Brave Irene is written and illustrated by William Steig and read by Al Gore. Plucky Irene, a dressmaker’s daughter, braves a fierce snowstorm to deliver a new gown to the duchess in time for the ball.
Hi, I’m Al Gore, and this is part of the book pals program sponsored by the Screen Actors Guild Foundation. And today, I’m going to read you this book written and illustrated by William stag. It’s called brave Irene. Here’s how it begins. Mrs. Bob and the dress maker was tired and had a bad headache, but she still managed to set the last stitches in the gown. She was making. The most beautiful dress in the whole world, said her daughter Irene, the Duchess of and it is Nice. Her mother admitted. But Dumpling. It’s for tonight’s ball and I don’t have the strength to bring it. I feel sick. Poor. Mama said, Irene, I can get it there. No cupcake. I can’t let you said Mrs. Bobbitt, such a huge package and it’s such a long way to the powerless. Besides it’s starting to snow. But I love snow. Irene insisted she, Koch’s term mother into bed, covered her with two quilts and added a blanket for her feet. Then she fixed her some tea with lemon and honey and put more wood on the stove. With great care. Irene took this splendid count down from the dummy and packed it in a big box with plenty of tissue paper, dress warmly putting her mother called and a weak voice. And don’t forget to button up. It’s cold out there and wind. Irene put on her lease line, boots, her Red Hat and muffler, her heavy coat, and her mittens. She kissed her mother’s hot forehead six times. And then once again made sure she was tucked in snugly and slipped out with the big box, shutting the door firmly behind her. It really was cold outside. Erica, the wind world, the falling snowflakes about this way, that way and into Irene’s printing face. She set out on the uphill path to farmer penance, sheep pasture. By the time she got there, the snow was up to her ankles and the wind was worse. It hurried her along and made her stumble. Irene resented this. The box was problem enough. Easy, does it? She caution the wind, leaning back hard against it. By the middle of the pasture, the flakes were falling thicker. Now the wind drove Irene along so rudely she had to skip and go helped her sculpturing over the knobby ground. Colds know, sifted into her boots and killed her feet. She pushed out her lip and hurried on. This was an important errand. When she reached Apple road, the wind decided to put on a show, ripped branches from trees and flung them about, swept up and scattered the fallen snow you’ve got in front of Irene to keep her from moving ahead. Irene turned around and pressed on backwards. Go home, the winds. Guo. Irene, go whoa. I will do no such thing. She snapped. No such thing. You wicked wind. Go home. The when yodel go, it shrieks. Or else. For a short second. Irene wondered if she shouldn’t heed the winds warning, but no, the gown had to get to the Duchess. The wind wrestled her for the package, walloped, it, twisted, it, shook it, snatched at it, but Irene wouldn’t yield. It’s my mother’s. Then 0, 0, the box was wrenched from her grass and sit bumbling along in the snow. Irene width after she counts then took hold. But the ill tempered rips the box, opens, the ball gown full bounced out and Whitman waltzing through the powdered error with tissue paper vendors. Irene clung to the empty box and watch the beautiful gown to How could anything so terribly wrong be allowed to happen? Tears froze on her lashes. Her dear mothers hard work all those days of measuring, cutting, pinning, stitching for this. And the poor Duchess, Irene decided she would have to trudge on with just the box and explain everything in person. She went shuffling through the snow with her mother. Understand she wondered that it was the wins fault, not hers. Would the Duchess be angry? When was howling like a wild animal? Suddenly, Irene stepped in a hole and fell over with a twisted ankle. She blamed it on the wind. Keep quiet. She’s called it. You’ve done enough damage already, spoiled everything. Everything. The winds swallowed up. She sat in the snow in great pain, afraid she wouldn’t be able to go on. But she managed to get her feet and start moving. It hurt home where she longed to be, where she and her mother could be warm together, was far behind to be closer to the palace, she thought. But where anyplace was an all this snow she couldn’t be sure. She plowed on dragging furrows with her sore foot. The short winter day, it was almost Am I still going the right way? She wondered. There was no one around to advisor. Whoever else there was in this no covered world was far, far away and safe indoors. Even the animals in their burrows. She