NOT YOUR MOTHER’S BEDTIME STORIES

NOT YOUR MOTHER’S BEDTIME STORIES:

13 Fairy Tales From Around the World
 For Paper Dragon Publishing:
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Natasha Naseem
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Evan Pille
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Sarah Walkowiak
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Dominic Yarabe
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Denise Chin

Printed in the United States of America

Copyright © 2016 Paper Dragon Publishing
All Rights Reserved by the publishing team of Denise Chen,
Nicola Everding, Natasha Naseem, Evan Pille, Sarah Walkowiak,
and Dominic Yarabe.
ISBN: 978-1-60962-099-8
 CONTENTS
Introduction 1
Heimdall and Hnossa: 3
How All Things Came To Be

The Jellyfish and the Monkey 9

The Twins 16

Prince Lindworm 23

Bearskin 30

The Vampire and St. Michael 35

The Crackling Mountain 42

The Singing Bone 44

The Charcoal-Maker Who Became King 46

The Story of Zubeide 51

The Soldier and the Vampire 60

The Quarrel of the Monkey and the Crab 63

The Juniper Tree 70

Appendix
Bibliography 78
Alphabetical Index 80
 1

Introduction

“At all times, among my friends, both young and old, English or
American, I have always found eager listeners to the beautiful
legends and fairy tales of Japan, and in telling them I have also
found that they were still unknown to the vast majority, and this
has encouraged me to write them for the children of the West.”

-Yei Theodora Ozaki

Compiler, Japanese Fairy Tales

It’s strange to think that some of the stories Ozaki refers to are the
very same ones that appear in this anthology. After all, some of them
involve brutal descriptions of violence, cannibalism, and sadistic revenge.
Ozaki writes that these stories are intended for the ears of “eager
listeners,” a thought that the modern reader will probably find either
humorous or horrifying. Whatever the case, it is important to remember
that these stories were written for children. They were told by bedsides,
over fires, though word of mouth and written page. Many are hundreds
of years old, surviving age after age, only to be forgotten, abandoned
except as entries in an online database and articles in dust-ridden books.
Their only audiences now are academics who study them for what
they might reveal about an old culture, and adults who find humor in
the bizarre reality of such twisted stories having ever been considered
fairy tales. In that way they survive, but they do not fulfill their original
purpose. They do not reach the one audience they were created for:
children.
The point of this anthology is not to say that they should be told
to children. There is reason for characterizing certain subjects as “in-
appropriate,” and there is reason for parents’ restrictions of what their
children can and cannot see.
The point, rather, is to remind the world that these were children’s
stories, until relatively recently in human history. These are stories of
cultures and societies, their violence and horror a reflection of a violent
and horrific world.
Yet, there is still goodness in all these stories. There is victory,
2
generosity, kindness. There are characters who act selflessly, and in each
there is a moral lesson - something to teach children and the genera-
tions to follow; something worth remembering.
Some of these stories celebrate actions we no longer can. They
hold up acts of revenge as virtuous, honor killings as noble. Today we
condemn these ideas in word, if not always in deed. We hope that the
world will one day be rid of them, their only existence found in fiction.
These stories must not and cannot be forgotten, as they are a re-
minder of who we once were. They are a history of the human race, and
the cultures that built it. To forget them would be to forget the lessons
we have learned since, leaving us vulnerable to fall back into the world
they describe.
So as you read this, feel free to shudder. Feel free to shake your
head at all of the nonsense, the cruelty, the violence, and anything that’s
just plain weird. Just because many of the stories are intended to scare
children, do not be afraid to laugh; some of what takes place can seem
a little ridiculous. Who knows, maybe in some capacity, they were even
meant to be funny.
Whichever way you react to them, however they make you feel, do
not think of them simply as products of their time. These stories have
lasted far beyond their time, not out of random chance, but because
generations of people decided to pass them on. At some point and for
some reason, they thought that they were worth retelling, and in that
way, they tell us who we are and where were came from: perhaps they
can even serve as a reflection, or warning, of where we might go.
 3

Heimdall and Hnossa:

How All Things Came To Be
A Retelling of Northern Lore
by Padriac Colum
Hnossa, the child of Freya and the lost Odur, was the youngest of
all the Dwellers in Asgard. And because it had been prophesied that the
child would bring her father and her mother together, little Hnossa was
often taken without the City of the Gods to stand by Bifröst, the Rain-
bow Bridge, so that she might greet Odur if his steps turned toward
Asgard.
In all the palaces of the City of the Gods little Hnossa was made
welcome: in Fensalir, the Halls of Mists, where Frigga, the wife of Odin
All-Father, sat spinning with golden threads; in Breidablik, where Baldur,
the Well Beloved, lived with his fair wife, the young Nanna; in Bilskirnir,
the Winding House, where Thor and Sif lived; and in Odin’s own palace
Valaskjalf, that was all roofed over with silver shields.
The greatest of all the palaces was Gladsheim, that was built by the
golden-leaved wood, Glasir. Here the banquets of the Gods were held.
Often little Hnossa looked within and saw Odin All-Father seated at
the banquet table, with a mantle of blue over him and a shining helmet
shaped like an eagle upon his head. Odin would sit there, not eating at
all, but drinking the wine of the Gods, and taking the food off the table
and giving it to Geri and Freki, the two wolves that crouched beside his
seat.
She loved to go outside the great gate and stay beside Heimdall,
the Warder of the Rainbow Bridge. There, when there was no one cross-
ing that she might watch, she would sit beside Heimdall and listen to the
wonders that he spoke of.
Heimdall held in his hands the horn that was called the Gialarhorn.
He would sound it to let the Dwellers in Asgard know that one was
crossing the Rainbow Bridge. And Heimdall told little Hnossa how he
had trained himself to hear the grasses grow, and how he could see all
around him for a hundred miles. He could see in the night as well as the
day. He never slept. He had nine mothers, he told Hnossa, and he fed on
4
the strength of the earth and the cold sea.
As she sat beside him day after day, Heimdall would tell little Hnossa
how all things began. He had lived from the beginning of time and he
knew all things.
“Before Asgard was built,” he said, “and before Odin lived, earth
and sea and sky were all mixed together: what was then was the Chasm
of Chasms. In the North there was Niflheim, the Place of Deadly Cold. In
the South there was Muspelheim, the Land of Fire. In Niflheim there was
a cauldron called Hveigelmer that poured out twelve rivers that flowed
into the Chasm of Chasms.
“Ginnungagap, the Chasm of Chasms, filled up with ice, for the
waters of the rivers froze as they poured into it. From Muspelheim came
clouds of fire that turned the ice into thick mists. The mists fell down
again in drops of dew, and from these drops were formed Ymir, the An-
cient Giant.
“Ymir, the Ancient Giant, traveled along by the twelve rivers until he
came to where another living form was standing in the mists. This was
a Giant Cow. Audhumla was the name of that cow. Ymir lay down beside
her and drank her milk, and on the milk she gave him he lived. Other
beings were formed out of the dew that fell to the ground. They were
the Daughters of the Frost, and Ymir, the Ancient Giant, married one, and
their children were the Giants.
“One day Ymir saw Audhumla breathe upon a cliff of ice and lick
with her tongue the place she breathed on. As her tongue went over and
over the place he saw that a figure was being formed. It was not like a
Giant’s form; it was more shapely and more beautiful. A head appeared in
the cliff and golden hair fell over the ice. As Ymir looked upon the being
that was being formed he hated him for his beauty.
“Audhumla, the Giant Cow, went on licking the place where she had
breathed. At last a man completely formed stepped from the cliff. Ymir,
the Ancient Giant, hated him so much that he would have slain him then
and there. But he knew that if he did this, Audhumla would feed him no
more with her milk.
“Bur was the name of the man who was formed in the ice cliff—
Bur, the first of the heroes. He, too, lived on the milk of Audhumla. He
married a daughter of the Ancient Giant and he had a son. But Ymir and
Ymir’s sons hated Bur, and the time came at last when they were able to
kill him.
“And now there was war between Ymir and Ymir’s sons and the
son and son’s sons of Bur. Odin was the son of Bur’s son. Odin brought
all his brothers together, and they were able to destroy Ymir and all his
 5
brood—all except one. So huge was Ymir that when he was slain his
blood poured out in such a mighty flood that his sons were all drowned
in it, all except Bergelmir, who was in a boat with his wife when the flood
came, and who floated away on the flood to the place that we now call
Jötunheim, the Realm of the Giants.
“Now Odin and his sons took the body of Ymir—the vastest body
that ever was—and they flung it into the Chasm of Chasms, filling up all
the hollow places with it. They dug the bones out of the body and they
piled them up as the mountains. They took the teeth out and they made
them into the rocks. They took the hair of Ymir and they made it into the
forests of trees. They took his eyebrows and formed them into the place
where Men now dwell, Midgard. And out of Ymir’s hollow skull they made
the sky.
“And Odin and his sons and brothers did more than this. They took
the sparks and the clouds of flame that blew from Muspelheim, and they
made them into the sun and the moon and all the stars that are in the
sky. Odin found a dusky Giantess named Night whose son was called Day,
and he gave both of Muspelheim, the Land of Fire. In Niflheim there was
a cauldron called Hveigelmer that poured out twelve rivers that flowed
into the Chasm of Chasms.
“Ginnungagap, the Chasm of Chasms, filled up with ice, for the
waters of the rivers froze as they poured into it. From Muspelheim came
clouds of fire that turned the ice into thick mists. The mists fell down
again in drops of dew, and from these drops were formed Ymir, the An-
cient Giant.
“Ymir, the Ancient Giant, traveled along by the twelve rivers until he
came to where another living form was standing in the mists. This was
a Giant Cow. Audhumla was the name of that cow. Ymir lay down beside
her and drank her milk, and on the milk she gave him he lived. Other
beings were formed out of the dew that fell to the ground. They were
the Daughters of the Frost, and Ymir, the Ancient Giant, married one, and
their children were the Giants.
“One day Ymir saw Audhumla breathe upon a cliff of ice and lick
with her tongue the place she breathed on. As her tongue went over and
over the place he saw that a figure was being formed. It was not like a
Giant’s form; it was more shapely and more beautiful. A head appeared in
the cliff and golden hair fell over the ice. As Ymir looked upon the being
that was being formed he hated him for his beauty.
“Audhumla, the Giant Cow, went on licking the place where she had
breathed. At last a man completely formed stepped from the cliff. Ymir,
the Ancient Giant, hated him so much that he would have slain him then
6
and there. But he knew that if he did this, Audhumla would feed him no
more with her milk.
“Bur was the name of the man who was formed in the ice cliff—
Bur, the first of the heroes. He, too, lived on the milk of Audhumla. He
married a daughter of the Ancient Giant and he had a son. But Ymir and
Ymir’s sons hated Bur, and the time came at last when they were able to
kill him.
“And now there was war between Ymir and Ymir’s sons and the
son and son’s sons of Bur. Odin was the son of Bur’s son. Odin brought
all his brothers together, and they were able to destroy Ymir and all his
brood—all except one. So huge was Ymir that when he was slain his
blood poured out in such a mighty flood that his sons were all drowned
in it, all except Bergelmir, who was in a boat with his wife when the flood
came, and who floated away on the flood to the place that we now call
Jötunheim, the Realm of the Giants.
“Now Odin and his sons took the body of Ymir—the vastest body
that ever was—and they flung it into the Chasm of Chasms, filling up all
the hollow places with it. They dug the bones out of the body and they
piled them up as the mountains. They took the teeth out and they made
them into the rocks. They took the hair of Ymir and they made it into the
forests of trees. They took his eyebrows and formed them into the place
where Men now dwell, Midgard. And out of Ymir’s hollow skull they made
the sky.
“And Odin and his sons and brothers did more than this. They took
the sparks and the clouds of flame that blew from Muspelheim, and they
made them into the sun and the moon and all the stars that are in the
sky. Odin found a dusky Giantess named Night whose son was called Day,
and he gave both of them horses to drive across the sky. Night drove a
horse that is named Hrimfaxe, Frosty Mane, and Day drove a horse that
is named Skinfaxe, Shining Mane. From Hrimfaxe’s bit fall the drops that
make the dew upon the earth.
“Then Odin and his sons made a race of men and women and
gave them Midgard to live in. Ugly Dwarfs had grown up and had spread
themselves over the earth. These Odin made go live in the hollow places
beneath the earth. The Elves he let stay on the earth, but he gave them
the tasks of tending the streams and the grasses and the flowers. And
with the Vanir he made peace after a war had been waged, taking Niörd
from them for a hostage.
“Bergelmir, the Giant who escaped drowning in Ymir’s blood, had
sons and daughters in Jötunheim. They hated Odin and his sons and
strove against them. When Odin lighted up the world with the sun and
 7
the moon they were very wroth, and they found two of the fiercest
of the mighty wolves of Jötunheim and set them to follow them. And
still the sun and the moon, Sol and Mani, are followed by the wolves of
Jötunheim.”
Such wonders did Heimdall with the Golden Teeth tell Hnossa, the
youngest of the Dwellers in Asgard. Often the child stayed with him by
the Rainbow Bridge, and saw the Gods pass to and from Midgard: Thor,
with his crown of stars, with the great hammer Miölnir in his hands,
with the gloves of iron that he used when he grasped Miölnir; Thor in
his chariot drawn by two goats and wearing the belt that doubled his
strength; Frigga, with her dress of falcon feathers, flying swiftly as a bird;
Odin All-Father himself, riding upon Sleipner, his eight-legged steed, clad
all in golden armor, with his golden helmet, shaped like an eagle, upon his
head, and with his spear Gungnir in his hand.
Heimdall kept his horn in the branch of a great tree. This tree was
called Ygdrassil, he told little Hnossa, and it was a wonder to Gods and
Men.
“No one knows of a time when Ygdrassil was not growing, and all
are afraid to speak of the time when it will be destroyed.
“Ygdrassil has three roots. One goes deep under Midgard, another
goes deep under Jötunheim, and the third grows above Asgard. Over
Odin’s hall a branch of Ygdrassil grows, and it is called the Peace Bough.
“You see Ygdrassil, little Hnossa, but you do not know all the won-
ders of it. Far up in its branches four stags graze; they shake from their
horns the water that falls as rain upon the earth. On the topmost branch
of Ygdrassil, the branch that is so high that the Gods themselves can
hardly see it, there is an eagle that knows all things. Upon the beak of
this eagle a hawk is perched, a hawk that sees what the eyes of the eagle
may not see.
“The root of Ygdrassil that is in Midgard goes deep down to the
place of the dead. Here there is an evil dragon named Nidhögg that
gnaws constantly at the root, striving to destroy Ygdrassil, the Tree of
trees. And Ratatösk, the Squirrel of Mischief—behold him now!—runs
up and down Ygdrassil, making trouble between the eagle above and the
dragon below. He goes to tell the dragon how the eagle is bent upon
tearing him to pieces and he goes back to tell the eagle how the dragon
plans to devour him. The stories that he brings to Nidhögg make that evil
dragon more fierce to destroy Ygdrassil, the Tree of trees, so that he may
come upon the eagle and devour him.
“There are two wells by the roots of Ygdrassil, and one is above and
one is below. One is beside the root that grows in Jötunheim. This is a
8
Well of Knowledge, and it is guarded by old Mimir the Wise. Whoever
drinks out of this well knows of all the things that will come to be. The
other well is by the root that grows above Asgard. No one may drink out
of this well. The three sisters that are the holy Norns guard it, and they
take the white water from it to water Ygdrassil, that the Tree of Life may
keep green and strong. This well, little Hnossa, is called Urda’s Well.”
And little Hnossa heard that by Urda’s Well there were two beautiful
white swans. They made a music that the Dwellers in Asgard often heard.
But Hnossa was too young to hear the music that was made by the
swans of Urda’s Well.
 9

