Book: “The Gallic rooster tells. "French Folklore" from the book "The Gallic Rooster Tells" Part 1 The Gallic Rooster Tells

ANJOU
Anjou is in the northwest of France. In the distant times of the Roman Empire, these lands were inhabited by the Celts of the Andekavi tribe.
The time has come - and the end of the dominion of the Romans has come. The Frankish king Childeric pushed their legions across the Loire River and annexed Anjou to the Frankish kingdom. This is where it all started!
As you know, strong winds dominate in the north of France, and, probably, therefore, the poor province of Anjou long years tossed from side to side. In the 9th century it became a county. And at the same time she even showed a good appetite, annexing Touraine, and in the XII century, Maine. But in 1154, the Count of Anjou also became King of England, Henry II Plantagenet. Of course, Anjou also began to belong to the English crown. But who can like it: to live in France and belong to England? At the beginning of the 13th century, Anjou returned to the rule of the French king and from 1360 became no longer a province, not a county, but a duchy. However, does it matter what the name is? If only to calmly sow bread, weave linen and not bow to the masters too often! ..
The main city of Anjou is Angers. Isn't it easy to remember?
Where is Anju now? Of course, all in the same place, on the same lands. Only after the new administrative division, for the most part, did it become part of the department of Maine-et-Loire, and a smaller part of the departments of Indre-et-Loire, Mayenne, Sarthe.
By the way, in the province of Anjou lived the once famous Moranians, who became famous for their gullibility and naivety. Making fun of them was easy! However, you will still meet the Moranns - in fairy tales.

HOW THE MORANNS SAID THE COUNTRYMAN
It so happened that one of the inhabitants of the town of Moran fell into a well.
— Help! came as if from underground.
People rushed to save him and decided to climb into the well. They should throw the rope - but no! Where can they even think of that! They made a chain of people to the very bottom of the well.
- Hey, give me your hand! they shout. The one who fell into the well clung to the outstretched hand.
But then one of the Moranians, who stood first at the well, obviously wanting to cheer himself up and others too, shouted:
- Don't move guys, I'm here!
And with these words, he released his neighbor's hand to spit in his palm.
The chain broke off. From the bottom of the well, a whole street was already shouting:
— Help!

PIKE WITH A BELL
Lucky same one fisherman from Moran! He caught such a huge pike that a council of eminent citizens bought it.
The fact is that the council of eminent citizens decided to treat this unprecedented fish to the Bishop of Angers, who promised to visit the Moranians. But how to keep the fish until the guest arrives? And he was expected only two weeks later.
The council of eminent citizens sat for a long time. Finally, everyone agreed on one opinion: the pike should be put into the water. And so that she does not get lost - tie a bell around her neck! As soon as they need it, the Morannians will hear the ringing of a bell and will unmistakably find the place where this pike is now!
And so they did.
On the eve of the arrival of the bishop, the members of the council, as one, came to the river bank to personally be present at the pike fishing. But no matter how hard they tried, no matter how hard they strained their hearing, none of them could hear the ringing of the bell. Not a sound came from under the water.
When the bishop arrived in Morann, the city seemed to have died out: all the townspeople wandered near the river and each, with his ear inclined to the water, tried to hear the ringing of a bell in order to cast a net there.
The distinguished guest did not have to taste pike treats.

HOW THE MORANNS PUNISHED THE MOLE
At last the mole that had been so vexing to the townsfolk of Moran had been caught! Finally, they caught the robber who was digging up their beds! The Moranians gathered for advice, began to decide: what to sentence the robber for his villainy?
- We must drown him! one suggested.
“No,” said the other. “That way he gets off easy.” We'd better hang it!
- No matter how! exclaimed a third. “It's the easiest death. I propose to bury him alive in the ground!
Morannians could not think of anything worse, and the sentence was immediately carried out: the mole was buried in the ground.

FROG SENIOR DE SANSE
Señor de Sanse was famous for being as cruel as he was stupid. Once he forced his peasant subjects - the Villans - to whip with sticks on the water of the moat that surrounded the castle. Why would you think? To scare away numerous frogs. The senior believed that by doing so he would prevent them from croaking and would sleep peacefully at night.
But, as you understand, it did not lead to anything. The frogs croaked even louder, and the sound of sticks was added to their "concert".
Then the lord turned to the village violinist with a request: perhaps with his playing he would silence these frogs?
And what would you think? The frogs were really silent. How and why is unknown. But since that time, a saying has spread in those places: “He, like the frogs of Senor de Sanse, intercepted his throat” - this is what they say about a person who is speechless from surprise or simply cannot answer the question.

AGREED
- Uncle! Uncle!
- Buy apples!
- I'd like the road, uncle,
To the city to find out ...
- Sir, these are apples.
The best apple tree.
I have it in my cart here
Five dozen at once.
- I'm on my way to the city!
- I'll give it not expensive.
- Why do I need apples?
- Four sous...
“But you are stupid, too!”
- Don't take apples?
“You are an ass, my dear!”
- I'll take it further...

BEARN
If the lands of Anjou constituted the northwest of France, then the lands of Bearn should be sought in the southwest, in the border region of the country. Before the arrival of the Romans, the Gallic Beneharni tribe lived here, and people called their capital - Beneharnum. Hence Bearn.
To be honest, if the province of Bearn was rich in anything, it was only in its hardships. From whom only she did not get it! .. At first she suffered for a long time from the raids of the Normans, from the rule of the Romans, then from various viscounts, counts of Gascony and their vassals.
And the land of Bearn? Mountainous, arid, infertile - well, how could she please the farmer?
But the Bearnians were stubborn: the slopes of the Pyrenees, covered with dense forests, and above - alpine meadows, became pastures for cattle and herds of horses. Blooming flax turned blue on the flat hills. In the valleys, corn stood up like a wall. Mountain gorges and hills covered vineyards.
The Bearnes were not only stubborn in their work, but also proud. They were ready to fight anyone who would try to encroach on their independence.
Bearn became part of France only in 1589. And then King Henry IV had to declare at the same time: "I do not give Bearn to France, but I give France to Bearn." Soon, however, it turned out that radish horseradish is not sweeter, but the Bearnians were no longer able to win back their independence.
Now Béarn occupies most of the Basis-Pyrenees department, and its capital is the city of Pau.

