Text Leveling System

Charlotte's Web

RDQ:	1423	Max Word/Sent	73	Total Words	3266		Diff Words	873
Lex	810	Ave Word/.Sent	10	Hi Freq occurs	2414	73.9%	Hi freq	397	45.5%
AR	4.2	Long Sentences	10	Low Freq occurs	134	4.1%	Low freq	101	11.6%

Before Breakfast
HERE'S Papa going with that ax?" 
said Fern to her mother as they
 were setting the table for breakfast.
"Out to the hoghouse" replied 
Mrs. Arable. "Some pigs were born last night."
"I don't see why he needs an ax" continued Fern 
who was only eight.
'"Well" said her mother "one of the pigs is a runt. 
It's very small and weak and it will never amount to 
anything. So your father has decided to do away with
it."
"Do away with it?" shrieked Fern. "You mean kill 
it? Just because it's smaller than the others?"
Mrs. Arable put a pitcher of cream on the table. 
"Don't yell Fern!" she said. "Your father is right. The 
pig would probably die anyway."
Fern pushed a chair out of the way and ran outdoors. 
The grass was wet and the earth smelled of springtime. 
Fern's sneakers were sopping by the time she caught 
up with her father.]]
"Please don't kill it!" she sobbed. "It's unfair."
 Mr. Arable stopped walking.
"Fern" he said gently "you will have to learn to 
control yourself."
"Control myself?" yelled Fern. "This is a matter of 
life and death and you talk about controlling myself."]]
Tears ran down her cheeks and she took hold of the ax 
and tried to pull it out of her father's hand.
"Fern" said Mr. Arable "I know more about raising 
a litter of pigs than you do. A weakling makes trouble. 
Now run along!"
"But it's unfair" cried Fern. "The pig couldn't help
being born small could it? If I had been very small at 
birth would you have killed me?"
Mr. Arable smiled. "Certainly not" he said looking 
down at his daughter with love. "But this is different. 
A little girl is one thing a little runty pig is another." 
"I see no difference" replied Fern still hanging on 
to the ax. "This is the most terrible case of injustice I 
ever heard of."
A queer look came over John Arable's face. He 
seemed almost ready to cry himself.
"All right" he said. "You go back to the house and 
I will bring the runt when I come in. I'll let you start 
it on a bottle like a baby. Then you'll see what trouble 
a pig can be."
When Mr. Arable returned to the house half an 
hour later he carried a carton under his arm. Fern was 
upstairs changing her sneakers. The kitchen table was 
set for breakfast and the room smelled of coffee bacon 
damp plaster and wood smoke from the stove.
"Put it on her chair!" said Mrs. Arable. Mr. Arable 
set the carton down at Fern's place. Then he walked]]
to the sink and washed his hands and dried them on the 
roller towel.
Fern came slowly down the stairs. Her eyes were 
red from crying. As she approached her chair the 
carton wobbled and there was a -scratching noise. Fern 
looked at her father. Then she lifted the lid of the carton. 
There inside looking up at her was the newborn 
pig. It was a white one. The morning light shone
through its ears turning them pink.
"He's yours" said Mr. Arable. "Saved from an 
untimely death. And may the good Lord forgive me for 
this foolishness."
Fern couldn't take her eyes off the tiny pig. "Oh" 
she whispered. "Oh look at him! He's absolutely 
perfect."
She closed the carton carefully. First she kissed her 
father then she kissed her mother. Then she opened 
the lid again lifted the pig out and held it against 
her cheek. At this moment her brother Avery came 
into the room. Avery was ten. He was heavily armed 
-an air rifle in one hand a wooden dagger in the 
other.
"What's that?" he demanded. "What's Fern got?" 
"She's got a guest for breakfast" said Mrs. Arable. 
"Wash your hands and face Avery!"
"Let's see it!" said Avery setting his gun down. 
"You call that miserable thing a pig? That's a fine]]
specimen of a pig-it's no bigger than a white rat." 
"Wash up and eat your breakfast Avery!" said his 
mother. "The school bus will be along in half an hour." 
"Can I have a pig too Pop?" asked Avery.
"No I only distribute pigs to early risers" said Mr. 
Arable. "Fern was up at daylight trying to rid the 
world of injustice. As a result she now has a pig. A 
small one to be sure but nevertheless a pig. It just 
shows what can happen if a person gets out of bed 
promptly. Let's eat!"
But Fern couldn't eat until her pig had had a drink
of milk. Mrs. Arable found a baby's nursing bottle and 
a rubber nipple. She poured warm milk into the bottle]]
fitted the nipple over the top and handed it to Fern. 
"Give him his breakfast!" she said.
A minute later Fern was seated on the floor in the 
corner of the kitchen with her infant between her]]
knees teaching it to suck from the bottle. The pig 
though tiny had a good appetite and caught on 
quickly.
The school bus honked from the road.
"Run!" commanded Mrs. Arable taking the pig 
from Fern and slipping a doughnut into her hand. 
Avery grabbed his gun and another doughnut.
The children ran out to the road and climbed into 
the bus. Fern took no notice of the others in the bus.
She just sat and stared out of the window thinking 
what a blissful world it was and how lucky she was to 
have entire charge of a pig. By the time the bus reached 
school Fern had named her pet selecting the most 
beautiful name she could think of.
"Its name is Wilbur" she whispered to herself. 
She was still thinking about the pig when the teacher 
said: "Fern what is the capital of Pennsylvania?" 
"Wilbur" replied Fern dreamily. The pupils giggled. 
Fern blushed.]]
Wilbur
