There was once a poor farmer who sat by the fire one evening with his wife, and said, “How sad it is that we have no children! Our home is so quiet, while other folk’s houses are noisy and cheerful with little ones.”

“Yes,” replied his wife with a sigh, “even if we had just one child, and if he were no bigger than my thumb, I would love him with all my heart.” She looked wistfully at the empty cradle in the corner.

Some months later, to the couple’s amazement and delight, the woman gave birth to a son who was perfect in every way but was, indeed, no larger than a thumb. They named him Thumbling, and though he never grew any bigger, his parents loved him dearly.

“He may be small,” said the farmer, watching his tiny son sleep in a thimble, “but he is clever and brave, and that matters more than size.”

One day, when Thumbling was old enough to help around the farm, his father sighed as he prepared to go to the forest to cut wood. “If only I had someone to drive the cart after me,” he said.

“Oh, Father,” piped up Thumbling in his tiny but clear voice, “I will drive the cart! Trust me to get it to the forest safely.”

His father laughed. “How could you hold the reins, my son? You are too small.”

“I need no reins,” replied Thumbling. “I will sit in the horse’s ear and tell him which way to go.”

The farmer was amused by his son’s offer but decided to humor him. “Very well,” he said, “we shall try it your way.”

When the time came, Thumbling’s mother placed him in the horse’s ear, and from this perch, the tiny boy called out directions. “Gee-up! Gee-up!” he cried in his small voice, and to everyone’s surprise, the horse responded, pulling the cart steadily along the road toward the forest.

It happened that as they turned onto the forest path, two strangers were walking by. “My goodness!” said one, “Look at that! A cart is moving with no driver, and I hear a voice giving directions to the horse!”

“This is strange indeed,” said his companion. “Let us follow and see where it goes.”

The men followed the cart to where the farmer was cutting wood. When Thumbling saw his father, he called out, “Father, here I am with the cart! Please lift me down now.”

The farmer plucked his tiny son from the horse’s ear and set him on a fresh wood chip, where Thumbling sat contentedly watching his father work.

The two strangers stared in amazement at the thumb-sized boy. After whispering together, one approached the farmer and said, “Listen, good man, that little son of yours is a wonder. Why not sell him to us? We would pay you handsomely.”

“No,” replied the farmer firmly. “My son is worth more to me than all the gold in the king’s treasury.”

But Thumbling, who had been listening, climbed up his father’s sleeve and whispered in his ear, “Father, let me go with these men. I promise I will return to you soon.”

The farmer was reluctant, but he trusted his son’s judgment. With a heavy heart, he agreed to the sale, and Thumbling departed with the strangers, riding comfortably in the brim of one man’s hat.

As evening approached, Thumbling said to his new owners, “Put me down on the edge of the road, please. I need to rest a moment.”

The men set the tiny boy on the ground, and quick as a flash, Thumbling scampered away into a mouse hole. “Farewell, gentlemen,” he called from safety. “Give my regards to your children!” And try as they might, the men could not reach him in his tiny refuge.

After the disappointed men had gone, Thumbling emerged from the hole and considered his situation. It was growing dark, and he was far from home. “I shall find shelter for the night,” he decided, “and make my way home tomorrow.”

As he wandered through the tall grass, which to him was like a forest, he came upon an empty snail shell. “What perfect lodging!” he exclaimed, and crawled inside for the night.

Just as he was falling asleep, he heard voices. Two men were crouched nearby, discussing plans to rob the parish priest. “If only we had a way to get through the window bars,” one lamented.

“I can help you,” called Thumbling from his shell.

The robbers jumped in fright. “Who spoke?” they demanded.

“I did,” replied Thumbling, emerging from the shell. “I can help you with your problem.”

The robbers peered down at the tiny figure. “What could you possibly do?” they scoffed.

“I can slip between the bars and pass things out to you,” Thumbling explained.

The robbers were skeptical but desperate. “Very well,” said one, “we’ll take you with us.”

When they reached the priest’s house, Thumbling slipped easily through the window bars and entered the building. Once inside, he began to shout at the top of his lungs, “Do you want everything in here? Shall I hand you everything?”

His cries woke the cook, who came to investigate. The robbers fled in panic, and Thumbling quickly hid himself in the hayloft, burrowing into a pile of hay to sleep for the night.

The next morning, the cook came to feed the cattle and gathered up the hay, with Thumbling still inside it. The tiny boy slept so soundly that he did not wake until he was in the cow’s mouth, about to be swallowed with the hay.

“Oh my!” he cried. “How did I get into this mill?” For the cow’s teeth seemed to him like great millstones.

Soon, Thumbling realized he was in a cow’s stomach. It was dark and confined, with no windows, and the hay kept coming in. “They will soon bring in fresh straw,” he thought, “but I must not let them close the opening!” So he called out as loudly as he could, “No more hay for me! No more hay for me!”

The maid was just milking the cow and heard the tiny voice coming from within the animal. She was so frightened that she fell off her stool, spilling the milk. She ran to her master, crying, “Father, father, the cow is talking!”

“Nonsense,” said the priest, but he went to the stable to see for himself. As he approached, Thumbling called out again, “No more hay for me!”

Now the priest himself was alarmed, believing the cow was possessed by an evil spirit. He ordered it to be slaughtered at once. The cow was killed, and its stomach, with Thumbling still inside, was thrown onto the dung heap.

Thumbling worked hard to free himself, pushing and squeezing, and had just made a space large enough to poke his head through when a new misfortune befell him. A hungry wolf came prowling by and swallowed the cow’s stomach in one gulp, with Thumbling still inside.

But Thumbling did not lose heart. From inside the wolf’s belly, he called out, “Dear wolf, I know where you can find a magnificent feast!”

The wolf was startled to hear a voice inside him but was intrigued by the mention of food. “Where might this feast be?” he asked.

“In the house where I come from,” replied Thumbling. “You must enter through the kitchen drain, and there you will find cakes, bacon, and sausages to your heart’s content.”

The wolf needed no further encouragement. Guided by Thumbling’s directions, he made his way to the farmer’s house and squeezed through the drain into the pantry, where he began to eat everything in sight.

When he was full, the wolf tried to leave the way he had come, but he had eaten so much that his belly was too swollen to fit back through the drain. This was exactly what Thumbling had anticipated. From inside the wolf, he began to shout and make a terrible racket.

“Will you be quiet!” growled the wolf. “You’ll wake the household.”

“But I want to be merry!” replied Thumbling, and began to sing at the top of his lungs.

The farmer and his wife were awakened by the noise. They rushed to the pantry and saw the wolf trapped there. The farmer grabbed his axe and struck the wolf dead with a single blow.

“I wonder if our poor Thumbling is still alive,” said his mother, remembering how their son had disappeared many weeks before. “He has been gone so long.”

“Father! Mother! I am here!” called Thumbling from inside the wolf.

Overjoyed, the farmer carefully cut open the wolf, and out stepped Thumbling, unharmed. “Ah,” he sighed contentedly, “at last I can breathe fresh air again! I have been from a mouse hole to a snail shell, from a cow’s belly to a wolf’s stomach, but now I am home!”

“And where have you been all this time, my son?” asked his parents, embracing their tiny child.

“My, my,” said Thumbling with a smile, “I have been all around the world, and I am glad to be home again. I’ve had quite enough adventures for someone my size!”

His parents laughed and prepared a feast to celebrate his return. Though he ate from a thimble and drank from an acorn cap, Thumbling’s heart was as full as any man’s could be, for he had proved that even the smallest person can have the greatest adventures—and the wisdom to find his way home again.