HOW THE WOLF FRIED THE MEAT
The wolf stole a sheep and ate almost everything in one sitting. Only the back leg remained. The wolf took a breather, looked around and noticed: behind one of the hills something incomprehensible glowed ... It was the moon rising over the moorland.
“Hey,” the wolf said to himself, “it’s clear that people made a fire there. How many times have I heard that roast lamb is much tastier than raw! Now is the time to check: is it true?
The wolf moved to a place illuminated by the moon and began to turn the leg of mutton one side to the light, then the other. Will turn - and try on the tooth.
- I do not see big difference between raw and fried,” he muttered.
For a long time the wolf fried the meat. And I tasted everything. And still did not find that the meat became tastier.
- Enough! he finally decided. - Well, these people are picky, as I see it! Eka that they invented - fry meat! My father ate meat raw, and I will eat it raw. And I will always eat raw. It's just as good as fried.
The wolf ate his leg and went to roam the wasteland in search of new prey.

BISHOP AND MILLER
Once the bishop called a curate and said to him:
“Listen, my dear, they told me that you are not a god knows what a master in your business. So I want to check: is it so? Come to me tomorrow, and if you answer all my questions, I will know that you have been slandered.
The curé was on fire.
“Oh my God,” he sighed, “what can the bishop ask me? And what should he answer? What if I answer wrong? What will he do with me?
He wandered, bowing his head, to his house and ran into a miller. They even bumped their heads.
“Be careful, monsieur! If you had knocked not on my head like that, but on a neighboring oak tree, you would have already come to an end. What happened to you? You walk and see nothing in front of you!
"Leave me alone," the curate sighed. - My head is spinning. Tomorrow I have to go to the bishop and answer his questions... What do you think he can ask me?
“I can’t imagine, Monsieur Curé!” But if it bothers you that much and makes you dizzy, I'm ready to help. Everyone says that you and I are similar to each other, like two twins. Give me your clothes and I will go to the bishop instead of you. By the way, I'll see what kind of person he is, our bishop. Otherwise, at the mill, I have to deal more with donkeys than with bishops ...
No sooner said than done. The next day the miller, dressed in all black, came to the bishop.
“Ah, it’s you, priest,” the bishop met him, not even noticing the substitution.
— Yes, monsignor.
Well, answer my questions.
“I am listening, monsignor.
What is the distance from the Earth to the Sun?
- One look.
How much does the moon weigh?
— A pound, or four quarters. It's divided into quarters.
— Hm... What is the depth of the sea?
- One stone throw.
“And how many wheelbarrows would it take to transport all the sand from the sea?”
One would suffice if it were big enough.
“Eh, yes, it turns out you are a cunning one, as I see it!” But here's a more difficult question, and let's stop there. Tell me what am I thinking now?
“You think that the priest is sitting in front of you, and the miller is in front of you.
- Are you a miller? What are you talking about!
— Yes, monsignor. At your service.
“Then from today I appoint you parish priest.
That's how it can turn out: there was a miller - he became a priest! ..

WHY THE HARE HAS A CUT LIP
Once - and it happened a long time ago - the Frog and the Hare were sitting on the bank of the pond and were talking. While they scratched their tongues, clouds gathered in the sky, everything around darkened.
“Hey…” said the Frog. - It's going to rain now. Rather take off your shoes and run to yourself. I'll hide too.
With these words, she jumped into the water.
- Well, you fool! - Hare laughed. - I jumped into the water so as not to get wet!
And he began to laugh so much, and laughed so long that his lip even burst.
Since then, all hares walk with a split lip.

FALSE
Do you want to laugh?
Then get ready to listen.
Now I will tell you
One story.
I get up early!
When the sun goes down
I put the plow on my back,
I put the bulls in my pocket,
I go to work
Where there are only stones
Where there is not a crumb of land -
That's where I plow.
I walk along the road.
I look: on a pear - cherries!
Quite late already.
It's time to collect them.
I grab a stick,
I hit the branches -
And gooseberries fall
Like rain on me!
I go to the doctor
(To the one that weaves canvases):
- I beg you, sew urgently
I have a pair of shoes!
I want to put on my ears.
And puddles everywhere
And very annoying
Ears without shoes.
Then I go home.
I enter and what do I see?
Corydalis - sweep.
The goose makes cheese.
And the cat near the stove
Something is licking in the cauldron.
Trying - where there!
All claws burned.
A fly over a stupid cat
I laughed until I dropped.
And really fell down -
Fell off the ceiling.
I'm taking a sick fly...
After all, here's another annoyance:
All paws are broken!
See her doctor soon!
I'm taking it and I'm guessing:
How much does a fly need
On the occasion of such
For the legs of crutches? ..

BOS AND PERSH
With Bos and Persh, the case is completely special. The fact is that neither Boss nor Persh have ever been provinces. From time immemorial they have entered the province of Orleans, but come on, they have their own tales, proverbs, their own songs. Maybe people here lived a little better? ..
And then to say - what a land! The most fertile region! The breadbasket of the whole country! Everywhere you look is a plain sown with wheat. The best wheat in all of France grows in Bos!
It is no coincidence that it was here, on these rich lands, that such a giant as Gargantua grew up! Where else could he eat at once an ox, a pig, a few rams and a full oven of bread? It was here that the genius found his hero French writer Francois Rabelais and wrote a book about him.
On the lands of Bos and Persh, traces of the giant glutton Gargantua are still found. So, in Alluz you can see the stones that he threw into the river back in those distant times. On the road from Paris to Orleans, there is also a huge stone, reminiscent of a giant: once it accidentally fell into Gargantua's shoe, he pulled it out and threw it right at this place. Now no one calls him otherwise than the "Stone of Gargantua." And near Mondublo, you can still see a huge oven in which, according to legend, Gargantua cooked his own meals.
And it must happen that the poorest nobles lived on this rich land!
Some of them said this:
“The Boss nobleman is selling his dogs to buy bread!”
Other:
- The boss' gentlemen have one sword for three!
Third:
“While the boss nobleman’s pantaloons are being repaired, he is forced to lie in bed!”
And if they talk like that about gentlemen, then what was it like for ordinary peasants?!
Ancient legends also tell that once upon a time huge forests rustled on the lands of Bos and Persh. And the names of many villages confirm this. In translation, they sound like this: “Forest”, “Meadow” ... And around - fields and fields of wheat! .. There are few forests. Only in the valley of the Loire river and along the banks of the river Dreux you can see the most beautiful corners with forests, meadows, lawns...
Now Bos and Persh are included in the departments of Er-et-Loire, Loire-et-Cher.