The Jellyfish
and the Monkey
Japanese Folk Tale
Anonymous
Long, long ago, in old Japan, the Kingdom of the Sea was governed
by a wonderful King. He was called Rin Jin, or the Dragon King of the
Sea. His power was immense, for he was the ruler of all sea creatures
both great and small, and in his keeping were the Jewels of the Ebb and
Flow of the Tide. The Jewel of the Ebbing Tide when thrown into the
ocean caused the sea to recede from the land, and the Jewel of the
Flowing Tide made the waves to rise mountains high and to flow in upon
the shore like a tidal wave.
The Palace of Rin Jin was at the bottom of the sea, and was so
beautiful that no one has ever seen anything like it even in dreams. The
walls were of coral, the roof of jadestone and chrysoprase, and the
floors were of the finest mother-of-pearl. But the Dragon King, in spite
of his wide-spreading Kingdom, his beautiful Palace and all its wonders,
and his power which none disputed throughout the whole sea, was not
at all happy, for he reigned alone. At last he thought that if he married
he would not only be happier, but also more powerful. So he decided
to take a wife. Calling all his fish retainers together, he chose several of
them as ambassadors to go through the sea and seek for a young Drag-
on Princess who would be his bride.
At last they returned to the Palace bringing with them a lovely
young dragon. Her scales were of glittering green like the wings of
summer beetles, her eyes threw out glances of fire, and she was dressed
in gorgeous robes. All the jewels of the sea worked in with embroidery
adorned them.
The King fell in love with her at once, and the wedding ceremony
was celebrated with great splendor. Every living thing in the sea, from
the great whales down to the little shrimps, came in shoals to offer their
congratulations to the bride and bridegroom and to wish them a long
and prosperous life. Never had there been such an assemblage or such
gay festivities in the Fish-World before. The train of bearers who carried
10
the bride’s possessions to her new home seemed to reach across the
waves from one end of the sea to the other. Each fish carried a phospho-
rescent lantern and was dressed in ceremonial robes, gleaming blue and
pink and silver; and the waves as they rose and fell and broke that night
seemed to be rolling masses of white and green fire, for the phosphorus
shone with double brilliancy in honor of the event.
Now for a time the Dragon King and his bride lived very happily.
They loved each other dearly, and the bridegroom day after day took
delight in showing his bride all the wonders and treasures of his coral
Palace, and she was never tired of wandering with him through its vast
halls and gardens. Life seemed to them both like a long summer’s day.
Two months passed in this happy way, and then the Dragon Queen
fell ill and was obliged to stay in bed. The King was sorely troubled when
he saw his precious bride so ill, and at once sent for the fish doctor to
come and give her some medicine. He gave special orders to the ser-
vants to nurse her carefully and to wait upon her with diligence, but in
spite of all the nurses’ assiduous care and the medicine that the doctor
prescribed, the young Queen showed no signs of recovery, but grew
daily worse.
Then the Dragon King interviewed the doctor and blamed him for
not curing the Queen. The doctor was alarmed at Rin Jin’s evident dis-
pleasure, and excused his want of skill by saying that although he knew
the right kind of medicine to give the invalid, it was impossible to find it
in the sea.
“Do you mean to tell me that you can’t get the medicine here?”
asked the Dragon King.
“It is just as you say!” said the doctor.
“Tell me what it is you want for the Queen?” demanded Rin Jin.
“I want the liver of a live monkey!” answered the doctor.
“The liver of a live monkey! Of course that will be most difficult to
get,” said the King.
“If we could only get that for the Queen, Her Majesty would soon
recover,” said the doctor.
“Very well, that decides it; we MUST get it somehow or other. But
where are we most likely to find a monkey?” asked the King.
Then the doctor told the Dragon King that some distance to the
south there was a Monkey Island where a great many monkeys lived.
“If only you could capture one of these monkeys?” said the doctor.
“How can any of my people capture a monkey?” said the Dragon
King, greatly puzzled. “The monkeys live on dry land, while we live in the
water; and out of our element we are quite powerless! I don’t see what
 11
we can do!”
“That has been my difficulty too,” said the doctor. “But amongst
your innumerable servants you surely can find one who can go on shore
for that express purpose!”
“Something must be done,” said the King, and calling his chief
steward he consulted him on the matter.
The chief steward thought for some time, and then, as if struck by a
sudden thought, said joyfully:
“I know what we must do! There is the kurage (jellyfish). He is cer-
tainly ugly to look at, but he is proud of being able to walk on land with
his four legs like a tortoise. Let us send him to the Island of Monkeys to
catch one.”
The jellyfish was then summoned to the King’s presence, and was
told by His Majesty what was required of him.
The jellyfish, on being told of the unexpected mission which was
to be intrusted to him, looked very troubled, and said that he had never
been to the island in question, and as he had never had any experience in
catching monkeys he was afraid that he would not be able to get one.
“Well,” said the chief steward, “if you depend on your strength or
dexterity you will never catch a monkey. The only way is to play a trick on
one!”
“How can I play a trick on a monkey? I don’t know how to do it,”
said the perplexed jellyfish.
“This is what you must do,” said the wily chief steward. “When you
approach the Island of Monkeys and meet some of them, you must try
to get very friendly with one. Tell him that you are a servant of the Drag-
on King, and invite him to come and visit you and see the Dragon King’s
Palace. Try and describe to him as vividly as you can the grandeur of the
Palace and the wonders of the sea so as to arouse his curiosity and make
him long to see it all!”
“But how am I to get the monkey here? You know monkeys don’t
swim?” said the reluctant jellyfish.
“You must carry him on your back. What is the use of your shell if
you can’t do that!” said the chief steward.
“Won’t he be very heavy?” queried kurage again.
“You mustn’t mind that, for you are working for the Dragon King,”
replied the chief steward.
“I will do my best then,” said the jellyfish, and he swam away from
the Palace and started off towards the Monkey Island. Swimming swiftly
he reached his destination in a few hours, and landed by a convenient
wave upon the shore. On looking round he saw not far away a big pine-
12
tree with drooping branches and on one of those branches was just what
he was looking for—a live monkey.
“I’m in luck!” thought the jellyfish. “Now I must flatter the creature
and try to entice him to come back with me to the Palace, and my part
will be done!”
So the jellyfish slowly walked towards the pine-tree. In those an-
cient days the jelly fish had four legs and a hard shell like a tortoise.
When he got to the pine-tree he raised his voice and said:
“How do you do, Mr. Monkey? Isn’t it a lovely day?”
“A very fine day,” answered the monkey from the tree. “I have never
seen you in this part of the world before. Where have you come from
and what is your name?”
“My name is kurage or jellyfish. I am one of the servants of the
Dragon King. I have heard so much of your beautiful island that I have
come on purpose to see it,” answered the jellyfish.
“I am very glad to see you,” said the monkey.
“By the bye,” said the jellyfish, “have you ever seen the Palace of
the Dragon King of the Sea where I live?”
“I have often heard of it, but I have never seen it!” answered the
monkey.
“Then you ought most surely to come. It is a great pity for you to
go through life without seeing it. The beauty of the Palace is beyond
all description—it is certainly to my mind the most lovely place in the
world,” said the jellyfish.
“Is it so beautiful as all that?” asked the monkey in astonishment.
Then the jellyfish saw his chance, and went on describing to the best
of his ability the beauty and grandeur of the Sea King’s Palace, and the
wonders of the garden with its curious trees of white, pink and red coral,
and the still more curious fruits like great jewels hanging on the branch-
es. The monkey grew more and more interested, and as he listened he
came down the tree step by step so as not to lose a word of the wonder-
ful story.
“I have got him at last!” thought the jellyfish, but aloud he said:
“Mr. Monkey. I must now go back. As you have never seen the
Palace of the Dragon King, won’t you avail yourself of this splendid
opportunity by coming with me? I shall then be able to act as guide and
show you all the sights of the sea, which will be even more wonderful to
you—a land-lubber.”
“I should love to go,” said the monkey, “but how am I to cross the
water! I can’t swim, as you surely know!”
“There is no difficulty about that. I can carry you on my back.”
 13
“That will be troubling you too much,” said the monkey.
“I can do it quite easily. I am stronger than I look, so you needn’t
hesitate,” said the jellyfish, and taking the monkey on his back he
stepped into the sea.
“Keep very still, Mr. Monkey,” said the jellyfish. “You mustn’t fall into
the sea; I am responsible for your safe arrival at the King’s Palace.”
“Please don’t go so fast, or I am sure I shall fall off,” said the mon-
key.
Thus they went along, the jellyfish skimming through the waves
with the monkey sitting on his back. When they were about half-way, the
jelly fish, who knew very little of anatomy, began to wonder if the mon-
key had his liver with him or not!
“Mr. Monkey, tell me, have you such a thing as a liver with you?”
The monkey was very much surprised at this queer question, and asked
what the jellyfish wanted with a liver.
“That is the most important thing of all,” said the stupid jellyfish,
“so as soon as I recollected it, I asked you if you had yours with you?”
“Why is my liver so important to you?” asked the monkey.
“Oh! you will learn the reason later,” said the jellyfish.
The monkey grew more and more curious and suspicious, and
urged the jellyfish to tell him for what his liver was wanted, and ended up
by appealing to his hearer’s feelings by saying that he was very troubled
at what he had been told.
Then the jellyfish, seeing how anxious the monkey looked, was
sorry for him, and told him everything. How the Dragon Queen had fallen
ill, and how the doctor had said that only the liver of a live monkey would
cure her, and how the Dragon King had sent him to find one.
“Now I have done as I was told, and as soon as we arrive at the Pal-
ace the doctor will want your liver, so I feel sorry for you!” said the silly
jellyfish.
The poor monkey was horrified when he learnt all this, and very
angry at the trick played upon him. He trembled with fear at the thought
of what was in store for him.
But the monkey was a clever animal, and he thought it the wisest
plan not to show any sign of the fear he felt, so he tried to calm himself
and to think of some way by which he might escape.
“The doctor means to cut me open and then take my liver out! Why
I shall die!” thought the monkey. At last a bright thought struck him, so
he said quite cheerfully to the jellyfish:
“What a pity it was, Mr. Jellyfish, that you did not speak of this
before we left the island!”
14
“If I had told why I wanted you to accompany me you would cer-
tainly have refused to come,” answered the jellyfish.
“You are quite mistaken,” said the monkey. “Monkeys can very well
spare a liver or two, especially when it is wanted for the Dragon Queen
of the Sea. If I had only guessed of what you were in need. I should have
presented you with one without waiting to be asked. I have several livers.
But the greatest pity is, that as you did not speak in time, I have left all
my livers hanging on the pine-tree.”
“Have you left your liver behind you?” asked the jellyfish.
“Yes,” said the cunning monkey, “during the daytime I usually leave
my liver hanging up on the branch of a tree, as it is very much in the way
when I am climbing about from tree to tree. To-day, listening to your
interesting conversation, I quite forgot it, and left it behind when I came
off with you. If only you had spoken in time I should have remembered it,
and should have brought it along with me!”
The jellyfish was very disappointed when he heard this, for he be-
lieved every word the monkey said. The monkey was of no good without
a liver. Finally the jellyfish stopped and told the monkey so.
“Well,” said the monkey, “that is soon remedied. I am really sorry
to think of all your trouble; but if you will only take me back to the place
where you found me, I shall soon be able to get my liver.”
The jellyfish did not at all like the idea of going all the way back to
the island again; but the monkey assured him that if he would be so kind
as to take him back he would get his very best liver, and bring it with him
the next time. Thus persuaded, the jellyfish turned his course towards
the Monkey Island once more.
No sooner had the jellyfish reached the shore than the sly monkey
landed, and getting up into the pine-tree where the jellyfish had first
seen him, he cut several capers amongst the branches with joy at being
safe home again, and then looking down at the jellyfish said:
“So many thanks for all the trouble you have taken! Please present
my compliments to the Dragon King on your return!”
The jellyfish wondered at this speech and the mocking tone in
which it was uttered. Then he asked the monkey if it wasn’t his intention
to come with him at once after getting his liver.
The monkey replied laughingly that he couldn’t afford to lose his
liver: it was too precious.
“But remember your promise!” pleaded the jellyfish, now very dis-
couraged.
“That promise was false, and anyhow it is now broken!” answered
the monkey. Then he began to jeer at the jellyfish and told him that he
 15
had been deceiving him the whole time; that he had no wish to lose
his life, which he certainly would have done had he gone on to the Sea
King’s Palace to the old doctor waiting for him, instead of persuading
the jellyfish to return under false pretenses.
“Of course, I won’t GIVE you my liver, but come and get it if you
can!” added the monkey mockingly from the tree.
There was nothing for the jellyfish to do now but to repent of his
stupidity, and to return to the Dragon King of the Sea and to confess his
failure, so he started sadly and slowly to swim back. The last thing he
heard as he glided away, leaving the island behind him, was the monkey
laughing at him.
Meanwhile the Dragon King, the doctor, the chief steward, and
all the servants were waiting impatiently for the return of the jellyfish.
When they caught sight of him approaching the Palace, they hailed him
with delight. They began to thank him profusely for all the trouble he
had taken in going to Monkey Island, and then they asked him where the
monkey was.
Now the day of reckoning had come for the jelly fish. He quaked all
over as he told his story. How he had brought the monkey halfway over
the sea, and then had stupidly let out the secret of his commission; how
the monkey had deceived him by making him believe that he had left his
liver behind him.
The Dragon King’s wrath was great, and he at once gave orders that
the jellyfish was to be severely punished. The punishment was a horrible
one. All the bones were to be drawn out from his living body, and he was
to be beaten with sticks.
The poor jelly fish, humiliated and horrified beyond all words, cried
out for pardon. But the Dragon King’s order had to be obeyed. The ser-
vants of the Palace forthwith each brought out a stick and surrounded
the jellyfish, and after pulling out his bones they beat him to a flat pulp,
and then took him out beyond the Palace gates and threw him into the
water. Here he was left to suffer and repent his foolish chattering, and to
grow accustomed to his new state of bonelessness.
From this story it is evident that in former times the jelly fish once
had a shell and bones something like a tortoise, but, ever since the Drag-
on King’s sentence was carried out on the ancestor of the jellyfish, his
descendants have all been soft and boneless just as you see them to-day
thrown up by the waves high upon the shores of Japan.
16

