Stone Soup

Stone Soup

Retold by Pikabuk Studio · A traditional European folk tale, retold for this demo.

A traveller came walking down the road one cold evening. He had a patched coat, a big iron pot on his back, and nothing at all in his pockets.

In the village square he knocked on the first door. "Could you spare a little food?" he asked. "We have nothing," said the woman, and closed the door. At the second house a man shook his head. At the third house nobody answered, though the traveller could hear a spoon scraping a bowl.

The traveller did not argue. He filled his pot at the well, made a small fire in the middle of the square, and set the pot on top. Then he took a smooth grey stone from his pocket, wiped it on his sleeve, and dropped it into the water with a plop.

A boy came out to watch. "What are you making?" he asked. "Stone soup," said the traveller. "It is the finest soup in the world. Although it would be even better with one small carrot."

The boy ran home and came back with a carrot. The traveller sliced it into the pot and stirred. A woman leaned out of her window. "Stone soup?" she said. "I have never heard of it." "It is wonderful," said the traveller, sniffing the steam. "Though a few potatoes would make it taste like a feast."

The woman brought potatoes. A farmer brought an onion and some cabbage. The baker brought a little salt and a loaf of bread to go with it. An old man who had not spoken to his neighbours for a year brought a handful of beans and stayed to watch.

The soup bubbled. The square filled with a smell so good that even the people who had closed their doors came out, one after another, each with a bowl in one hand and something for the pot in the other.

When the soup was ready, the traveller ladled it out for everyone. They sat together on the steps and on the edge of the well, and for the first time that winter the whole village ate together, talking and laughing in the firelight.

"What a marvellous stone," said the farmer. "Will you sell it to us?" The traveller fished the stone out of the empty pot, rinsed it, and placed it in the boy's hand. "Keep it," he said. "It only works when everyone brings something."

The next morning the traveller was gone. But on cold evenings, the villagers still set a pot in the square, and the boy still drops in the smooth grey stone.