WIRLUWE
An unenviable share went to a poor young girl! .. She lived with a miserly hostess, but so fastidious, so angry that the girl did not have a moment of peace. Do one thing, then another! No time to sit down. Take a breather. And here's what the hostess came up with...
That evening she was going to visit a neighbor. But how is it to leave home without giving any work to the maid? She called the poor girl out of the basement, threw a huge bag of wool on the floor in front of her and ordered:
"Spread for my return!" If you don't make it, blame yourself.
The girl cried: well, how can she cope with such work? Behind the tears, she did not notice how a stranger entered the room.
- Hello beauty!
— Hello, sir!
- Why are you crying?
The girl told him her grief.
- Very well! the stranger smiled. “Do you want me to spin it all in an instant?”
The girl was surprised, but answered:
- Want. But how can I thank you?
"It's not that hard," the stranger smiled again. You must guess my name. Only and everything. By midnight I will return the finished yarn to you, and if by this time you have not guessed my name, I will take you to me.
With these words, he laughed so hard that the girl became afraid.
“I seem to have gone from one trouble to another,” she thought.
Meanwhile, the stranger grabbed the wool - and out the door.
The girl regretted that she agreed, wanted to refuse the help of a stranger, slipped out slowly out the door - and also ran! Behind him.
They reached the forest. The girl sees: a stranger climbed into the hollow.
"Why, it's the devil himself!" She just guessed.
She became very scared! .. But still she crept up to the tree. He sees: the devil is spinning.
— By! By! Virluve!—the spinning wheel buzzes.
The faster the devil spins it, the louder it is heard:
— By! By! Virluve!
- Yes, yes, my spinning wheel! - says the devil. - You know my name. But the girl will never guess him!
This was all the girl needed. For joy, not feeling her legs under her, she ran to the house. And for a long time it was heard in her ears:
— By! By! Virluve!
As soon as she ran to the house, the devil appeared.
“Here,” he said, “everything is ready. Now pay the price, baby! Well, tell me, what's my name?
“Let me think, sir,” replied the girl.
“Think, don’t think, you won’t think of it,” the devil laughed.
“But isn’t your name, sir, Barnabey?”
— No, I didn't guess!
“Then maybe Matherin?”
“And not Matherin.
“Perhaps your name is Virluve?”
When the devil heard his name, he twisted all over, his face twisted, his teeth creaked.
“No other way than the devils gave you my name!”
“No, sir, no one gave me your name. I just have a keen ear.
The devil realized that he was caught in his own nets, slammed the door and ran away like the last thief.
Since then, he has not appeared in these places anymore. And when the girl told her mistress who did the work for her, the hostess was so frightened that she has since forgotten all her nit-picking. Well, how will the devil come to his friend again? Bad luck then to her, the hostess!

HOW SEVEN GUYS WENT TO PARIS
There once lived in Dorso seven boys who had never been to Paris. And we decided to visit. Gathered, let's go. Great was their surprise when they saw houses with five and six floors!
- Well, these Parisians are eccentrics! the boys exclaimed. “How do they manage to enter houses stacked on top of each other?”
“Probably, they set up a ladder, and they climb it,” remarked the sharpest of the seven.
They wandered, wandered, got hungry, went into the first restaurant they came across, sat down at the table. The waiter came up to them and handed over the menu.
“You are literate, read what is written,” the guys said to the sharpest one. - Start at the top.
For a long time, the guy sorted out the names of the dishes: after all, he read in warehouses.
“We can order anything we like,” he finally announced. - Just what to order? Therein lies the rub. Rather than rack our brains, let's order the very first one on top.
"Go ahead," the others agreed. The smartest one called the waiter.
“Here it is,” he pointed at the first line. The waiter immediately brought gherkins.
“Well, the food, damn it,” the guys sighed. “Listen, see if there’s anything more satisfying in there. Try to order now what is written below.
Again, the smartest one called the waiter and pointed at the bottom line.
The waiter brought nuts, which are usually served for dessert.
- Nuts! the guys were surprised. “However, these Parisians are badly fed.
- Tell them to bring it from the middle, maybe it will be more satisfying.
- Hey waiter!
He hurried to the table.
- Give us this.
- Prunes, seven times! the waiter shouted into the kitchen, and the guys were brought prunes.
But what is food for them? Only one tooth...
“Here,” they decided, “let’s hear what others are ordering.” Then we will ask you to give it to us.
Customers, seated at separate tables, now and then demanded mustard.
“Looks like this is an important dish, since everyone is asking for it,” the guys decided and ordered them to serve mustard.
The waiter fulfilled this order as well. The guys thickly smeared slices of bread with mustard and began to eat.
“No, no…” the first one to try grimaced. Whatever you say, Parisians don't know how to eat delicious food!
And, waving their hands at the menu, they ordered onion soup and a huge piece of ham each.
After a hearty meal, we went on to walk around the capital. There were so many people on the streets that the guys immediately lost each other and were found with great difficulty.
“Perhaps it would be nice to count whether everything is in place,” one of them suggested. - Pierre, you are our most learned, count.
“All right, stand in a circle,” Pierre commanded and began to count: “One, two, three, four, five, six ... Excuse me, but where is the seventh?” One is missing. Who is not?
- Not me! Not me! Not me! the others yelled.
Pierre counted again, and again there were six of them!
"Something's wrong here," they all agreed. - There are a lot of all kinds of learned people in Paris, let's go look for someone - let them count us.
They went through the streets. They stare around: they are looking for a scientist. It didn't take long to search: soon they saw a lawyer's sign on one of the houses.
“Here,” commanded the same quick-witted Pierre.
- What did you complain about? - the lawyer met them with a question and, having learned what was the matter, said:
“I will gladly help you.
He immediately counted the guys and, reaching Pierre, who was seventh, declared with an air of importance:
- As you can see, everything is fully assembled. None of you got lost.
“That’s right,” the boys said in surprise. This is what it means to be a scientist!
And, having paid the lawyer a lot of money, they went out into the street, afraid to lose each other again. We decided to return to our Dorso.
What surprised you the most in Paris? the villagers asked the guys.
- Advocate! As soon as he had time to count us, we immediately all found! That's what learning means!
Since then, they never left Dorso again and now live there.

