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Welcome to Stories Podcast.
I'm your host, Amanda Weldon.
Today's story is a throwback episode.
Tune in to hear one of our classic stories from the archive that you might have missed the first time around.
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Enjoy the episode!
The Village That Didn't Share.
Once upon a time, in the forests of the old country, there was a village that never learned how to share.
The adults didn't share their tools.
The kids didn't share their toys.
Even the dogs wouldn't share their bones.
And if you were a beggar, forget about it.
They'd sooner marry their horses on a Sunday than they'd share food with a stranger.
Of course, word spread the way that words do, and the village that never shared soon got a reputation.
A reputation that passed from lip to dusty lip.
Soon, travelers stopped passing through and sharing their stories of the outside world, so the village didn't get any news.
Merchants stopped visiting and hawking their goods, so the village never got anything new.
They claim even the animals stopped going, which doesn't make much sense when you think about it, but goes to show how bad the village's reputation had gotten.
Not knowing this, not in fact knowing anything of the general area in which they found themselves, two weary travelers stumbled towards the village one evening.
The sun was just beginning to nestle itself to bed behind the pines, the bugs and frogs just starting their nightly concert of buzz chirp ribbit.
When the travelers walked into the village square and set down their things.
One was a man, the other a woman.
They dressed alike in ragged suits of green and gray, and their names were Maria and John.
Hello, called John aloud.
He had a wide face and a pleasant, toothy smile.
Despite the slightly ragged clothes, he had a friendly air about him.
Is there an inn in this village?
Maybe a bed and breakfast?
We could badly use a place to rest.
He was met with scowls from the nearby villagers.
One, a burly man with a drooping mustache and a baker's apron came forward.
No in here, in fact.
Nothing here for you at all.
Best keep moving, he said, turning to spit on the ground.
Please? replied Maria, as polite as she could muster.
We're heading to Exeter and got turned around in the woods.
We've been lost for two days and we're all out of food.
We've had nothing but ground acorns for days and we're starving.
The baker just looked at her with a furrowed brow, his mouth a hard white line.
Please, said Maria again.
Could you just share one bite?
The baker scoffed and other villagers sneered.
We don't share, the baker said.
And, as if on cue, the villagers all returned to their homes.
Soon, Maria and John could smell all manner of delicious things cooking and warm homey smoke puffed out of the brick chimneys.
What will we do? said John, slapping his hands on his green and gray trousers.
We'll think of something, Maria replied.
We always do.
And, of course, they did.
An hour or so later, a woman left her home to take her nightly walk, and she found the pair of travelers set up in the middle of the village.
They had a fire going, and a big cookpot of water just beginning to boil.
Curious, the woman peered into the pot, but there was nothing inside but the bubbling water.
Curious, she turned to John, who was stirring the kettle with a long wooden spoon.
What are you cooking?
Why, we're making stone soup.
Stone soup? she asked, face scrunching.
I've never heard of stone soup in my life.
How's it made?
It's easy and just a little magic, said Maria with a wink.
From a leather pouch at her belt she pulled out a smooth gray stone flecked with shiny bits of mica.
She had found it by the stream just a few minutes earlier and was very pleased with its look.
Magic? asked the woman.
Magic? replied Maria, throwing her arms wide.
I put the stone in the water, like so.
She dropped the stone into the bubbling cookpot.
And before you know it, all the hidden flavors are released from my special stone and we have the most delicious soup anyone has ever tasted.
At this point, a few villagers were listening in, even though they pretended like they weren't.
Wow, said the woman.
That sounds interesting.
Could I try a bowl?
This question, of course, is exactly what Maria and John were waiting for.
Sorry, said John.
We've been told that there's no sharing in this village.
We'd hate to get you in any trouble.
"'No,' said Maria.
The soup could use a vegetable, just for some color, you understand.
If you wanted to throw in some, I don't know, uh, carrots?
I have carrots at home.
Perfect!
If you want to throw in some carrots, then it's more like a trade.
Carrots for a bowl of soup.
Why, it's hardly sharing at all.
You're right!
I'll be right back, the woman said, and she ran off, only to return a minute later with an armload of carrots.
Maria chopped them up and added them to the boiling cook pot.
Another villager overheard and asked if they could make a similar trade.
And soon the pot had some rosemary as well.
Others gathered, curious.
Now you may remember that Maria and John were wearing old clothes of green and gray, but what you don't know is that they were traveling performers, and those were the colors of their troupe which was waiting for them in Exeter.
And, being professional performers, they quickly saw they had to do a little selling.
John set aside his soup spoon and drew a battered lute from his bag.
Maria smiled widely, stepping up on a bench.
Stone soup!
It's delicious, you should try!
Stone soup!
It's the best, I'll testify!
Stone soup!
The finest meal you can make!
Stone soup!
Just need some old give and take!
Step on up!
And trade a bit for a bowl!
Right this way!
To get in line for the dole!
Eat stone soup!
Cause I'm telling you now you know!
Stone soup is good for the soul.
Stone soup has some magic, a dash.
Stone soup has some wonder, a splash.
Stone soup will it fill you with glee.
Stone soup, gotta try it and see.
Step on up and trade a bit for a bowl.
Right this way to get in line for the dole.
Eat stone soup, because I'm telling you now you know.
Stone Soup is good for the soul.
As the song went on, more and more villagers took the deal, dropping in ingredients in exchange for a bowl of the good stone soup.
Soon the pot was full of carrots and rosemary and pork and onions and celery and rice and all manner of delicious things.
John gave it a stir with his big wooden spoon and then scooped up a little.
He offered it to Maria, who blew away the steam and took a big slurp.
Delicious, she cried, and the village cheered.
Someone brought out bowls for everyone, and John filled them up, one at a time.
Soon, the entire village was gathered together outside, talking and laughing and smiling over their bowls of stone soup.
And maybe it's because they didn't notice.
And maybe it's because they didn't realize.
But no one ever mentioned that the stone was nothing special.
And it was their sharing that had made the soup so delicious.
Just like John and Maria had planned.
They sat together near the cookpot, eating their soup with sly smiles.
Hey, you two.
They looked up with surprise.
The burly baker was looming over them, big hands curled into big fists.
Hey, said John.
We don't want any trouble.
Mmm, said the baker, frowning.
I don't either.
I just, he trailed off, looking embarrassed.
I just thought maybe I could have some soup.
I know it's finished, but I could give you these.
He held out those big fists and John and Maria flinched.
But then he uncurled his fingers.
Inside, he held two golden rolls.
They were buttery and flaky and so warm and fresh they steamed in the cool night air.
John took a roll with one hand and then shook the baker's hand with the other.
They all smiled sheepishly and then started to laugh.
The villagers ate stone soup and celebrated well into the night, and from that day on they were a little slower to hoard and a little quicker to share.
The travelers and the merchants returned, and so did Maria and John, at least once a year.
Of course, they were always warmly welcomed.
And, of course, they always made the village a big pot of stone soup.
The End.
Today's story, The Village That Didn't Share, was an adaptation of an old folktale written for you by Daniel Hines, performed for you by me, Amanda Weldon, with a song by us both.
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