The
Twins
Traditional African Fairy Tale
Anonymous
Once upon a time there lived a woman who couldn’t have children.
Because of that all her husbands kept leaving her. One day she was feel-
ing so sad, miserable, and lonely that she decided to go and see a witch
doctor, for him to help her have a baby.
The witch doctor said, “How can I help you? To have a baby you
need a husband, and you haven’t got a husband!”
She begged him to do everything in his power. In the end he relent-
ed.
“OK,” he said, “I’ll see what I can do, but it won’t be easy. But as I’ve
got a reputation to keep up, I’ll perform a miracle on you.”
He gave the woman three limes and told her to take them home
with her.
“At the end of each day, he said, for the next three days, before
you go to bed, make sure you have a bath. Wash your hands thoroughly.
Take one of the limes and cut it in two, squeeze the juice, rub it on your
stomach, your thighs and your hands.”
The woman followed these instructions exactly. After a few weeks,
she noticed that her stomach and her thighs were getting big. She got
worried, and went back to see the witchdoctor again to ask his advice.
He told her not to worry, these were the signs that the magic was work-
ing.
“You just have to go through with this, you will be fine,” he said.
He added that once the children got big, and started to wonder
about their father, she should tell them that the father is a one-eyed
antelope.
As time went by, she got bigger and bigger. After nine months her
left thigh just opened up and a baby boy jumped out. Then her stomach
opened up and a baby girl jumped out. She was very happy that at last
she was a mother, and for some time they lived happily like any normal
family. She called the boy Atta, and the girl she called Attakuma. As the
 17
children grew older, they became very headstrong. They always did ex-
actly what they liked and took little or no notice of their mother’s wishes
or commands.
One day when her twins were about ten years old, the woman told
them, “Your father is not a human. He is an antelope with one eye. If
you go hunting and you come across a one-eyed antelope, don’t kill it, it
could be your father.”
The children promised her they would never kill any one eyed ante-
lope they might come across.
One day the twins went hunting. They walked really far searching
the jungle for meat. They spent all day searching, then decided to go
back home empty handed. One the way back they encountered a one-
eyed antelope.
Atta said to his sister, “Look at the size of that antelope! Let’s
shoot it and take it home.”
“No no, no,” said Attakuma, “remember what our mother told us. If
we shoot it, we might be killing our father!”
Atta turned to his sister and snorted, “What!? You believe that?
How can our father be an animal? That’s impossible!”
With that he raised his bow and shot the antelope right in its heart.
The beast died immediately. But the animal was so big and heavy that
it was impossible for them to carry. They had to make some rope, tied
it round the animal and dragged it all the way back home. Their moth-
er hadn’t returned from the market yet, so they set about cooking a
delicious meal. When mother got home she was very pleased to find that
her children had prepared a meal for her, and set down immediately to
eat. But after a few bites, she thought this meat tasted just like antelope
meat.
She called out to her children, “Is this antelope meat I’m eating? Did
you kill an antelope today?”
“Yes” replied Atta. The mother screamed and threw her food away.
“Oh, lord! Oh lord; the witchdoctor warned me about this. What am
I going to do? I’m sick and tired; these children of mine, they never listen,
they always disobey me.”
The next day she went out and bought two chairs. These chairs she
took to Mister Death, and explained to him that she’ll be sending her
twins along later to collect the chairs.
“When they get here,” she said, “I want you to capture them, and
take them to the other side for me.”
Death agreed to this quite happily. The woman went home and told
her children she had just bought two chairs for them, but they were too
18
heavy for her to carry, so she left them with the merchant. So the twins
set out to fetch the chairs from the merchant. When they got to Death’s
house he told them to sit and wait while he got the chairs from the
back. But he came back with a rope, and tried to tie them up. The twins
however were far too quick and smart for him, and got away. Back home,
they told their mother what had happened.
“That nasty man tried to kill us!” Attakuma said.
“No, no,” said the mother, “you must have done something to upset
him.”
She was upset that her plan hadn’t worked.
A few days later she tried again. This time she bought some bread,
and left it with Death, and asked her twins to collect it for her. But
Attakuma had a plan. She told her brother to go to the front of Death’s
house, and ask for the bread. This Atta did. In the meantime Attakuma
went round the back of the house, and found the rope. She knew Death
would come and get the rope to tie up Atta, so she waited on the roof,
and when Death came outside, she jumped on him and tied him up.
On the way home, Atta said to his sister, “Our mother is trying to
get rid of us. We must leave the village before she succeeds in her plans
one of these days.”
They decided they would have to run away from home, but the were
sure that their mother would come after them, so they had to find a way
to stop her. The next day, while their mother was working in the market,
they dug a big hole in the backyard, where everybody always washed.
They covered it with a few branches and some leaves, and filled a bucket
with water, which they left on the other side of the trap. They prepared
some food and waited for their mother to come home.
After she had eaten, Attakuma said to her, “We filled a bucket with
water for your bath, and left it outside for you.”
Mother was pleasantly surprised at these little kindnesses, but
unfortunately for her, she didn’t suspect anything. She went out into
the backyard to have her bath; in the dark she didn’t see the trap her
children had laid, and fell into the hole. Atta and Attakuma left straight
away and walked all night. They knew that one of the neighbors would
find their mother soon enough, and they wanted to get as far away as
possible.
Early the next morning they came across a small hut, where they
found an old blind man. He was very old, and had a long white beard, and
he was cooking some food in front of his hut.
The children stopped, and Atta said to him, “What a pity! An old
man like you having to cook your own food! Don’t you have any children?
 19
You can’t even see anything!”
The old man grunted, “I’m here on my own. Everybody else left this
village a long time ago.”
Attakuma said, “Don’t worry old man, we’ll help you cook your
food.”
So the twins set about cooking the food, but then they ate it all
by themselves, while the old man sat back and waited. After they had
finished the food, the filled a bowl with water and put it in front of the
old man. They told him the food was ready, and to go ahead and enjoy it.
Then they set off on the path again, leaving the poor old man to discov-
er that he’d been tricked. As they walked away they heard him shouting
and cursing them, but they just laughed. They kept walking through the
bush.
The next day they met an old woman on a small farm. She was
crawling around on the soil, planting groundnuts.
Atta said to her, “What? What a shame! You shouldn’t be working at
your age! Give us the bowl and we’ll plant those groundnuts for you.”
The old lady was very grateful for a little help, and she gladly gave
them the bowl.
She chuckled, “I’ll go and sit over there in the shade and watch you
children work!”
The twins started work, Atta digging holes in the ground with his
bare hands, and Attakuma following behind, filling them up again with
soil. Instead of putting the nuts in the soil, she put hid them in a sack
that was tied around her neck. After a while they noticed that the old
woman had dozed off, and they wandered off, eating the nuts for their
supper. When the woman woke up, she went round to inspect the chil-
dren’s work, and could find no nuts in any of the holes. She cursed the
children, but blamed herself for putting her trust in these vagabonds.
The next day the twins came across another old woman, sitting
outside her hut. She had a small girl on her lap, who’d been hurt, and she
was cleaning the wound. The twins approached her to have a good look.
Attakuma said to her, “What are you doing there? That water
should be hot! That wound looks very bad, you’ll never clean it with cold
water!”
The looked around and saw a fire burning by the side of the house.
Atta took the bucket with the water, and heated it over the fire.
“We’ll show you how to do it,” he said, laughing.
When the water was hot, he brought it over and put the bucket on
the ground next to the old woman.
“Give me the baby,” Atta said to the woman, “we’ll get her fixed up
20
in no time!”
He took the girl from the woman’s lap, and held her over the bucket
filled with hot water. The old woman didn’t like the look of this, and she
jumped up, grabbing her stick. As she did so, she kicked over the buck-
et, and the hot water spilled over her feet, scalding them. She started
screaming and waving her stick at the twins, at which Atta dropped the
little girl, and he and Attakuma ran away, laughing. The old woman was
furious, and decided to follow them so that she could teach them a
lesson. First she wrapped some old cloth around her scalded feet, then
she tied the girl onto her back. She picked up her stick, and followed the
twins. But of course they were much quicker than she could ever be, and
she couldn’t see them. But she was so furious that she was determined
to catch up with them. She went to see an old witchdoctor who lived
nearby, and told him what had happened. The witchdoctor agreed that
she should go after these nasty youngsters and punish them.
He gave her a stick, and said, “Tap this stick on the ground three
times, and you will be able to see their footprints, to show you where
they went. Just follow the footprints and you will catch up with them.”
At one end of the stick were three small branches, one was covered
in gold, one in cowries and the other in kente cloth. The old lady thanked
him and went on her way, back to her hut, so that she could discover
their tracks. When she got there, she hit the stick on the ground three
times, as she had been told, and the ends of the stick started to glow.
Soon the twins’ footprints became visible to her, and she followed them.
The twins had been resting a little further along the way, when they
heard the old lady approaching. They didn’t want the old lady to find
them so they climbed the tallest tree they could find to hide in the foli-
age. But the old lady had spotted them, and walked right up to the tree
where they were hiding. She hit the trunk of the tree three times with
the stick the witchdoctor had given her, and the whole tree began to
shake violently. The twins couldn’t hold on and the both fell out. Before
he fell, Atta managed to grab a leaf from his sack, and chewed it as he
was falling, so that when he hit the ground he wasn’t hurt. But Attakuma
didn’t move, she just lay there as if dead. Atta took the chewed up leaf
from his mouth, and squeezed some of the juice in his sister’s nostril
upon which she immediately regained consciousness.
They ran away as fast as they could, the old lady following at her
own slow pace. Presently they came to a very big river, they could only
just make out the other side. They knew that in order to escape the old
woman pursuing them they would have to get across the water. Just
then a large vulture landed on the riverbank. They ran up to the bird and
 21
asked for its help.
“We’re being pursued by an old witch,” explained Attakuma, “and
she wants to kill us! We have to get to the other side of the water, please
help us!”
The vulture agreed to help them, and told them to climb on his
back. He flew up easily and was over on the other side of the river in no
time.
After the children climbed off his back, Atta said to the vulture, “Be
careful if you see that old woman. She might ask you to take her across
as well, because she appears quite determined to catch us!”
Attakuma joined in, “If she asks you, you should say yes, certainly,
but then make sure you drop her in the middle of the water! I’m sure she
can’t swim!”
The vulture just grinned.
“Don’t you youngsters worry about me,” he said. “I’m quite capable
of looking after myself.”
As he flew back across the water, the twins decided to stay a while,
and see what would happen.
The vulture returned to the other side of the river, and there he
saw the old woman carrying her grandchild on her back, sitting in the
sand, rubbing her poor aching feet, exhausted by her efforts. He greeted
her and asked her if she was the one chasing a boy and a girl across the
bush. The old woman confirmed that she was indeed the one, and then
explained to the vulture what they had done to her and her granddaugh-
ter, and how, with the help of the witchdoctor’s stick, she had been able
to follow them. The vulture was shocked and agreed to help the old
woman teach the twins a lesson. He asked to borrow the magic stick,
which he took in his strong beak, and went in search of a large piece
of flotsam. He soon found something suitable, and lifted it up with his
claws. Then he flew high up over the water, carrying the stick in his beak,
and the flotsam in his claws. When he was over the middle of the water,
he dropped the flotsam, which landed in the water with a big splash. The
twins were on the other side of the water, watching the vulture. They
saw him drop a large shape, and they assumed that this was the old lady.
They cheered loudly, and watched as the vulture made his way towards
them.
“Well done, vulture! That taught the old hag a lesson!” they shout-
ed.
The vulture now hovered over them with the magic stick. First he
hit Atta on the head with it, then Attakuma.
Atta shouted, “Hey, mister vulture, what are you doing?” Attakuma
22
just screamed.
Their legs, their feet, and their toes turned into roots, and dug into
the sand at the water’s edge, their bodies turned into tree trunks, and
their heads, arms, hands and fingers turned into branches. As leaves
started to grow on the branches, a few moans were heard, then all fell
silent except for the leaves rustling in the wind, and the sound of water
lapping the roots. That’s how mangrove trees came to grow by the side
of the river.
 23