Bru calves
And the calves also fell into the proverb. Of course, not alone. Without a person, it could not have done here either. So a person who allows himself to be fooled is told, "Well, boy, you look like calves from Bru." For more than four centuries, the nickname "calves" has been firmly entrenched in the inhabitants of the small town of Bru. And believe me: it has nothing to do with the sale of dairy calves at the local market, which takes place on Sundays. No, this is something else.
They say that one fine day three young rascals appeared in Bru. They didn’t have a penny for their souls, but at all the crossroads they loudly announced that they were none other than comedians of His Majesty the King of France and Navarre, and they came here especially directly from Paris to present a new mysterious play called “Escape beggars."
One of the local theater-goers gave them his barn for performance.
On the appointed day, the inhabitants of Brou gathered in a dense crowd to watch a performance with such an exciting name.
Everything went as written. One of the organizers stood at the entrance and received money from the public. The other two were chirping loudly on violins. When they saw that the barn was full of spectators, all three went out and locked the doors. They put the key in their pocket, not forgetting to put all the collected money there too. Well, then ... Then they were gone.
About a league away from Brou, they met a man who was heading there.
“Listen, my dear,” they stopped him. “We have just come from your town, and by mistake carried away the keys to the barn where many calves are locked up. Will you undertake to hand over the key to the property? - And they explained to the passer-by how to find this shed.
“Willingly, venerable gentlemen, willingly,” the passer-by agreed. With this, the three swindlers set off on their further journey, and an hour later a passer-by stood in front of the barn, from which groans, indignant cries for help and the tramp of countless feet were heard. All these sounds bore little resemblance to the mooing of calves, and the passer-by hastened to open the barn as soon as possible.
As soon as the doors opened, an avalanche of people poured in from there. Outraged by the experience, they attacked their savior with their fists, believing that he was an accomplice of those three crooks, and beat the poor fellow to a pulp. Well, what is the result?
As a result, this proverb was born, and the inhabitants of the little-known town until then were given the nickname “calves from Bru”.

BRITTANY
It is said that once, in ancient times, a certain judge asked the accused:
- Are you French?
“No, sir,” he answered, “I am a Breton!”
Now you yourself see what they are like - the inhabitants of Upper and Lower Brittany! .. And their land is not like the rest of the provinces. Nature is harsh here. If there are no winds, then they swirl, float, envelop fogs. Well, if the winds come up - do not open your umbrellas: it can pick it up and carry it into the sea. After all, Brittany occupies a peninsula in the north-west of France, it is washed by the waters of the English Channel and the Atlantic Ocean. The rocky shores of Brittany are indented by numerous bays, and the stone fangs of islands and reefs protrude from the coastal waters.
Once upon a time, these shores were inhabited by tribes of Gauls. But in the 5th-6th centuries, the Britons fled here from neighboring Britain, fleeing from the Anglo-Saxons. The Gauls were pushed back to the eastern part of the peninsula. Hence the division into Upper and Lower Brittany began. These lands were finally assigned to France only in 1532.
The Breton is not very talkative, but he is desperately brave. As befits a sailor. And the fact that in Brittany almost every third inhabitant is a sailor is even confirmed by the map of the world. In the Indian Ocean, you can find Kerguelen Island. Who is Kerguelen? Breton! And who discovered the New Earth and Canada? Also a Breton - Jacques Cartier.
The Bretons always treated the main city of their lands - Rennes - with due respect, but if they really loved any cities, it was Nantes, Brest, Lorian! From here ships went on distant voyages, fishing and whaling ships left, merchants from many countries delivered their goods here, warships stood here.
The French still call the large port city of Nantes at the mouth of the Loire the “Eye of France”. Ships are built in Nantes, iron and copper are smelted. Shipyards also rise in Brest, on the coast of the Atlantic, which is harsh in these parts.
Now on the lands of the former Upper and Lower Brittany there are departments: Finistère, Côte-du-Nor, Ile-et-Villain, Morbihan, Lower Loire.

WHY THE SEA IS SALT
One man inherited a small magic windmill. One day a friend, a sailor, came to him and began to talk about all sorts of miracles that he managed to see in foreign countries.
He listened to him, the owner of the mill listened and said:
- Although I have not been to distant countries, I have also seen curiosities. I even have one myself: a magic windmill. One has only to order her: “Give it, a mill, flour or something else” - as she immediately gets down to business and grinds, grinds, until ...
- Let me see your mill! the sailor interrupted, without even listening to the end.
The owner showed his curiosity to the guest. She liked that very much. “It would be nice to have such a thing,” the sailor burned with desire and began to ask:
- Give it to me! How much you want to pay!
The owner was greedy for money. He thought, thought, and agreed.
The sailor was delighted, put the purchase under his arm and hurried to his ship, which was leaving on the same day.
The journey turned out to be longer than expected. Supplies on the ship were running low. There was no salt. Then the sailor remembered his wonderful mill.
- Get the salt box! he ordered his comrades.
They brought the box. The sailor put a mill to him and said:
- Mill, salt!
And the little mill immediately began to grind fine white salt.
Salt soon filled the box, covered the entire deck, filled all the holds, and the sailor does not know how to stop the mill. After all, when buying a mill, he did not listen to the end of his friend! He bought something, but he does not know how to manage it.
The mill, you know, grinds and grinds.
The captain scolds, shouts that the ship may sink from overload, but what to do?
In desperation, the sailor grabbed his windmill and threw it overboard.
Since that time, the mill has been lying at the bottom of the sea. And probably, it still grinds and grinds, grinds and grinds ...
That is why the water in the sea is salty.

ORIGIN OF WINDS
There once lived a captain. Experienced, brave sailor. And I must tell you, in those distant times there was not a breeze on the sea. And there were no waves. You had to row across the seas. And this is no easy task. Here, the owners of the ships, under the strictest secrecy, once sent an experienced captain to the country of the winds. The captain had to make these winds blow in the oceans and seas.
Having reached the country of the winds, the captain went ashore, stuffed eight sacks with winds to capacity and, dragging them onto the ship, put them in the hold. He strictly ordered the sailors not to go down there.
Of course, on the way back, the sailors free from the watch had only talk about the mysterious cargo.
“And what if we climb into the hold, open one of the bags,” one of the sailors thought, “and see what lies there?” If I untie it and tie it back, the captain won't even know, won't guess.
No sooner said than done. The sailor went down into the hold and as soon as he loosened the rope on one of the bags, the wind broke out from there and began to blow with incredible force. It was the fierce southwest. In the blink of an eye, he lifted the ship into the air, broke it into small pieces. The bags that lay in the hold immediately burst, and the seven other winds that were in them also turned out to be free, scattered throughout the ocean. Since then, they have been walking around the expanses of the sea, annoying the sailors a lot.

