Stone Soup

Stone Soup

by Marcia Brown


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A picture book classic about three soldiers on their way home from the war who manage to wangle a good meal from some overcareful French peasants.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780812447583
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Adult Publishing Group
Publication date: 08/28/1997
Pages: 46
Sales rank: 1,185,113
Product dimensions: 7.50(w) x 9.90(h) x 0.40(d)
Age Range: 4 - 8 Years

About the Author

Marcia Brown, one of the most honored illustrators in children’s literature, is a three-time Caldecott Medalist and six-time Caldecott Honor illustrator, as well as winner of the Children’s Literature Legacy Award (formerly known as the Laura Ingalls Wilder Award) for the body of her work. She lives in Laguna Hills, California.

Read an Excerpt

Prince of Sunset

Chapter One

Nyjord (Nu Phoenicis IV), 3889 C.E.

Afterwards, Basil Castellan was always certain that it had all begun the day he'd been rescued by the dragon.

Oh, it hadn't been a real dragon, of course. So he hastily assured everyone to whom he told the story. Only ... it had been a real dragon. He would never share that particular knowledge with anyone but Sonja and Torval.

* * *

His feet started to slip as he mounted the trail, such as it was, and he scrambled to compensate, grabbing at the slender trunk of a sapling. He felt a sense of kinship, for its species was a Terran import like his own; and the tree evidently agreed, for it held. He pulled himself upright and regained his footing, then resumed hiking uphill.

The ridge line couldn't be too much further. Not that he could see it yet, for he'd walked upward into a low-lying cloud that enveloped this region of the Kraaken range, into an enchanted world of pearly mist made subtly iridescent whenever the afternoon light of Nu Phoenicis came streaming through the occasional rift.

Then, abruptly, he was above the clouds, and the ridge line was just ahead. He hastened his steps and soon was at the summit, standing under a crystalline blue sky in which Nyjord's small, intense white sun rode serenely with only a few fleecy high-altitude clouds for escorts. He stood breathing heavily, but only for a moment. He was a healthy young man of fifteen years (local years, of course; eighteen of the standard years of faraway Earth in which people's ages, as well as history, were generally measured), and exertion in this thin mountain air was more exhilarating than exhausting. He turned slowly in a circle, automatically shading his eyes against a slightly more ultraviolet-rich sunlight than they'd evolved under.

Below and to the east, whence he'd come, the wooded mountainside sloped down into the clouds that rested against it like an ocean lapping against a breakwater. But elsewhere all was dazzling clarity, and he could see forever through air that had never known large-scale burning of hydrocarbons. Northward and southward the mountains curved away into infinity, while to the west a whole series of upland valleys spread themselves verdantly at his feet. Beyond them the further ranges of the Kraaken rose, range piled upon enormous range. Dark forests clothed the lower slopes, but above the timberline the peaks rose through snow and glaciers to altitudes where no life could exist.

After a while he dragged his eyes from those god-remote titans and gazed down at the valleys below, checkerboarded with fields and dotted with curious little towns where a few pure-blooded Old Nyjorders still spoke the language their ancestors had brought from a part of Earth called Scandinavia. The sun was warm, but his jumpsuit's molecularly engineered material responded to his sweat by breathing more copiously, and no discomfort distracted him from the view. He was still in familiar territory, for he'd come to this crag many times in the course of his youth, sometimes in the company of friends but more and more often alone. Here, with what seemed like the entire continent on display far below, he'd always felt an irrational but nonetheless real sense of isolation; his problems were down there in those distant valleys and plains, and couldn't touch him. Which was why he'd come today, for what would probably be the last time. He'd already taken a long look through the window of his old room at a familiar panorama that had suddenly seemed strange, and disposed of certain objects which he'd somehow never quite gotten around to throwing out; but this seemed the right place to complete the relinquishment of boyhood.

He shook his head, irritated with himself. It must, he decided, be the thinness of the air. His mother, a planetologist by profession, had explained it long ago. "Nyjord is a relatively massive world, compared to Old Earth," she'd clipped, in lecture mode.

"Is that what they mean by 'one point thirteen gee'?" he'd piped up, eager to display his precociousness. How old had he been that day?

