Verla Kay (Gold Fever and Iron Horses) writes many of her books in what she calls "cryptic rhyme," which is her definition for stories composed in a sort of fill-in-the-gap verse, with lots of room for interpretation. There is little exposition and plenty of action, which, in the case of her new book, <B>Homespun Sarah</B>, is a good thing, since the story is all about getting a new dress.

Nah, it’s about much more than that. An author’s note details the hardships of life in early 1700s Pennsylvania, when children often slept in front of the fireplace, ate meals standing up, and worked alongside their parents to make almost everything they needed to survive, including their clothing: "A girl would wear her only dress every day for as long as it fit even if it was a year or more."

Enter Sarah and the days of quilts and candlelight, water buckets and wood boxes, cornmeal cakes and washtubs. Sarah tends the baby, dips candles, gathers berries . . . and grows up her ankles show beneath the hem of her dress, and the bodice will no longer lace as it should. What’s a girl to do? Father shears a sheep, the wool turns into linsey woolsey on the loom, then, "Homespun fabric/Measure, clip/Needles swing/Scissors snip." Mama measures and sews with Sarah, little sister grins as she becomes the proud owner of Sarah’s old dress, and "Spinning, twirling/Dancing toes/Homespun Sarah/All new clothes!" It’s a simple story that lends itself to conversation and education. What was it like to live with so little and work so much? What does it mean to live simply? Some of these questions are answered in Ted Rand’s watercolors, where we see little sister carrying wood, father furrowing the field, and mother cooking over the stove. Rand’s use of small details adds an emotional element the baby is always tethered, literally, to something (or someone) for safety, and the cow’s tail continually slaps brother on the head while he is milking. <B>Homespun Sarah</B> is a luminous little story about times gone by and the elemental necessities of living that today we take for granted.

Oh, I am so lucky I am reading a book by William Steig! I am in the hands of the master! I open the book and prepare to get lost in another world, another time, another place . . . and this story doesn’t disappoint. When Everybody Wore a Hat is a picture-book memoir, and it’s steady, snappy, snazzy and swell.

Whether he is writing about a donkey and a magic pebble or a monster who finds his one true love, Steig always succeeds in tapping into universal feelings of wanting to belong and to create community. In When Everybody Wore a Hat, he writes simply about his immigrant family in 1916, when he was 8 years old, growing up in the Bronx: "This is the story of when I was a boy, almost 100 years ago, when fire engines were pulled by horses, boys did not play with girls, kids went to libraries for books, there was no TV, you could see a movie for a nickel, and everybody wore a hat." He writes about everyday things: "We used to go shopping with Mom all the time. We went along to carry stuff." He writes about world events: "we all knew there was a big war going on in Europe." He writes with the trademark Steig humor: "Everyone wanted his picture on a horse . . . Cameras were very big then, and you had to stay very still. This was hard for the horse."

Drawn in that wonderfully wacky, child-friendly, slightly screwball style that give Steig’s New Yorker drawings such distinction, the illustrations add another layer of depth and richness. When he writes, "Mom said Esther Haberman had a big mouth," well, we see it, quite literally.

The book is beautifully structured as well, beginning with a photo of Steig as a boy and ending with a photo of him today. What a treat to be invited into this beloved author’s boyhood, to sink into that experience, to belong for a little while to Steig’s family, which is, of course, an extension of our larger family, our community, our world. When Everybody Wore a Hat is another tale to add to our collective memory.

Deborah Wiles writes from Frederick, Maryland.

The young narrator of The Perfect Puppy for Me! begins by saying: "I love dogs. I have posters of dogs all over my room, books and videos about dogs, a hat with floppy dog ears and a clock that barks every hour. The only thing I don’t have is a dog." The good news is that the unnamed narrator is going to get a pooch for his birthday; he simply needs to decide which type is best for him. Thus begins a colorful investigation of various breeds, a survey he takes by describing several neighborhood specimens, such as Duke, the German shepherd, Poker, the basset hound, Danish, the Great Dane, and Goulash, the mongrel.