FEARLESS JAN
Fearless Jean was the son of a church watchman. Every day at five o'clock in the morning, when it was still very dark on the street and all sorts of fears involuntarily climbed into my head, Jean went to call for matins. And he was not afraid of anything.
This surprised his father so much that he decided one day to test Jean: does he really know no fear?
My father built three straw effigies and took them to the bell tower. In the morning, Jean, as usual, began to go upstairs. What?! On the first staircase he saw a man sitting.
- Hey you, get up! Jean called out to him. And did not hear the answer.
"Ah, so you don't want to get up?" Well, wait! And Jean kicked him so hard that the scarecrow flew upside down.
On the next staircase Jean bumped into the seated man again.
- Well, wake up! Jean ordered. - Are they telling you? Don't you get up? Then I will help you!
And the second scarecrow rolled down the stairs.
When the brave Jean reached the platform where the bells hung, then there he saw a third. This man was standing, holding on to the rope of the bell, as if he was about to ring.
- What are you waiting for? Jean shouted. - Call! Are they telling you?! Ah, don't you? Then get out of here! - And the scarecrow flew straight from the bell tower.
Calling back the appointed time, Jean returned home.
“You tried to frighten me, father,” he said, “but you did not succeed.
“Yes, my son,” agreed the ashamed father. “Now I see that you are truly fearless. Courage must be rewarded, - and with these words the father gave money to his son. — Go to the city, buy yourself a new one.
Jean was not slow to take advantage of the offer. He shoved the money into his pockets and went into town.
The road went through the forest. From all sides dark trees approached the traveler, bushes clung.
And the fearless Jean seemed to have been replaced. Where had his courage gone? Now he kept looking around, in the crunch of every dry twig under his feet he imagined the steps of thieves who want to take away his money ...
Jean then stopped, then started running. And if someone saw him now, he would not say: “Here comes the fearless one!”
But Jean remained the same Jean! That's only if it were not for the money in his pockets! ..

THEIR WISHES
One day, four boys from Langue set out on their journey. To somehow pass the time, one of them asked a friend:
“Tell me, what would you wish for if you were king?”
— Clearly what — beans with smoked lard!
- What would you choose? asked the second.
- I would like to eat a sausage - as long as the road from Lamballe to Saint-Brieuc.
- And I would like the sea to be made of only fat. I would climb into it and eat my fill.
"What are you talking about, boy?" - all three turned to the fourth.
Why am I silent? What to choose? All the best you have already taken for yourself ...

JEAN MENARD AND THE DONKEY
Jean Menard heaped an armful of brushwood on his back and climbed onto his donkey. And what would you think: he did not like it! He even shook his head and - no move!
- How! Jean Menard was indignant. "You're still dissatisfied, you scoundrel!" What are you thinking of crying when the whole burden lies on me?!

ABOUT THE CURE WHO LOVED FOOD
In a small town in the department of Ile-et-Villain, the curate once lived. More than anything, he loved to eat. And when a roast goose appeared on the table, then the priest was not himself. One day he tells his maid:
- Here's what, Zhanna, fry a goose, but fatter. We will eat it together in the evening. And then every time, as soon as you smell a goose, someone will definitely come to visit. There is almost nothing left for us. And then it's just you and me.
- With pleasure! the maid replied. - And so that no one peeps, I will curtain the window.
Oh, and she brought a magnificent goose to the table! Just lick your fingers! But as soon as they began to eat, the curate looked out the window and saw an approaching company: his dearest clergy brothers were walking. And what is there to be surprised at: among this brethren it is so usual - to come to visit without any invitations.
- Zhanna, hide the goose as soon as possible! shouted the curate, and he hurried to meet the uninvited guests. Certainly not with open arms. What do you! Even from the threshold, the curate put on a pained look, groaned, sighed.
“Ah, my friends,” he clutched his head, “how unfortunate you came today. I got really sick. Just unable to accept you. And besides, there is nothing to treat ...
Uninvited guests grimaced sour mines:
“Ay-yay-yay, what a shame. We are very sorry, dear friend. What to do... We'll have to postpone our visit until the next time. Let's go to the next parish, maybe we'll have more luck there.
“Yes, yes, my friends,” sighed the curate. “Very disappointed that this happened. I wish you a good journey.
But as soon as the guests disappeared from sight, the curate immediately forgot about all his illnesses.
- Jeanne! he shouted. - Where did you hide the goose?
"You'll never guess," said the maid proudly.
- To the cellar?
- Not.
- Under the bed?
No, no, don't even try to guess. I hid it in the church, in the altar!
And you should note that just at that time the roofers were repairing the church roof. They opened the roof, they smell - it smells like a goose. Fried! The artisans were surprised: why would it smell like goose in the church? Went down inside. And there really is a roasted goose in the altar. “Yes, it is the Lord God himself who sends us a reward for our labors!” Roofers laughed. And they ate the goose. They ate, licked their fingers, and took the bones and put them into the hands of the statue of the saint, which stood closest to the altar.
The Cure, of course, knew nothing about this. As soon as he heard where the goose was hidden, he immediately ordered the maid:
- Run faster for the goose. Finally, we can eat in peace. I hope no one bothers us now.
The maid ran. She didn’t have time to slam the door behind her - she hurries back:
"Mr Curie!" Mister Curie! A miracle happened! The saints ate our goose!
The curate was very surprised. I went to church myself. He sees that indeed Saint Sebastian is holding goose bones in his hands. The priest fell to his knees:
— Oh God, nothing else than this is your punishment for my love for earthly food!
But if you think that since then the curé has become less fond of roast geese, then you are very, very mistaken.

PUZZLES
I'm here and you're in Paris
and I don't see you.
But in the morning with only water
we wash with you
and one towel
we have, my friend, with you.
How so?
That's it!
You are given to seek the answer,
I won't reveal secrets.

(Dew and sun)

***
Here is the house
ten windows.
On every window
ten pots,
on each
ten roosters are sitting,
everyone has it
exactly ten chickens,
each
ten fluffy chickens,
and each of them is a chicken snub.
And how many of them?
Here is the question.

***
Black at the top
and red at the bottom.
In black
people hid the storm.
Red screams:
- Stay in the wind!
If you burst -
I'll die right there!