"Don't interrupt. And yes, that means that our gravity is stronger than Earth standard. At the same time, our atmosphere is somewhat thinner. That's all right at sea level, or even on this plateau. But the gravity causes the atmospheric density to drop off faster with altitude-you might say the atmosphere is shallower and 'harder.' Anyway, that's why the higher peaks of the Kraakens are lifeless; they're in near-vacuum." She'd indicated the distant pale-blue mountains to the west that seemed to float above the cityscape beyond their back garden. "And it's why you and your friends have to be very careful hiking, even on the established trails. As you climb higher, the air can get dangerously thin before you know it."

He'd stopped listening, for his eyes had followed her finger toward the mountains and stayed there. "Is it true," he'd asked softly, "that a Luon lives up there?"

"Well," she'd replied, slightly ill at ease, "there are always stories. Nobody knows how many Luonli are left on this world, if any-certainly not more than a very few. Some people claim to have seen one in this part of the Kraakens. But they were probably just imagining things. Luonli are hardly ever seen unless they want to be seen."

"Why? I mean, if they're so big ...?"

Her unease had deepened. "It has to do with telepathy."

All his resolve to seem grown-up and sophisticated had fled, leaving him alone with the childhood fears that were part of his culture's legacy. "You mean ... you mean they can control your mind ...?"

"Don't be silly! The theory is that they can, ah, implant certain suggestions ... including the negative one that you haven't seen something." She'd taken a deep breath and turned severe. "Don't bother your head with such things! Even if there are any Luonli left on Nyjord, they keep to themselves just as they do on all the worlds where they live."

"But," he'd protested, "if nobody ever sees one, how do we know they even exist? My friend Ivar says they don't." But Ivar hadn't said so very loudly.

"Oh, they exist," she had said, smiling and nodding slowly. "If they didn't, we wouldn't be living here."

Later, he'd learned what she had meant. And whenever he'd walked this trail he had strained his eyes against the intense sunlight, hoping for just a glimpse in the royal-blue sky. But none had been granted him. And, it seemed, none was going to be today.

He stretched and rubbed a finger across the sun-browned skin of the back of his left hand. The imprinted circuitry glowed to life and showed him the time. He really shouldn't go any further, not if he wanted to return the way he'd come. But he could always summon the aircar he'd parked down below-it was quite capable of flying itself and seeking out his wrist communicator's homing beacon. Normally, neither he nor any of his friends would be caught dead taking advantage of any such unworthy expedient. But now, on the eve of his departure for Sigma Draconis, he was above all that. Wasn't he? He sighed. Maybe he should start back now. He began to turn, then paused for a last look at the vista which, like so much else, he was leaving behind.

It was then that a metallic-seeming glint of reflected sunlight in the high deep-blue vault of heaven caught his eye. It didn't register at first; surely it must be a high-altitude aircraft, although few such flew above this region. But no, the glint wasn't really metallic, for it was not quite coppery and not precisely golden, and as he focused on it he could make out the impossibly slow beat of vast wings....

"A Luon," he breathed, fearful to shatter the crystalline fragility of the moment. Then, as he watched, the Luon caught an updraft and snapped its wings out to full extension, swooping into a southward glide, and was gone from sight.

The lateness of the hour was forgotten. He had to get another look. He looked to his left. The trail led upward as it followed the ridge line to the south. Perhaps the Luon was headed to its home among the higher crags. Nobody really knew where they lived, but it was well known that they liked mountains, and his imagination conjured up a titanic eyrie where the Luon perched-or whatever-in lonely majesty. Without hesitation, he started upward. It was steep, and the trail seemed little used. He paused to pick up a fallen limb that was the right length to make a walking stick. He made good time with its aid, leveraging himself up the increasingly steep trail and dismissing his occasional, annoying dizziness with a headshake and a deep breath. In his eagerness, he didn't notice that he was having to do so more and more frequently.

The woods were thinning, leaving the view obstructed only by a few stunted trees. Soon, surely, he must catch another sight of the Luon. The thought made him glance upward, and he momentarily lost his footing. He muttered a word that even now would have drawn a rebuke from his mother, irritated by the way his head spun as he steadied himself. Then, up ahead, he saw that the trail narrowed as it skirted the righthand side of a crag. To the right of the trail, a sheer cliff fell away. There'd be a matchless view from there, he thought as he resumed his heavy-breathing progress.

