The Spotted Cow

The Spotted Cow

There was once rather a vain cow. She was plain white with two nice curly horns. She thought she looked rather nice – but she did wish she could have some nice black spots over her back.

There were no spotted cows in the field at all, and the white cow thought it would be grand to be the only spotted cow.

Now one day, when she was munching the long, juicy grass that grew in the hedge, she came across a small pixie mixing black paint in a pot.

'what are you doing?' asked the cow.

'I'm mixing my black paint,' said the little fellow. 'I'm the pixie that paints the sports on the ladybirds, you know.'

'Oh!' said the cow. 'well, will you paint some on me?'

'Yes, if you'll give me a nice drink of milk,' said the pixie.

'I don't mind doing that,' said the cow. 'You can find a tin mug, and milk some of my creamy milk into it for yourself.'

'I'll just finish these ladybirds first,' said the pixie, and he turned back to his work. In a long line stood about twenty ladybirds with bright red backs and no spots. The pixie neatly painted seven black spots on each red back, and the ladybirds flew off in delight.

When he had finished his work he looked at the waiting cow. 'I'll go and find my mug,' he said. 'I'm very thirsty, and I'd love a drink of your nice milk.'

He ran off and came back with a mug. On it was his name: 'Pixie Pinnie'. He milked the cow, and took a mugful of her creamy milk. Then he began to mix some more black paint.

'Are you sure you'd like black spots?' he asked. 'You wouldn't like a few blue ones, or red ones? You would look most uncommon then.'

The cow thought about it. 'No,' she said at last. 'I don't think so. I'd rather have black spots. They will look smarter than coloured ones.'

'Well, you must stand still,' said the pixie, 'or I might smudge the spots, and that would look horrid. Now then – are you ready?'

The pixie began to paint the cow. Goodness, you should have seen him! A big black spot here, and a little one there! Two by her tail, and three down her back. Four in a ring on her nose, and a whole crowd of spots down her sides. She did look grand!

At last the pixie had finished. He put away his paints, took another drink of milk, and said 'goodbye'. The cow left him and went back to the field. How grand she felt!

The other cows stared at her. They didn't know her. Who was this funny spotted cow?

'Don't you know me?' said the cow, proudly.

'I've grown spots.'

'Rubbish!' said the biggest cow. 'Grown spots, indeed. You don't belong to us. Go away, you horrid, spotted creature, we don't want anything to do with you!'

Just then the little boy who looked after the cows came along to see if they were all right.

When he saw the spotted one he stared in surprise.

'You're not one of our cows,' he said. 'You must have wandered in here from somewhere else. You had better get out of the field, and go back to your own meadow, wherever it is! What an ugly, spotted creature you are! I'm glad you're not one of our cows!'

He opened the gate and pushed the surprised cow out. She trotted down the lane angrily. 'I'll go to the next field,' she thought. ' The cows there will be pleased to have such a fine spotted creature as I am!'

But they weren't pleased! They mooed at her and sent her away. She was very miserable.

'I wish I hadn't got spots now,' she thought to herself. 'It was a mistake. I'll find that pixie, and ask him to take them away.'

But he was gone. She couldn't see him anywhere. Then it began to rain. The cow stood under a tree to shelter herself, but the rain was so heavy that she was soon wet from horn to tail and, dear me, the black spots all came out in the rain! Soon there were none left at all.

The cow didn't know that the rain had washed the black spots away. She stood there, feeling lonely and miserable, and when the rain had stopped she made up her mind to go back to her own field, and ask the other cows to have her back again. So off she went, whisking her big tail from side to side.

The little boy was still there. He saw her as she came, and now that she had no spots, he knew her for one of his own cows. So he opened the gate, and let her through, saying: 'Dear me, wherever have you been?'

The other cows crowded round her, for, now that she had no spots, they knew her too.

'We are glad to see you,' they said. 'Do you know, a horrible spotted cow came in your place , and said she was you. She's gone now, thank goodness. Ugly creature that she was!

How dared she say she was you, for you are so white and pretty!'

The cow didn't say anything. She listened and hung her head. It was better to be white and pretty than to be handsome and spotted. She didn't look so grand now, but she was herself.

'I hope that pixie doesn't give me away,' she thought. 'The cows will laugh at me, if he does!'

But I don't expect he will!