(cauldron and fire)

BOURBONNET
If you want to see old France, go to Bourbonnais! See the castle on the wooded hill? Yes, yes, the one that is surrounded by houses and green garden beds! In the same way, this castle stood surrounded by gnome houses many centuries ago. The same picture: the castle of the lord-feudal lord - and the shacks of his subjects - the Villans - crowding closer to the master in case enemies attack.
It is a sin for this historical province of France to complain about its lands. True, the Massif Central, known for its barren soils and almost impenetrable steeps, is nearby, but Bourbonnais, which was attached in the northeastern part of this massif along the banks of the Allier and Cher rivers, got both fertile lands and good roads. Bourbonnet got a magnificent valley, cutting through the gloomy Massif Central! Once upon a time, the old eastern Roman road from the Mediterranean Sea to the north went along it (traces of antiquity were best preserved on it). Now, in the same direction, through the city of Moulin, trains on the Paris-Barcelona line rumble at the junctions.
Obviously, you have already heard about the famous Vichy mineral springs? It's here too. Highly famous sources! The ancient Romans knew about them! Vichy still keeps the remains of their buildings.
Since ancient times, marble has also been developed in Bourbonne.
In the Middle Ages, lead luster ore was discovered in the province. And when coal was also found in the Commantry area, the city of Montpluson was immediately lucky. He found himself right between ore and coal. In order to reduce the cost of delivering ore, the enterprising Monplusons dug a canal along the Sher River - and iron, copper, lead themselves flowed into their city, immediately turning into cannons and armor. The inhabitants of Bourbonnet were even very surprised to learn that they are so warlike! ..
By the way, does the very word “Bourbonnet” remind you of anything? Then it's worth remembering.
From the name of the castle in the old province of Bourbonnais, the French got its name noble family— Bourbons. When you study the history of France, you meet the Bourbons quite often. Many of them held high government posts, and the King of Navarre, Henry of Bourbon, even took the French throne in 1589 under the name of Henry IV. Yes, he occupied it so firmly that his descendants sat on this throne until the Great French Revolution - until 1792. Even deposed from the throne, they did not want to believe it at all, they tried in every possible way to return to the kings, and for a short time (from 1814 to 1830 - the period of restoration) they succeeded. These Bourbons were greedy for power! ..
And what kind of people they were, says at least the fact that the very word “bourbon” has become a household word: this is what they call rude, uncouth warriors, who by hook or by crook (the latter, more precisely) made their way from privates to officers. Russian writers I. S. Turgenev, M. E. Saltykov-Shchedrin wrote about such “bourbons”.
But - stop: in no case should you confuse the rude "Bourbons" with the hardworking, kind and cheerful people of the province of Bourbonnais.

SOFFLE
Have you heard of the kingdom of Pimprelen? Well, how was it! It was ruled by such a stupid, so gullible king that no other like it could be found. Sometimes he went hunting, sometimes fishing, but his greatest pleasure was to visit a relative named Cornancu, to whom the king's foster sister was married.
The fact is that this Cornanque was a very clever man, a great master of fiction. When the king came to visit him, Kornanku came up with something that everyone around was delighted!
Of course, the inventor himself did not remain at a loss: he lured a lot of money from the king. He and his wife spent them right and left, not caring about tomorrow at all. And why worry? How to fill an empty pocket, they knew perfectly well.
And suddenly the king got married! How the bride did not want to marry in the kingdom of Pimprelen, but she went! The kingdom of Pimprelen was very rich! And twice the size of her parents' kingdom.
Soon the young queen fell ill with black melancholy: she turned pale and lost weight right before her eyes.
The king summoned the most skillful healers of his kingdom. They examined the patient and declared: so and so, they say, we cannot vouch for her life if no one can make the queen laugh or at least make her smile.
The king began to arrange holidays, dances, comedies - all in vain. The queen was still sad. The king announced that the person who invents a fun and this fun makes the queen laugh will receive a big reward. But even Cornancu, inexhaustible in invention, was powerless. Only once, the queen twisted her lips in a smile, and that's it.
However, even this pleased the king. More and more often he began to visit the cunning relative, to inquire: did he come up with something new?
And then one day, when Cornancu was sitting by the hearth and guarding the soup so that it would not boil away, he saw through the window that the king was coming. Without hesitation, he grabbed a bucket of water and filled the fire. Burning his fingers, he scooped up hot coals, firebrands and threw them out the window. Then he removed the pot of steaming soup and placed it on the floor in the middle of the room. He himself, too, sat down next to the bowler hat and let's beat him with a whip with all the strength.
Behind this lesson, the king found him.
— What are you doing? - he asked.
“Sir, I cook soup in this way.
And in fact: steam was pouring out from under the lid of the pot. The pleasant aroma of boiled vegetables wafted through the kitchen.
Do you cook soup without fire? the king was surprised. - How it is?
"There is nothing easier," Cornancu smiled. “I hit the pot with this whip, and in five minutes the soup is ready.” I was taught this by my godmother, who knew how to conjure a little. And she gave me this bowler hat and a whip. Only today I whipped the whip too hard and burned my fingers! .. Yes, the soup is ready! ..
- Well, miracles! the king exclaimed.
“Sir, I will not let you go until you taste my soup,” the resourceful rogue answered him.
The king ate a bowl and a half of soup and couldn't praise it enough.
“It’s just a little hot,” he remarked, putting down the spoon. And then I decided: I need to show this miracle to the Queen. Surely it will amuse her.
“Listen, Cornancu, sell me this bowler hat and whip,” the king got up from the table. How much are you asking for them?
- Sovereign ... Your Majesty ... I would not agree to part with these things for anything in the world. They are doubly sacred to me. But... For the sake of such a good king as you, in memory of your favors in the past and in the hope of your favors in the future, I will still give you a whip and a bowler hat. Fill this pot with gold coins and it's yours. Along with a whip to boot.
“Hand on, Cornancu!” the king rejoiced.
He returned to the palace cheerful and radiant. Still: so cheaply bought a curiosity, which no one in the world, I suppose, has ever heard of!
The whip and bowler hat were placed in the Great Living Room, which was also called Golden. Everything about her was gold. From the ceiling beams to the floor tiles, everything was golden. The wallpaper was woven from golden threads. The chairs (and, of course, the throne) were gold. Fireplace too. Charcoal tongs are gold. And most of all, the bellows for fanning the fire in the fireplace were striking: on one side of them shone a sun made of diamonds, on the other, a moon and stars laid out of precious stones.
The queen, her ladies-in-waiting, ministers, courtiers, chamberlains were invited to this magnificent living room! .. The chief cook had already prepared everything that was supposed to be for soup.
“Now you will see the greatest miracle in the world!” the king addressed the audience. - There is a cauldron in front of you. Now I will whip him with this whip - and in five minutes the soup will be ready.
Throwing off his camisole hung with orders, putting the crown on a round table, the king rolled up the sleeves of his shirt - and, well, whip the cauldron!
Elegant ladies-in-waiting, ministers with briefcases under their arms, a crowd of courtiers and even cooks - all with bated breath, did not take their eyes off the bowler hat.
The queen began to laugh. Yes, and with what: her royal husband, disheveled, sweating from efforts, with a red face, like a cockscomb, was really ridiculous!
Five minutes had already passed, and the cauldron remained as cold as it was. At this point, even the stupid king guessed that he was deceived. Well, the king was angry!
"Bring Cornancu here!" he shouted. - Jail him! Unfortunate, he offended my majesty! Hang up! Hang Cornanque!
The king raised such a cry that the courtiers were blown away by the wind. But at that moment, when the king had already begun to wheeze from screaming, the court healers ran up to him and joyfully announced:
— Your Majesty! Your Majesty! The queen laughed! She is still laughing! The Queen is on the mend! Please go take a look. Notify the kingdom that the queen has recovered!
And then the queen herself entered the living room.
“Sire,” she said. - I feel great. There they brought poor Cornanque under escort. I conjure you: have mercy on him. To him alone I owe my recovery. And to recover completely, I need it every day. Make him our court jester!
The king ordered Cornanque to be brought.
“I forgive you, Cornancu,” said the king. - And I appoint the court jester. However, in order for no one to offend my majesty, you must be punished. And that's what... You'll get a soufflé! With these words, the king gave Cornancu such a slap in the face that sparks fell from the poor fellow's eyes.
(And so that you are not surprised, we note: "suffle" is just a "slap in the face", only in French.) Cornancu took a breath and said:
“Your Majesty, thank you very much for the favor bestowed on me and for the honor you do me. And here comes my wife. The poor thing is in tears. She thinks I'm going to be hanged and doesn't know about all your awards. Let me show her my cheek, which is imprinted with five of your royal fingers. Let her admire the honor bestowed on me by Your Majesty. And in order for this to remain for us as an eternal memory, allow me, sir, to give her a soufflé.
“I agree,” said the king. “But not so much. Don't forget that she is my foster sister.
“Willingly, my lord,” bowed Cornancu. — A dainty little soufflé.
With these words, Kornankyu went to the fireplace, took the precious wineskins and gave them to his wife.
(Here again, it should be noted that in French the word "bellows" sounds exactly the same as "slap" - "suffle".)
The king liked Cornancu's resourcefulness so much that he immediately demoted him from the court jesters and appointed him the first minister! It is said that this benefited the kingdom of Pimprelen.