Prince
Lindworm
Norwegian Fairy Tale
Anonymous
Once upon a time, there was a fine young King who was married
to the loveliest of Queens. They were exceedingly happy, all but for
one thing—they had no children. And this often made them both sad,
because the Queen wanted a dear little child to play with, and the King
wanted an heir to the kingdom.
One day the Queen went out for a walk by herself, and she met an
ugly old woman. The old woman was just like a witch: but she was a nice
kind of witch, not the cantankerous sort.
She said, “Why do you look so doleful, pretty lady?”
“It’s no use my telling you,” answered the Queen, “nobody in the
world can help me.”
“Oh, you never know,” said the old woman. “Just you let me hear
what your trouble is, and maybe I can put things right.”
“My dear woman, how can you?” said the Queen: and she told her,
“The King and I have no children: that’s why I am so distressed.”
“Well, you needn’t be,” said the old witch. “I can set that right in a
twinkling, if only you will do exactly as I tell you. Listen. To-night, at sun-
set, take a little drinking-cup with two ears” (that is, handles), “and put it
bottom upwards on the ground in the north-west corner of your garden.
Then go and lift it up to-morrow morning at sunrise, and you will find
two roses underneath it, one red and one white. If you eat the red rose, a
little boy will be born to you: if you eat the white rose, a little girl will be
sent. But, whatever you do, you mustn’t eat both the roses, or you’ll be
sorry,—that I warn you! Only one: remember that!”
“Thank you a thousand times,” said the Queen, “this is good news
indeed!”
And she wanted to give the old woman her gold ring; but the old
woman wouldn’t take it. So the Queen went home and did as she had
been told: and next morning at sunrise she stole out into the garden and
lifted up the little drinking-cup. She was surprised, for indeed she had
24
hardly expected to see anything. But there were the two roses under-
neath it, one red and one white. And now she was dreadfully puzzled, for
she did not know which to choose.
“If I choose the red one,” she thought, “and I have a little boy, he
may grow up and go to the wars and get killed. But if I choose the white
one, and have a little girl, she will stay at home awhile with us, but later
on she will get married and go away and leave us. So, whichever it is, we
may be left with no child after all.”
However, at last she decided on the white rose, and she ate it. And
it tasted so sweet, that she took and ate the red one too: without ever
remembering the old woman’s solemn warning.
Some time after this, the King went away to the wars: and while he
was still away, the Queen became the mother of twins. One was a lovely
baby-boy, and the other was a Lindworm, or Serpent. She was terribly
frightened when she saw the Lindworm, but he wriggled away out of
the room, and nobody seemed to have seen him but herself: so that she
thought it must have been a dream. The baby Prince was so beautiful
and so healthy, the Queen was full of joy: and likewise, as you may sup-
pose, was the King when he came home and found his son and heir. Not
a word was said by anyone about the Lindworm: only the Queen thought
about it now and then.
Many days and years passed by, and the baby grew up into a hand-
some young Prince, and it was time that he got married. The King sent
him off to visit foreign kingdoms, in the Royal coach, with six white
horses, to look for a Princess grand enough to be his wife. But at the
very first cross-roads, the way was stopped by an enormous Lindworm,
enough to frighten the bravest.
He lay in the middle of the road with a great wide open mouth, and
cried, “A bride for me before a bride for you!”
Then the Prince made the coach turn round and try another road:
but it was all no use. For, at the first cross-ways, there lay the Lindworm
again, crying out, “A bride for me before a bride for you!”
So the Prince had to turn back home again to the Castle, and give
up his visits to the foreign kingdoms. And his mother, the Queen, had
to confess that what the Lindworm said was true. For he was really the
eldest of her twins: and so he ought to have a wedding first.
There seemed nothing for it but to find a bride for the Lindworm,
if his younger brother, the Prince, were to be married at all. So the King
wrote to a distant country, and asked for a Princess to marry his son
(but, of course, he didn’t say which son), and presently a Princess ar-
rived. But she wasn’t allowed to see her bridegroom until he stood by
 25

From “The Pink Fairy Book” compiled by Andrew Lang. 1904.

