# Jack and the Beanstalk _Joseph Jacobs_ · 12 min read · ages 5-10 Jack trades the family cow for beans that sprout overnight into a beanstalk to the sky, where he robs an ogre of gold, a hen that lays golden eggs and a singing harp. The ogre climbs down after him, so Jack chops the beanstalk through with his mother’s axe, and the harp and the golden eggs leave them rich. --- Once there was a poor widow who had one son named Jack and one cow named Milky-white. All they had to live on was the milk the cow gave each morning, which they carried to market and sold. Then one morning Milky-white gave no milk at all. “What shall we do? What shall we do?” said the widow, wringing her hands. “Cheer up, Mother,” said Jack. “I’ll go and find work somewhere.” “We’ve tried that, and nobody would take you,” said his mother. “We shall have to sell Milky-white, and with the money start a little shop, or something.” “All right, Mother. It’s market day. I’ll sell her, and then we’ll see.” So he took the cow’s halter in his hand and set off. He had not gone far when he met a funny-looking old man on the road. “Good morning, Jack,” said the old man. “Good morning to you,” said Jack, and wondered how the man knew his name. “And where are you off to?” “To market, to sell our cow.” “You look like just the sort of lad who can sell a cow,” said the man. “Tell me, do you know how many beans make five?” “Two in each hand and one in your mouth,” said Jack, quick as anything. “Right you are, and here are the beans themselves.” He pulled a handful of strange-looking beans out of his pocket. “Since you’re so quick, I don’t mind making a swap. Your cow for these.” “Not likely,” said Jack. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” “Ah, but you don’t know what these beans are. Plant them at night, and by morning they grow right up to the sky. And if that doesn’t come true, you shall have your cow back.” “Right,” said Jack. He handed over Milky-white’s halter and put the beans in his pocket. It was not even dusk when he got back to his own door. “Back already?” said his mother. “I see you haven’t got Milky-white, so you’ve sold her. How much did you get?” “You’ll never guess, Mother.” “Good boy! Five pounds? Ten? Fifteen? It can’t be twenty.” “I told you you’d never guess. What do you say to these beans? They’re magic. Plant them at night, and …” “What!” cried his mother. “Have you been fool enough to give away my Milky-white, the best milker in the parish, for a handful of miserable beans? Out of the window they go, and off to bed with you. Not a drop shall you drink and not a crumb shall you eat tonight.” So Jack went up to his little room in the attic, sorry to the bottom of his heart, as much for his mother’s sake as for his lost supper, and at last he fell asleep. When he woke, the room looked very odd: sunshine in one part of it and shadow over all the rest. Jack jumped up, dressed, and went to the window. And what do you think he saw? The beans his mother had thrown into the garden had sprung up into a great beanstalk that went up and up and up until it reached the sky. So the old man had told the truth after all. The beanstalk grew close past the window, thick and twisted like a plaited ladder, so all Jack had to do was open the window and jump onto it. He climbed, and climbed, and climbed, until at last he reached the sky. There he found a long, broad road running straight ahead, and he walked along it, and walked, and walked, until he came to a great tall house with a great tall woman standing on the doorstep. “Good morning, ma’am,” said Jack politely. “Could you be so kind as to give me some breakfast?” For he had eaten nothing since the morning before, and he was terribly hungry. “Breakfast, is it?” said the great tall woman. “You’ll be breakfast yourself if you don’t move along. My husband is an ogre, and there is nothing he likes better than boys on toast. Off with you, before he comes home.” “Oh, please, ma’am. I’ve had nothing since yesterday morning, truly I haven’t,” said Jack. “I might as well be eaten as starve.” Well, the ogre’s wife was not such a bad sort after all. She took Jack into the kitchen and gave him bread and cheese and a jug of milk. But he had hardly begun when thump! thump! thump! the whole house shook with the noise of someone coming. “Goodness me, it’s my husband,” said the ogre’s wife. “Quick, in here with you.” And she bundled Jack into the oven just as the ogre came in. He was a big one, to be sure. Three calves hung at his belt, and he unhooked them and threw them down on the table. “Here, wife, cook me a couple of these for breakfast,” he said. Then he lifted his head and sniffed the air. Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman. Be he alive or be he dead, I’ll grind his bones to make my bread. “Nonsense, my dear, you’re dreaming,” said his wife. “Go and have a wash, and your breakfast will be ready by the time you come back.” The ogre went off, and Jack was just about to jump out of the oven and run when the woman shook her head at him. “Wait until he’s asleep,” she whispered. “He always has a snooze after breakfast.” When the ogre had eaten, he took two bags of gold out of a big chest and sat counting them, until his head began to nod and he snored so loudly that the house shook again. Then Jack crept out on tiptoe. As he passed the ogre he tucked one of the bags under his arm and ran all the way back along the road to the beanstalk. He threw the bag down, and of course it fell into his mother’s garden, and then he climbed down, and down, and down, until he was home. “Well, Mother,” he said, showing her the gold, “wasn’t I right about the beans? They really are magic.” They lived on that bag of gold for a good while, but at last it was spent, and Jack made up his mind to try his luck once more at the top of the beanstalk. One fine morning he got up early and climbed, and climbed, and climbed, until he stood on the broad road again and came to the great tall house. And sure enough, there was the great tall woman on the doorstep. “Good morning, ma’am,” said Jack, bold as you please. “Could you be so good as to give me something to eat?” “Go away, my boy,” said the woman, “or my husband will have you for his breakfast. Aren’t you the youngster who came here once before? Do you know, that very day my husband missed one of his bags of gold.” “That’s strange, ma’am,” said Jack. “I dare say I could tell you something about that, but I’m so hungry I can’t speak until I’ve had something to eat.” She was so curious that she took him in and gave him something to eat. He was still munching it, as slowly as he could, when thump! thump! thump! came the ogre’s footsteps, and she hid him away in the oven. Everything happened as it had before. In came the ogre, and he lifted his head and sniffed the air. Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman. Be he alive or be he dead, I’ll grind his bones to make my bread. His wife told him he was dreaming, just as she had the first time, and he sat down and ate his breakfast. When he had finished he called out, “Wife, bring me the hen that lays the golden eggs.” So she brought it and set it on the table. “Lay,” said the ogre, and the hen laid an egg of pure gold. Then his head began to nod, and he snored until the house shook. Jack crept out of the oven on tiptoe, caught hold of the golden hen, and was out of the door in a flash. But this time the hen gave a cackle, and the cackle woke the ogre. Just as Jack got clear of the house he heard him calling, “Wife! Wife! What have you done with my golden hen?” That was all Jack heard, for he was racing for the beanstalk, and down he went as fast as his hands and feet would carry him. When he got home he showed his mother the wonderful hen and said “Lay” to it, and it laid a golden egg every time he said the word. Still Jack was not content, and before long he made up his mind to try his luck at the top of the beanstalk once more. Early one morning he climbed, and climbed, and climbed, until he reached the top. But this time he knew better than to go straight to the ogre’s door. He waited behind a bush until he saw the ogre’s wife come out with a pail to fetch water, and then he slipped inside and hid in the great copper pot where the washing was boiled. He had not been there long when he heard thump! thump! thump! as before, and in came the ogre and his wife. The ogre stopped in the doorway and sniffed. Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman. Be he alive or be he dead, I’ll grind his bones to make my bread. “I smell him, wife,” he cried. “I smell him!” “Do you, my dear?” said the ogre’s wife. “Then if it’s that little rogue who stole your gold and your golden hen, he is sure to be in the oven.” They both rushed to the oven. But Jack was not there, luckily, and the ogre’s wife shook her head. “There you go again with your fee-fi-fo-fum. It’s your own breakfast you can smell, and how careless you are, not to know it from the smell of a boy.” So the ogre sat down and ate, though every now and then he muttered, “Well, I could have sworn …” and got up to search the larder and the cupboards and every corner of the room. Luckily he never thought of the copper pot. When breakfast was over he called out, “Wife, bring me my golden harp.” She brought it and set it on the table in front of him. “Sing!” he said, and the golden harp sang most beautifully, and went on singing until the ogre fell asleep and snored like thunder. Then Jack lifted the lid of the copper pot very quietly, climbed out as softly as a mouse, and crept on his hands and knees to the table. He stood up, caught hold of the golden harp, and made a dash for the door. But the harp called out loud and clear. “Master! Master!” The ogre woke just in time to see Jack running off with it. Jack ran as fast as he could, and the ogre came rushing after him. He would have been caught, only he had a head start, and he dodged this way and that, and he knew where he was going. At the beanstalk the ogre was no more than twenty paces behind, and then all at once Jack seemed to vanish. When the ogre reached the end of the road, there was the boy below him, climbing down for dear life. The ogre did not much like the look of such a ladder, so he stood at the top and waited, and Jack gained a little more. But just then the harp cried out again. “Master! Master!” At that the ogre swung himself onto the beanstalk, which shook and swayed under his weight. Down went Jack, and down came the ogre after him, until Jack had climbed down, and down, and down, and was very nearly home. “Mother! Mother!” he shouted. “Bring me an axe! Bring me an axe!” His mother came running out with the axe in her hand, but when she reached the beanstalk she stood stock still with fright, for there was the ogre, coming down below the clouds. Jack jumped to the ground, took the axe, and gave the beanstalk a chop that cut it half through. The ogre felt it shake and quiver, and stopped to see what was the matter. Then Jack swung the axe again, and the beanstalk was cut clean in two and began to topple over. Down it came, and the ogre with it, and that was the end of the ogre. Then Jack showed his mother the golden harp. What with the harp, and the selling of the golden eggs, Jack and his mother grew very rich indeed. In time Jack married a princess, and they lived happily ever after. --- - Read online: https://talerie.com/en/tales/jack-and-the-beanstalk - Source: English Fairy Tales, collected by Joseph Jacobs (Project Gutenberg #7439) (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/7439) - Public-domain basis: Talerie contemporary retelling (CC0 2026), based on: English Fairy Tales, collected by Joseph Jacobs (Project Gutenberg #7439) — original: author died 1916 (+70 passed) - License: CC0-1.0 (https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/)