Stone Soup

It had been a long, cold walk, and the traveller was very hungry.

When he saw the little village at the bottom of the valley, with smoke curling from its chimneys, his heart lifted. Surely somebody there would share a bowl of something warm.

But the village had had a hard winter. When the people saw a stranger coming down the road, they hurried to hide their food. They pushed sacks of potatoes under beds. They tucked carrots into cupboards and hung their onions in the cellar. They put their cabbages in the attic.

The traveller knocked on the first door.

"I'm sorry," said the woman who answered. "We have nothing to spare. Times are hard."

He knocked on the second door, and the third. Everywhere it was the same. "Nothing to spare. Nothing at all."

A pot and a stone

The traveller walked to the middle of the village square. He sat down by the well, looked around thoughtfully, and took a smooth grey stone out of his pocket.

"Well," he said loudly, "if nobody has any food, I suppose I shall just have to make stone soup."

A few doors opened a crack.

"Stone soup?" said a boy. "What's that?"

"The most delicious soup in the world," said the traveller. "All I need is a large pot, some water and a fire."

Now, the villagers were curious. A large pot did not cost anything to lend, and nor did water. So an old man brought out his biggest pot. Some children carried buckets from the well. Someone else brought firewood, and soon the water was bubbling away in the middle of the square.

The traveller dropped in his stone with great ceremony, and stirred.

Just a little something

He tasted it. "Mmm," he said. "Wonderful. Of course, stone soup is even better with a little cabbage. But never mind. We'll manage without."

"I think I might have one cabbage," said a woman. "Just one." And she fetched it from her attic.

The traveller stirred and tasted again. "Ah, that's better. I once had stone soup with a few carrots in it, and it was fit for a king. But never mind."

"I might be able to find a carrot or two," said the farmer.

"And I have a few potatoes," said the baker's wife.

"I have onions!"

"I've got a little salt and pepper."

"I have some barley."

"A bit of meat!"

One by one, the people of the village brought out the food they had hidden. The pot filled up and the smell drifted through the whole valley, until even the cats came to see what was happening.

A feast

At last the traveller declared the soup ready. Tables and benches were carried into the square. Somebody found bread. Somebody else found a fiddle. Everyone sat down together and ate, and it was the best meal the village had eaten all winter.

"Imagine," the people said to one another. "Soup from a stone! Who would have thought it?"

The next morning, the traveller said goodbye. As he left, he gave the stone to the boy who had first asked about it.

"Keep it safe," he said with a smile. "You'll find it works every time, as long as everyone brings a little something."

About this tale

Stone Soup is a folk tale told across Europe for hundreds of years. In some versions the traveller is a soldier; in others he makes soup from an axe, a nail or a button. This version is a shortened, simplified retelling.