“We have a long history with the US. Together we built peace on the planet… Today I want to offer more independence. Don't get close to Mr. Putin. I want to build independence with responsibility, with real European politics…”

This is probably the right decision. Indeed, today it is rather reckless to build peace on the planet, based on Montesquieu's quotes, Rousseau's principles and Voltaire's legal doctrine in our difficult time.

After all, Japan has long been under the protectorate and protection of the United States. And he feels quite independent about it. And he compensates for his hurt pride with periodic territorial claims against Russia.

As for the "long history with the United States", the French candidate probably meant that diplomatic relations between the countries were established already in 1778. One nuance: Franco-Russian diplomatic relations began in May 1051 on the day of the marriage of the French king Henry I (1009/10-1060) with the daughter of the Kyiv prince Yaroslav the Wise Anna. At this moment, a pan-headed herd is expected to attack, shouting that it was the day the Ukrainian-French relations were established, but more on that some other time.

Of course, times are now such that any politician is viewed through the prism of his relationship to Russia. But, the right word, such rude flattery and frank sycophancy in relation to the United States does not look very worthy. At least because the memories of a very recent past are fresh.

In the very period when immigrants from Europe were just building a new and wonderful world in the New World at the expense of the rights, freedoms and lives of local natives, one well-known Frenchman was already trying to build a real European policy. On the territory of Russia, including. But it didn't work out. And a little over 70 years ago, the whole of France shuddered from the irrepressible appetites of another "lover of getting closer." The USSR pulled her out of an uncomfortable position, lifted her up, shook her off and put her on her feet. But she again demonstrated the flexibility of the spine and this time caved in under the USA.

Apparently, then the same joint construction of the world began. In Algeria and Indochina, in Libya and Kosovo, in Chad and Sudan.

From the point of view of France, there is nothing reprehensible in this. In the end, everyone chooses for themselves. And the choice today is not so great. Either you enter into friendly relations with Russia, or intimate - with the United States. Maintaining neutrality is an unaffordable luxury.

But there is one point. As European politicians compete to pay the US the utmost respect, new Secretary of State Tillerson plans to miss his first meeting of NATO foreign ministers scheduled for April 5-6 because of a visit to Russia. And Trump will meet with Chinese President Xi Jinping immediately after the summit.

Thus, the vector of priorities of the American foreign policy marked very clearly.

However, this should not embarrass the French at all and prevent them from feeling like an important geopolitical player invited to an event called “we are ours, we new world let's build" and ignore one of its organizers with all his appearance. Mr Putin from Russia. With which today's France has and should have absolutely nothing in common)

We have a long history with the US. Together we built peace on the planet… Today I want to offer more independence. Don't get close to Mr. Putin. I want to build independence with responsibility, with true European politics...

These are the words of French presidential candidate Emmanuel Macron. It seems that the once great France, whose history began dozens of centuries before the “Christmas” of the United States, is now officially ready to receive the status of a vassal.

This is probably the right decision. Indeed, today it is rather reckless to build peace on the planet, based on Montesquieu's quotes, Rousseau's principles and Voltaire's legal doctrine in our difficult time.

After all, Japan has long been under the protectorate and protection of the United States. And he feels quite independent about it. And he compensates for his hurt pride with periodic territorial claims against Russia.

As for the "long history with the United States", the French candidate probably meant that diplomatic relations between the countries were established already in 1778. One nuance: Franco-Russian diplomatic relations began in May 1051 on the day of the marriage of the French king Henry I (1009/10-1060) with the daughter of the Kyiv prince Yaroslav the Wise Anna. At this moment, a pan-headed herd is expected to attack, shouting that it was the day the Ukrainian-French relations were established, but more on that some other time.

Of course, times are now such that any politician is viewed through the prism of his relationship to Russia. But, the right word, such rude flattery and frank sycophancy in relation to the United States does not look very worthy. At least because the memories of a very recent past are fresh.

