ADAPTED FROM THE CANTERBURY 1/

AND ILLUSTRATED BY

BARBARA COONEY
 *3.75
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CHANTICLEER
AND THE FOX
Adapted from The Canterbury Tales
and Illustrated by Barbara Cooney

One of the most delightful fables in

our heritage is the story of the proud
cock and the wily fox who flattered him.
Chaucer told the story with vigorous
rhythm and singing words; Barbara
Cooney has adapted it for children and
illustrated it with pictures as handsome
as a medieval herbal.
Chanticleer was a merry rooster. “His
comb was redder than fine coral and
turreted like a castle wall, his bill was
black and shone like jet, and his feathers
were like burnished gold.” He had sev¬
en hens, the fairest of which was Partlet.
It was a great joy to hear them sing to¬
gether.
But one night a sorrowful event over¬
took them. A fox, tipped with black,
and full of sly wickedness, burst through
the hedge into the yard where Chanti¬
cleer and his wives were in the habit of
going. The fox was clever, but he met
his match in the rooster.
Barbara Cooney’s pictures are the
most beautiful this gifted artist has ever
drawn. Richness of color, strength of
line, and an abundance of detail will
attract children to them time after time
and bring new delight to each reading.

(004-008)
Chanticleer and the
FOX • BY GEOFFREY CHAUCER

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BY GEOFFREY CHAUCER

ADAPTED AND ILLUSTRATED

BY BARBARA COONEY

THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY

NEW YORK
THIS ADAPTATION OF THE “NUN’S PRIEST’S TALE” FROM THE CANTERBURY TALES,
TRANSLATED BY ROBERT MAYER LUMIANSKY, IS USED WITH THE KIND PERMISSION
OF SIMON & SCHUSTER, INC., COPYRIGHT 1948 BY SIMON & SCHUSTER, INC.

COPYRIGHT © 1958 BY THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM, EXCEPT BY A REVIEWER,
WITHOUT THE PERMISSION OF THE PUBLISHERS. MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED
STATES OF AMERICA. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NO. 58-10449
/
 bice upon a time a poor widow, getting
on in years, lived in a small cottage be¬
side a grove which stood in a little valley. This
widow, about whom I shall tell you my tale, had
patiently led a very simple life since the day her
husband died. By careful management she was able
to take care of herself and her two daughters.
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 She had only three large sows, three cows, and
also a sheep called Molly.
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 Her bedroom was very sooty, as was her kitch¬
en in which she ate many a scanty meal. She was
never sick from overeating. Her table was usually set
with only white and black—milk and dark bread, of
which there was no shortage — and sometimes there
was broiled bacon and an egg or two, for she was,
as it were, a kind of dairywoman.
 She had a yard, fenced all around with sticks,
in which she had a rooster named Chanticleer. For
crowing there was not his equal in all the land. His
voice was merrier than the merry organ that plays
in church, and his crowing from his resting place
was more trustworthy than a clock. His comb was
redder than fine coral and turreted like a castle wall,
his bill was black and shone like jet, and his legs
and toes were like azure. His nails were whiter than
the lily, and his feathers were like burnished gold.
 Now this fine rooster had seven hens, all col¬
ored exceedingly like him. The hen with the pret¬
tiest throat was called fair Demoiselle Partlet. She
was polite, discreet, debonair, and companionable,
and she had conducted herself so well since the time
 '?******/
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that she was seven days old that, truly, she held the
heart of Chanticleer all tightly locked. It was a great
joy to hear them sing in sweet harmony when the
bright sun began to rise. For in those days, so I’m
told, beasts and birds could talk and sing.
 And so it happened, one day at dawn, as Chan¬
ticleer sat on his perch surrounded by the hens, that
he began to groan in his throat like a man troubled
by his dreams. When Partlet heard him moaning this
way she was frightened and said: “Dear heart, what
ails you that you groan in such a manner?”
 And he answered saying: ‘ ‘Madam, I dreamed
just now that I was in much danger. I dreamed
that I was roaming up and down within our yard,
when I saw a beast like a hound which tried to grab
my body and would have killed me. His color was
between yellow and red, and his tail and both ears
were tipped with black, different from the rest of
his fur. His snout was small and his two eyes
glowed. I almost died of fear at the sight of him;
doubtless that’s what caused my groaning.”
“Go on!” she said. “Shame on you, you know
I cannot love a coward, by my faith! Haven’t you
a man’s heart and haven’t you a beard? Be merry,
husband. Do not fear dreams.”
“Thank you, Madam Partlet,” he said, “for
your learned advice. I do say that when I see the
beauty of your face all scarlet red about the eyes,
my fears die away.”
 And with these words he flew down from the
rafter, along with all the hens, for it was day. With
a clucking he called them all to/some grain which
he found lying about the yard. He was as regal as a
prince in his palace and was no longer afraid. He
looked like a lion as he roamed up and down on
his toes; he barely set foot to the earth.
Chanticleer, walking in all his pride, with his
seven wives beside him, cast up his eyes at the
bright sun. He crowed with a happy voice, “Listen
how the happy birds sing, and how the fresh flowers
grow; my heart is full of gaiety and joy.”
But suddenly a sorrowful event overtook him.
 I

