Literature encyclopedia of our childhood. Encyclopedia of fairy-tale heroes: "Patchwork and Cloud" Patchwork and Cloud read summary

Prokofieva Sofia

Patchwork and Cloud

WHAT WAS UNCLE BULL'S OLD HORSE THINKING?

“Not a single blade of grass...” thought the old horse.

She was pulling a cart behind her. On the cart is a large oak barrel with the inscription: “Water belongs to the King.”

Below the inscription is the royal coat of arms: a golden bucket and a crown.

Walking next to the cart was Uncle Bull, the water seller.

Hey, who needs some water! Key, cold! - shouted Uncle Bull.

The cart thundered across the bridge. But there was no river. Dry, dusty stones stuck out under the bridge.

“What kind of bridge is this if there is no water under your feet? - thought the horse. - One name. But the old owl, the Night Philosopher, who flies to the roof of my stable in the dark, told me that there used to be a river flowing here and there was as much water as you wanted. But maybe he’s already gone crazy from old age? Poor Night Philosopher..."

Now the cart was rolling along the crooked street. On both sides stood houses gray with dust.

“Is this a ditch? - thought the horse. - What kind of ditch is it if there is not a blade of grass in it? She is even ashamed to be called a ditch. What about trees without leaves? Are these trees?

Mom, take a sip! - the skinny boy whined.

Uncle Bull! - a pale woman called out to the water seller. - Pour a mug of water for my son.

Whoops! - Uncle Bull shouted, pulling on the reins. - What will you give for this?

A skein of lace, Uncle Boule,” the woman hurried, “thin as a cobweb!” You know what a craftswoman I am.

The boy emptied the mug in one breath, and his mother held her open palm under his chin so that not a drop would fall.

The horse rode past a well filled to the top with large boulders. Near the well, leaning with their backs to it, sat two guards: Red Bruiser and Red Bruiser. Out of boredom they spat: who’s next.

“What kind of well is it if you can’t drink from it? - thought the horse. - One name..."

How are you? - Uncle Bull asked. - No one about?..

What - not about!.. - Red-haired Big Man lazily asked, opening one eye slightly.

Has anyone tried to roll away the stones and get water?

“Everything is quiet during the day,” Red Brute yawned loudly. - And at night they place a cannon near each well. Try to approach!

Hey, who needs some water! Key, cold! - Uncle Bull yelled again throughout the street.

But no one came out of their houses when he shouted. Doors slammed, windows closed.

“Not a blade of grass, not a leaf. Poor land. Dead city. You will only see grass in a dream and behind the bars of a royal park. How the water splashes in the barrel, it’s crazy!”

That's what Uncle Buhl's old horse was thinking about.

PATCH

Hey Melchior! - Uncle Bull shouted when his cart reached a small shop. Above the door of the shop, on a lopsided sign, was written: “Needles, pins, various sharp things and everything you want.”

The shopkeeper appeared at the door. It was immediately obvious that he was selling sharp, hard and prickly things. His gaze was prickly. Eyelashes like needles. Eyebrows and mustaches look like hard brushes.

They say the price of water has fallen,” the shopkeeper said and chuckled.

“Not yet,” Uncle Bull answered sadly.

So, that means two buckets for one silver coin? - Melchior asked even more cheerfully.

For two coins, one bucket,” Uncle Bull became completely sad.

Seeing that it would still be impossible to deceive Uncle Boule, Melchior stopped smiling and shouted:

Hey, Patchwork, bring the bucket!

A girl jumped out of the darkness of the shop with an empty bucket in her hands.

An ordinary girl. The nose is like a spatula, and also thickly sprinkled with freckles. Eyes are green. Skinny red braids stick out in different directions.

Only she was dressed unusually.

Her entire dress was made from different scraps: large, small, wool, blue, red, striped.

A sip... - whispered Patchwork, staring at the bucket of water.

What more! - the shopkeeper hissed.

