The Little Carrot

At five in the morning, the farm outside Ely was cold and dark. Wren put on her grandfather's big coat and walked out to the field.

Her grandfather was already there with three boxes. “Carrots for the market,” he said. “We need three boxes before breakfast.”

Wren pulled the carrots out of the ground. Some of them were long and beautiful. One was very little. She wished for a big one, but it stayed little in her hand.

“This one's too little for the market,” she said.

Her grandfather looked at it. Then he put it in his coat pocket, and they carried the boxes to his old car.

At seven o'clock Wren sat down for breakfast. On her plate there was bread, an egg, and one little carrot.