Packed with plenty of information, this fun book is perfect for youngsters longing for some canine companionship. The narrator explains a few of the pros and cons of various breeds as the book progresses. What’s more, each page has additional illustrations and informational tidbits (dogs don’t sweat, they sleep about 16 hours a day, and chocolate, for them, is like poison.) Jessie Hartland’s illustrations provide just the right light-hearted accompaniment to the text. Her artwork has appeared in Target stores, Bloomingdale’s window displays and on murals at a Japanese amusement park, and here she has created a hip, energetic mood, with small tail-wagging critters and captions surrounding the main text (one sidebar provides an explanation of what moods various doggy tail positions indicate).

In the end, the perfect puppy is found. Our narrator picks a mixed breed that he dubs a "Labradoodle," a combination of Claudine, the poodle, and Jackpot, the yellow Labrador, he met earlier in the book. He names his new charge Doodle. The Perfect Puppy for Me! is an enjoyable romp through the animal world for young and old readers alike. Finding the perfect pet is never easy, but this doggone good story, with its wealth of information, can help with the quest.

Alice Cary writes from Groton, Massachusetts.

Pirican Pic and Pirican Mor is a retelling of a Scottish folktale, a charming story about sharing, quarrels and forgiveness that kids are sure to enjoy. The title refers to the names of two boys who are at first happily engaged in a partnership: one is perched high in a tree picking walnuts, while the other is on the ground, cracking the nuts open and popping them in his mouth. All goes well until one comes down from the tree and realizes the other has eaten all of the nuts.

Thus begins a cumulative rhyme perfect for reading aloud in the manner of "The House that Jack Built." This rhyme begins with Pirican Mor announcing: "I need a stick both hard and straight/To whack and thwack poor Pirican Pic/Who ate all of my walnuts!" Each time Pirican Mor tries to accomplish one task, he is diverted and sent on yet another. For instance, he tells the tree he needs a stick, and the tree replies that he needs an axe. Once he finds an axe, however, he is told he needs a sharpening stone, and so on. Pirican Mor doggedly pursues each and every goal that comes his way, and young readers will no doubt enjoy the building anticipation of his eventual mission: namely, the whacking and thwacking. But if, like me, you fret about the prospect of violence, lay your fears to rest. Happily, it never comes to pass. Yes, Pirican Mor eventually overcomes his obstacles and returns to the scene with his stick, ready to reap revenge. Pirican Pic, however, has long since departed, but a pile of cracked walnuts sits ready to be eaten. This little snack diverts Pirican Mor from his mission, and all ends well.

Lupton’s ongoing rhyme is enlivened by a variety of typefaces, in addition to Yumi Heo’s snazzy oil illustrations, which are done in a primitive, yet contemporary two-dimensional style. Her muted colors and innovative perspectives make for eye-appealing action on every page. Pirican Pic and Pirican Mor are indeed a lively pair, a duo that will bring smiles to young readers time after time.

Ruler of the Courtyard is a riveting tale about confronting and ultimately overcoming fears, a universal theme for young readers. Refreshingly enough, this is truly a book about facing terror. It’s not the kind of timid picture book that focuses on preschool nervousness or a case of the jitters.

Sabo, the book’s young heroine, lives in what seems to be a hot, foreign country, most likely the native Pakistan of author Rukhsana Kahn. Sabo explains that she has always been afraid of chickens "They’ve been the very terror of my life." Every day she must confront them, however, and on this day she darts from her home to the nearby bathhouse. Sabo makes a wild run across the yard and slams the bathhouse door in the face of those terrifying cluckers, then leisurely washes her hair. Eventually, however, she notices a snake in the corner, right by the door, her only escape route. Paralyzed with fright, she contemplates killing the snake, then decides to trap it instead, using her bucket. Finally, after many terrifying moments, she succeeds. Next, she realizes that she hasn’t captured a snake at all. Instead, she has trapped her grandmother’s belt, which lay coiled in the corner. Once Sabo realizes the silliness of her error and terror she begins to laugh. Released from her fear of chickens, she returns to the courtyard and roars at them, proclaiming, "I AM MIGHTY SABO! RULER OF THE COURTYARD!"

R. Gregory Christie’s illustrations heighten every element of the story. Each page is framed by a background of hot oranges, yellows and reds, the color of heat and desert. The chickens are black and white splotches that convey movement, while the "snake" is appropriately coiled and colorful.