At that moment something strange happened.

Uncle Buhl's old horse, always so sad and sleepy, suddenly threw up its head and neighed.

Moreover, she reared up as far as her shafts would allow and began quickly and joyfully nodding her head, as if she was greeting someone. But this is not enough. She goggled her eyes in amazement, waved her tail, shook her mane and continued neighing like a frivolous foal.

Open literature lesson

Composition and system of images in the author's fairy tale-story by S.L. Prokofieva "Patch and Cloud"

Conducted by the teacher primary classes

Finkova O.V.

2015

Tasks:

Educational :

• analysis of artistic episodes, characteristics of fairy tale characters.

Developmental :

• development of communication skills, formation of skills of cooperation with peers, unification of children's teams;

Educating :

• playing and speaking out problematic situations that arise during communication.

Listening to an excerpt of the song “Fairy Tales Walk Around the World” performed by V. Tolkunova. (SLIDES 1 – 4)

Updating knowledge. Today we will continue working on the fairy tale “Patchwork and the Cloud”, but first we will conduct (SLIDE 5)

a small blitz survey based on the fairy tale by S.L. Prokofieva “The Patchwork and the Cloud”

“Not a single blade of grass...” - who thought that? /Uncle Bull's horse/

How many coins did Melchior buy a bucket of water from Buhl for? /for 2 coins/

What furniture was in the attic where Patchwork lived? /there was no furniture except straw/

What birthday gift does Cloud dream of? /lightning/

What kind of porridge did Barbatsutsa cook? /semolina/

I see that you remember the content of the fairy tale quite well.

What can you say about the fairy tale itself? (She is the author's).

Having worked with this work for several lessons, we already know a lot about the author and her fairy tale. Would you like to know how the fairy tale about the girl and the cloud came into being from the lips of the storyteller herself?

Let's find out about this (watch the interview with S.L. Prokofieva).

(SLIDE 7)

It is generally accepted that the beginning and the end are most memorable. Let's remember now last words writers. They will help us determine the topic of today's lesson. So, what did S. Prokofieva say at the end of her interview?

What will we talk about in the lesson (About the heroes of the fairy tale, their characters) (SLIDE)

What tasks will we set for ourselves in class? (aboutanalyze artistic episodes in order to be able to characterize the characters of the fairy tale)

At Sophia's at Prokofieva's

In a wonderful good fairy tale

Good robber,

Formidable protector

Water-loving "greedy"

Dreamy talent

Upstart cook

Everyone's favorite

Snub-nosed beauty ,

Green diamond

Friend - Blacker than black,

Nasty vile guy

Pin seller –

Everyone lives nearby

And they teach us through actions,

Words, relationships,

How can you find friends?

How can you lose?

I listed the heroes of the fairy tale “L and O”. Tell me, are you familiar with all of them? Why? (No, because this is an excerpt from a fairy tale)

Which of them did you recognize?

3. Analytical work with the text of a fairy tale.

Let's remember how the fairy tale began? (from the thoughts of an old horse)

What thoughts do the thoughts of a horse lead us to? (there is no water in the city at all, except for what you can buy)

Tell me, is it good when something is not enough, be it a city, a family or an individual?

But a lot, in excess? What does this lead to?

What has the drought caused in this city? (People themselves have become dry and callous.)

Which heroes' actions confirm this idea? (Bull, guards, Melchiors)

You're right guys. The drought has dried out the minds and hearts of many of the city's residents. Let's try to compare the drought in the city with the process of education. And let's look at this using the example of the main character.

But first, let’s remember at what point in Patchwork’s life we ​​meet her. (Students retell or read the episode when the Melchiors buy water from Uncle Boule: p. 126)

What do we learn from this episode? And besides the description of Patchwork’s appearance and the history of her name? (how the Melchiors treat her)

What words from this episode indicate to us how this family treats the girl? (Melchior stopped smiling and shouted..., Patchwork whispered (apparently from fear), the shopkeeper hissed...)