The trail was rough as well as narrow as it wound around the crag. Fortunately, he'd never been afflicted by a fear of heights. And the view was even more spectacular than he'd expected. He rested his back and looked around for a sight of the Luon.

There was no flash of reflected sunlight anywhere in the sky. But maybe the Luon had left some trace of its habitation nearby. He leaned forward, using the stick to support his weight, and peered southward.

With a sharp crack, the stick snapped.

His oxygen-deprived brain responded with nightmarish slowness as he began to topple forward. He tried to throw himself back and regain his balance, but then his feet began to slip and in a timeless instant of terror he was over the edge, scraping his back against the lip of the cliff as he fell. He flailed his arms wildly, seeking something to grab. As he did, his left wrist smashed into the cliff face, and he felt a stinging pain. Then he was in free fall ... but only for a sickening moment. With an ankle-wrenching impact, he landed on a ledge. Then he began to slide off it, but this time his windmilling arms caught the stunted trunk of one of the dwarf trees-not of Earthly origin-that grew through cracks in the rock at these altitudes.

For a time he simply hung there, feet dangling above the abyss, breathing in great gasps. Then, slowly and painfully, he pulled himself back up onto the little ledge. Only then did he yield to the shakes.

At last he could think clearly, if somewhat sluggishly. All right. No problem. Call the aircar. He brought his left hand up to speak into the wrist communicator ... and then he remembered the pain in that wrist.

The communicator's plastic casing should have held. He must have hit it against the rocks in exactly the right way-or, rather, in exactly the wrong way. For a while he just looked at the shattered device, ignoring the cuts made by jagged little fragments. They were the least of his worries. Finally, for lack of anything better to do, he tried to activate the communicator. The result was precisely what he'd expected: a brief crackling sound and a flicker of dying molecular circuitry seen through the breaks in the casing, then nothing.

After a while he became aware that the sun was almost touching the peaks to the west as Nyjord's 19.3-hour day drew to a close. His jumpsuit would compensate for external temperature changes, up to a point. But in this thin air the nighttime drop in temperature was extreme, and a slight chill was already invading him. He looked up and saw that the trail from which he'd fallen wasn't too far above his ledge. Given anything at all to get a handhold on, he would have tried to climb the cliff wall. But there was only sheer stone.

He tried to think constructively, if only to avoid leaving a vacuum for despair to fill. But all that came was resentment of the Luon for having lured him into this. He rejected it angrily as the irrational petulance he knew it to be, but it wouldn't go away; he couldn't get it out of his head....

And as he thought about it, something else came into his mind, something he had never felt before, something that seemed to swell like an expanding sun until for a moment its glare filled his consciousness, filled the universe....

Then he was warily approaching the edge of the rock outcropping on all fours. (Odd, he'd never been afraid of heights before.) He looked down the sheer cliff at the wooded valley below. And all at once he forgot to breathe.

He'd only gotten the briefest, most distant glimpse of the Luon before. Now, in all its immeasurable splendor, it swept along almost skimming the tops of those trees so far below. Then, in a maneuver that its thirty-meter wings couldn't account for, it banked and flung itself upward, all that mass arrowing straight up toward him at a velocity that must surely carry it past and on up into the darkening sky.

Then it was level with him, and thrust its wings outward in a violent braking motion that brought it to a sudden stop with a thunderclap sound that flung him physically back from the edge, stunned. He scarcely noticed, for he was face to face with a visage conjured up from myth, gazing into enormous amber eyes in whose depths he saw the source of that which had seemed to burn its way into his mind....

The cold wind brought him back to consciousness. Then his situation began to register, one impossible impression at a time.

The sun was setting and he was above the corrugated landscape of the eastern Kraakens, headed south. He would surely have yielded to hypothermia had it not been for the warmth emanating from the great flying body against which he was being held. What was holding him was one of the four specialized arms between the wings and the head. Aft of the wings, he knew, would be four more limbs: the legs and two that could function as either legs or arms. All these limbs, including the two that specialized as wings, were arranged in pairs. The Luonli might not be vertebrates-evolution had produced something far more flexible than a spinal column on their unknown homeworld-but they were bilaterally symmetrical.

