The hoop and stick

Once there was a little boy who had a hoop and a stick.

He was a very poor boy and the hoop and stick were the only toys he possessed.

Still, he got great pleasure out of them and liked nothing better than rolling his hoop along the pavement with his stick.

One day, however, an old witch who cooked and ate children for supper saw the boy playing with the hoop and stick and thought she could use the hoop to trap him.

And so, waving her magic wand, she cast a spell upon the hoop which made it run away from the boy as if it had a mind of its own and, because the boy did not want to lose the hoop that was his only toy, he chased after it.

He chased it down the pavement and across the road and down another pavement and over a bridge until it came to a forest and then he chased it through the forest even though it zig-zagged between the trees until, finally, it came to the witches old cottage and rolled in through the open door so then, without thinking, the boy ran into the cottage after it.

The moment that he did, however, the door of the cottage slammed shut and, from behind him, he heard an evil cackling voice.

“Ha ha!”, said the voice, “I have you trapped now”.

And turning round, the boy saw the witch stalking slowly towards him.

“Foolish little boy”, she said, “Chasing after a silly hoop. Now I shall put you in my cooking pot”.

But then, just as the witch was bending down to grab him, the boy picked up his hoop and put it over the witch’s head and shoulders, pushing it down until both her arms were stuck.

“Oh no you won’t”, said the boy, defiantly.

And then, picking up his stick, he whirled the witch round until she became so dizzy that she fell on her side, then he rolled the hoop with the witch still in it out of the door of her cottage, through the forest and down a bumpy hill until they reached a deep well.

Then he rolled the witch into the well and she was never seen again.

Unfortunately, though the evil witch was gone, the boy was not happy because his hoop had gone as well so now he didn’t have a toy to play with.

“Oh I only wish I had another hoop”, he said, glumly.

Just then however, the stick in the boys hand started to glow a bright blue colour.

It was not his stick at all, you see. It was the witch’s wand that he had picked up by mistake.

And suddenly, out of the end of the wand, shot a blue bolt of lightning that then curled itself round into a circle and then, the light of the lightning bolt growing dimmer, to the boys amazement, he realised that it had turned into a bright shiny new hoop.

Now, because the boy had the witch’s wand he could have wished for anything; gold; diamonds; rubies; anything he wanted but he already had everything he could ever want; a stick and a hoop to play with and so he threw the wand down the well that, from that day onwards, became a magic wishing well then, rolling the hoop back home; boy, stick and hoop lived happily (or perhaps hoopily) ever after.