Stories From Now And Then: Short Stories for Kids
Aug 11, 2026 · 12 min · 7 segments
In this classic folklore tale, John the Blacksmith cashes in on dragon-powered heating, collects profitable iron tears, and welcomes baby Johnny into a very weird household. Meanwhile Baby Blunderface…
The blacksmith was trembling all over.
"It must have come up those nasty broken steps from goodness knows where," said he to himself as he tried to creep back up the winding stairs.
But the dragon was too quick for him.
It put out a great claw and caught him by the leg, and as it moved, it rattled like a great bunch of keys, or like the sheet iron they make thunder out of in pantomimes.
"No, you don't," said the dragon in a spluttering voice like a damp squib.
"Deary, deary me," said poor John, trembling more than ever in the claw of the dragon.
"Here's a nice end for a respectable blacksmith." The dragon seemed very much struck by this remark.
"Do you mind saying that again?" said he quite politely.
So John said again very distinctly, "Here is a nice end for a respectable blacksmith." "I didn't know," said the dragon.
"Fancy now, you're the very man I wanted." "So I understood you to say before," said John, his teeth chattering.
"Oh, I don't mean what you mean," said the dragon, "but I should like you to do a job for me.
One of my wings has got some of the rivets out of it just above the joint.
Could you put that to rights?" "I might, sir," said John politely, for you must always be polite to a possible customer, even if he be a dragon.
"A master craftsman, you are a master, of course, can see in a minute what's wrong," the dragon went on.
"Just come around here and feel my plates, will you?" John timidly went around when the dragon took his claw away, and sure enough, the dragon's wing was hanging loose, and several of the plates near the joint certainly wanted riveting.
The dragon seemed to be made almost entirely of iron armor, a sort of tawny red rust color it was, from damp no doubt, and under it he seemed to be covered with something furry.
All the blacksmith welled up in John's heart, and he felt more at ease.
"You could certainly do with a rivet or two, sir," said he.
"In fact, you want a good many." "Well, get to work then," said the dragon.
"You mend my wing, and then I'll go out and eat up all the town, and if you make a really smart job of it, I'll eat you last.
There." "I don't want to be eaten last, sir," said John.
"Well then, I'll eat you first," said the dragon.
"I don't want that, sir, either," said John.
"Go on with you, you silly man," said the dragon.
"You don't know your own silly mind.
The blacksmith was trembling all over.
"It must have come up those nasty broken steps from goodness knows where," said he to himself as he tried to creep back up the winding stairs.
But the dragon was too quick for him.
It put out a great claw and caught him by the leg, and as it moved, it rattled like a great bunch of keys, or like the sheet iron they make thunder out of in pantomimes.
"No, you don't," said the dragon in a spluttering voice like a damp squib.
"Deary, deary me," said poor John, trembling more than ever in the claw of the dragon.
"Here's a nice end for a respectable blacksmith." The dragon seemed very much struck by this remark.
"Do you mind saying that again?" said he quite politely.
So John said again very distinctly, "Here is a nice end for a respectable blacksmith." "I didn't know," said the dragon.
"Fancy now, you're the very man I wanted." "So I understood you to say before," said John, his teeth chattering.
"Oh, I don't mean what you mean," said the dragon, "but I should like you to do a job for me.
One of my wings has got some of the rivets out of it just above the joint.
Could you put that to rights?" "I might, sir," said John politely, for you must always be polite to a possible customer, even if he be a dragon.
"A master craftsman, you are a master, of course, can see in a minute what's wrong," the dragon went on.
"Just come around here and feel my plates, will you?" John timidly went around when the dragon took his claw away, and sure enough, the dragon's wing was hanging loose, and several of the plates near the joint certainly wanted riveting.
The dragon seemed to be made almost entirely of iron armor, a sort of tawny red rust color it was, from damp no doubt, and under it he seemed to be covered with something furry.
All the blacksmith welled up in John's heart, and he felt more at ease.
"You could certainly do with a rivet or two, sir," said he.
"In fact, you want a good many." "Well, get to work then," said the dragon.
"You mend my wing, and then I'll go out and eat up all the town, and if you make a really smart job of it, I'll eat you last.
There." "I don't want to be eaten last, sir," said John.
"Well then, I'll eat you first," said the dragon.
"I don't want that, sir, either," said John.
"Go on with you, you silly man," said the dragon.
"You don't know your own silly mind.
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