Who witnesses this scene besides Uncle Bull? (Zina's Horse)

So, even the animal is outraged by the behavior of people towards the orphan? (Yes)

Read how the girl herself behaves. (Patchwork sighed and trudged to her attic).

Do you think this or a similar scene has already happened in the girl’s life?

Why do you think so? (Apparently yes, because the girl doesn’t even enter into an argument, realizing that everything is in vain)

We all know what happened when Patchwork went up to her room. But I suggest youlook to this stage. (View an excerpt from M/F)

This is how L. and O met. (SLIDE)

But the dialogue of the heroes did not end there. Continue reading it by role, starting from chapter 3 (p. 131). Vasya reads it for the Cloud, Violetta reads it for Patchwork, and Yana reads the author’s words.

Didn’t anything confuse you in the dialogue between L. and O.? (Patchwork doesn’t know what rain, downpour, friend)

Why doesn't the girl know about the existence of such simple things? (Her life is full of hardships )

Physical exercise. But I see that you are sad, and I think a physical minute will come in handy. (SLIDE)

We learn a lot of important things about the heroes EXACTLY THE FIRST MEETING THEM. Why are they so frank with each other, because they didn’t know each other at all until recently? (They became friends) (SLIDE)

What, in your opinion, hinders and what helps to be friends?

I also thought about this question, and this is what I came up with. (SLIDE)

Do you agree with my conclusions? Or are you ready to argue, and maybe add some other qualities?

Now think about which of the heroes has these qualities?Aggressiveness (Barbatsutsa), Cloud (touchiness, jealousy, capriciousness), offensive words (Barbatsutsa, Cloud) "There are some words that you can't say even in fun ».

What quality does Patchwork have that almost no one else has in such quantity? –Tolerance for people .

How do you understand the word “tolerance”?

Do you think this is an important quality? How important is it?

Have you ever demonstrated this quality in any way? life situation? In what situations exactly?

There is an opinion that a person’s appearance can determine his character. Do you think appearance = character? ( Not always)

Is it possible to judge a person only by appearance?No you can not.

What can you see in a person by appearance? Let's try to do some experiment. (View portraits of heroes with questions:Who is this? What does a person look like? What is he like? )

So, let's try: you will see portraits of the heroes on the slides.

Please note that we made these conclusions only based on the appearance of the characters.

What do the actions of these heroes tell us?

Can appearance, character and actions change?

What does this depend on? (Age, habits, upbringing)

How can you divide the heroes of this fairy tale? (On positive and negative)

Name them:
- negative: Cupronickel, King.
- positive: Patchwork, Cloud.

Only Barbatsutsa evokes ambivalence. Do you agree? Why?

Which heroes are there more? And this means... (good will triumph over evil)

How does it end? final chapter fairy tales in the textbook? (Barbatsutsa accepts the girl)

Do you think anything will change in the girl’s life? (Everything will be fine)

Can you guess what the scrappy guy will do while living with Barbatsutsa? (will help Barbatsuce in the royal kitchen)

What made you think that way? (One day Barbatsutsa said that she would rather hire the first person she met, which turned out to be Patchwork)

4. Summing up the lesson (SLIDE)

Without miracles and secrets there are no fairy tales. They contain everything: wisdom, a funny joke, and invention. There are only irreparable troubles and misfortunes; all fairy tales end well. Therefore, every fairy tale has its own secret. And if you want to know the secret of this fairy tale, you need to read it to the end.

6.Homework . In the meantime, as homework I propose to answer question No. 2 p. 144.MARKS for the lesson.

7. Reflection. But that is not all. On the slide you seea staircase that leads, perhaps, to the very cloud that made friends with the most ordinary girl. Rate today's lesson: the higher or lower you attach your cloud, the more or less successful this lesson was for you.

Thank you for the lesson.

