Once upon a time, at the edge of a deep green wood, there lived a little girl with hair so golden that everyone called her Goldilocks. Goldilocks was sweet, and Goldilocks was kind, but Goldilocks had one weakness: when she saw something interesting, she simply had to have a closer look.
One morning, out picking flowers, she followed a butterfly a little too far, then a bird a little further, then an interesting smell further still — and found herself deep in the wood, standing in front of a snug little cottage with smoke curling from the chimney.
The interesting smell was porridge.
Now, this cottage belonged to three bears. There was Papa Bear, who was great and big, with a great big deep voice. There was Mama Bear, who was middle-sized, with a warm middle-sized voice. And there was Baby Bear, who was just a little small wee bear, with a little small wee voice. That very morning, their porridge had been too hot to eat, so they'd gone for a walk in the woods while it cooled.
Goldilocks knocked. No answer. She knocked again. No answer. And because the door was open just a crack, and because the porridge smelled so interesting, in she went. (She shouldn't have. She knew she shouldn't have. In she went anyway.)
On the table sat three bowls of porridge.
She tried the great big bowl. "Ow! Too hot!"
She tried the middle-sized bowl. "Brr! Too cold!"
She tried the little small wee bowl — and it was just right. So she ate it all up, every last spoonful.
By the fire stood three chairs. Goldilocks, feeling full, decided to sit down.
The great big chair? Much too hard.
The middle-sized chair? Much too soft.
The little small wee chair? Just right… until — CRACK! — it broke into pieces and dumped her on the floor.
"Oh dear," said Goldilocks. And feeling suddenly very sleepy (porridge does that), she climbed the stairs, where she found three beds.
The great big bed was too lumpy at the top. The middle-sized bed was too lumpy at the bottom. But the little small wee bed was just right all over, and Goldilocks fell fast asleep.
Presently, home came the three bears, quite ready for breakfast.
Papa Bear looked at the table and said, in his great big voice, "SOMEBODY'S BEEN EATING MY PORRIDGE."
Mama Bear said, in her middle-sized voice, "Somebody's been eating my porridge."
And Baby Bear said, in his little small wee voice, "Somebody's been eating my porridge — and they've eaten it all up!"
Then they saw the chairs.
"SOMEBODY'S BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR," said Papa Bear.
"Somebody's been sitting in my chair," said Mama Bear.
"Somebody's been sitting in my chair," said Baby Bear, "and they've broken it to bits!"
Up the stairs they crept, one, two, three.
"SOMEBODY'S BEEN SLEEPING IN MY BED," said Papa Bear.
"Somebody's been sleeping in my bed," said Mama Bear.
"Somebody's been sleeping in my bed," squeaked Baby Bear, "and here she is!"
At the sound of three bear voices, Goldilocks' eyes flew open — and there were three furry faces looking down at her. She leapt up with a squeal, sprang to the window, hopped out into the flower bed, and ran and ran and ran, golden hair streaming, all the way home to her own little house, where she promised herself — quite sincerely — never to wander into strangers' cottages again, no matter how interesting the smell.
As for the three bears: Mama fixed the little chair with glue and a ribbon, Papa made a fresh pot of porridge, and Baby Bear got the biggest bowl this time, which he ate sitting up in his own just-right bed.
And ever since that day, the three bears have locked their front door when they go out walking. Which, if you ask Goldilocks, is probably for the best.