In a little village of America there lived, many years ago, a man called Rip Van Winkle. He was gentle and kind and the people of the village liked him, because he was always willing to run errands and do little jobs for them.

The children shouted with glee when Rip came along, for they knew that he liked nothing better than to take part in their games. He made toys for them and taught them to fly kites and to play marbles. Often he would sit in the cool shade of a tree and tell them fine tales of Indians and witches and fairies.

One thing made Rip unhappy and that was work. Rip hated hard work! For that reason, he was very poor and his wife and children were always hungry and ill-clad. His little farm, too, was badly kept; weeds grew all over it, the fences were broken down and his cows were always going astray.

Day after day Rip's wife, Dame Van Winkle, would scold her husband. 'Idle good-for-nothing fellow!' she would cry. 'Why can't you do a little work on your farm, instead of playing with the village children or lying sleeping?'

Not a word would Rip say in reply. Instead, he would go to the village once more, and wait there until his wife's temper had cooled again.

One day, when everything had gone wrong, Dame Van Winkle scolded Rip more than she had ever done before. This time her husband did not go to the village as usual. Taking his gun upon his shoulder and calling his faithful dog Wolf to go with him, he set off to wander among the woods and hills.