Just ahead of him was the great head that a native of Earth might have characterized as vaguely crocodilian in a lighter-jawed sort of way until he saw the eyes. One of those eyes-their settings were wonderfully flexible-turned to gaze at him.

"Ah, you are conscious."



Excerpted from Prince of Sunset by Steve White Copyright © 1998 by Steve White.
Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Stone Soup 4.2 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 38 reviews.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Though this was one of the very first books I read (or perhaps it was first read to me) it has been a solid influence on my personal and professional life. The tale is not one of trickery but rather one of persuasion, not one of selfishness but of sharing. It simply says that if all contribute whatever little or great they have, the end result is much better than the sum of parts. While some may say this book then would influence children toward some type of political left, I suggest the influence is more toward contribution to their respecive community and thus an enhansement of their respective lives.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I remember reading this book as a child and wanted to make sure that my son had the same experience.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I remember i read this story in 2 grade. I liked it
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Think of it this way-the message is like gum, sticky but good.
Little-leelee More than 1 year ago
I have used the story of Stone Soup with my Cub Scouts as well as children's activity groups and in a couple of weeks I plan to use it as a Children's Sermon during church service as our church prepares to kick off a campaign fund-raising for building expansion. This will be a lesson in cooperation and sharing not only for the children but for the entire congregation!
lauren_21 More than 1 year ago
This book was read to me as a senior in high school, I was 17 at the time, and it sends a good message to the targeted audience (4-8) that being greedy isn't how to act. It also teaches children the importance of sharing. The author bases her story on an old French tale about three hungry soldiers who arrive at a village full of selfish, greedy people. By the end of the story the soldiers outwit the villagers into making them a feast. When I first heard this story, I was reminded the importance of sharing with others and the effects being greedy can have. I am now 19 and still love this book and even read it to the children at the daycare I work at and implement a lesson plan when I get the opportunity.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I think the fact that I remember this book and the lessons learned more than fifty years after my mother read it to me, says it all. 
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I introduced this to my son's preschool class 30 years ago, and they still carry on the "Stone Soup" tradition. Every year, students are asked to bring in a fresh vegetable from home for the pot of soup. The teacher takes a stone (and scrubs it of course!). She starts the pot of soup with the stone. The soup is made, and the entire class enjoys hearty vegetable "stone" soup for lunch. I can't wait to introduce my granddaughter to this tradition.
berethalindsey on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Stone Soup is a wise tale of Three Monks coming to visit a villiagethat has been affected by famine and war. The people do not interactand they are suspicious of each other. The villiage has no unity no warmth not until the Three Monks come to bring the villiage joy again. What is stone soup? I learned it can be any food that can cause people to share and interact with each other. After all the villiagers made the soup, it did seem like a soup I wanted to taste, of course no stones please!Classroom Extensions1. A hand out given to the students with reading comprehension questions about the story2. A puzzle that must be done in a group. Each student must solve at least one part of the puzzle to reinforce the importance of teamwork
ChelseaRose on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
This is a classic that I remember reading when I was young and it is such a great story. Three soldiers are traveling and in need of kind hospitality. When the townspeople see them coming they hide their food so that they don't have to share. The soldiers accept the townspeople's declining them food and shelter, and start to make a soup that uses stones. The people are taken by this soup, and begin to add all of their hidden goods to make the soup more rich. Everyone feasts and is very happy, and the soldiers have a place to sleep before they leave in the morning.
jebass on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
A re-telling of a French foketale, ¿Stone Soup¿ is the story of three soldiers who happen upon a French village on their way home from war. When the villagers see them coming, they hurry to hide their food, anticipating that the soldiers will be hungry and will ask for a meal. When the soldiers knock on the villagers¿ doors, they are indeed told that there is no food to be had, no empty beds available for the soldiers to rest. The soliders then call the villagers together to witness the making of Stone Soup, in the absence of food. Intrigued, everyone comes to watch the impossible happen. As the water boils three smooth stones, the soldiers mention how a few carrots might enhance the flavor of the soup; one of the villagers willingly provides a few carrots. Then, if only the soldiers had a cabbage to add¿some beef and potatoes¿The villagers scramble to provide the soldiers with extra ingredients. The end result is a fabulous soup, fit for a king, and the entire village gathers for an enormous feast. The villagers are so thankful to the soldiers for sharing their knowledge of how to make soup from stones, that they offer comfortable beds for rest in the homes of the village¿s most important people. The soldiers, now heroes, are bid farewell with many thanks from the village people.This book could be used as an example of folklore, to identify the elements of the story that make it folklore. Also for younger students, it is a moral story, a "feel good" funny story to share.
