Der var engang en from men fattig lille pige, som boede ganske alene med sin mor. De havde slet ikke mere at spise, og barnet gik så ud i skoven, og der mødte hun en gammel kone. Hun vidste allerede, hvad der var i vejen, og gav pigen en lille gryde. Når hun sagde til den: "Kog, lille gryde," lavede den dejlig sød byggrød, og når hun sagde: "Stands, lille gryde," holdt den op med at koge. Pigen bragte gryden hjem til sin mor, og deres nød og sorg var nu forbi. Så tit de ville, spiste de dejlig grød. En dag, da pigen var gået ud, sagde moderen: "Kog, lille gryde." Den begyndte så at koge, og hun spiste sig mæt og ville have den til at holde op igen, men hun kunne ikke huske, hvad hun skulle sige. Den kogte altså videre, grøden steg op over randen og kogte og kogte, så køkkenet og hele huset blev fuldt, og til sidst gik grøden ind i huset ved siden af og ned ad gaden, som om hele verden skulle spise sig mæt, og der var ikke et menneske, som vidste råd. Da der kun var et eneste hus, hvor den ikke var trængt ind, kom pigen hjem og sagde: "Stands, lille gryde." Straks holdt den op med at koge, men den der igen ville ind i byen, måtte spise sig igennem.
There was a poor but good little girl who lived alone with her mother, and they no longer had anything to eat. So the child went into the forest, and there an aged woman met her who was aware of her sorrow, and presented her with a little pot, which when she said, "Cook, little pot, cook," would cook good, sweet porridge, and when she said, "Stop, little pot," it ceased to cook. The girl took the pot home to her mother, and now they were freed from their poverty and hunger, and ate sweet porridge as often as they chose. Once on a time when the girl had gone out, her mother said, "Cook, little pot, cook." And it did cook and she ate till she was satisfied, and then she wanted the pot to stop cooking, but did not know the word. So it went on cooking and the porridge rose over the edge, and still it cooked on until the kitchen and whole house were full, and then the next house, and then the whole street, just as if it wanted to satisfy the hunger of the whole world, and there was the greatest distress, but no one knew how to stop it. At last when only one single house remained, the child came home and just said, "Stop, little pot," and it stopped and gave up cooking, and whosoever wished to return to the town had to eat his way back.