A fox, tipped with black, and full of sly wick¬

edness, had lived in the grove three years. That
same night he burst through the hedges into the
yard where fair Chanticleer and his wives were in
the habit of going. And this fox lay quietly in a bed
of herbs until almost noon of that day.
 Partlet, with all her sisters nearby, lay merrily
bathing in the sand, with her back to the sun, and
the lordly Chanticleer sang more joyfully than the
mermaid in the sea.
Now it happened that, as he cast his eye upon
a butterfly among the herbs, Chanticleer became
aware of the fox lying low. He had no desire to crow
then, but at once cried, “Cok! cok!” and started
up like a man frightened in his heart.
 And he would have fled at once, if the fox had
not said: “My dear sir, alas, where are you going?
Are you afraid of me, your father’s friend? The
reason I came was only to listen to you sing. For,
truly, you have as merry a voice as any angel in
heaven. My lord your father—God bless his soul —
and also your courteous mother did me the great
honor of visiting my house. Except for you I have
never heard anyone who could sing as your father
did in the morning. In order to make his voice
stronger, he would close both his eyes. And he
would stand on his tiptoes and stretch forth his long
slender neck. Now sing, sir, for holy charity; let’s
see whether you can sing as well as your father.”
fey ' Sf W L
 Chanticleer began to beat his wings. He stood
high on his toes and stretched his neck, closed his
eyes, and crowed loudly. At once the fox jumped
up, grabbed Chanticleer by the throat, and carried

him toward the woods.

Alas, that Chanticleer flew down from the raft¬

ers! Alas, that his wife took no heed of dreams! And
all this trouble came on a Friday.
 Such a cry was never made as was made by all
the hens in the yard when they saw Chanticleer cap¬
tured. The poor widow and her two daughters heard
the woeful cries of the hens and at once ran out of
doors. They saw the fox going toward the grove,
carrying away the rooster. “Help! Help! Woe is me!
Look, a fox!” they screamed, and ran after him.
 The cows, the sheep, and even the hogs, so
frightened were they by the shouting, ran after him,
too. They ran so hard they thought their hearts
would burst.
 The neighbors’ ducks quacked as if they were
to be killed; and their geese, from fear, flew over
the trees; the noise was so terrible that the bees
swarmed from their hive. It seemed that heaven
would fall.
>* >
 Now, good people, I beg you all to listen.
This rooster in the fox’s mouth spoke to the fox in
spite of his fear, saying, “Sir, if I were you, so help
me God, I would say, ‘Turn back, you proud peas¬
ants! I have reached the edge of the wood now;
the rooster shall stay here. In spite of you I will
eat him, in faith, and not be long about it.’
 £‘In faith,” the fox answered, “it shall be
done.” As soon as he spoke the words, the rooster
nimbly broke away from his mouth and flew at
once high into a tree.
 When the fox saw that the rooster was gone,
he said, “Alas! Oh, Chanticleer, alas! I have done
you a bad turn. I frightened you when I grabbed
you and took you out of the yard. But, sir, I did it
without evil intention. Come down and I shall tell
you what I meant.”
 “Nay, then,” said Chanticleer. “Never again
shall you with your flattery get me to sing with my
eyes closed. For he who closes his eyes when he
should watch, God let him never prosper.”
“No,” said the fox, “but God bring misfor¬
tune to him who is so careless about his self-control
as to prattle when he should hold his peace.”
 “See,” said the widow as the fox slunk into
the grove, “that is the result of trusting in flat-
tery.
And she marched with her flock back to the
yard in the little valley.
!
 MARYGROUE COLLEGE
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GAYLORD PRINTED IN U.S. A.

Born in Brooklyn, Barbara Cooney
grew up on Long Island and in Maine.
She received her B.A. degree from
Smith College, and after some time in
New York, Iowa, and Illinois, settled
down in a small Massachusetts town.
She and her husband, a physician, have
four children, ranging in age from five
to fifteen.
Research for the pictures in this
book went on both at home and in
libraries. A neighbor loaned Miss
Cooney some chickens and the local
Grange contributed a pen, so that she
could keep the chickens in her studio
to use as models for Chanticleer and his
harem.
In the New York Public Library, the
Cloisters, and the Pierpont Morgan
Library, Miss Cooney studied rare
illuminated manuscripts. Their detailed
and brilliantly colored portrayal of
medieval life inspired many of the
illustrations here.

THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY

NEW YORK

Established 1834
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