they say you can't judge a book by its cover

But actually, I am not sure that it’s true.  Remember this clever chap?  Well after a bit of pre-book-opening discussion, we were able to make a pretty good attempt at judging what the story was going to be about, just from what we saw on the cover.

Well now.  Let’s look at this book’s cover.

It tells us who wrote the book (the author) and who drew the pictures (the illustrator).  It also tells us the what the story is called (the title).  That combined with a close look at the picture on the front gives us a clue as to who the story might be about (the main character) and to where the story takes place (the setting).  We can also guess at what the problem in the story might be.

But of course we have to open up the book to find out how the tiger lost his stripes and what he did to find them again (if indeed he did).

General MacTiger (that’s the name of our main character) had the most splendid coat.  It was honey-golden, liquorice black, as thick and silky as a Persian rug, and dazzlingly striped.  As you can see from the cover of the book.

But one morning he woke up feeling odd.  So he went to look at his reflection in the river.  And even though his eyes looked bright and his tongue looked pink and his whiskers bristled as they should, something was wrong.  Can you spot what it was?

He could hardly believe his eyes; he was all yellow!  His stripes had gone!

Having established that it was not a dream, he decided to get to the bottom of this remarkable case of stripelessness.  He looked in the long grass, in the reeds and in the bamboo groves…..

but after hours of searching he still hadn’t managed to find any trace of his stripes. 

He felt most unhappy as he trudged his way home.  But in a clearing in the jungle (the setting) he spotted something hanging from a branch.  It had not been there before.  It was a sort of basket, woven out of strips of dark stuff.  Something like a hammock, something like a wasp’s nest, something like a long sock.

General MacTiger stared at it – and as he stared, anger built up inside him like steam in a pressure cooker.  It burst out of him in a tremendous crackling roar.

“My stripes!” he roared.

From the basket-thing slid a flat head on the end of a looooong neck.  A dry whissspery voice said, “Would you mind making lessss noise?”

“Fury!  Roar!  Hijacker!” roared General MacTiger.  “Give me back my stripes!"

“There’s no point in making a fussss,” said the python (for that is who had stolen General MacTiger’s stripes).  “I never give up anything once I’ve got my hands on it.”

Putting aside the fact that snakes do not have hands, General MacTiger tried to come up with a solution to the problem.

“What do you want in exchange for my stripes?” he asked.

And there began a rather complicated process…..more of which later.

For now, I wonder what you would have done if you were General MacTiger and you had had your stripes stolen by a pesky python.