“Not a single blade of grass...” thought the old horse.

She was pulling a cart behind her. On the cart is a large oak barrel with the inscription: “Water belongs to the King.”

Below the inscription is the royal coat of arms: a golden bucket and a crown.

Walking next to the cart was Uncle Bull, the water seller.

- Hey, who needs some water! Key, cold! - shouted Uncle Bull.

The cart thundered across the bridge. But there was no river. Dry, dusty stones stuck out under the bridge.

“What kind of bridge is this if there is no water under your feet? - thought the horse. - One name. But the old owl, the Night Philosopher, who flies to the roof of my stable in the dark, told me that there used to be a river flowing here and there was as much water as you wanted. But maybe he’s already gone crazy from old age? Poor Night Philosopher..."

Now the cart was rolling along the crooked street. On both sides stood houses gray with dust.

“Is this a ditch? - thought the horse. - What kind of ditch is it if there is not a blade of grass in it? She is even ashamed to be called a ditch. What about trees without leaves? Are these trees?

- Mom, take a sip! - the skinny boy whined.

- Uncle Bull! – a pale woman called out to the water seller. - Pour a mug of water for my son.

- Whoa! - Uncle Bull shouted, pulling on the reins. - What will you give for this?

“A skein of lace, Uncle Boule,” the woman hurried, “thin as a cobweb!” You know what a craftswoman I am.

The boy emptied the mug in one breath, and his mother held her open palm under his chin so that not a drop would fall.

The horse rode past a well filled to the top with large boulders. Near the well, leaning with their backs to it, sat two guards: Red Bruiser and Red Bruiser. Out of boredom they spat: who’s next.

“What kind of well is it if you can’t drink from it? - thought the horse. - One name..."

- How are you? – asked Uncle Bull. - No one about...?

“What - not about!..” Lazyly asked the Red Tall Man, opening one eye slightly.

– Has anyone tried to roll away the stones and get water?

“Everything is quiet during the day,” Red Bruiser yawned loudly. “And at night they place a cannon near each well.” Try to approach!

- Hey, who needs some water! Key, cold! – Uncle Bull again screamed throughout the street.

But no one came out of their houses when he shouted. Doors slammed, windows closed.

“Not a blade of grass, not a leaf. Poor land. Dead city. You will only see grass in a dream and behind the bars of a royal park. How the water splashes in the barrel, it’s crazy!”

That's what Uncle Buhl's old horse was thinking about.

- Hey, Melchior! - Uncle Bull shouted when his cart reached a small shop. Above the door of the shop, on a lopsided sign, was written: “Needles, pins, various sharp things and everything you want.”

The shopkeeper appeared at the door. It was immediately obvious that he was selling sharp, hard and prickly things. His gaze was prickly. Eyelashes like needles. Eyebrows and mustaches look like hard brushes.

“They say water has become cheaper,” said the shopkeeper and chuckled.

“Not yet,” answered Uncle Bull sadly.

- So, that means two buckets for one silver coin? – Melchior asked even more cheerfully.

“For two coins, one bucket,” Uncle Bull became completely sad.

Seeing that it would still be impossible to deceive Uncle Boule, Melchior stopped smiling and shouted:

- Hey, Patchwork, bring the bucket!

A girl jumped out of the darkness of the shop with an empty bucket in her hands.

An ordinary girl. The nose is like a spatula, and is also thickly covered with freckles. Eyes are green. Skinny red braids stick out in different directions.

Only she was dressed unusually.

Her entire dress was made from different scraps: large, small, wool, blue, red, striped.

“A sip...” whispered Patchwork, staring at the bucket of water.

- What more! – the shopkeeper hissed.

At that moment something strange happened.

Uncle Buhl's old horse, always so sad and sleepy, suddenly threw up its head and neighed.

