Tant ma tant temp ago, ce stava ’na little Cappucciett Red. One mattin her mamma dissed: “Dear Cappucciett, take this cest to the nonn but warning to the lup that is very ma very kattiv! And torn prest! Good luck! And in boc at the lup!”. Cappucciett didn’t capit very well this ultim thing but went away, da sol, with the cest. Cammining cammining, in the cuor of the forest, at a cert punt she incontered the lup, who dissed: “Hi! Piccula piezz’e girl! ’Ndove do you go?” “To the nonn with this little cest, which is little but it is full of a sacc of chocolate and biscots and panetons and more, more, more and mirtills” she dissed. “Ah, mannagg ’a maruschella (maybe an expression com: what a cul that I had)” dissed the lup, with a fium of saliv out of the bocc. And so the lup dissed: “Beh, now I dev andar because the telephonin is squilling, sorry.” And the lup went away, but not very away, but to the nonn’s house. Cappucciett Red, who was very ma very lent, lent un casin, continued for