Free Charlotte's Web by E. B. White

the pig to the County Fair on September sixth. Make the crate large and paint it green with gold letters!”
    â€œWhat will the letters say?” asked Lurvy.
    â€œThey should say Zuckerman’s Famous Pig .”
    Lurvy picked up a pitchfork and walked away to get some clean straw. Having such an important pig was going to mean plenty of extra work, he could see that.
    Below the apple orchard, at the end of a path, was the dump where Mr. Zuckerman threw all sorts of trash and stuff that nobody wanted any more. Here, in a small clearing hidden by young alders and wild raspberry bushes, was an astonishing pile of old bottles and empty tin cans and dirty rags and bits of metal and broken bottles and broken hinges and broken springs and dead batteries and last month’s magazines and old discarded dishmops and tattered overalls and rusty spikes and leaky pails and forgotten stoppers and useless junk of all kinds, including a wrong-size crank for a broken ice-cream freezer.
    Templeton knew the dump and liked it. There were good hiding places there—excellent cover for a rat. And there was usually a tin can with food still clinging to the inside.
    Templeton was down there now, rummaging around. When he returned to the barn, he carried in his mouth an advertisement he had torn from a crumpled magazine.
    â€œHow’s this?” he asked, showing the ad to Charlotte.“It says ‘Crunchy.’ ‘Crunchy’ would be a good word to write in your web.”
    â€œJust the wrong idea,” replied Charlotte. “Couldn’t be worse. We don’t want Zuckerman to think Wilbur is crunchy. He might start thinking about crisp, crunchy bacon and tasty ham. That would put ideas into his head. We must advertise Wilbur’s noble qualities, not his tastiness. Go get another word, please, Templeton!”

    The rat looked disgusted. But he sneaked away to the dump and was back in a while with a strip of cotton cloth. “How’s this?” he asked. “It’s a label off an old shirt.”
    Charlotte examined the label. It said PRE-SHRUNK.
    â€œI’m sorry, Templeton,” she said, “but ‘Pre-shrunk’ is out of the question. We want Zuckerman to think Wilbur is nicely filled out, not all shrunk up. I’ll have to ask you to try again.”
    â€œWhat do you think I am, a messenger boy?” grumbled the rat. “I’m not going to spend all my time chasing down to the dump after advertising material.”
    â€œJust once more—please!” said Charlotte.
    â€œI’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said Templeton. “I know where there’s a package of soap flakes in the woodshed. It has writing on it. I’ll bring you a piece of the package.”
    He climbed the rope that hung on the wall and disappeared through a hole in the ceiling. When he came back he had a strip of blue-and-white cardboard in his teeth.
    â€œThere!” he said, triumphantly. “How’s that?”
    Charlotte read the words: “With New Radiant Action.”
    â€œWhat does it mean?” asked Charlotte, who had never used any soap flakes in her life.
    â€œHow should I know?” said Templeton. “You asked for words and I brought them. I suppose the next thing you’ll want me to fetch is a dictionary.”
    Together they studied the soap ad. “‘With new radiant action,’” repeated Charlotte, slowly. “Wilbur!” she called.
    Wilbur, who was asleep in the straw, jumped up.
    â€œRun around!” commanded Charlotte. “I want to see you in action, to see if you are radiant.”
    Wilbur raced to the end of his yard.
    â€œNow back again, faster!” said Charlotte.
    Wilbur galloped back. His skin shone. His tail had a fine, tight curl in it.
    â€œJump into the air!” cried Charlotte.
    Wilbur jumped as high as he could.
    â€œKeep your knees straight and touch the ground with your ears!”