At the end of a little Swedish town lay an old, overgrown, orchard. In the orchard was a cottage and in this cottage lived Pippi Longstocking. She was nine years old, and she lived all alone. She had neither mother nor father, which was really rather nice, for in this way there was no one to tell her to go to bed just when she was having most fun, and no one to make her take cod-liver-oil when she felt like eating peppermints.
There was a time when Pippi had had a father and she had been very fond of him. Of course, she had had a mother too, but that was long ago.
Pippi's mother had died when Pippi was just a tiny baby lying in her cradle and howling so dreadfully that no one could come near. Pippi believed that her mother now lived somewhere up in Heaven and looked down on her little girl through a hole in it. Pippi often used to wave up to her and say, 'Don't worry, I can look after myself!'
Pippi hadn't forgotten her father. He had been a ship's captain, and sailed on the great ocean. Pippi had sailed with him on his boat, at least until the time he had blown into the sea during a storm and disappeared. But Pippi was quite sure that one day he would come back, for she never believed that he had drowned. She was certain that he had come ashore on a desert island, one with lots and lots of cannibals, and that her father had become king of them all and went about all day with a gold crown on his head.
'My father is a Cannibal King; there aren't many children with so fine a father!' said Pippi, really pleased with herself. 'And when my father has built himself a boat he'll come to fetch me, and then I shall become a Cannibal Princess. What a life it will be!'
Her father had bought the old cottage in the orchard many years ago. He had wanted to live there with Pippi when he grew old and sailed the seas no longer. But then he had unfortunately been blown into the sea, and as Pippi expected him to return she went straight home to Villekulla Cottage, as their house was called. It stood there furnished and ready and waiting for her. One fine summer's evening she had said goodbye to all the sailors on her father's boat. They liked Pippi very much, and Pippi liked them.
'Goodbye boys!' said Pippi, kissing each in turn on the forehead. 'Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself!'
She took two things from the boat: a little monkey whose name was Mr Nelson (he had been a present from her father) and a big suitcase full of gold pieces. The soldiers stood by the rail and watched Pippi until she was out of sight. She kept on walking without turning round once, with Mr Nelson on her shoulder and the suitcase firmly in her hand.
'A remarkable child,' said one of the sailors, wiping a tear from his eye when Pippi disappeared from view.
He was right. Pippi was a very remarkable child, and the most remarkable thing about her was her strength. She was so strong that in all the world there was no policeman as strong as she. She could have lifted a whole horse if she had wanted to. And there were times when she did want to. Pippi had bought a horse of her very own with one of her gold pieces the day she came home to Villekulla Cottage. She had always longed to have her very own horse, and now there was one living on her front porch. When Pippi wanted to take afternoon tea there, she simply lifted him out into the orchard without further ado.
Next to Villekulla Cottage lay another orchard and another house. In that house lived a mother and a father with their two nice little children, a boy and a girl. The boys name was Tommy and the girl's Annika. They were both very good and well-brought-up and obedient children. Tommy never bit his nails, and always did what his mother asked. Annika never fussed when she didn't get her own way, and she was always very properly dressed in freshly ironed cotton.
Tommy and Annika played nicely together in their orchard, but they had often wished for a playmate. At the time when Pippi always sailed the seas with her father, they would sometimes hang on the fence and say to each other, 'What a pity no one moves into that house! Someone ought to live there; someone with children.'
The beautiful summer's day that Pippi first crossed the threshold of Villekulla Cottage, Tommy and Annika weren't at home. They were spending the week with their grandmother, and so had no idea that someone had moved into the house next to theirs. The first day after their arrival home they stood by the gate and looked out on the street, and they still didn't know that there was a playmate so near. Just as they stood and wondered what they should do, and if possibly anything special would happen that day or if it would be just one of those dull days when one couldn't think of anything in particular to do, why, just then the gate to Villekulla Cottage opened and a little girl appeared. She was the most curious child Tommy and Annika had ever seen. It was Pippi Longstocking going for a morning walk. This is what she looked like:
Her hair was the same colour as carrot, and was braided in two stiff pigtails that stood straight out from her head. Her nose was the shape of a very small potato, and was dotted with freckles. Under the nose was a really very large mouth, with healthy white teeth. Her dress was curious indeed. Pippi had made it herself. It was supposed to have been blue, but as there hadn't been quite enough blue cloth, Pippi had decided to add little red patches here and there. On her long thin legs she wore long stockings, one brown and the other black. And she had a pair of black shoes which were just twice as long as her feet. Her father had bought them in South America so she would have something to grow into, and Pippi never wanted any others.
The thing that made Tommy and Annika open their eyes widest was the monkey which sat on the strange girl's shoulder. It was little and long-tailed, and dressed in blue trousers, yellow jacket, and a white straw hat.
Pippi went on down the street, walking with one foot on the pavement and the other in the gutter. Tommy and Annika watched her until she was out of sight. In a moment she returned walking backwards. This was so she shouldn't have to take the trouble to turn round when she went home. When she came level with Tommy and Annika's gate, she stopped. The children looked at each other in silence. At last Tommy said, 'Why are you walking backwards?'
'Why am I walking backwards?' said Pippi. 'This is a free country, isn't it? Can't I walk as I please? Why, let me tell you that in Egypt everyone walks that way, and no one thinks it the least bit odd.'
'How do you know that?' asked Tommy. 'You haven't been to Egypt, have you?'
'Have I been to Egypt! You can bet your boots I have. I've been all over the world and seen odder things than people who walk backwards. I wonder what you would have said if I'd walked on my hands like the people do in Indo-China?'
'That can't be true,' protested Tommy.
Pippi considered this for a moment. 'Yes, you're right,' she said sadly, 'I wasn't telling the truth.'
'It's wicked to lie,' said Annika, who at last had found her tongue.
'Yes, it's very wicked,' said Pippi, even more sadly. 'But I forget once in a while, you see. How can you expect a little child whose mother is an angel and whose father is a Cannibal King and who has spent her life sailing the seas to tell the truth always? And for that matter,' she said, a smile spreading over her whole freckled face, 'I can tell you that in the Belgian Congo there isn't a single person who tells the truth. They tell fibs all day and every day, begin at seven in the morning and keep it up till sunset. So if I should happen to tell a fib sometimes you must try to forgive me and remember that it's only because I've been a little too long in the Belgian Congo. We can still be friends, can't we?'
