“A giant of my stature,” Ganderel honked to the frogs, “should not wade in filth. I shall seek my fortune.”
Ganderel had inherited a pair of worn leather boots from a travelling shoemaker who had once taken shelter under his wing. The boots were scuffed, too small for the goose’s webbed feet, but Ganderel crammed them on anyway. In the cracked leather, he felt dapper. He felt distinguished . giant goose puss in boots
Quick as a snake, Ganderel lifted one giant boot and stomped . The fairy’s wand snapped under the silver buckle. The fairy herself was launched into a nearby tree, where she hung upside down by her own tangled hair. “A giant of my stature,” Ganderel honked to
Jacques pointed a trembling finger. “They took my harvest! And they mock my sheep!” In the cracked leather, he felt dapper
But news of the giant goose spread. The king of the land heard tales of a feathered giant in fine boots who defeated bandits. And the king had a problem of his own: his daughter, the princess, had been cursed by a spiteful fairy to sleep forever inside the thorny tower of Castle Rocherouge, surrounded by a lake of boiling mud. No knight had returned alive.
The curse broke. The princess woke. And Ganderel returned to the castle, muddy but triumphant.
The next morning, Ganderel admired himself in a pond. “Magnificent,” he whispered.