The Kitten Who Hung Her Head

Deep in the forest stood a great big oak tree.

On the oak tree was a little round door—that was Chestnut's Pharmacy.

The wind was big today. Whoosh—whoosh—it blew.

Leaves went flying, flying, and Chestnut swept them up with his little broom, sweep, sweep, sweep.

Creeee—ak.

The door pushed open, slowly, ever so slowly.

It was a little kitten, with her head hung low and her tail drooping down behind her.

One step, then a stop. One step, then a stop.

The little kitten's name was Mittens.

"Chestnut... everybody says I'm the one who made a mess of the yarn balls."

"But it really, really wasn't me."

"I told them it wasn't me, and nobody listened."

Mittens sniffled, and her eyes went all red around the edges.

"We were playing at Granny Sheep's house."

"All of a sudden the yarn balls rolled everywhere—what a mess!"

"Everybody saw me standing next to them, so they said: Mittens did it!"

"When you didn't do it, but somebody says you did," Chestnut said softly:

"Your heart feels sour and heavy, and you want to cry—that is called feeling wronged."

"Yes..." Mittens said in a very small voice. "My heart feels sour and heavy right now. I feel so wronged."

Chestnut pushed up his round glasses.

"Hmm... let me think..."

He turned around and looked at the jars on the shelf.

"Aha! This jar right here!"

Chestnut climbed up his little ladder, reaching way up high for a purple jar.

And just at that very moment—

WHOOSH—!

The wind blew the window wide open!

Papers went flying, hats went flying!

"Whoa-oh-oh-oh!"

CRASH!

Chestnut got such a fright! Down the ladder he slipped, landing right on his bottom.

Purple candies rolled everywhere.

"I-I'm fine. A pharmacist must stay calm."

Mittens crouched down and picked the candies up, one by one by one, and put them back in the jar.

Even the one that rolled all the way to the door—she picked that one up too, ever so gently.

"You picked them up so carefully," said Chestnut.

And the corners of Mittens' mouth turned up, just a tiny bit.

Chestnut shut the window tight, took one candy from the jar, and placed it gently in Mittens' little paw.

"This is the Purple Speak-Up Candy."

"Once you eat it, you'll think of a good way."

"A way to take all those sour, heavy words in your heart, and say them out loud, nice and slow."

Mittens looked at the candy. It was round and purple, like a tiny little grape.

Mittens put the candy in her mouth.

It was sweet. It was chewy.

Outside, the wind kept blowing. Whoosh—whoosh—

Mittens sat on the little chair, thinking and thinking, thinking and thinking...

Mittens thought about everybody saying, "Mittens did it!"

And her heart went all sour again.

She wanted to cry.

She didn't want to go back. She didn't want to play anymore.

Huh? Wait a minute...

Mittens remembered something.

"There were little leaves stuck on the yarn balls!"

"And Granny Sheep's window was wide open!"

"And today the wind goes whoosh—whoosh—!"

Mittens hopped down off the little chair.

"I'm going back, and I'll tell everybody, nice and slow!"

Mittens went back to Granny Sheep's house and took a great big breath.

"It wasn't me. I feel so wronged."

"There were little leaves on the yarn balls. The wind came in through the window—"

And just at that very moment—

WHOOSH—!

The wind blew the window open again!

And over went the yarn basket by the window!

The yarn balls rolled everywhere, all over again!

"Oh!" Everybody's mouths dropped wide open. "It was the wind all along!"

"Mittens, I'm sorry," said Little Bunny.

"We said it was you without asking you first," said Little Puppy.

Granny Sheep shut the window tight and gave Mittens a great big hug.

Mittens ran back to the pharmacy with her tail held high, high, high.

"Chestnut! Your candy is magic! I thought of a good way!"

"Did you now?" Chestnut asked with a smile.

"Who do you think thought of it—the candy, or you?"

Mittens tilted her head and thought for a moment.

"It was... me! I thought of it myself!"

"That's right," said Chestnut.

"Next time you feel wronged, remember: first say, 'It wasn't me, and I feel so wronged.'"

"Then tell them slowly what you saw—and everybody will hear you."

"But Chestnut, that wind blew you right off the ladder just now."

"I-I'm fine. A pharmacist must stay calm."

But Chestnut's cheeks turned pink.

The wind stopped, and the sky turned a warm, cozy orange.

Mittens skipped all the way home, with a little ball of yarn from Granny Sheep in her paws.

Chestnut watched her go, and pushed his crooked glasses back up.

Then he turned around and put the purple jar back on the shelf.

Who will come knocking tomorrow, I wonder?