHEAP TO-DAY.

"Butter is cheap to-day!"

"I am glad butter is cheap to-day," said the old woman to herself, and when the man who had brought the butter to market was not looking she picked up a roll and dropped it into her bag. Then she ran away as fast as she could.

When she got round the corner the red policeman saw her. He shouted out, "What have you got in that bag?"

"Nothing," said the old woman, still running.

But the policeman kept running after her. When they had run about five miles the old woman dropped the bag, so that she might run quicker. The policeman, however, had made up his mind to catch her, and when they had run about ten miles he caught her.

"Now," he said, "you must come back with me to your bag, and we will see if there is anything in it." The old man's wife said that she was sure there was nothing in it. "All right," said the policeman, "but if you don't mind we will go back and see." So they went back to the bag, and the policeman opened it with great care. Inside he found the roll of butter.

The old man's wife began to cry. "Oh dear, oh dear," she said, "what a pity it is that I sewed up that hole."

"Why?" asked the red policeman.

"Because if I had not sewn up the hole the butter might have got out, like my husband's hen."

"You are a very foolish old woman," said the policeman. "Do you not know that a roll of butter cannot walk like a hen?"

"You are a very foolish old woman."

"Is that really so?" said the old woman. "Well, well. But I have seen butter run when it was melted." "Never mind that," said the red policeman, "you will have to come with me to prison."

"I am too busy to go with you just now," said the old woman, "and my husband wants the butter for his tea. But if you like to call for me in the morning and the weather is fine I will come with you with pleasure."

"You are very polite," said the red policeman. "If you had been rude I should have made you go with me now. As it is I will call for you in the morning providing it doesn't rain."

"Thank you so much," said the old woman.

And she shook the red policeman warmly by the hand and went off to her husband.

Chapter V

When the old man and his wife woke up next morning they looked out of the window and saw that the weather was quite fine. The old man began to whistle and sing. He always did this when the weather was fine because he said fine weather always made him feel in such good spirits. In a little while the old woman began to sing too. Then the old man stopped.

"What are you singing for?" he said to the old woman.

"I feel in such good spirits," the old woman replied.

"Oh, you do, do you?" said the old man. "You appear to forget that the red policeman is coming for you."

"Oh dear, oh dear," said the old woman. "What a bad memory I have to be sure. Whatever shall I do?" And she burst into tears.

"There, there," said the old man, "don't cry. We will give him sixpence when he calls, and ask him to have a piece of bread and butter with jam on it. Then perhaps he will go away."

They went downstairs and had breakfast. They had just finished when there came an awfully loud knock at the door. The old woman went very pale.

"It is the red policeman," she said.

The old man went to open the door. But the old woman pulled him back.

"You are forgetting the sixpence," she said, "and the piece of bread and butter with jam on it."

"Of course, of course," said the old man, and he felt in his pocket for sixpence while the old woman cut a nice large thick slice of bread and covered it with butter and jam. "Perhaps after all," said the old man, "we had better not open the door, but hand the policeman the sixpence and the bread and butter with jam on it through the window."

So he opened the window a little way and held out the sixpence and the bread and butter with jam on it to the person outside.

"Thanks very much," said the person outside. And he put the sixpence in his pocket and began to eat the bread and butter with jam on it. And when he had finished eating he knocked again very loudly at the door.

"Go away," said the old man. "My wife is not coming out with you to-day."

"I don't want your wife to come out with me," said the person at the door; "I have called to look at the gas meter."

"We haven't got a gas meter now," said the old man, "we burn nothing but electric light."

"Many, many thanks," said the person at the door, and he went away.

"I feel all of a flutter," said the old woman, sinking into a chair.

"So do I," said the old man. "And he has got my sixpence too."

Chapter VII

The red policeman got so wet that by the time he reached his house all the dye had come out of his suit. He felt very angry indeed.

"I must try not to make mistakes," he said, "sometimes they bring one into fearful trouble. As my suit is spoilt I think I will give up being a policeman. A policeman without a suit is no good at all."

So he went to bed and had hot bricks to his feet and a mustard plaster on his chest, and sent for the tailor to measure him for a new suit of clothes.

When the tailor came the policeman said to him, "I am quite tired of being a policeman, and I think I should now like to be a soldier. Please measure me for a soldier's suit. The coat you will make of green cloth and the trousers must be yellow."

"Please measure me for a soldier's suit."

"But," said the tailor, "soldiers wear scarlet coats and blue trousers."

"That is just the point," said the policeman. "I don't want to be like all the others. If I did I should go in for khaki. Just you do what I tell you, and make me a green coat and yellow trousers at once."

The tailor said, "Yes, sir," and went away.

In a few days he called again, bringing with him a yellow coat and green trousers. The policeman could have cried with disappointment.

"Didn't I tell you quite plainly that I wanted a green coat and yellow trousers?"

"I am truly sorry, sir," said the tailor, "but as you no doubt know, the best of us make mistakes sometimes."

"There is something in that," said the policeman, "and if the suit fits me I will forgive you."

Then he went into his dressing-room and put on the yellow coat and the green trousers. They fitted him beautifully. So that he forgave the tailor, and sent round to him to say that he would try to pay his bill when he got some money.

He began to strut about in his new clothes.

After looking at himself a good deal in the mirror the policeman went out into the street and began to strut about in his new clothes. "This is much better than being a policeman," he said, "a policeman has little to do, but a soldier has nothing to do till he is sent for to fight. By the way I must go and buy a sword, and then I will go up to the old man's house and let him see me in my new clothes. Perhaps he will give me two halfpennies to put in the pockets."

He bought his sword at the toy shop and went straight to the old man's house. When he got there the old woman was in the garden knocking apples off a tree with a clothes prop. No sooner did she see the policeman in his yellow coat and green trousers than she ran screaming into the house, and hid herself under the bed.

The old woman was knocking apples off a tree.

But when the old man saw him he shouted, "Hurrah, hurrah, the red policeman has turned soldier. Now we needn't be afraid of him any more."

And he called upstairs to his wife, "Come down at once and get me my bag."

The old woman came downstairs quickly. She took down the bag from its nail and handed it to her husband. "Run," she said, "as hard as you can, and bring me a hen and anything else nice that takes your fancy. Bags were made to put things in. And the red policeman--the soldier, that is to say--will stay to dinner."

The soldier sat down in the chair and lit his pipe, and the old man went out with the bag. Very soon he returned with two hens, a fat duck, several rolls of butter, a large piece of bacon, some cabbages, some ice cream, and two pots of marmalade.

The old woman cooked everything but the ice cream and the marmalade, and they had a very good dinner indeed.

"This is much better than being a policeman," said the soldier when they had finished.

"I should just think it was," said the old man.

"And so should I," said the old woman.

"Now I must wish you both good evening," said the soldier, "for I hear the bugle calling."