MsLangdon on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Part Ca 5 of 1 Motif (Trickery)Brown, M. (1947). Stone soup. New York: Aladdin Paperbacks.Three clever soldiers stroll into a town looking for food and a place to sleep. All of the townspeople, anticipating that the soldiers will want some food, hide it so that they can say they don¿t have enough to share. But the three soldiers have a plan. The tell all of the peasants that they will make stone soup. They start with a pot of water and stones, and one by one, each peasant starts to bring more ingredients to add to the soup. The unique feature of this book is that the trick of getting the peasants to bring their food has a positive outcome for all. The people do not feel as though they have been tricked out of something, even though they have been tricked into sharing.
LisaBohman on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
This is the story about three soldiers who come to a town. The peasants see them coming and hide their food for fear that the soldiers will eat it. At every house the soldiers are denied food with excuse after excuse. The soldiers use their wit and say they would like to make stone soup, attracting the attention of the villagers who are curious about how to make soup from stones. The pot is filled with stones and water. The soldiers remark that it would be so much better with carrots or cabbage or beef so the villagers scurry around to find the items to spare. The villagers are amazed about making soup from stone and know that they will never be hungry again with this recipe. This is a clever story about using your mind to get what you want and making friends in the process. This could be a fun activity for a class to act out, making their own stone soup in the process. This story shows that if each individual contributes one item to the whole, an entire soup can be created to share.
derbygirl on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
(Fable, Folklore)Marcia Brown retells the old fable of Stone Soup. Three hungry soldiers on their way home from battle come upon a village and hope for some food and shelter from the villagers. The villagers, unwilling to share, have locked away all their food and denied them beds. The soldiers in cunning announce that since there is no food they will make stone soup and be on their way...however, the stone soup will taste much better with a carrot or two, some cabbage, perhaps a potato. The villagers, intrigued by the thought of how to make stone soup happily oblige the additional ingredients without realizing they are being tricked into providing food for the hungry soldiers. I enjoyed this classic retelling of Stone Soup. I'm sure it would entrance current generation of children just as it did for me in my youth. Such is the charm of the classics and why they never go away!
claire.cavell on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Three hungry and tired soldiers on their way home from the war stopped in a village to ask for some food and a place to sleep. But the villagers saw them coming and decided to hide all of their food and come up with excuses as to way they can's sleep there. But the solders came up with a plan to con the village into giving them something to eat, it was called stone soup. They showed the villagers how to make it with just three stones and one by one the villagers added carrots, cabbage, and meat into the pot.
conuly on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
I have burned through three different editions of Stone Soup, not liking each one (one had ugly weird illustrations, one was too sappy and rhyming, one was too modern and snotty) until I decided to try out the classic, Caldecott Honor version.WHAT a change. THESE are the classic illustrations most of us grew up with. THESE are the soldiers and the peasants we read about. THIS is the story I'm keeping for my nieces. The telling isn't too clever, or too silly, or too watered-down, or too grown-up. The illustrations are neither too slick or too consciously old-fashioned. (Sheesh, I feel like I'm reviewing Goldilocks here!) I love it, love it, love it!Please remember that this is a bit of a lengthy book for the smaller kids.
stgayde on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
This is a tale of three crafty and incredibly hungry soldier. As they approach a small town, the citizens know that the soldiers will soon ask for food and places to stay, both of which they have very little of. When the soldiers approach the citizens inform them that they in fact have NO food and NO extra space. Of course this was a lie. The sneaky soldiers entice the townspeople by informing them that they will be making soup out of three stones. These seems preposterous, but the citizens are intrigued none-the-less. As the "soup" of stones and water began to cook in a pot over a fire, the soldiers spoke to one another listing various things that would make the soup even better: salt and pepper, vegetables, meat and cream. As they were so intrigued by a soup made out of stones, the townspeople eagerly brought all the ingredients without fully realizing what they were doing. Soon the soldiers had a soup made out of stones (and a few extra key ingredients) and the town feasted with them. Their hostility towards the soldiers melted away and they all shared in the festivities.