This visit to Sabo’s world is an interesting excursion to foreign soil. Readers may also enjoy more books by Rukhsana Khan, such as Muslim Child: Understanding Islam through Stories and Poems. Her latest offering is a book with which every young child can identify.

Alice Cary writes from Groton, Massachusetts.

History has layers, like an onion: peel one off, and you suddenly have a slightly different perspective. Teaching young people about events in the past that shaped our world requires the exploration of various layers simply recounting an event isn’t enough. Jim Murphy’s <B>Inside the Alamo</B> does just that, going well beyond the average junior high textbook explanation of events that had broader implications for this country than were immediately obvious.

In the 1830s, the United States was straining at its boundaries. All but two of the 24 states were east of the Mississippi River, and people were flocking to the territories beyond. South and west, towards the Rio Grande, was an area claimed by Mexico, but under-populated at least until Americans began to immigrate. The expansion was rapid, and within a few years Americans outnumbered the Mexican residents of the area, thus setting in motion the events that culminated at the Alamo.

Murphy’s book opens with the arrival of the army of Mexican general Santa Anna at the outskirts of the Alamo as he lays siege to its small band of defenders. Murphy details the personalities inside and outside the Alamo walls, the events that brought them there, and as the final battle begins, their eventual fates. He covers the major players: David Crockett, Jim Bowie and William Travis, all of whom died defending the fort, as well as Santa Anna, the general who was also Mexico’s dictator, and Sam Houston, who would eventually defeat Santa Anna through a combination of luck and hubris. Murphy doesn’t neglect the lesser-known actors in this drama either, from the woman who nursed Bowie to the black man who was Travis’ slave. Thanks to these details, a full-bodied profile of the battle and its participants emerges.

Murphy’s book is a treasure trove of illustrations, diagrams, maps and photos, and his direct prose is enlightening and entertaining. <B>Inside the Alamo</B> is a children’s book that adult history buffs will enjoy even those who aren’t from Texas.

It’s important to have a shoe that fits right just ask Cinderella! And in this clever, original tale we meet a shoemaker who has the ability to create shoes that make each and every person feel like royalty.

At first glance, Hans Crispin seems like an ordinary, traveling shoemaker. But when he strides into town it soon becomes clear that this cobbler boasts an extraordinary talent. Hans can create shoes like no one else! When he meets a short man, Hans creates special shoes to make him taller. A little girl who is tired of being overlooked gets shoes so ornate and fantastic, she is sure to be the center of attention. And when the fisherman’s boat springs a leak, he turns to Hans for some shoes that help him float on water.

Everyone is happy with Hans Crispin’s fantastic shoes. Everyone, that is, except the grumpy old town cobbler. Jealous, he tries to get rid of Hans by suggesting that the newcomer make a pair of shoes for Barefootus, the giant. Of course, Hans doesn’t realize the cobbler is tricking him: the giant is much more interested in dinner than in a new pair of shoes. Captured by the giant, Hans comes up with a solution that not only saves his skin, but gives the giant a new view of the world at his feet.

Steve Light, the author, also illustrated the book. Light, who often teaches art to children, explains in a note how the idea for the design of the book arose. One day the children in his class noticed the fascinating patterns made by their shoe prints when they tracked paint on the floor. The artist scoured the town for old shoes and used the soles to make patterned, hand-printed paper, on which he placed his bright-colored collages. The result is a humorous, original tale, which is also bound to inspire some fun art projects at home or school.

<B>The Spiffiest Giant</B> in Town takes place in an enchanted land where giants loom over a smaller world inhabited by people, elves and animals, and where all coexist peacefully. It’s a magical land beautifully drawn by Axel Scheffler: envision Richard Scarry’s Busytown combined with Hansel and Gretel, set in a European-looking, storybook world.

Scottish children’s author Julia Donaldson writes about a lovably, truly scruffy giant named George, who one day decides it’s high time to give himself a giant-sized makeover. He heads to a haberdashery run by small people in a small store, which means he can’t go in, so he views the merchandise by lying on the ground and peeking through the door. Soon he’s outfitted and seemingly a new man, having traded his worn-out, monk’s-style gown and grungy sandals for a "spiffy" shirt, pair of pants, belt, tie, socks and shiny black shoes.

