The First Tale
 The Birth of the Twins
 Right, now we shall begin. When we reach the end
 of our story, we shall know more than we know now.
  ANDERSEN: ‘The Snow Queen’
 In Bainu, the beautiful capital city of Babina, there once
 lived a poor cobbler and his wife.
 One morning, two puppies came running into the cobbler’s
 workshop. They greeted him, barking and wagging their tails,
 and started playing with the shoes that he was mending.
 “What’s all this?” the cobbler shouted. “Away with you!”
 And he chased them outside.
 The next morning, however, the dogs came back, barking
 and wagging their tails as before, and once again he chased
 them out of his workshop. But when he joined his wife in the
 kitchen at lunchtime, the dogs were under the table, eating
 together from the same plate.
 “What are you doing?” he said to his wife. “Are you feeding
 those animals? They’ve already been into the workshop
 bothering me twice. Get rid of them!”
 “Oh,” said his wife, “but they’re such friendly little things!
 And have you seen how thin they are? Let them stay. They
 clearly trust us to look after them.”
 “Absolutely not,” said the cobbler. “We’re poor and we have
 a child on the way. There is no way we can have two dogs.”
 “But we always have a few leftover scraps that they could
 eat,” his wife replied. “And they can guard our house. Please,
 let them stay.”
 “As if we have anything that needs guarding!” said the
 cobbler, but his wife kept on pleading, so he gave in, because
 he was in fact just as kind-hearted as she was.
 So then they had two dogs, which brought them a lot of
 problems, but also a lot of pleasure.
 A week later, the cobbler found a basket outside his door.
 There were two kittens inside, meowing sadly.
 “We have no use for these little beasts,” he said to his wife.
 “I’m going to get rid of them.”
 “No, you can’t do that!” said his wife. “They’re so sweet.
 Look, they’ve only just opened their eyes. Let’s keep them.”
 “Absolutely not!” cried the cobbler. “We’re poor and we’re
 about to have a child. Besides, we already have two dogs.”
 “Cats hardly eat anything though,” said his wife. “And
 they catch mice.”
 Once again, the cobbler gave in, and so they had two dogs
 and two cats, which gave them a lot of trouble, but also a
 great deal of pleasure.
 Some time after that, the cobbler was hammering away in
 his workshop when two pigeons came flying in through the
 open windows and sat on his shoulders, one on each.
 “What do you want from me?” he asked. “I already have
 two dogs and two cats. And in a few days I’ll have a child too.
 Away with you! Scram!”
 But the pigeons stayed where they were.
 Fine then, thought the cobbler. I wonder what pigeon legs
 taste like.
 No sooner had he thought that than the pigeons flew up
 and away. The cobbler ran outside after them, trying to catch
 them, but they fluttered up onto the roof of his house.
 “Right, then you can just stay up there,” said the cobbler,
 and he headed back inside and told his wife that there were
 two pigeons on the roof.
 “You mustn’t eat them,” his wife replied. “They came to
 you of their own free will – and that’s good luck.”
 “Two dogs, two cats and two pigeons,” muttered the cobbler.
 “I wonder what other good luck is in store for us?”
 The next night, he received the answer to his question, when
 his wife gave birth to twins, two big and healthy baby boys.
 “Well, well,” said the cobbler the next morning, as he stood
 beside the bed where his wife lay, tired and happy, with a
 child in each arm. “Twins! And their birth was foretold by
 extraordinary events. So our sons are sure to become extraordinary
 children.”
 The boys were christened and given the names Laurenzo
 and Jiacomo.
 “We don’t have any money for christening gifts,” said their
 parents, “but we’ll still give them something. They shall each
 have a puppy, a kitten and a pigeon. Don’t we make a lovely
 family?”								
									 Copyright © 2020 by Tonke Dragt. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.