tnelson725 on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Caldecott winner. This is a classic story of three hungry soldiers come across a village that doesn't want to feed them and so they start hiding their food. So the soldiers outwit the village by saying they can make a great soup with stones. So the villagers start making the soup and the soldiers start saying, you have to add a couple of carrots. Then they say to add some meat, and so on until the village has made the soldiers soup from the food they were hiding from them. This is one of my favorites from when I was little. It was a classic then and I loved it, as I'm sure children still will now. The illustrations in this version is so vibrant and inviting. The story also has a great message about sharing. I think a fun assignment with this book would be to have students write out the recipe to stone soup. Also, maybe read another version of the story, such as The Real Story of Stone Soup, and then compare the stories. Classes could also act the story out.
silly_tine on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
It's funny how a single story changes with the telling. These days the classic tale of how to make stone soup has been told in a myriad of different tellings and versions. But if you harken back a little to Marci Brown's 1947 concoction, you see clearly that the story can be a little more sardonic than its alternate versions. In this tale, villagers are tricked out of their greed and fear into sharing and enjoying life with their neighbors. And it's all thanks to a soup that doesn't even exist.
cbruiz on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Three soldiers enter a famished villiage, hungry themselves and in search of food. The villiage has nothing to offer them. The three optimistic soldiers then set out to make stone soup. Every body joins in, bringing what they have to offer, and they once barren soup then becomes a feast for all. All the villiagers come to the table bearing their hearts and appetites, hailing the soldiers for their pragmaticism and optimal creativity. They offer them the three best beds in the whole villiage for the remainder of their stay. This is a great story, and I remember reading as a story. It gives the message that even in one's greatest hunger, there is always an optimism to be found. The artwork, although almost colorless, and primitive, synchronizes with the feeling of the book perfectly.
Whitney_Gale on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
This book is a very witty tale about three soldiers that are hungry and a village not willing to share what they had. However, in their efforts to trick the soldiers into believing they had nothing to spare the soldiers tricked them into sharing what they had.
ashley3919 on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
This story is about 3 soldiers who are walking in search of shelter. They come upon a village that is going through a famine and nobody trusts anyone because of the hard times they are going through. They decide to make stone soup for everyone and the villagers begin to open up and offer ingredients and in the end shelter.This book is great for 3rd through 5th grade. It teaches about sharing, and cooking.
EllieGiles on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Some out-of-town soldiers trick the people of the town into giving them food, and together they create "Stone Soup".
karenamorg on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Marcia Brown¿s retelling of Stone Soup was written more than 60 years ago, yet it could have been written today. The narrative about three soldiers returning from a war and looking for a meal and a place to stay is simple and straightforward. The townspeople do not want to share with them and hide all their food and tell them there is no available space in their dwellings. By offering to make stone soup for the people, the soldiers end up getting them to contribute all sorts of food, in the interest of making the communal dish more flavorful. Soon it is chock full of all sorts of vegetables and even meat. This is the first and only version of this folktale that I¿ve read, and I found the story left a lot of questions unanswered. For example, I wondered if the soldiers suspected that the villagers were holding out on them in terms of food and available space and had used the stone soup ploy at other times during the war from which they were returning. The story can also be used to discuss how productive a communal effort can be. The illustrations look dated, so could be considered retro by today¿s standards! Target audience grades 1-3.Brown, M., & Charles Scribner's Sons. (1947). Stone soup: An old tale. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons.
kbuttry on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
This book is about three soldiers who have just finished fighting a war and are very hungry and tired. They stumble upon a village and try to find some peasants who will feed them and let them stay the night to rest. All of the peasants say no, so the soldiers have a plan to make stone soup, which the peasants give them food for and they end up getting places to sleep for the night.When I first read this story, I didn¿t really like it. However, I read it a second time and I enjoyed it more the second time than the first time. I felt this story would help teach children to help others when they need to be helped and to show courtesy. In the classroom, I would tell the students that we are going to make our own stone soup. I would take suggestions from the children as to what to put in it and then bring those items with me the next day and we would make stone soup, without the stones.