George’s new look doesn’t last long, however, as he runs into a series of creatures who need help: a giraffe with a cold neck, a goat whose boat needs a sail, a family of mice whose house has burnt down. Immediately, he starts doling out his clothes to help. His tie warms the giraffe’s neck, his shirt becomes a sail, and one of his new shoes becomes a mouse house. Before long, George has given away practically everything, only to finally find himself outside the haberdashery in his skivvies! The store is closed, and George can only put on his dirty old clothes once more. In the end, however, George is warmly thanked by all those he has helped, and he learns a valuable lesson: that it’s much more important to be kind than spiffy.

Young readers will enjoy the form of the story, the repetitive sequence of different creatures who need George’s help. They’ll also enjoy guessing what article of clothing George might next peel off to help each creature he encounters. The tale is simple yet delightful, and its moral is one that people of all ages and sizes should keep in mind. The world definitely needs more Georges like this gentle giant.

When you consider the effect for both good and bad that flight has had on civilization an effect even greater, it could be argued, than the atomic bomb it’s remarkable that we know so little about the men behind the phenomenon. But all that should change, as 2003 marks the centennial of Wilbur and Orville Wright’s first excursion into the wild blue yonder. Peter Busby’s fascinating book First to Fly is part of what is sure to be a flood of volumes for both adults and children on the subject.

The book begins with something that kids everywhere can relate to a new toy. In this case, it’s a popular plaything of the late 19th century, a gadget called a "bat," which was essentially a toy helicopter. The young Wright boys loved the thing, and by depicting their fascination, Busby shows how the toy inspired the kids, who, encouraged by both their parents, were already fledgling inventors. They took the thing apart, made some of their own and much later, decided to try to build a machine that would take a man into the air. This episode from their youth also demonstrates that what the brothers would accomplish was not totally an original idea, but an amalgam of knowledge already available, coupled with their own research. David Craig’s detailed illustrations in First to Fly colorfully evoke an antique, turn-of-the-century feeling. There are plenty of period photographs as well, but Craig’s paintings take the reader where no tintype could ever go directly above Orville and a military observer as they frantically try to maneuver a damaged flyer to the ground, for instance.

From their inquisitive boyhood, to their entrepreneurial days, to their recognition as world-famous men, First to Fly will give a young pilot or inventor a look at how ordinary people with extraordinary dreams can accomplish the impossible.

The Collins girls are loud, loud, LOUD. Kentucky Collins is 14, the oldest and most popular. Virginia Collins is 12 and the prettiest. Georgia is 11 and the smartest. And Carolina is the 10-year-old runt of a narrator who feels there is nothing special about her. Mama doesn’t have a chance against the four of them, not without Daddy, who left when Carolina was two. It’s 1955, and the Collins family lives in the Kentucky hills in a small house that has electricity when the family can afford to pay the bills. A good time out is a trip to town to get permanents or see a James Dean movie. Into their lives comes Winston Churchill Birch, nicknamed Tadpole after the time he took a dare and swallowed a tadpole, only to throw it up later and return it still alive to the creek. Tadpole, now Tad, has run away from the abusive relatives raising him and has come to live with the Collinses. He sings, plays guitar, rallies the neighbors for social events and manages to get free passes for the carnival.

There is a lot going on in this laid-back, easy-feeling story. Characters "worsh" their clothes, "borry" a fiddle and "hear tell" the Breaks of the Cumberland is a wild and beautiful place with a view "you couldn’t beat with a stick." These folks are well-drawn people who go through believable changes and learn important lessons about family, place, dreams, child abuse and dealing with the hard times life sometimes delivers.

White, the author of the Newbery Honor-winning Belle Prater’s Boy, writes warmly and sensitively about this Kentucky hill family that owns so little, yet has so much. Her tone is pitch-perfect as she portrays Carolina coming into her own and finding what makes her special. She has noticed her knack for harmony the layers of music, the notes running below the melody, as Tad explains to her and by the end of the novel, Carolina knows who she is in her family: She’s the talented one.

Dean Schneider is a middle school English teacher in Nashville.