26
her side in the great hall and was married to her, and then, of course, it
was too late for her to say she wouldn’t have him. But next morning the
Princess had disappeared. The Lindworm lay sleeping all alone: and it was
quite plain that he had eaten her.
A little while after, the Prince decided that he might now go jour-
neying again in search of a Princess. And off he drove in the Royal chariot
with the six white horses.
But at the first cross-ways, there lay the Lindworm, crying with his
great wide open mouth, “A bride for me before a bride for you!”
So the carriage tried another road, and the same thing happened,
and they had to turn back again this time, just as formerly. And the King
wrote to several foreign countries, to know if anyone would marry his
son. At last another Princess arrived, this time from a very far distant
land. And, of course, she was not allowed to see her future husband
before the wedding took place— and then, lo and behold! it was the
Lindworm who stood at her side. And next morning the Princess had dis-
appeared: and the Lindworm lay sleeping all alone; and it was quite clear
that he had eaten her.
By and by the Prince started on his quest for the third time: and at
the first cross-roads there lay the Lindworm with his great wide open
mouth, demanding a bride as before.
And the Prince went straight back to the castle, and told the King,
“You must find another bride for my elder brother.”
“I don’t know where I am to find her,” said the King, “I have al-
ready made enemies of two great Kings who sent their daughters here
as brides: and I have no notion how I can obtain a third lady. People are
beginning to say strange things, and I am sure no Princess will dare to
come.”
Now, down in a little cottage near a wood, there lived the King’s
shepherd, an old man with his only daughter. And the King came one day
and said to him,
“Will you give me your daughter to marry my son the Lindworm?
And I will make you rich for the rest of your life.”
“No, sire,” said the shepherd, “that I cannot do. She is my only
child, and I want her to take care of me when I am old. Besides, if the
Lindworm would not spare two beautiful Princesses, he won’t spare her
either. He will just gobble her up: and she is much too good for such a
fate.”
But the King wouldn’t take no for an answer: and at last the old
man had to give in.
Well, when the old shepherd told his daughter that she was to be
 27
Prince Lindworm’s bride, she was utterly in despair. She went out into the
woods, crying and wringing her hands and bewailing her hard fate.
And while she wandered to and fro, an old witch-woman suddenly
appeared out of a big hollow oak-tree, and asked her, “Why do you look
so doleful, pretty lass?”
The shepherd-girl said, “It’s no use my telling you, for nobody in the
world can help me.”
“Oh, you never know,” said the old woman. “Just you let me hear
what your trouble is, and maybe I can put things right.”
“Ah, how can you?” said the girl, “For I am to be married to the
King’s eldest son, who is a Lindworm. He has already married two beau-
tiful Princesses, and devoured them: and he will eat me too! No wonder I
am distressed.”
“Well, you needn’t be,” said the witch woman. “All that can be set
right in a twinkling: if only you will do exactly as I tell you.”
So the girl said she would.
“Listen, then,” said the old woman. “After the marriage ceremony
is over, and when it is time for you to retire to rest, you must ask to be
dressed in ten snow-white shifts. And you must then ask for a tub full of
lye,” (that is, washing water prepared with wood-ashes) “and a tub full of
fresh milk, and as many whips as a boy can carry in his arms,—and have
all these brought into your bed-chamber. Then, when the Lindworm tells
you to shed a shift, do you bid him slough a skin. And when all his skins
are off, you must dip the whips in the lye and whip him; next, you must
wash him in the fresh milk; and, lastly, you must take him and hold him in
your arms, if it’s only for one moment.”
“The last is the worst notion—ugh!” said the shepherd’s daughter,
and she shuddered at the thought of holding the cold, slimy, scaly Lind-
worm.
“Do just as I have said, and all will go well,” said the old woman.
Then she disappeared again in the oak-tree.
When the wedding-day arrived, the girl was fetched in the Royal
chariot with the six white horses, and taken to the castle to be decked as
a bride. And she asked for ten snow-white shifts to be brought her, and
the tub of lye, and the tub of milk, and as many whips as a boy could car-
ry in his arms. The ladies and courtiers in the castle thought, of course,
that this was some bit of peasant superstition, all rubbish and nonsense.
But the King said, “Let her have whatever she asks for.”
She was then arrayed in the most wonderful robes, and looked the
loveliest of brides. She was led to the hall where the wedding ceremony
was to take place, and she saw the Lindworm for the first time as he
28
came in and stood by her side. So they were married, and a great wed-
ding-feast was held, a banquet fit for the son of a king.
When the feast was over, the bridegroom and bride were conducted
to their apartment, with music, and torches, and a great procession.
As soon as the door was shut, the Lindworm turned to her and said,
“Fair maiden, shed a shift!”
The shepherd’s daughter answered him, “Prince Lindworm, slough
a skin!”
“No one has ever dared tell me to do that before!” said he.
“But I command you to do it now!” said she.
Then he began to moan and wriggle: and in a few minutes a long
snake-skin lay upon the floor beside him. The girl drew off her first shift,
and spread it on top of the skin.
The Lindworm said again to her, “Fair maiden, shed a shift.”
The shepherd’s daughter answered him, “Prince Lindworm, slough
a skin.”
“No one has ever dared tell me to do that before,” said he.
“But I command you to do it now,” said she.
Then with groans and moans he cast off the second skin: and she
covered it with her second shift.
The Lindworm said for the third time, “Fair maiden, shed a shift.”
The shepherd’s daughter answered him again, “Prince Lindworm,
slough a skin.”
“No one has ever dared tell me to do that before,” said he, and his
little eyes rolled furiously.
But the girl was not afraid, and once more she commanded him to
do as she bade. And so this went on until nine Lindworm skins were lying
on the floor, each of them covered with a snow-white shift. And there
was nothing left of the Lindworm but a huge thick mass, most horri-
ble to see. Then the girl seized the whips, dipped them in the lye, and
whipped him as hard as ever she could. Next, she bathed him all over in
the fresh milk. Lastly, she dragged him on to the bed and put her arms
round him. And she fell fast asleep that very moment.
Next morning very early, the King and the courtiers came and
peeped in through the keyhole. They wanted to know what had become
of the girl, but none of them dared enter the room. However, in the end,
growing bolder, they opened the door a tiny bit. And there they saw the
girl, all fresh and rosy, and beside her lay—no Lindworm, but the hand-
somest prince that anyone could wish to see.
The King ran out and fetched the Queen: and after that, there were
such rejoicings in the castle as never were known before or since.
 29
The wedding took place all over again, much finer than the first,
with festivals and banquets and merrymakings for days and weeks. No
bride was ever so beloved by a King and Queen as this peasant maid
from the shepherd’s cottage. There was no end to their love and their
kindness towards her: because, by her sense and her calmness and her
courage, she had saved their son, Prince Lindworm.
30

Bearskin
German Fairy Tale
by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm
Once upon a time there was a young fellow who enlisted as a sol-
dier, conducted himself bravely, and was always at the very front when
it was raining bullets. As long as the war lasted all went well, but when
peace was made he was dismissed, and the captain said he could go
wherever he wanted to. His parents were dead, and he had no longer a
home, so he went to his brothers and asked them to support him until
there was another war.
The brothers, however, were hardhearted and said, “What can we
do with you? We have no work for you. See that you go and make a living
for yourself.”
The soldier had nothing left but his gun, so, putting it on his shoul-
der, he went forth into the world. He came to a large heath, on which
nothing was to be seen but a circle of trees. Filled with sorrow, he sat
down beneath them and thought about his fate.
“I have no money,” he thought, “and the only trade I have learned
is that of making war, and now that they have made peace they can no
longer use me, so I see that I shall starve.”
Suddenly he heard a rustling sound, and when he looked around, a
strange man was standing before him. He wore a green jacket and looked
quite stately, but he had a hideous horse’s foot.
“I know what you are in need of,” said the man. “You shall have
money and property, as much as you, with all your might, can squander
away, but first I must know if you are fearless, so that I won’t be giving
away my money for nothing.”
“A soldier and fear— how can those go together?” he answered,
“You can put me to the test.”
“Very well,” answered the man, “look behind you.”
The soldier turned around and saw a large growling bear running
towards him.
“Aha,” shouted the soldier, “I’ll tickle your nose until you lose your
desire for growling.” Then taking aim at the bear, he shot it in the snout,
 31
and it fell down motionless.
“I see quite well,” said the stranger, “that you do not lack for cour-
age, but there is one more condition that you will have to fulfill.”
“If it does not endanger my salvation,” answered the soldier, who
knew quite well who was standing before him. “Otherwise I’ll have noth-
ing to do with it.”
“You’ll see about that for yourself,” answered Greenjacket. “For the
next seven years you seven years you are neither to wash yourself, nor
comb your beard and hair, nor cut your nails, nor say the Lord’s prayer. I
will give you a jacket and a cloak, which you must wear during this time.
If you die during these seven years, you are mine. If you stay alive, you
are free, and rich as well, for all the rest of your life.”
The soldier thought about his desperate situation, and having faced
death so often before, he decided to risk it now as well, and he entered
into the agreement.
The devil took off his green jacket and gave it to the soldier, saying,
“Whenever you wear this jacket and reach into its pocket, you will find a
handful of money.”
Then he pulled the skin off the bear and said, “This shall be your
cloak, and your bed as well, for you are to sleep on it, and you are not
allowed to lie in any other bed. Because of your clothing you shall you be
called Bearskin.” With that the devil disappeared.
The soldier put on the jacket, immediately reached into the pocket,
and found that the promise was really true. Then he put on the bearskin
and went forth into the world. He did whatever he pleased, refraining
from nothing that did him good and his money harm.
During the first year his appearance was still acceptable, but during
the second he looked like a monster. His hair covered nearly his entire
face. His beard looked like a piece of coarse felt cloth. His fingers had
claws, and his face was so covered with dirt that if someone had planted
cress on it, it would have grown. Everyone who saw him ran away. How-
ever, because everywhere he went he gave money to the poor to pray
that he might not die during the seven years, and because he paid well
for everything, he always found shelter.
In the fourth year he arrived an inn. The innkeeper would not let
him enter, refusing even to let him have a place in the stable because
he was afraid he would frighten the horses. However, when Bearskin
reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of ducats, the innkeep-
er softened and gave him a room in an outbuilding. Bearskin, however,
had to promise not to let himself be seen, lest the inn should get a bad
name.
32
One evening Bearskin was sitting alone, wishing with all his heart
that the seven years were over, he heard a loud moaning in a neighboring
room. He had a compassionate heart, so he opened the door and saw an
old man weeping bitterly and striking his hands together above his head.
Bearskin went nearer, but the man jumped to his feet and tried to run
away. At last, hearing a human voice, the man let Bearskin talk to him,
and with friendly words Bearskin succeeded in getting the old man to
reveal the cause of his grief. Slowly but surely the old man had lost his
wealth, and now he and his daughters would have to starve. He was so
poor that he could not pay the innkeeper and was to be sent to prison.
“If that is your only problem,” said Bearskin, “I have money
enough.” He called for the innkeeper and paid him, and then put a bag
full of gold into the poor man’s pocket. When the old man saw that he
was freed from all his troubles he did not know how to show his grati-
tude.
“Come with me,” he said to Bearskin. “My daughters are all miracles
of beauty. Choose one of them for your wife. When she hears what you
have done for me she will not refuse you. You do look a little strange, to
be sure, but she will put you in order again.”
This pleased Bearskin well, and he went with the old man.
When the oldest daughter saw him she was so terrified at his face
that she screamed and ran away.
The second one stood still and looked at him from head to foot,
but then she said, “How can I accept a husband who no longer has a
human form? The shaved bear that once was here and passed itself off
for a man pleased me far better. At least it was wearing a hussar’s fur and
white gloves. If ugliness were his only flaw, I could get used to him.”
The youngest one, however, said, “Father, dear, he must be a good
man to have helped you out of your trouble. If you promised him a bride
for doing so, your word must be kept.”
It was a pity that Bearskin’s face was covered with dirt and hair, for
otherwise they would have seen how his heart laughed within his body
when he heard these words. He took a ring from his finger, broke it in
two, and gave her one half. He kept the other half himself. He then wrote
his name inside her half, and her name inside his. He asked her to take
good care of her piece.
Then he took leave saying, “I must wander about for three more
years. If I do not return at that time you are free, for I shall be dead. But
ask God to preserve my life.”
The poor bride-to-be dressed herself entirely in black, and when
she thought about her future bridegroom, tears came into her eyes.
 33
From her sisters she received nothing but contempt and scorn.
“Be careful,” said the oldest. “If you give him your hand, he will hit
you with his claws.”
“Beware,” said the second. “Bears like sweet things, and if he takes
a liking to you, he will eat you up.
“You must always do what he wants you to,” continued the oldest,
“or he will begin to growl.”
And the second added, “But the wedding will be merry, for bears
dance well.”
The bride-to-be said nothing and did not let them irritate her.
Bearskin, however, traveled about the world from one place to another,
did good wherever he could, and gave generously to the poor that they
might pray for him.
Finally, at dawn on the last day of the seven years, he went once
more out to the heath, and seated himself beneath the circle of trees.
Before long the wind began to howl, and the devil stood before him,
looking at him angrily. He threw Bearskin’s old jacket to him and de-
manded the return of his own green one.
“We haven’t gotten that far yet,” answered Bearskin. “First of all
you have to clean me up.”
Whether the devil wanted to or not, he had to fetch water and wash
off Bearskin, comb his hair, and cut his nails. After this he looked like a
brave soldier and was much better looking than he had ever been before.
When the devil was safely gone Bearskin was quite lighthearted. He
went into the town, purchased a splendid velvet jacket, seated himself in
a carriage drawn by four white horses, and drove to his bride’s house. No
one recognized him. The father took him for a distinguished colonel and
led him into the room where his daughters were sitting. He was given a
seat between the two oldest ones. They poured wine for him, served him
the finest things to eat, and thought that they had never seen a more
handsome man in all the world.
The bride-to-be, however, sat across from him in her black dress
without raising her eyes or speaking a word. Finally he asked the father
if he would give him one of his daughters for a wife, whereupon the two
oldest ones jumped up and ran into their bedrooms to put on splendid
dresses, for each of them thought that she was the chosen one.
As soon as he was alone with his bride-to-be, the stranger brought
out his half of the ring and dropped it into a glass of wine, which he
handed across the table to her. She took the wine, but when she had
drunk it and found the half ring lying at the bottom, her heart began to
beat. She took the other half, which she wore on a ribbon around her
34
neck, put them together, and saw that the two pieces matched perfectly.
Then he said, “I am your betrothed bridegroom, whom you saw as
Bearskin. Through God’s grace I have regained my human form and have
become clean again.”
He went to her, embraced her, and gave her a kiss. In the meantime
the two sisters came back in full dress. When they saw that the youngest
sister had received the handsome man, and heard that he was Bearskin,
they ran out filled with anger and rage. One of them drowned herself in
the well. The other hanged herself on a tree.
That evening, someone knocked at the door, and when the bride-
groom opened it, it was the devil in his green jacket, who said, “You see,
I now have two souls for the one of yours.”
 35

