On one side of his house there was a door that opened into a pen. The pen was in the orchard where the sweet apples grew. Sometimes in summer the apples would fall down from the trees into the pen; then piggy would pick them up and eat them. Sometimes they would strike him on his back when they fell; but he did not mind that; he was always glad to get them.
He had his bed of warm straw to sleep in at night, and every day he had as much as he wanted to eat. He had all a pig could wish for: so he was contented. One morning farmer Jackson brought a pailful of milk for piggy's breakfast. He poured the milk into the trough, and piggy made haste to come and eat it.
While he was eating, something hard and cold came into his mouth. He bit it, but found that it was not good: so he left it. He ate up all the milk. When it was gone, he saw a bright silver spoon in the bottom of the trough.

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