Miss Butterfield
Miss Butterfield was a very sweet old lady. She live in a very nice home, in very nice town. The town was named, Appleton. Everyone in the town knew who Miss Butterfield was and she knew all of them. She was best known for her apple pie. Every Thursday she would make one pie and set it out for the town to eat. Everyone came to eat the pie. But, she only made one so, that meant that not everyone would get a slice. This made Miss Butterfield very sad. After everyone had left, she would often cry because not everyone got one.
One day she was sitting alone and thinking when she got an idea. "What if I made two pies?" she thought. "If I made two pies, then everyone would get one!" So, the next Thursday she got up very early and made two pies. When the town came, they started getting the slices but, again there was still not enough. So, the Thursday after that she got up even earlier and made three pies. This still didn't solve the problem. Then she thought "I'll make four pies, that will do it!" So she got up even before the sun came out to start on the pies. She was very tired. Her poor old bones ache but, she kept on making them.
After she made them, she set them out and the town came. But, alas this didn't do it. She sat down on her old rocker and began to cry, "I'll never feed this town!" she exclaimed! Just then a little girl came up and asked Miss Butterfield, "Why are you crying, Miss Butterfield?" "Ohhh, I'll never have enough pie for everyone!" Miss Butterfield said sadly. "Miss Butterfield!" said the little girl, "Look, you have fed the entire town!" The little girl and the old lady walked to the window and looked. It was the most amazing thing Miss Butterfield ever saw. Everyone was eating her pie. She asked the little girl how it happened. "Well, you made so many pies, people saved the slices and now we have enough of your pie to last for a long time!" said the girl. This made Miss Butterfield very happy. Now, Miss Butterfield makes one pie every Thursday. And there is always enough for everyone.
The End