The Vampire
and Saint Michael
Ukrainian Folklore
Anonymous
Once upon a time in a certain village there lived two neighbors;
one was rich, very rich, and the other so poor that he had nothing in the
world but a little hut, and that was tumbling about his ears. At length
things came to such a pass with the poor man that he had nothing to
eat, and could get work nowhere. Full of grief, he bethought him what he
should do.
He thought and thought, and at last he said, “Look ye, wife! I’ll go
to my rich neighbor. Perchance he will lend me a silver rouble; that, at
any rate, will be enough to buy bread with.” So he went.
He came to the rich man.
“Good health to my lord!” cried the poor man.
“Good health!”
“I have come on an errand to thee, dear little master!”
“What may thine errand be?” inquired the rich man.
“Alas! would to God that I had no need to say it. It has come to such
a pass with us that there’s not a crust of bread nor a farthing of money
in the house. So I have come to thee, dear little master; lend us but a
silver rouble and we will be ever thankful to thee, and I’ll work myself old
to pay it back.”
“But who will stand surety for thee?” asked the rich man.
“I know not if any man will, I am so poor. Yet, perchance, God and
St. Michael will be my sureties,” and he pointed at the icon in the corner.
Then the icon of St. Michael spoke to the rich man from the niche
and said, “Come now! lend it him, and put it down to my account. God
will repay thee!”
“Well,” said the rich man, “I’ll lend it to thee.” So he lent it, and the
poor man thanked him and returned to his home full of joy.
But the rich man was not content that God should give him back his
loan by blessing him in his flocks and herds, and in his children, and in his
health, and in the blessed fruits of the earth. He waited and waited for
36
the poor man to come and pay him back his rouble, and at last he went
to seek him.
“Thou son of a dog,” he shouted, before the house, “why hast thou
not brought me back my money? Thou knowest how to borrow, but thou
forgettest to repay!”
Then the wife of the poor man burst into tears. “He would repay
thee indeed if he were in this world,” said she, “but lo now! he died but a
little while ago!”
The rich man snarled at her and departed, but when he got home
he said to the ikon, “A pretty surety thou art!” Then he took St. Michael
down from the niche, dug out his eyes, and began beating him.
He beat St. Michael again and again, and at last he flung him into a
puddle and trampled on him.
“I’ll give it thee for standing me surety so scurvily,” said he.
While he was thus abusing St. Michael, a young fellow about twenty
years old came along that way, and said to him, “What art thou doing,
my father?”
“I am beating him because he stood surety and has played me false.
He took upon himself the repayment of a silver rouble, which I lent to
the son of a pig, who has since gone away and died. That is why I am
beating him now.”
“Beat him not, my father! I’ll give thee a silver rouble, but do thou
give me this holy image!”
“Take him if thou wilt, but see that thou bring me the silver rouble
first.”
Then the young man ran home and said to his father, “Father, give
me a silver rouble!”
“Wherefore, my son?”
“I would buy a holy image,” said he, and he told his father how he
had seen that heathen beating St. Michael.
“Nay, my son, whence shall we who are poor find a silver rouble to
give to him who is so rich?”
“Nay, but give it me, father!” and he begged and prayed till he got
it. Then he ran back as quickly as he could, paid the silver rouble to the
rich man, and got the holy image. He washed it clean and placed it in the
midst of sweet-smelling flowers. And so they lived on as before.
Now this youth had three uncles, rich merchants, who sold all man-
ner of merchandise, and went in ships to foreign lands, where they sold
their goods and made their gains. One day, when his uncles were again
making ready to depart into foreign lands, he said to them, “Take me
with you!”
 37

From Cossack Fairy Tales and Folk-Tales, 1916.

Translated by R. Nisbet Bain, Illustrated by Noel L. Nisbet.
38
“Why shouldst thou go?” said they; “we have wares to sell, but what
hast thou?”
“Yet take me,” said he.
“But thou hast nothing.”
“I will make me laths and boards and take them with me,” said he.
His uncles laughed at him for imagining such wares as these, but he
begged and prayed them till they were wearied.
“Well, come,” they said, “though there is naught for thee to do;
only take not much of these wares of thine with thee, for our ships are
already full.”
Then he made him laths and boards, put them on board the ship,
took St Michael with him, and they departed.
They went on and on. They sailed a short distance and they sailed
a long distance, till at last they came to another tsardom and another
empire. And the Tsar of this tsardom had an only daughter, so lovely that
the like of her is neither to be imagined nor divined in God’s fair world,
neither may it be told in tales. Now this Tsarivna one day went down
to the river to bathe, and plunged into the water without first crossing
herself, whereupon the Evil Spirit took possession of her. The Tsarivna
got out of the water, and straightway fell ill of so terrible a disease that
it may not be told of. Do what they would––and the wise men and the
wise women did their utmost––it was of no avail. In a few days she grew
worse and died. Then the Tsar, her father, made a proclamation that peo-
ple should come and read the prayers for the dead over her dead body,
and so exorcise the evil spirit, and whosoever delivered her was to have
half his power and half his tsardom.
And the people came in crowds–– but none of them could read the
prayers for the dead over her, it was impossible. Every evening a man
went into the church, and every morning they swept out his bones, for
there was naught else of him remaining. And the Tsar was very wrath.
“All my people will be devoured,” cried he. And he commanded that
all the foreign merchants passing through his realm should be made to
read prayers for the dead over his daughter’s body. “And if they will not
read,” said he, “they shall not depart from my kingdom.”
So the foreign merchants went one by one. In the evening a mer-
chant was shut up in the church, and in the early morning they came and
found and swept away his bones. At last it came to the turn of the young
man’s uncles to read the prayers for the dead in the church. They wept
and lamented and cried, “We are lost! we are lost! Heaven help us!”
Then the eldest uncle said to the lad, “Listen, good simpleton! It
has now come to my turn to read prayers over the Tsarivna. Do thou
 39
go in my stead and pass the night in the church, and I’ll give thee all my
ship.”
“Nay, but,” said the simpleton, “what if she tear me to pieces too? I
won’t go!”
But then St. Michael said to him, “Go and fear not! Stand in the
very middle of the church, fenced round about with thy laths and boards,
and take with thee a basket full of pears. When she rushes at thee, take
and scatter the pears, and it will take her till cockcrow to pick them all
up. But do thou go on reading thy prayers all the time, and look not up,
whatever she may do.”
When night came, he took up his laths and boards and a basket of
pears, and went to the church. He entrenched himself behind his boards,
stood there and began to read. At dead of night there was a rustling and
a rattling. O Lord! what was that? There was a shaking of the bier––bang!
bang!––and the Tsarivna arose from her coffin and came straight toward
him. She leaped upon the boards and made a grab at him and fell back.
Then she leaped at him again, and again she fell back. Then he took his
basket and scattered the pears. All through the church they rolled, she
after them, and she tried to pick them up till cockcrow, and at the very
first “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” she got into her bier again and lay still.
When God’s bright day dawned, the people came to clean out the
church and sweep away his bones; but there he was reading his prayers,
and the rumor of it went through the town and they were all filled with
joy.
Next night it was the turn of the second uncle, and he began to beg
and pray, “Go thou, simpleton, in my stead! Look now, thou hast already
passed a night there, thou mayst very well pass another, and I’ll give thee
all my ship.”
But he said, “I won’t go, I am afraid.”
But then St. Michael said to him again, “Fear not, but go! Fence
thee all about with thy boards, and take with thee a basket of nuts.
When she rushes at thee, scatter thy nuts, and the nuts will go rolling all
about the church, and it will take her till cockcrow to gather them all up.
But do thou go on reading thy prayers, nor look thou up, whatever may
happen.”
And he did so. He took his boards and the basket of nuts, and went
to the church at nightfall and read. A little after midnight there was a rus-
tling and an uproar, and the whole church shook. Then came a fumbling
round about the coffin––bang! bang!––up she started, and made straight
for him. She leaped and plunged, she very nearly got through the boards.
She hissed, like seething pitch, and her eyes glared at him like coals of
40
fire, but it was of no use. He read on and on, and didn’t once look at
her. Besides, he scattered his nuts, and she went after them and tried to
pick them all up till cockcrow. And at the first “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” she
leaped into her coffin again and pulled down the lid. In the morning the
people came to sweep away his bones, and lo! they found him alive.
The next night he had to go again in the third uncle’s stead. Then he
sat down and cried and wailed, “Alas, alas! what shall I do? ’Twere better
I had never been born!”––But St. Michael said to him, “Weep not, ’twill
all end happily. Fence thyself about with thy boards, sprinkle thyself all
about with holy water, incense thyself with holy incense, and take me
with thee. She shall not have thee. And the moment she leaves her cof-
fin, do thou jump quickly into it. And whatever she may say to thee, and
however she may implore thee, let her not get into it again until she says
to thee, ‘My consort!’”
So he went. There he stood in the middle of the church, fenced
himself about with his boards, strewed consecrated poppy-seed around
him, incensed himself with holy incense, and read and read. About the
middle of the night a tempest arose outside, and there was a rustling
and a roaring, a hissing and a wailing. The church shook, the altar cande-
labra were thrown down, the holy images fell on their faces. O Lord, how
awful! Then came a bang! bang! from the coffin, and again the Tsariv-
na started up. She left her coffin and fluttered about the church. She
rushed at the boards and made a snatch at him, and fell back; she rushed
at him again, and again she fell back. She foamed at the mouth, and her
fury every instant grew worse and worse. She dashed herself about, and
darted madly from one corner of the church to the other, seeking him
everywhere. But he skipped into the coffin, with the image of St. Michael
by his side. She ran all over the church seeking him.
“He was here–– and now he is not here!” cried she.
Then she ran farther on, felt all about her, and cried again, “He was
here––and now he’s not here!”
At last she sprang up to the coffin, and there he was. Then she
began to beg and pray him, “Come down, come down! I’ll try and catch
thee no more, only come down, come down!”
But he only prayed to God, and answered her never a word. Then
the cock crowed once, “Cock-a-doodle-doo!”
“Alas! come down, come down, my consort!” cried she. Then he
came down, and they both fell on their knees and began praying to God,
and wept sore and gave thanks to God because He had had mercy on
them both.
And at dawn of day crowds of people, with the Tsar at the head
 41
of them, came to the church. “Shall we find him reading prayers, or
shall we only find his bones?” said they. And lo! there they both were on
their knees praying fervently to God. Then the Tsar rejoiced greatly, and
embraced both him and her. After that they had a grand service in the
church, and sprinkled her with holy water, and baptized her again, and
the unclean spirit departed from her. Then the Tsar gave the young man
half his power and half his kingdom, but the merchants departed in their
ships, with their nephew on board.
They lived together, and time went on and the young man still re-
mained a bachelor, and was so handsome that words cannot describe it.
But the Tsar lived alone with his daughter. She, however, grew sadder and
sadder, and was no longer like her former self, so sorrowful was she. And
the Tsar asked her, saying, “Wherefore art thou so sorrowful?”
“I am not sorrowful, father,” said she.
But the Tsar watched her, and saw that she was sorrowful, and there
was no help for it. Then he asked her again, “Art thou ill?”
“Nay, dear father,” said she. “I myself know not what is the matter
with me.”
And so it went on, till the Tsar dreamt a dream, and in this dream it
was said to him, “Thy daughter grieves because she loves so much the
youth who drove the unclean spirit out of her.”
Then the Tsar asked her, “Dost thou love this youth?”
And she answered, “I do, dear father.”
“Then why didst thou not tell me before, my daughter?” said he.
Then he sent for his hajduks and commanded them, saying, “Go
this instant to such and such a kingdom, and there ye will find the youth
who cured my daughter; bring him to me.”
Then they went on and on until they found him, and he took just
the same laths and boards that he had had before, and went with them.
The Tsar met him, and bought all his boards, and when they split them
in pieces, lo! they were full of precious stones. Then the Tsar took him
to his own house and gave him his daughter. And they lived right merrily
together.
42

