10 The Miller, his son and the Donkey

10. THE MILLER, HIS

SON AND THE DONKEY

By Sue Reid

‘Fetch our old donkey,’ the miller

said to his son one day. ‘We’re tak

ing him to market. We need money

and we’ve nothing else to sell.’

The son ran to the stable where the

donkey was kept. He threw a hal

ter over its neck. And the donkey

wasn’t happy!!!

‘Grumpy old thing!’ said the son, as

he led the donkey out of the stable.

‘I’m not sorry we’re selling you!’

‘I’m not sorry either,’ brayed the

donkey. ‘When was the last time

you gave me a carrot!’

‘We won’t ride him,’ said the miller.

‘It’ll be easier to sell him if he’s not

tired.’

They led the donkey down the

street towards the town.

‘Hey, you,’ a man shouted suddenly.

‘Why don’t you ride the donkey?’

‘That’s what it’s for!’ another man

hollered.

The crowd began to laugh.

The miller hated to be laughed

at. ‘Get up, son,’ he said. The son

climbed up on to the donkey’s

back.

‘At least it’s the smaller one,’ the

donkey grumbled as he felt the

son’s weight on his back. ‘Some

thing to be grateful for, I suppose.’

But they hadn’t travelled far before

they passed three merchants, whis

pering and shaking their heads.

‘What is the world coming to?’ the

miller heard one of them say. ‘Get

down, young man. Let your master

ride the donkey.’

The miller thought he’d better do

as they said. ‘Hop down, lad, and

help me up,’ he said to his son.

So the son climbed down and

helped his father clamber up.

‘Ee-aw!’ grumbled the donkey, as the

miller landed on his back. ‘What a

lump. Worse than a sack of potatoes.’

1His back was hard and bony. The

miller wasn’t sorry when they

reached the gates of the town. A

group of girls were standing there,

bags and baskets in their hands.

The miller pulled on the donkey’s

halter. ‘Whoa!’ he said. ‘Let the

ladies through first.’

‘Cor, look at that poor boy,’ one of

the girls said, seeing the son lead

the donkey, his father on top. ‘His

master should let him ride too.’

‘Lazy thing.’

The miller was a bit cross, but he

liked to please. ‘Get up behind me,

son,’ he said.

‘What! Both of you at once!’ the

donkey screeched. ‘I’m an old

donkey. Ee-aw!’

‘Look at that poor creature,’ a

woman said as the donkey crawled

slowly along the road, head droop

ing. ‘Two of them on his back.’

‘And one of them so big!’ said her

friend.

‘They should be carrying it!’

‘Yes, they are right,’ thought the

miller, and climbed down. ‘Get

down, son. We’ll carry him between

us.’ They tied the donkey’s legs to

a pole, the donkey slung between

them.

‘Now they know what it’s like to be

a donkey - carrying great loads all

day,’ he thought as the miller and

his son stumbled down the street.

The townspeople had never seen

such a sight before. They ran out of

their houses to watch. ‘Don’t they

look silly’, they laughed.

The donkey hated to be laughed at.

He pushed and he pulled, trying to

free himself.

Slowly the ropes that bound him

began to loosen. ‘One – more –

heave,’ he gasped as they stumbled

up to the bridge.

And with a final tug and a kick he

was free. Over the bridge he tum

bled. Down, down, down he fell.

Splash! Into the river below.

He thrashed and he brayed.

But there was nothing he could do.

‘Ee-aw. Ee-aw,’ he cried. Ee—

aw!’

2The miller watched helplessly as his

donkey was swept away.

‘Silly me,’ he said as he and his

son trudged homewards. ‘By trying

to please everyone I have lost my

donkey - and now I have nothing

left to sell.’

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