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By Leo Lionni

Leo Lionni’s Caldecott Honor–winning tale a couple of little mouse who gathers whatever strange for the lengthy iciness is celebrating its 50th birthday! 
Winter is coming, and the entire mice are amassing nutrition . . . aside from Frederick. but if the times develop brief and the snow starts to fall, it’s Frederick’s tales that hot the hearts and spirits of his fellow box mice. Winner of a 1967 Caldecott Honor, Frederick has been loved through generations of readers.
“A best suited achievement.” —School Library Journal, starred review
“In Frederick, a mouse who's a poet from the top of his nostril to the top of his tail demonstrates likely purposeless lifestyles is certainly faraway from that—and that we'd like now not stay by means of bread alone!” —Eric Carle

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Extra resources for Frederick

Sample text

They were a happy family. But little by little they had nibbled up most of the nuts and berries, the straw was gone, and the corn was only a memory. It was cold in the wall and no one felt like chatting. Then they remembered what Frederick had said about sun rays and colors and words. ” they asked. “Close your eyes,” said Frederick, as he climbed on a big stone. “Now I send you the rays of the sun. Do you feel how their golden glow…” And as Frederick spoke of the sun the four little mice began to feel warmer.

Who spoils the weather? Who makes it nice? Who grows the four-leaf clovers in June? Who dims the daylight? Who lights the moon? Four little field mice who live in the sky. Four little field mice…like you and I. One is the Springmouse who turns on the showers. Then comes the Summer who paints in the flowers. The Fallmouse is next with walnuts and wheat. And Winter is last…with little cold feet. Aren’t we lucky the seasons are four? ” When Frederick had finished, they all applauded. ” Leo Lionni wrote and illustrated more than forty highly acclaimed children’s books.

I gather colors,” answered Frederick simply. ” And once Frederick seemed half asleep. ” they asked reproachfully. But Frederick said, “Oh no, I am gathering words. ” The winter days came, and when the first snow fell the five little field mice took to their hideout in the stones. In the beginning there was lots to eat, and the mice told stories of foolish foxes and silly cats. They were a happy family. But little by little they had nibbled up most of the nuts and berries, the straw was gone, and the corn was only a memory.

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