The Crackling
Mountain

Japanese Folk Tale

Anonymous
Once upon a time there lived an old man and an old woman, who
kept a pet white hare, by which they set great store. One day a badger
that lived hard by came and ate up the food which had been put out for
the hare; the old man, flying into a great rage, seized the badger, and
tying the beast up to a tree, went off to the mountain to cut wood, while
the old woman stopped at home and ground the wheat for the evening
porridge.
Then the badger, with tears in his eyes, said to the old woman,
“Please, dame, please untie this rope!”
The dame, thinking that it was a cruel thing to see a poor beast in
pain, undid the rope; but the ungrateful brute was no sooner loose, than
he cried out, “I’ll be revenged for this,” and was off in a trice.
When the hare heard this, he went off to the mountain to warn the
old man; whilst the hare was away on this errand, the badger came back
and killed the dame. Then the beast, having assumed the old woman’s
form, made her dead body into broth, and waited for the old man to
come home from the mountain.
When he returned, tired and hungry, the pretended old woman said,
“Come, come; I’ve made such a nice broth of the badger you hung up.
Sit down, and make a good supper of it.”
With these words she set out the broth, and the old man made a
hearty meal, licking his lips over it, and praising the savory mess.
But as soon as he had finished eating, the badger, reassuming its
natural shape, cried out, “Nasty old man! you’ve eaten your own wife.
Look at her bones, lying in the kitchen sink!” and, laughing contemptu-
ously, the badger ran away, and disappeared.
Then the old man, horrified at what he had done, set up a great
lamentation; whilst he was bewailing his fate, the hare came home, and,
seeing how matters stood, determined to avenge the death of his mis-
 43
tress. So he went back to the mountain, and, falling in with the badger,
who was carrying a faggot of sticks on his back, he struck a light and set
fire to the sticks, without letting the badger see him.
When the badger heard the crackling noise of the faggot burning
on his back, he called out,
“Holloa! what is that noise?”
“Oh!” answered the hare, “this is called the Crackling Mountain.
There’s always this noise here.”
And as the fire gathered strength, and went pop! pop! pop! the
badger said again, “Oh dear! what can this noise be?”
“This is called the ‘Pop! Pop! Mountain,’” answered the hare.
All at once the fire began to singe the badger’s back, so that he
fled, howling with pain, and jumped into a river hard by. But, although the
water put out the fire, his back was burnt as black as a cinder. The hare,
seeing an opportunity for torturing the badger to his heart’s content,
made a poultice of cayenne pepper, which he carried to the badger’s
house, and, pretending to condole with him, and to have a sovereign
remedy for burns, he applied his hot plaster to his enemy’s sore back.
Oh! how it smarted and pained! and how the badger yelled and cried!
When, at last, the badger got well again, he went to the hare’s
house, thinking to reproach him for having caused him so much pain.
When he got there, he found that the hare had built himself a boat.
“What have you built that boat for, Mr. Hare?” said the badger.
“I’m going to the capital of the moon,” answered the hare; “won’t
you come with me?”
“I had enough of your company on the Crackling Mountain, where
you played me such tricks. I’d rather make a boat for myself,” replied the
badger, who immediately began building himself a boat of clay.
The hare, seeing this, laughed in his sleeve; and so the two launched
their boats upon the river. The waves came plashing against the two
boats; but the hare’s boat was built of wood, while that of the badger
was made of clay, and as they rowed down the river, the clay boat began
to crumble away; the hare, seizing his paddle and brandishing it in the air,
struck savagely at the badger’s boat, until he had smashed it to pieces,
and killed his enemy.
44

The Singing
Bone
A German Fairy Tale
by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm
Once upon a time in a certain country there was great concern
about a wild boar that was destroying the peasants’ fields, killing the
cattle, and ripping people apart with its tusks. The king promised a large
reward to anyone who could free the land from this plague, but the beast
was so large and strong that no one dared to go near the woods where it
lived. Finally the king proclaimed that whoever could capture or kill the
wild boar should have his only daughter in marriage.
Now in this country there lived two brothers, sons of a poor man.
They declared that they dared to attempt the task. The older one, who
was crafty and shrewd, did so out of pride. The younger one, who was
innocent and simple, did so because of his kind heart.
The king said, “In order to be more sure of finding the beast, you
should enter the woods from opposite sides.”
Thus the older one entered the woods from the west, and the
younger one from the east.
After the younger one had walked a little while, a little dwarf
stepped up to him. He held a black spear in his hand and said, “I am giv-
ing you this spear because your heart is innocent and good. With it you
can confidently attack the wild boar. It will do you no harm.”
He thanked the dwarf, put the spear on his shoulder, and walked on
fearlessly.
Before long he saw the beast. It attacked him, but he held the spear
toward it, and in its blind fury it ran into the spear with such force that
its heart was slashed in two.
Then he put the monster on his back and turned towards home,
intending to take it to the king.
Emerging from the other side of the woods, he came to a house
where people were making merry drinking wine and dancing. His older
brother was there too. Thinking that the boar would not run away from
him any time soon, he had decided to drink himself some real courage.
 45
When he saw his younger brother coming out of the woods with his
booty, his envious and evil heart gave him no peace. He called out to
him, “Come in, dear brother. Rest and refresh yourself with a beaker of
wine.”
The younger brother, suspecting no evil, went in and told him about
the good dwarf who had given him the spear with which he had killed
the boar.
The older brother kept him there until evening, and then they set
forth together. After dark they came to a bridge over a brook, and the
older brother let the younger one go first. When the younger brother
reached the middle above the water, the older one gave him such a blow
from behind that he fell down dead.
He buried him beneath the bridge, took the boar, and delivered it to
the king, pretending that he had killed it. With this he received the king’s
daughter in marriage.
When his younger brother did not return he said, “The boar must
have ripped him apart,” and every one believed it. But as nothing remains
hidden from God, this black deed was also to come to light.
After many long years a shepherd was driving his herd across the
bridge and saw a little snow-white bone lying in the sand below. Thinking
that it would make a good mouthpiece, he climbed down, picked it up,
and then carved out of it a mouthpiece for his horn. When he blew into
it for the first time, to his great astonishment the bone began to sing by
itself:
Oh, my dear shepherd,
You are blowing on my little bone.
My brother killed me,
And buried me beneath the bridge,
To get the wild boor
For the daughter of the king.
“What a wonderful horn,” said the shepherd. “It sings by itself. I
must take it to the king.”
When he brought it before the king, the horn again began to sing
its little song. The king understood it well, and had the earth beneath the
bridge dug up. Then the whole skeleton of the murdered man came to
light.
The wicked brother could not deny the deed. He was sewn into a
sack and drowned alive. The murdered man’s bones were laid to rest in a
beautiful grave in the churchyard.
46