Moreover, she reared up as far as her shafts would allow and began quickly and joyfully nodding her head, as if she was greeting someone. But this is not enough. She goggled her eyes in amazement, waved her tail, shook her mane and continued neighing like a frivolous foal.

Uncle Bull even spilled some water on the ground.

This was the first time this had happened to him since he became the royal water seller.

Melchior shook his head, took the bucket and carried it into the house.

At the same time, he took such careful and careful steps, like a circus performer who holds a pole on his nose, and on the pole a tray laden with crystal glasses.

Patchwork sighed and trudged up to her attic.

It was a very ordinary attic. There was no furniture there: just a pile of straw in the corner.

Patchwork picked up a straw from the floor and began to chew it. And suddenly she saw something on the attic window.

It's hard to even say whether she saw anything or not.

“Water...” the horse moaned pitifully.

Patchwork froze. She couldn't lift a finger.

“I knew it…” the horse said hopelessly and waved its tail in despair. “I knew there wouldn’t be any water anyway.” Instead of water there will be an open mouth and a stupid look.

Patchwork was amazed to see that the horse’s tail had disappeared. The hind legs also disappeared.

- Who are you? - Patchwork stammered.

The horse shook its mane gently. Her belly became completely transparent.

“I knew it…” said the horse, looking reproachfully at Patchwork, “I knew when I died, they would ask me questions.” Instead of water - only questions...

“Water...” whispered the horse’s lips and disappeared.

Patchwork rolled down the stairs.

Friendly snoring could be heard from the master bedroom. The shopkeeper snored like a bear in a den, the shopkeeper squeaked like a gopher from a hole.

To be completely honest, I must say that Patchwork thought and painfully bit her finger while looking at the bucket of water. Never before had she dared to take a step towards him without asking.

But within a minute, Patchwork, gasping for breath, climbed up the stairs as quickly as she could, and water splashed out of the bucket and flowed down her bare legs.

I have no doubt at all, my reader, that if you found yourself in Patchwork’s place and it was a sad transparent horse sitting on your windowsill and asking for a drink, you would do exactly the same.

Patchwork pushed the door with her knee.

There was no one on the windowsill. The transparent horse disappeared.

The attic had never seemed so empty to her. Patchwork clenched her teeth and clenched her fists so as not to cry. Everything immediately became gray and boring. Patchwork sat down on a pile of straw, but immediately jumped up.

She saw that a single transparent and very sad horse's eye was floating above the windowsill.

Apparently, the eye saw the bucket. He opened wider, blinked, joy sparkled in him. Swaying, he swam to the bucket and dived straight into the water.

Sofia Prokofieva

Patchwork and Cloud

What was Uncle Buhl's old horse thinking?

“Not a single blade of grass...” thought the old horse.

She was pulling a cart behind her. On the cart is a large oak barrel with the inscription: “Water belongs to the King.”

Below the inscription is the royal coat of arms: a golden bucket and a crown.

Walking next to the cart was Uncle Bull, the water seller.

Hey, who needs some water! Key, cold! - shouted Uncle Bull.

The cart thundered across the bridge. But there was no river. Dry, dusty stones stuck out under the bridge.

“What kind of bridge is this if there is no water under your feet? - thought the horse. - One name. But the old owl, the Night Philosopher, who flies to the roof of my stable in the dark, told me that there used to be a river flowing here and there was as much water as you wanted. But maybe he’s already gone crazy from old age? Poor Night Philosopher..."

Now the cart was rolling along the crooked street. On both sides stood houses gray with dust.

“Is this a ditch? - thought the horse. - What kind of ditch is it if there is not a blade of grass in it? She is even ashamed to be called a ditch. What about trees without leaves? Are these trees?

Mom, take a sip! - the skinny boy whined.

Uncle Bull! - a pale woman called out to the water seller. - Pour a mug of water for my son.

Whoops! - Uncle Bull shouted, pulling on the reins. - What will you give for this?

