A small family lived a humble life in a shack at the edge of a village. Jack’s father made a living as a woodcutter, but one day a tree fell on him and killed him. Ever since then, his wife has taken care of the household and their little boy.
After the death of Jack’s father, a cloud of misery hung over the house. Jack and his mother often had nothing to eat. It was only thanks to Milky, their cow, that they made it through the hard times — the milk she provided was sometimes the only nourishment they received.
Winter was fast approaching, and the family hadn’t a single penny left. Jack’s clothes were so tattered — mostly just patches of thin fabric stitched together. He could only dream of having a warm coat and shoes without holes in them.
One day, in desperation, Jack’s mother said to him: “We’ve reached the limit. We have to sell the cow! Take her to market in the morning and get as much money for her as you can. It’s the only way we’ll be able to survive the winter.”
The very next day, Jack prepared the cow, and his mother drew the last bucketful of milk. She said goodbye to her beloved Milky, with tears in her eyes. After Jack finished polishing the bell that hung around Milky’s neck, he grabbed the reins and started walking the cow towards the market. It was a very hot day, and there was a long, dusty road ahead of them.
“Who knows if anyone will even buy our Milky,” Jack mumbled to himself.
They hadn’t gone far when they chanced upon a strange old man. His long, snow-white beard glistened against his red robes, and he was whistling to himself.…