Penelope Pratt Whispers to Turnips
Penelope Pratt claimed she could whisper to turnips, and the strange part is that nobody could prove her wrong. Every evening she knelt in her garden and murmured, "Grow, my darlings, grow." By morning the turnips were always twice as big as the day before.
By midsummer, the turnips were the size of pumpkins. By the end of the summer they were the size of pianos. Penelope's neighbors peeked over the fence and shook their heads.
"Penelope," said Mr. Dibble, "you may be whispering too much."
But Penelope had one favorite turnip named Hubert. Hubert grew so large that his green leaves covered the roof of her barn, and his round purple top pushed up the roof tiles one by one. One Thursday, Hubert was so large that Penelope could not open her front door.
"Hubert," she said sternly, "that is quite enough." She whispered, "Stop growing now," and Hubert, being a polite turnip, finally stopped.
But now there was a problem. A turnip the size of a house cannot be pulled up, and it cannot be moved. It cannot even be eaten by one family. So Penelope rang the town bell, and everybody came running with spoons.
The town cooks dug a deep hole around the turnip and filled it with water and carrots. They lit a great ring of fires, and Hubert simmered into the biggest soup anyone had ever tasted. The whole town ate turnip soup for two weeks, and Penelope kept whispering only to the tiny radishes after that.