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CBeebies Bedtime Story.
Hiya. My name's Ore.
I love to have a bit of milk before bedtime. Do you?
Tonight's bedtime story is about someone who lives in a country
called Nigeria in Africa. They enjoy a drink of milk, too.
Would you like to hear it? Great.
Well, get yourself comfy.
This story is called Don't Spill The Milk,
and it's by Stephen Davies and Christopher Corr.
Penda lived in a tiny village in Africa with her mum and her aunties.
It was rainy season,
so Penda's dad was up in the grasslands looking after the sheep.
"Penda," said her mum one day,
"I'm going to take a bowl of milk to Daddy.
"I'll be back this afternoon."
"I know where the grasslands are." said Penda.
"Let me take Daddy his milk. Please? Please? Please?"
"All right," said her mum, "but try not to spill any milk on the way.
Penda ran to milk the cow.
She filled the bowl, put it on her head,
stood up and began to walk.
"Steady," Penda whispered to herself. "Gently does it, girl.
"Don't wiggle, don't wobble, don't try to rush it, girl."
Penda picked a path across the uppy-downy dunes,
past a caravan of camels and a flock of desert djinns.
"Don't slip, don't slide, girl. Don't fall over.
"Don't let a single droplet drop on the sand."
It was the day of the rainy season mask dance.
Penda wove her way amid a million dancing beasties.
"Walk tall, walk steady, eyes on the horizon, girl.
"Don't even think about spilling any milk."
The great River Niger was dark and wide.
Penda took a ride in a stinky fishing boat.
"Don't shiver, don't quiver, don't fall in the river, girl.
"Keep it on your head, girl. Milk don't float."
15 pale giraffes were stalking across the plains,
like 15 aliens on a dusty moon.
"Don't look, don't turn your head, just walk on through.
"You're not at the zoo, girl. You've got work to do."
Oh, no! One final mountain looming high.
Penda breathed in deep.
And up she climbed.
"Left foot, right foot. Never give up, girl.
"Left hand, right hand, all the way up, now."
At last, Penda arrived at the grasslands.
A flock of woolly sheep were munching grass
and there, in the middle, chilling in the shade of a mango tree,
sat Penda's dad.
"Hi, Daddy." "Hi, Penda. Nice to see you."
"I've brought you some milk," said Penda.
She took the bowl off her head
but just as she was passing it to Daddy...
A big, fat mango landed right in the bowl.
Daddy's milk spilt everywhere.
"I don't believe it!" wailed Penda.
"I carried that milk for miles and miles.
"Over the dunes and across the river, and up the mountain
"and I didn't stop to watch the masked dance
"or the white giraffes
"because I didn't want to spill a single drop, and now look!
"It's all gone!"
Daddy gave Penda a big hug.
"It's not all gone," he whispered.
"There was more than milk in that bowl."
"Huh?" said Penda.
"It's true." said Daddy. "Your love for me was in that bowl as well.
"You carried it over the dunes and across the river
"and up the mountain.
"You carried it past the masked dance and the white giraffes.
"You brought it all the way up to the grasslands
"and you gave it to me, just fine.
"That bowl was full of love, girl, and it still is.
"You didn't spill a drop."
Penda wiped away her tears.
She pointed at the big, fat mango.
"I think it must be lunchtime," she said.
"I agree," said Daddy.
"As it happens, I prefer mango to milk any day."
Daddy took a knife and cut the mango into three big, juicy pieces.
Penda ate that first piece. "Yummy!" she said.
Daddy ate the second piece. "Scrummy!" he said.
The third piece was still in the bowl.
"For Mummy?" asked Penda.
"That's right," said Daddy.
"Tell her it comes with all my love."
That story was called Don't Spill The Milk.
She carried that milk so carefully, didn't she?
Her daddy didn't mind it was spilled at the last moment, did he?
He was just pleased to see her.
I do hope that last slice of mango got back to Penda's mum, though.
Now, it's time for you to go to bed.
Perhaps someone who loves you very much will tuck you in.
I'll say night-night and see you again for another bedtime story.
I'm going to have another sip of milk.