went plotting on. Soon night took over. She knew in the dark that the muffled snow is still falling. She could feel it. She was cold and alone. In the middle of nowhere. Irene was lost. She had to keep moving. She was hoping she’d come to a house, any house at all and be taken in sheep badly, needed to be in someone’s arms. The snows above her knees now, she shoved her way through it, clutching the empty box. She was asking how long a small person could keep this struggle up. When she realized it was getting lighter, there was a soft glow coming from somewhere below her. She waited toward this end soon was gazing down along slope at a brightly lit mansion. Had to pay the palace. Irene pushed forward with all her strength. She plunge downward and was buried. She had fallen off a little cliff. Only her hat and the box in her hands stuck out above the snow. Even if she could call for help, no one would hear her. Her body she shattered. Why not freeze to death? And let all these troubles and why not? She was already there and never see her mother’s face. It can hurt good mother’s smell fresh bread. In an explosion of theory, she flung her body about to free herself and was finally able to climb up on her knees and look around. How to get down to that glittering palace. As soon as she raised the question, she had the answer. She laid the box down and climbed aboard. But it pressed into the snow and dog. She tried again, and this time, instead of climbing, she leaped. The buck shot forward, Laius let the wind raced after Irene. Keep up. In a moment, she would be with people again inside where it was warm. The sled slowed and jerk to a stop on paving stones. Time to break the bad news. Touches. With the empty box class to her chest. Irene’s drove nervously toward the palace. But then her feet stopped moving and her mouth fell open. She stair. Maybe this was impossible yet there it was a little way off and over to the right, hugging the trunk of a tree. The beautiful Ballgown. The wind was holding it there. Mama, Irene shouted, Mama, I found it. She man. Somehow, despite the winds metal, to get the gown off the tree and back in its box. And in another moment, she was at the door. She knocked twice with the big brass knocker, the door open and she burst in. She was welcomed by cheering servants and a delirious Duchess. They couldn’t believe she had come over the mountain and such a storm. All by herself. She had to tell the whole story every detail hand she did. Then she asked to be taken right back to her sick mother. But it was question they set the road that ran around the mountain, wouldn’t be cleared until morning. Don’t fret. Child said the Duchess, your mother is surely sleeping now. We’ll get you there first thing tomorrow. Irene was given a good dinner as she sat by the fire. The moisture’s deeming offer close. The Duchess meanwhile, got into her freshly ironed gown before the guests began arriving in their slice. What wonderful ball. The Duchess in her new gown, a bright star in the sky. Irene and her ordinary dress was radiant. She was swept up into Dances by Hansen, aristocrats who kept her feet off the floor to spare her ankle. Her mother would enjoy hearing all about early the next morning when Snow had long since ceased, father misses BOB, woke from a good night sleep, feeling much improved. She hurried about and got a fire going in the cold stove. Then she went to look in on Irene. And it was empty. She ran to the window and gazed at the white landscape. No one out there or snow powder fell from the branch of a tree. Where is my child? Misses Bob and cried. She whipped on her coat to go out and find her. When she pulled the door open, a wall of drift faced her. But hearing overnight, she could see horse-drawn sleigh hastening up the path and seated on the slide between two large foot was Irene herself. As sleep. Would you like to hear the rest? Well, there was a bearded doctor in the back of the sleigh. And the Duchess had sent Irene’s mother had Ginger Kay with white icing, some oranges and a pineapple and spice candy of many flavors. Along with a note saying how much she cherished her again and what a brave and loving person Irene was, which of course, Mrs. Bob and knew better than the Duchess. I hope you enjoyed this book. Brave Irene. (As provided by SchoolTube video transcript.)
Suggested Grade Level: 1-2
The standards listed below are for the 1st and 2nd grades but can easily be modified for other grades.
CCSS.SL.1.1, CCSS.SL.2.1, CCSS.SL.1.2, CCSS.SL.2.2, CCSS.RL.1.3, CCSS.RL.2.3, CCSS.RL.1.1, CCSS.RL.1.3, CCSS.RL.2.1, CCSS.RL.2.3, CCSS.W.1.3, CCSS.W.2.3
View the activity guide here: braveirene
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