The Darning Needle

Quick Answer

Why This Story Works for Bedtime

It’s humorous and reflective without being scary. The ‘too important’ voice is easy to talk about at bedtime—how we can be confident without being unkind or arrogant.

Story Synopsis

A darning needle considers itself extremely elegant. It insists it must be held carefully because it is ‘so fine,’ and it looks down on the ordinary work it’s meant to do. When fingers take it from the workbox, the needle speaks as if it is a precious thing, not a tool. Soon, reality challenges the needle’s self‑image. It is pushed into thick cloth, and under pressure it snaps. Even broken, it refuses humility. It decides that being broken proves it was too delicate for such work—almost as if the world is to blame. The needle is cast aside and later mistaken for something else. Over and over, it tries to preserve a grand story about itself, even when its circumstances become small and silly. Andersen’s tale is gently satirical: the needle’s pride is funny, but also familiar. It invites children (and grown‑ups) to consider how perspective changes everything—and how dignity doesn’t require boasting.

Story Excerpt

There was once a darning needle who thought she was far too elegant for ordinary work. Whenever the fingers lifted her from the workbox, she would say in a very proud voice, “Hold me tight. Don’t let me fall. If you do, you’ll never find me again—I’m so very fine.” “That is your opinion, is it?” the fingers replied, and they held her firmly around the middle. “See,” said the darning needle, “I’m coming with a train,” and she pulled a long thread after her. But there was no knot in the thread at all. Soon the fingers set the needle’s point against the cook’s slipper. There was a tear in the leather on top, and it needed to be sewn together. “What coarse work!” the darning needle sniffed. “I shall never get through. I shall break— I am breaking!” And truly, with one sharp little snap, she broke. “Did I not say so?” said the darning needle, still sounding very sure of herself. “I know I am too fine for such work as that.” “This needle is quite useless for sewing now,” said the fingers. But they did not throw her away. The cook took a drop of sealing wax and let it fall onto the needle, then fastened her handkerchief with it in front. “So now I am a breastpin,” said the darning needle. “I knew very well I should come to honor one day. Merit is sure to rise.” And she laughed quietly to herself—though of course, no one ever saw a darning needle laugh. There she sat, as proud as if she rode in a grand coach, and she looked all around.

In One Glance