FERN loved Wilbur more than anything. She loved to stroke him to feed him to put him to bed. Every morning as soon as she got up she warmed his milk tied his bib on and held the bottle for him. Every afternoon when the school bus stopped in front of her house she jumped out and ran to the kitchen to fix another bottle for him. She fed him again at suppertime and again just before going to bed. Mrs. Arable gave him a feeding around noontime each day when Fern was away in school. Wilbur loved his milk and he was never happier than when Fern was warming up a bottle for him. He would stand and gaze up at her with adoring eyes.
For the first few days of his life Wilbur was allowed to live in a box near the stove in the kitchen. Then when Mrs. Arable complained he was moved to a bigger box in the woodshed. At two weeks of age he was moved outdoors. It was apple-blossom time and the days were getting warmer. Mr. Arable fixed a small yard specially for Wilbur under an apple tree and]]
gave him a large wooden box full of straw with a doorway cut in it so he could walk in and out as he pleased.
"Won't he be cold at night?" asked Fern.
"No" said her father. "You watch and see what he does."
Carrying a bottle of milk Fern sat down under the apple tree inside the yard. Wilbur ran to her and she held the bottle for him while he sucked. When he had finished the last drop he grunted and walked sleepily into the box. Fern peered through the door. Wilbur was poking the straw with his snout. In a short time he had dug a tunnel in the straw. He crawled into the tunnel and disappeared from sight completely covered with straw. Fern was enchanted. It relieved her mind to know that her baby would sleep covered up and would stay warm.]]
Every morning after breakfast Wilbur walked out to the road with Fern and waited with her till the bus came. She would wave good-bye to him and he would stand and watch the bus until it vanished around a turn. While Fern was in school Wilbur was shut up inside his yard. But as soon as she got home in the afternoon she would take him out and he would follow her around the place. If she went into the house Wilbur went too. If she went upstairs Wilbur would wait at the bottom step until she came down again. If she took her doll for a walk in the doll carriage Wilbur followed along. Sometimes on these journeys Wilbur would get tired and Fern would pick him up and put him in the carriage alongside the doll. He liked this. And if he was very tired he would close his eyes and go to sleep under the doll's blanket. He looked cute when his eyes were closed because his lashes were so long. The doll would close her eyes too and Fern would wheel the carriage very slowly and smoothly so as not to wake her infants.
One warm afternoon Fern and Avery put on bathing suits and went down to the brook for a swim. Wilbur tagged along at Fern's heels. When she waded into the brook Wilbur waded in with her. He found the water quite cold-too cold for his liking. So while the children swam and played and splashed water at each other Wilbur amused himself in the mud along]]
the edge of the brook where it was warm and moist and delightfully sticky and oozy.
Every day was a happy day and every night was peaceful.
Wilbur was what farmers call a spring pig which simply means that he was born in springtime. When he]]
was five weeks old Mr. Arable said he was now big enough to sell and would have to be sold. Fern broke down and wept. But her father was firm about it. Wilbur's appetite had increased; he was beginning to eat scraps of food in addition to milk. Mr. Arable was not willing to provide for him any longer. He had already sold Wilbur's ten brothers and sisters.
"He's got to go Fern" he said. "You have had your fun raising a baby pig but Wilbur is not a baby any longer and he has got to be sold."
"Call up the Zuckermans" suggested Mrs. Arabic to Fern. "Your Uncle Homer sometimes raises a pig. And if Wilbur goes there to live you can walk down the road and visit him as often as you like."
"How much money should I ask for him?" Fern wanted to know.
"Well" said her father "he's a runt. Tell your Uncle Homer you've got a pig you'll sell for six dollars and see what he says."
It was soon arranged. Fern phoned and got her Aunt Edith and her Aunt Edith hollered for Uncle Homer and Uncle Homer came in from the barn and talked to Fern. When he heard that the price was only six dollars he said he would buy the pig. Next day Wilbur was taken from his home under the apple tree and went to live in a manure pile in the cellar of Zuckerman's barn.]]
Escape
THE BARN was very large. It was very old. It smelled of hay and it smelled of manure. It smelled of the perspiration of tired horses and the wonderful sweet breath of patient cows. It often had a sort of peaceful smell-as though nothing bad could happen ever again in the world. It smelled of grain and of harness dressing and of axle grease and of rubber boots and of new rope. And whenever the cat was given a fish-head to eat the barn would smell of fish. But mostly it smelled of hay for there was always hay in the great loft up overhead. And there was always hay being pitched down to the cows and the horses and the sheep.
The barn was pleasantly warm in winter when the animals spent most of their time indoors and it was pleasantly cool in summer when the big doors stood wide open to the breeze. The barn had stalls on the main floor for the work horses tie-ups on the main floor for the cows a sheepfold down below for the sheep a pigpen down below for Wilbur and it was]]
full of all sorts of things that you find in barns: ladders grindstones pitch forks monkey wrenches scythes lawn mowers snow shovels ax handles milk pails water buckets empty grain sacks and rusty rat traps. It was the kind of barn that swallows like to build their nests in. It was the kind of barn that children like to play in. And the whole thing was owned by Fern's uncle Mr. Homer L. Zuckerman.