A skein of lace, Uncle Boule,” the woman hurried, “thin as a cobweb!” You know what a craftswoman I am.

The boy emptied the mug in one breath, and his mother held her open palm under his chin so that not a drop would fall.

The horse rode past a well filled to the top with large boulders. Near the well, leaning with their backs to it, sat two guards: Red Bruiser and Red Bruiser. Out of boredom they spat: who’s next.

“What kind of well is it if you can’t drink from it? - thought the horse. - One name..."

How are you? - Uncle Bull asked. - No one about?..

What - not about!.. - Red-haired Big Man lazily asked, opening one eye slightly.

Has anyone tried to roll away the stones and get water?

“Everything is quiet during the day,” Red Brute yawned loudly. - And at night they place a cannon near each well. Try to approach!

Hey, who needs some water! Key, cold! - Uncle Bull yelled again throughout the street.

But no one came out of their houses when he shouted. Doors slammed, windows closed.

“Not a blade of grass, not a leaf. Poor land. Dead city. You will only see grass in a dream and behind the bars of a royal park. How the water splashes in the barrel, it’s crazy!”

That's what Uncle Buhl's old horse was thinking about.

Patchwork

Hey Melchior! - Uncle Bull shouted when his cart reached a small shop. Above the door of the shop, on a lopsided sign, was written: “Needles, pins, various sharp things and everything you want.”

The shopkeeper appeared at the door. It was immediately obvious that he was selling sharp, hard and prickly things. His gaze was prickly. Eyelashes like needles. Eyebrows and mustaches look like hard brushes.

They say the price of water has fallen,” the shopkeeper said and chuckled.

“Not yet,” Uncle Bull answered sadly.

So, that means two buckets for one silver coin? - Melchior asked even more cheerfully.

For two coins, one bucket,” Uncle Bull became completely sad.

Seeing that it would still be impossible to deceive Uncle Boule, Melchior stopped smiling and shouted:

Hey, Patchwork, bring the bucket!

A girl jumped out of the darkness of the shop with an empty bucket in her hands.

An ordinary girl. The nose is like a spatula, and also thickly sprinkled with freckles. Eyes are green. Skinny red braids stick out in different directions.

Only she was dressed unusually.

Her entire dress was made from different scraps: large, small, wool, blue, red, striped.

A sip... - whispered Patchwork, staring at the bucket of water.

What more! - the shopkeeper hissed.

At that moment something strange happened.

Uncle Buhl's old horse, always so sad and sleepy, suddenly threw up its head and neighed.

Moreover, she reared up as far as her shafts would allow and began quickly and joyfully nodding her head, as if she was greeting someone. But this is not enough. She goggled her eyes in amazement, waved her tail, shook her mane and continued neighing like a frivolous foal.

Uncle Bull even spilled some water on the ground.

This was the first time this had happened to him since he became the royal water seller.

Melchior shook his head, took the bucket and carried it into the house.

At the same time, he took such careful and careful steps, like a circus performer who holds a pole on his nose, and on the pole a tray laden with crystal glasses.

Patchwork sighed and trudged up to her attic.

It was a very ordinary attic. There was no furniture there: just a pile of straw in the corner.

Patchwork picked up a straw from the floor and began to chew it. And suddenly she saw something on the attic window.

It's hard to even say whether she saw anything or not.

Water... - the horse moaned pitifully.

Patchwork froze. She couldn't lift a finger.

“I knew it…” the horse said hopelessly and waved its tail in despair. “I knew there wouldn’t be any water anyway.” Instead of water there will be an open mouth and a stupid look.

Patchwork was amazed to see that the horse’s tail had disappeared. The hind legs also disappeared.

Who are you? - Patchwork stammered.

The horse shook its mane gently. Her belly became completely transparent.

“I knew it…” said the horse, looking reproachfully at Patchwork, “I knew when I died, they would ask me questions. Instead of water - only questions...

Water... - the horse's lips whispered and disappeared.