In the very period when immigrants from Europe were just building a new and wonderful world in the New World at the expense of the rights, freedoms and lives of local natives, one well-known Frenchman was already trying to build a real European policy. On the territory of Russia, including. But it didn't work out. And a little over 70 years ago, all of France shuddered from the indefatigable appetites of yet another "lover of getting closer." The USSR pulled her out of an uncomfortable position, lifted her up, shook her off and put her on her feet. But she again demonstrated the flexibility of the spine and this time caved in under the USA.

Apparently, then the same joint construction of the world began. In Algeria and Indochina, in Libya and Kosovo, in Chad and Sudan.

From the point of view of France, there is nothing reprehensible in this. In the end, everyone chooses for themselves. And the choice today is not so great. Either you enter into friendly relations with Russia, or intimate relations with the United States. Maintaining neutrality is an unaffordable luxury.

But there is one point. As European politicians compete to pay the US the utmost respect, new Secretary of State Tillerson plans to miss his first meeting of NATO foreign ministers scheduled for April 5-6 because of a visit to Russia. And Trump will meet with Chinese President Xi Jinping immediately after the summit.

Thus, the vector of priorities of American foreign policy is indicated very clearly.

However, this should not embarrass the French at all and prevent them from feeling like an important geopolitical player invited to an event called “we are ours, we will build a new world” and ignore one of its organizers with all their appearance. Mr Putin from Russia. With which today's France has and should have absolutely nothing in common)

Like any folklore collection, this book can be read from anywhere and as much as you want, because every fairy tale - everyday, magical, about animals - is completely self-sufficient. In addition, in addition to fairy tales, the collection contains poetic riddles, sayings, fairy tale songs, short joke stories that kids also like. This option of getting to know France is perfect for five-six-year-olds, who will have enough of a general idea of ​​​​the country where easily imagined kings and princesses once lived, as well as more mysterious seigneurs, villans and cures (the meanings of these words, most likely new to children, are taken out in collection in footnotes). By the way, at the same time we will explain that the villans are the old name for the peasants who worked on the land, the lords are the owners of this land, and the cures have long been called priests in France. Senior preschoolers having experience of listening to Russian folk tales, will easily catch the characteristic features of French fairy tales. For example, there are almost no images of a father and three sons, traditional for Russian folklore, of which the youngest is smarter and more successful than the rest, there are almost no fairy tales about the exploits of princes and battles with snakes. But a whole layer of texts tells about the industrious, savvy and tight-fisted French peasants. They single-handedly deceive their greedy and stupid masters and become rich themselves, as, for example, in the fairy tale "The Bishop and the Miller", where a simple peasant so puzzled an important bishop with his witty answers that he had to, no less, make him a parish priest. What is the distance from the Earth to the Sun? One look. What is the depth of the sea? One stone throw. Indeed, a person who answers so wisely is worthy of becoming rich! In the fairy tale “The Magic Ring”, the poor baker managed not only to marry the arrogant daughter of a wealthy miller, but also to get a magic ring and money in addition. And in the Marseilles fairy tale "Jean and the King" the farmer circled the king himself.

It is very possible that such a selection of texts is connected with the time of the first edition of the collection in Russian - it was published in 1978, and its format was determined, of course, by the tasks of the Soviet ideological system. But the modern reprint does not look like a museum exhibit, interesting only to philologists. Our children, growing up in a world where the European ideals of personal enterprise, ingenuity and thrift are proclaimed the basis of life success, most likely will not perceive these stories as archaic or tendentious. In the life that they observe around them, almost everything is the same as in a fairy tale.

But the most interesting thing, of course, is to read The Gallic Rooster with younger schoolchildren of eight or nine years old, who are attracted not only by the fairy tales themselves, but also by the world: history, geography, nature. It is for such interested readers that the collection is divided into several parts, and each contains fairy tales from one of the French provinces (Burgundy, Normandy, Ile-de-France, Gascony, Provence, etc.). On the flyleaf of the book are drawn maps of France, where the names of the provinces and their main cities are highlighted, the largest rivers are marked and some sights are depicted. In each part dedicated to one of the provinces, there is a stylized image of the local coat of arms and a short historical and ethnographic digression, from which children will learn that, for example, in Auvergne, healing mineral springs gush out of the ground, and in Brittany winds of a monstrous nature often blow. strength, you can fly into the sea! The province of Bourbonnais once elevated the entire royal Bourbon dynasty to the French throne, and Burgundy is known throughout the world for its wines and ceramics. The province of Ile-de-France, together with Paris, is an island surrounded by the waters of five rivers, and Picardy in the Middle Ages was the site of a bloody peasant uprising. For the most meticulous readers, at the end of the book there is a “Gallic Rooster Information Desk”, where you can find out, for example, about traditional French holidays.

Of course, the main thing in this book is not the historical and geographical surveys, but the fairy tales themselves, but the combination of these two genres can give an unexpected result. Even if we do not go to France for real, nothing will stop us and our children from making this trip in our imagination. Thanks to the successful selection of texts, in a few evenings we will still feel how the hot Marseillais and gullible Angevins, cold-blooded stern Bretons and talkative Parisians differ in temperament and attitude towards the world.

From such reading, "charged" with ethnographic research, several home games can be born at once, which are interesting for children of primary school age. For example, a map that is placed on the endpapers can be redrawn together with the children on a large sheet of paper and supplemented with images of your favorite fairytale heroes or characteristic words that are still used in different provinces. Then a real fabulous map of France will appear in the nursery. If desired, this card can be turned into a board game by writing fragments from fairy tales from different provinces on separate cards. The essence of the game is to try to guess from a fragment of text where exactly in France such a fairy tale could be born, and thereby gain the right to “move” to another province. On the back of each card, you can write the name of the province and its coat of arms so that you can check your guess. It often happens that a good book does not let children go for a long time, and such games in the wake of reading are a great opportunity to make a fabulous journey again and again.

Yes, by the way, why, in fact, the "Gallic cock"? The kids are sure to ask about it. In this case, the creators of the collection have a special preface in store, which tells that the ancestors of the French were warlike Gauls (or Celts), who, back in the era ancient world fought against the invincible Roman legions. It was the Romans who dubbed the Celts "Gauls", "roosters" - most likely, precisely for the fighting qualities of their character. Or maybe for the lightness and gaiety that many French fairy tales literally sparkle with.

Elena Litvyak

“The Gallic rooster tells.
Collection of French Folklore"
Drawings by Boris Kalaushin
Translated from French by P. Dlugolenskaya
Publishing house "Rech", 2017