Wilbur's new home was in the lower part of the barn directly underneath the cows. Mr. Zuckerman knew that a manure pile is a good place to keep a young pig. Pigs need warmth and it was warm and comfortable down there in the barn cellar on the south side.
Fern came almost every day to visit him. She found]]
an old milking stool that had been discarded and she
placed the stool in the sheepfold next to Wilbur's pen. Here she sat quietly during the long afternoons thinking and listening and watching Wilbur. The sheep soon got to know her and trust her. So did the geese who lived with the sheep. All the animals trusted her she was so quiet and friendly. Mr. Zuckerman did not allow her to take Wilbur out and he did not allow]]
her to get into the pigpen. But he told Fern that she could sit on the stool and watch Wilbur as long as she wanted to. It made her happy just to be near the pig and it made Wilbur happy to know that she was sitting there right outside his pen. But he never had any fun - no walks no rides no swims.
One afternoon in June when Wilbur was almost two months old he wandered out into his small yard outside the barn. Fern had not arrived for her usual visit. Wilbur stood in the sun feeling lonely and bored.
"There's never anything to do around here" he thought. He walked slowly to his food trough and sniffed to see if anything had been overlooked at lunch. He found a small strip of potato skin and ate it. His back itched so he leaned against the fence and rubbed against the boards. When he tired of this he walked indoors climbed to the top of the manure pile and sat down. He didn't feel like going to sleep he didn't feel like digging he was tired of standing still tired of lying down. "I'm less than two months old and I'm tired of living" he said. He walked out to the yard again.
"When I'm out here" he said "there's no place to go but in. When I'm indoors there's no place to go but out in the yard."
"That's where you're wrong my friend my friend" said a voice.]]
Wilbur looked through the fence and saw the goose standing there.
"You don't have to stay in that dirty-little dirty-little dirty-little yard" said the goose who talked rather fast. "One of the boards is loose. Push on it push-push-push on it and come on out!"
"What?" said Wilbur. "Say it slower!"
"At-at-at at the risk of repeating myself" said the goose "I suggest that you come on out. It's wonderful out here."
"Did you say a board was loose?" 
"That I did that I did" said the goose.
Wilbur walked up to the fence and saw that the goose was right-one board was loose. He put his head down shut his eyes and pushed. The board gave way. In a minute he had squeezed through the fence and
was standing in the long grass outside his yard. The goose chuckled.
"How does it feel to be free?" she asked.
"I like it" said Wilbur. "That is I guess I like it." 
Actually Wilbur felt queer to be outside his fence with nothing between him and the big world.
"Where do you think I'd better go?"
"Anywhere you like anywhere you like" said the goose. "Go down through the orchard root up the sod! Go down through the garden dig up the radishes! Root up everything! Eat grass! Look for corn! Look]]
for oats! Run all over! Skip and dance jump and prance! Go down through the orchard and stroll in the woods! The world is a wonderful place when you're young."
"I can see that" replied Wilbur. He gave a jump in the air twirled ran a few steps stopped looked all around sniffed the smells of afternoon and then set off walking down through the orchard. Pausing in the shade of an apple tree he put his strong snout into the ground and began pushing digging and rooting. He felt very happy. He had plowed up quite a piece of ground before anyone noticed him. Mrs. Zuckerman was the first to see him. She saw him from the kitchen window and she immediately shouted for the men.
"Homer!" she cried. "Pig's out! Lurvy! Pig's out! Homer! Lurvy! Pig's out. He's down there under that apple tree."
"Now the trouble starts" thought Wilbur. "Now I'll catch it."
The goose heard the racket and she too started hollering. "Run-run-run downhill make for the woods the woods!" she shouted to Wilbur. "They'll never-never-never catch you in the woods."
The cocker spaniel heard the commotion and he ran out from the barn to join the chase. Mr. Zuckerman heard and he came out of the machine shed where he was mending a tool. Lurvy the hired man heard the]]
noise and came up from the asparagus patch where he was pulling weeds. Everybody walked toward Wilbur and Wilbur didn't know what to do. The woods seemed long way off and anyway he had never been down there in the woods and wasn't sure he would like it.
"Get around behind him Lurvy" said Mr. Zuckerman and drive him toward the barn! And take it easy-don't rush him! I'll go and get a bucket of slops." The news of Wilbur's escape spread rapidly among animals on the place. Whenever any creature broke loose on Zuckerman's farm the event was of great interest to the others. The goose shouted to the nearest cow that Wilbur was free and soon all the cows knew. Then one of the cows told one of the sheep and soon all the sheep knew. The lambs learned about it from their mothers. The horses in their stalls in the barn pricked up their ears when they heard the goose hollering; and soon the horses had caught on to what was happening. "Wilbur's out" they said. Every animal stirred and lifted its head and became excited to know that one of his friends had got free and was no longer penned up or tied fast.
Wilbur didn't know what to do or which way to run. It seemed as though everybody was after him. "If this is what it's like to be free" he thought "I believe I'd rather be penned up in my own yard."
The cocker spaniel was sneaking up on him from one]]