Patchwork rolled down the stairs.

Friendly snoring could be heard from the master bedroom. The shopkeeper snored like a bear in a den, the shopkeeper squeaked like a gopher from a hole.

To be completely honest, I must say that Patchwork thought and painfully bit her finger while looking at the bucket of water. Never before had she dared to take a step towards him without asking.

But within a minute, Patchwork, gasping for breath, climbed up the stairs as quickly as she could, and water splashed out of the bucket and flowed down her bare legs.

I have no doubt at all, my reader, that if you found yourself in Patchwork’s place and it was a sad transparent horse sitting on your windowsill and asking for a drink, you would do exactly the same.

Patchwork pushed the door with her knee.

There was no one on the windowsill. The transparent horse disappeared.

The attic had never seemed so empty to her. Patchwork clenched her teeth and clenched her fists so as not to cry. Everything immediately became gray and boring. Patchwork sat down on a pile of straw, but immediately jumped up.

She saw that a single transparent and very sad horse's eye was floating above the windowsill.

Apparently, the eye saw the bucket. He opened wider, blinked, joy sparkled in him. Swaying, he swam to the bucket and dived straight into the water.

The bucket seemed to come to life. From there, gurgling, muttering and very satisfied grunting were heard.

A minute later, a white, light head appeared from the bucket, as if sculpted from soap foam.

Patchwork saw a nose like a spatula, wide-set eyes, and pigtails sticking out in different directions.

Two white hands rested on the edges of the bucket. The little man grunted, strained himself and sat down on the edge of the bucket. He pulled the white torn hem over his knees.

He reminded Patchwork of someone. Someone very familiar. But who? Patchwork couldn't figure it out.

Patchwork looked into the bucket.

“Empty! - Patchwork was amazed. - Not a drop left. Even the bottom is dry..."

Ever evaporated? - the white man asked thoughtfully.

N-no... - Patchwork whispered.

And suddenly the white man pulled his ear and smoothly flew up.

He didn’t do anything for this: he didn’t wave his arms, he didn’t even move the toes of his bare feet. I just flew to myself - that’s all.

As he flew over Patchwork, small drops of water showered her face.

Understood? - he asked.

There is probably no person who did not like to look at clouds as a child. And see in them fabulous paintings– amazing animals and people, magical castles, islands... But to retain this ability in adulthood - maybe this is what distinguishes real storytellers? Such as Sofya Prokofieva, author of the books “The Adventures of the Yellow Suitcase”, “The Magician’s Apprentice”, “Island of Captains”, “A Girl Named Little Eye”, “I Won’t Ask for Forgiveness” and many others. Someone will definitely name her fairy tale “The Patchwork and the Cloud” among their favorite children’s books.

Plot:

King Fontanius I has taken possession of all the water in the kingdom and sells it to the inhabitants for gold coins. The king himself is cowardly and stupid, the only thing that worries him is not to be left without a portion of his favorite semolina porridge, which only the old, grumpy and formidable (but only in appearance - but in fact very kind and wise) cook Barbatsutsa knows how to cook correctly. Everywhere, except for the royal garden and palace hidden behind an impregnable fence, drought and thirst reign, none of the inhabitants of the kingdom remember (and the children don’t even know) what the word “rain” means. But one day Cloud accidentally flies there, having escaped from the supervision of his stern grandmother, Thundercloud. It finds a friend - a servant girl named Patchwork. The cloud can take on any form - and most willingly turns into the interlocutor with whom it speaks. It is very interesting and fun to be with him, but his character is not suitable for the difficult struggle with the greedy king and his insidious and cunning associates, such as Councilor Slysh. Cloud is inexperienced, frivolous and gullible, and has absolutely no idea what dangers may threaten him and his friends. And everything could end very sadly... but this is a fairy tale!

Based on this book in 1977, it was filmed and wonderful cartoon with songs based on poems by David Samoilov.

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