PREMIUM PREVIEW: The Hatmaker's Dilemma
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Hello everyone, this is Ria with a quick note. This is a preview of an episode exclusive to Little Stories Premium. Little Stories Premium gives you more of the stories you love, an ad-free listening experience, and access to Little Stories for Sleep, an exclusive bedtime podcast featuring brand new sleepy stories,

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This is Ria. Welcome to Little Stories for Tiny People. Sometimes I come up with the title for a story before I have the slightest idea for the plot. I've done it a few times, and it's always a challenge. The good kind. Like the challenge our main character faces in this sweet tale. Let's hear it. It's called...

The Hat Maker's Dilemma. Take it away, Bella. Remember, there are no pictures. You have to imagine the pictures in your mind. You can imagine them however you want. Okay, here we go.

Some mice are born to be trapped disablers. Others are born to be chefs. Still others are meant to be burrow architects, cheese raiders, cheese graders. Gordon S. Mouseweather was born to make hats.

It is said, rather loudly, by Gordon's Aunt Florence, that when he was nine days old, he fashioned a hat from a leaf. He donned it like so.

Florence would trill at holidays, always at holidays, with a knowing grin. He tilted it at a cant he did, and I told his mother then and there, that boy is born to make hats. Gordon's mother, Flannery, always laughed good-naturedly at the recollection, but

never quite going so far as to nod or offer anything in the way of corroborating her sister's story, but never contradicting it, either. If Aunt Florence had, in fact, correctly predicted Gordon's path in life...

It would be about the only thing she could claim to have seen coming. She made a great many assertions. "It'll hail tomorrow, I tell you. I feel it in my knees." That did not come to pass.

And therefore, no one felt any desire to take this one thing away from her. As far as we know, Aunt Florence did indeed declare her nephew to be a hat maker years ago. And in time, that is precisely what he became. And not just any run-of-the-mill hat maker either. No.

Gordon Mouseweather was known for his breathtaking designs. It is said, not by Aunt Florence, but by other witnesses, that an aged mouse once saw Gordon lift a new hat out of its box and found it so astonishingly exquisite that the mouse did not breathe for 17 seconds.

Hard to know if that one is true, but uncontested is the fact that elegant mice from far and wide came to Mouseweather's Custom Hats for one-of-a-kind hats to wear to their most momentous occasions. Gordon was a true master of his craft.

His motto, which he displayed prominently on a wooden plaque in his shop, was... Perfect hat. Perfect fit. Every time. That is what Gordon strived for day after day. And by and large, it is what he achieved...

But such excellence is not the only thing that matters, nor is it necessarily possible in business.

Gordon's business was faltering. There were only so many mice who wished to spend hard-earned cheese or berries or sourdough buns on a custom hat. And perhaps it would have been fine to plod along alone.

barely keeping his business afloat. But on a lovely evening in summer, after a productive day at work, Gordon returned home to find his wife, Lily Mouseweather, happier than he'd ever seen her. We're going to have little mice, Gordon. Dr. Whiskerly says it'll be six babies. Can you believe it? And in just two weeks...

"'Six babies! How... how wonderful!' Gordon said. Inside, his mind was ablaze. "'Six babies! Six mouths to feed!' All that evening his mind swam with thoughts. Happy, elated thoughts, yes, but

but also worries. He carried his concerns with him to work the following day.

A gorgeous day in June, he had a customer in the shop for the first fitting of a fetching top hat. Gordon placed the hat on the mustachioed mouse's head. There we are. Ah, the customer murmured appraisingly. Just then, the door of the shop swung open with a jingle. Jingle.

"'Be with you in a moment,' Gordon said without a glance. He shifted the hat on the customer's head, a smile ripening on his face as he saw how well it fit."

Won't even need a second fitting, Gordon thought to himself as he plucked the hat from the customer's head. But his thoughts were interrupted by a very distinctive voice. I'll just bide my time perusing your headpieces while you finish up.

A small shiver of recognition ran from Gordon's head to the tip of his tail, and he turned to see, yes, his assessment confirmed, none other than Victoria Mouseworth pacing the narrow shop, studying the many hats on display.

"'Uh, what do you think?' Gordon said, directing the question to his mustachioed customer, but keeping his eyes on Victoria.'

It's, well, it's perfect. Hmm? Mouse weather? Oh, uh, yes, sir. I said it's perfect. I'd like to take it home today. Excellent, sir. Gordon forced his attention to his customer and swiftly boxed up the hat. He gratefully accepted a sack full of sunflower seeds in exchange for it...

and waved as the mouse exited the shop. With that, he was alone with Victoria Mouseworth, esteemed forest resident and owner of the soon-to-be-open, long-awaited shop, Treetop Treasures.

Victoria Mouseworth believed the way to communicate respect to a fellow mouse was to be direct. Some mice found this to be off-putting or intimidating. When Victoria sensed this type of response from a mouse, she filed away the information, and at their next encounter, she spoke only of the weather.

But she greatly admired Gordon Mouseweather's talent. She had three of his hats in her own closet and had received countless compliments when she wore them out.

So when Gordon's customer strode out of the hat shop, and he turned to give her his undivided attention, she said, "'Gordon, that's a sharp tie you've got on. Allow me to get straight to the reason I've darkened your door, as I do value your time. I want to sell your hats in my shop. I'd like to order fifty to start with.'

Fifty of your best everyday hat design. For several seconds, Gordon simply stared as thoughts battled for attention in his mind. Treetop treasures. What an honor. Fifty hats. This would be the single biggest order of my career.

It would keep the business afloat for months, maybe longer. He opened his mouth to speak, having no idea what he'd say, only knowing he had to say something as his silence was growing heavy. But Victoria spoke first. Of course, we'll need the first batch of fifty for our grand opening in precisely two weeks.

Gordon stifled a laugh. He couldn't possibly make fifty hats in two weeks. Strangely, he felt a wave of relief, of all things. The answer was easy. No, he couldn't take this on, obviously. It can be a great relief to have an excuse not to tackle something difficult. It was so clear to him then that he said,

Well, obviously I... But he stopped. Because he remembered something else that had a two-week deadline. Six babies. Can you believe it? And in just two weeks, Victoria Mouseworth peered at him as if he were a most intriguing specimen.

"Obviously, you... Obviously, I..." Outside, there came a tremendous flapping sound as a massive crow descended to the ground and snatched up an unfortunate worm. It was framed superbly in the shop window

and provided just enough distraction to give Gordon a split second to consider what to do. Six more mouths to feed. The crow launched upwards, out of sight, perhaps off to feed her own nestful of squawking babies. Obviously, I would love for my hats to be on the shelves at Tree Top Treasures.

Gordon said, Splendid. We'll need a sketch of the design by tomorrow morning, 9 a.m.

There is so much more to this story. You can hear the full episode by becoming a Little Stories Premium subscriber. Visit littlestoriespremium.com to join. And thank you, as always, for listening in.