Subjective Criteria

Illustrations: Little support

Dialog: Multiple speakers

Dialog: Broken dialogue

Dialog: Unlabeled Speaker

Vocabulary: Many difficult words

Language: Many descriptive words

Sentences: Some Long/Complex

Text structure: Story/Poem

Inferences: Some implications

Complexity: Several unrelated ideas

Concept: Fanciful

Features

Character traits

Simple Plot

Topic

*Safety

Caring/Hugs

*Animals

Farms

Low Frequency Words

absolutely	addition	adoring	alongside	amused
approached	arabic	arable	arable's	asparagus
blissful	carriage	cellar	commotion	controlling
delightfully	discarded	distribute	dreamily	edith
enchanted	fern	fitted	grindstones	grunted
happier	harness	heavily	hoghouse	hollered
hollering	immediately	increased	infants	injustice
itched	journeys	lashes	liking	lurvy
manure	mending	milking	miserable	mowers
nevertheless	newborn	nipple	noontime	nursing
oozy	orchard	overlooked	patient	pausing
peaceful	peered	penned	pennsylvania	perspiration
plaster	pleasantly	pricked	promptly	pupils
racket	raises	raising	relieved	result
risers	runt	runty	scythes	selecting
sheepfold	shone	shovels	sleepily	smoothly
sopping	spaniel	specially	specimen	springtime
stalls	stirred	stroll	suggest	suits
suppertime	swallows	trough	untimely	wandered
warmth	weakling	wobbled	woodshed	wrenches
zuckermans