Pumpkin Soup Quotes

“I bet he’s in the pumpkin patch.” But the Duck was not in the pumpkin patch. They could not find him anywhere. So they waited...All that long afternoon... The Cat watched the door. The Squirrel paced the floor. “The Duck will be sorry when he comes home,” they muttered. But the Duck didn’t come home. Not even at soup time.

Deep in the woods in an old white cabin, three friends make their pumpkin soup the same way every day. The Cat slices up the pumpkin, the Squirrel stirs in the water, and the Duck tips in just enough salt.

But one day the Duck wants to stir instead, and then there is a horrible squabble, and he leaves the cabin in a huff. It isn’t long before the Cat and the Squirrel start to worry about him and begin a search for their friend.

Deep in the woods there’s an old white cabin with pumpkins in the garden. There’s a good smell of soup and a night, with luck, you might see a bagpiping Cat through the window, and Squirrel with a banjo, and a small singing Duck. A delightful tale of friendship tested when the status quo is upset. The cute companions learn the rewards of compromise and working together.

Pumpkin soup. The best you ever tasted. Made by the Cat who slices up the pumpkin. Made by the Squirrel who stirs in the water. Made by the Duck who scoops up a pipkin of salt, and tips in just enough.

They slurp their soup, and play their song, then pop off to bed, in a quilt stitched together by the Cat, embroidered by the Squirrel, and filled with fine feathers from the Duck. And it’s peaceful in the olde white cabin. Everyone has his own job to do. Everyone is happy. Or so it seems...

But one morning the Duck woke up early. He tiptoed into the kitchen and smiled at the Squirrel’s special spoon. “Wouldn’t it be fine,” he murmured, “If I could be the Head Cook.” He drew up a stool, hopped on top, and reached... until his beak just touched the tip of the spoon...Down it clattered. Then the Duck trotted back to the bedroom, help up the spoon, and said, “Today it’s my turn to stir the soup.”

“That’s mine!” squeaked the Squirrel. “Stirring is my job. Give that back!” “You’re much too small.” snapped the Cat. “We’ll cook the way we always have.” But the Duck held on tight... until the Squirrel tugged with all his might... and -WHOOPS!- the spoon spun through the air, and bopped the Cat on the head. Then there was trouble, a horrible squabble, a row, a racket, a rumpus in the old white cabin.

“I’m not staying here,” wailed the Duck. ” You never let me help with anything.” And he packed up a wheelbarrow, put on his his hat, and waddled away. “You’ll be back,” stormed the Cat, “after we’ve cleaned up” And the Squirrel shook his spoon in the air. But the Duck didn’t come back. Not for breakfast. Not even for lunch. “I’ll find him”, scoffed the Cat. “He’ll be hiding outside.”

The soup wasn’t tasty. They’d made it too salty. They didn’t feel hungry anyway. They both sobbed over supper, and their tears dripped into the soup, and made it even saltier. “We should have let him stir the soup,” sniffed the Squirrel. “He was only trying to help,” wept the Cat. “Let’s go out and look for him”.