The Charcoal-Maker
Who Became King
Filipino Folklore
Anonymous

Once upon a time there lived a king who had one beautiful daugh-
ter.
When she was old enough to be married, her father, as was the
custom in ancient times, made a proclamation throughout his kingdom
thus, “Whosoever shall be able to bring me ten car-loads of money for
ten successive days shall have the hand of my beautiful daughter and
also my crown. If, however, any one undertakes and fails, he shall be put
to death.”
A boy, the only son of a poor charcoal-maker, heard this announce-
ment in his little town. He hurried home to his mother, and said that he
wanted to marry the beautiful princess and to be king of their country.
The mother, however, paid no attention to what her foolish son had said,
for she well knew that they had very little money.
The next day the boy, as usual, took his hatchet and went to the
forest to cut wood. He started to cut down a very huge tree, which
would take him several days to finish.
While he was busy with his hatchet, he seemed to hear a voice say-
ing, “Cut this tree no more. Dip your hand into the hole of the trunk, and
you will find a purse which will give you all the money you wish.”
At first he did not pay any attention to the voice, but finally he
obeyed it. To his surprise, he got the purse, but found it empty. Disap-
pointed, he angrily threw it away; but as the purse hit the ground, silver
money rolled merrily out of it. The youth quickly gathered up the coins;
then, picking up the purse, he started for home, filled with happiness.
When he reached the house, he spread sleeping-mats over the floor
of their little hut, called his mother, and began shaking the purse. The
old woman was amazed and delighted when she saw dollars coming out
in what seemed to be an inexhaustible stream. She did not ask her son
where he had found the purse, but was now thoroughly convinced that
he could marry the beautiful princess and be king afterwards.
 47
The next morning she ordered her son to go to the palace to inform
his Majesty that he would bring him the money he demanded in ex-
change for his daughter and his crown. The guard of the palace, how-
ever, thought that the youth was crazy; for he was poorly dressed and
had rude manners. Therefore he refused to let him in. But their talk was
overheard by the king, who ordered the guard to present the youth be-
fore him. The king read the announcement, emphasizing the part which
said that in case of failure the contestant would be put to death. To this
condition the charcoal-maker agreed. Then he asked the king to let him
have a talk with his daughter. The meeting was granted, and the youth
was extremely pleased with the beauty and vivacity of the princess.
After he had bidden her goodbye, he told the king to send the cars
with him to get the first ten car-loads of money. The cars were sent with
guards. The drivers and the guards of the convoy were astonished when
they saw the poor charcoal-maker fill the ten cars with bright new silver
dollars. The princess, too, at first was very much pleased with such a
large sum of money.
Five days went by, and the youth had not failed to send the amount
of money required.
“Five days more, and I shall surely be married!” said the princess to
herself. “Married? Yes, married life is like music without words. But will it
be in my case? My future husband is ugly, unrefined, and of low descent.
But—he is rich. Yes, rich; but what are riches if I am going to be wretch-
ed? No, I will not marry him for all the world. I will play a trick on him.”
The next day the guard informed her that the riches of the young
man were inexhaustible, for the purse from which he got his money
seemed to be magical. When she heard this, she commanded the guard
to tell the young man that she wished to see him alone. Filled with joy
because of this sign of her favor, the youth hastened to the palace,
conducted by the guard. The princess entertained him regally, and tried
all sorts of tricks to get possession of the magical purse. At last she
succeeded in inducing him to go to sleep. While he was unconscious, the
deceitful princess stole the purse and left him alone in the chamber.
When he awoke, he saw that the princess had deserted him and
that his purse was gone.
“Surely I am doomed to die if I don’t leave this kingdom at once,”
said he to himself. “My purse is gone, and I cannot now fulfill my con-
tract.”
He at once hurried home, told his parents to abandon their home
and town, and he himself started on a journey for another kingdom.
After much travelling, he reached mountainous places, and had eaten but
48
little for many a day.
By good luck he came across a tree heavily laden with fruits. The
tree was strange to him; but the delicious appearance of its fruit, and his
hunger, tempted him to try some. While he was eating, he was terrified
to find that two horns had appeared on his forehead. He tried his best
to pull them off, but in vain. The next day he saw another tree, whose
fruit appeared even more tempting. He climbed it, picked some fruits,
and ate them. To his surprise, his horns immediately fell off. He wrapped
some of this fruit up in his handkerchief, and then went back to find the
tree whose fruit he had eaten the day before. He again ate some of its
fruit, and again two horns grew out of his head. Then he ate some of the
other kind, and the horns fell off. Confident now that he had a means
of recovering his purse, he gathered some of the horn-producing fruits,
wrapped them in his shirt, and started home. By this time he had been
travelling for nearly two years, and his face had so changed that he could
not be recognized by his own parents, or by his town-mates who had
been hired by the king to search for him for execution.
When he reached his town, he decided to place himself in the king’s
palace as a helper of the royal cook. As he was willing to work without
pay, he easily came to terms with the cook. One of the conditions of
their agreement was that the cook would tell him whatever the king
or the king’s family were talking about. After a few months the char-
coal-maker proved himself to be an excellent cook. In fact, he was now
doing all the cooking in the palace; for the chief cook spent most of his
time somewhere else, coming home only at meal times.
Now comes the fun of the story. One day while the cook was gone,
the youth ground up the two kinds of fruit. He mixed the kind that pro-
duced horns with the king’s food: the other kind, which caused the horns
to fall off, he mixed with water and put into a jar. The cook arrived, and
everything was ready. The table was prepared, and the king and his family
were called to eat. The queen and the king and the beautiful princess,
who were used to wearing golden crowns set with diamonds and other
precious stones, were then to be seen with sharp ugly horns on their
heads.
When the king discovered that they all had horns, he summoned
the cook at once, and asked, “What kind of food did you give us?”
“The same food that your Highness ate a week ago,” replied the
cook, who was terrified to see the royal family with horns.
“Cook, go and find a doctor. Don’t tell him or anyone else that we
have horns. Tell the doctor that the king wants him to perform an opera-
tion,” ordered the king.
 49
The cook set out immediately to find a doctor; but he was inter-
cepted by the charcoal-maker, who was eager to hear the king’s order.
“Where are you going? Say, cook, why are you in such a hurry? What
is the matter?”
“Don’t bother me!” said the cook. “I am going to find a doctor. The
king and his family have horns on their heads, and I am ordered to find a
doctor who can take them off.”
“I can make those horns fall off. You needn’t bother to find a doc-
tor. Here, try some of this food, cook!” said the helper, giving him some
of the same food he had prepared for the king.
The cook tried it, and it was good; but, to his alarm, he felt two
horns on his head. To prevent rumors from reaching the ears of the king,
the youth then gave the cook a glass of the water he had prepared, and
the horns fell off. While the charcoal-maker was playing this trick on the
cook, he related the story of his magical purse, and how he had lost it.
“Change your clothes, then, and get ready, and I will present you to
the king as the doctor,” said the cook.
The helper then dressed himself just like a doctor of surgery, and
was conducted by the cook into the king’s presence.
“Doctor, I want you to do all you can, and use the best of your wis-
dom, to take off these horns from our heads. But before doing it, prom-
ise me first that you will not unfold the matter to the people; for my
queen, my daughter, and I would rather die than be known to have lived
with horns. If you succeed in taking them off, you shall inherit one-half
of my kingdom and have the hand of my fair daughter,” said the king.
“I do promise. But listen, O king! In order to get rid of those horns,
you must undergo the severest treatment, which may cause your death,”
replied the doctor.
“It is no matter. If we should die, we would rather die hornless than
live with horns,” said the king.
After the agreement was written out, the doctor ordered the treat-
ment. The king and the queen were to be whipped until they bled, while
the princess was to dance with the doctor until she became exhausted.
These were the remedies given by the doctor.
While the king and queen were being whipped, the doctor who, we
must remember, was the cook’s helper—went to the kitchen to get the
jar of water which he had prepared. The cruel servants who were scourg-
ing the king and the queen took much delight in their task, and did not
quit until the king and queen were almost lifeless. The doctor forgot the
royal couple while he was dancing with the princess, and found them
just about to die. He succeeded, however, in giving them some of the
50
fruit-water he had made ready, and the horns fell off. The princess, ex-
hausted, also asked for a drink when she stopped dancing, and the horns
fell off her head too.
A few days afterwards the king and the queen died, and the doc-
tor succeeded to the throne, with the beautiful princess as his wife.
Then the doctor told her that he was the poor charcoal-maker who had
owned the magic purse that she had stolen from him. As soon as he was
seated on the throne, he made his friend the cook one of his courtiers.
Although the new king was uneducated and unrefined, he welcomed all
wise men to his palace as his counselors, and his kingdom prospered as
it had never done under its previous rulers.
 51

The Story
of Zubeide
Fairy Tale from the Arabian Nights
Anonymous
The following story is one of the strangest that ever was heard. Two
black dogs long dwelt with me in my house, and were very affectionately
disposed towards me. These two black dogs and myself were sisters, and
I shall acquaint you by what strange accident they came to be metamor-
phosed.
After our father’s death, the estate that he left was equally divided
among us. My two sisters and myself stayed with our mother, who was
still alive, and when she died she left each of us a thousand sequins. As
soon as we received our portions, the two elder (for I am the youngest),
being married, followed their husbands and left me alone. Some time af-
ter, my eldest sister’s husband sold all that he had, and with that money
and my sister’s portion they both went into Africa, where her husband,
by riotous living, spent all; and finding himself reduced to poverty, he
found a pretext for divorcing my sister, and sent her away.
She returned to this city, and, having suffered incredible hardships
by the way, came to me in so lamentable a condition that it would have
moved the hardest heart to compassion. I received her with all the ten-
derness she could expect, and on my inquiring into the cause of her sad
condition, she told me with tears how inhumanly her husband had dealt
with her. I was so much concerned at her misfortune that it drew tears
from my eyes: I clothed her with my own apparel, and spoke to her thus:
“Sister, you are the elder, and I esteem you as my mother: during
your absence, God has blessed the portion that fell to my share, and
the employment I follow of feeding and bringing up silk-worms. Assure
yourself that there is nothing I have but is at your service, and as much
at your disposal as my own.”
We lived very comfortably together for some months; and one day
as we were discoursing together about our third sister, and wondering
we heard no news of her, she came home in as bad a condition as the el-
der; her husband had treated her after the same manner: and I received
52
her likewise with the same affection as I had done the other.
Some time after, my two sisters, on the ground that they would not
be an expense to me, told me they intended to marry again. I answered
them, that if their putting me to expense was all the reason they might
lay those thoughts aside, and be very welcome to stay with me; for what
I had would be sufficient to maintain us all three in a manner suitable to
our condition.
“But,” said I, “I rather believe you have a mind to marry again. If
you do, I am sure it will very much surprise me: after the experience
you have had of the small satisfaction there is in marriage, is it possible
you dare venture a second time? You know how rare it is to meet with
a husband that is a really honest man. Believe what I say, and let us live
together as comfortably as we can.”
All my persuasion was in vain; they were resolved to marry, and so
they did. But after some months were past they came back again, and
begged my pardon a thousand times for not following my advice.
“You are our youngest sister,” said they, “and much wiser than we;
but if you will vouchsafe to receive us once more into your house and
account us your slaves, we shall never commit such a fault again.”
My answer was, “Dear sisters, I have not altered my mind with
respect to you since we last parted from one another; come again and
take part of what I have.”
Upon this I embraced them again, and we lived together as we did
formerly.
We continued thus a whole year in perfect love and tranquility; and
seeing that God had increased my small stock, I projected a voyage by
sea, to hazard somewhat by trade. To this end I went with my two sisters
to Balsora, where I bought a ship ready fitted for sea, and laded her with
such merchandise as I brought from Bagdad. We set sail with a fair wind,
and soon cleared the Persian gulf; and when we got into the ocean we
steered our course to the Indies, and on the twentieth day saw land. It
was a very high mountain, at the foot of which we saw a great town, and
having a fresh wind we soon reached the harbor, where we cast anchor.
I had not patience to stay till my sisters were ready to go with me,
but went ashore in the boat by myself; and, making directly for the gate
of the town, I saw there a great number of men on guard, some sitting
and others standing, with sticks in their hands; and they had all such
dreadful countenances that it frightened me; but perceiving they had no
motion, not so much as with their eyes, I took courage, and went nearer,
and then found they were all turned into stone. I entered the town and
passed through the several streets, wherein men stood everywhere in
 53
various attitudes, but all motionless and petrified. On that side where
the merchants lived I found most of the shops shut, and in such as were
open I likewise found the people petrified. I looked up to the chimneys,
but saw no smoke; which made me conjecture that the inhabitants both
within and without were all turned into stone.
Being come into a vast square in the heart of the city, I perceived
a great gate covered with plates of gold, the two doors of which stood
open, and a curtain of silk stuff seemed to be drawn before it; I also
saw a lamp hanging over the gate. After I had well considered, I made
no doubt but that it was the palace of the prince who reigned over that
country; and being very much astonished that I had not met with one
living creature, I went thither in hopes to find some one. I entered the
gate, and was still more surprised when I saw none but the guards in the
porches, all petrified, some standing, some sitting, and some lying.
I crossed over a large court where I saw a stately building just
before me, the windows of which were enclosed with gates of massive
gold: I supposed it to be the queen’s apartment, and went into a large
hall, where there stood several black chamberlains turned into stone. I
went from thence into a room richly hung and furnished, where I per-
ceived a lady. I knew it to be the queen by the crown of gold that hung
over her head, and a necklace of pearls about her neck, each of them as
big as a nut; I went up close to her to view it, and never beheld a finer
sight.
I stood some time and admired the riches and magnificence of the
room; but above all, the footcloth, the cushions and the sofas, which
were all lined with Indian stuff or gold, with pictures of men and beasts
in silver admirably executed.
I went out of the chamber where the petrified queen was, and
passed through several other apartments richly furnished, and at last
came into a vast room, where was a throne of massive gold, raised sev-
eral steps above the floor and enriched with large emeralds, and a bed
upon the throne of rich stuff embroidered with pearls. What surprised
me more than all the rest was a sparkling light which came from above
the bed. Being curious to know from whence it came, I mounted the
steps, and lifting up my head, I saw a diamond, as big as the egg of an
ostrich, lying upon a low stool; it was so pure that I could not find the
least blemish in it, and it sparkled so brightly that I could not endure the
luster of it when I saw it by daylight.
On each side of the bed’s head there stood a lighted torch, but for
what use I could not comprehend; however, it made me imagine that
there was some living creature in this place, for I could not believe that
54
these torches continued thus burning of themselves.
The doors being all open, or but half shut, I surveyed some other
apartments that were as fine as those I had already seen. I looked into
the offices and store-rooms, which were full of infinite riches, and I was
so much taken with the sight of all the wonderful things that I forgot
myself; and did not think of my ship or my sisters; my whole design was
to satisfy my curiosity. Meantime night came on, which put me in mind
that it was time to retire. I was for returning by the way I came in, but
I could not find it; I lost myself among the apartments; and finding I
was come back again to that large room where the throne, the couch,
the large diamond, and the torches stood, I resolved to take my night’s
lodging there, and to depart the next morning betimes, to get aboard
my ship. I laid myself down upon the couch, not without some dread of
being alone in a desolate place; and this fear hindered my sleep.
About midnight I heard a voice like that of a man reading the Koran,
after the same manner and in the same tone as we read in our mosques.
Being extremely glad to hear it, I got up immediately, and, taking a torch
in my hand to light me, I passed from one chamber to another on that
side where the voice came from: I came to a door, where I stood still,
nowise doubting that it came from thence. I set down my torch upon
the ground, and looking through a window I found it to be an oratory. In
short, it had, as we have in our mosques, a niche that shows where we
must turn to say our prayers; there were also lamps hung up, and two
candlesticks with large tapers of white wax burning.
I saw a little carpet laid down, like those we have to kneel upon
when we say our prayers, and a comely young man sat upon this carpet,
reading with great devotion the Koran, which lay before him upon a desk.
At the sight of this I was transported with wonder. I wondered how it
came to pass that he should be the only living creature in a town where
all the people were turned into stones, and I did not doubt but that there
was something in it very extraordinary.
The door being only half shut, I opened it and went in, and standing
upright before the niche, I said this prayer aloud: “Praise be to God, who
has favored us with a happy voyage, and may He be graciously pleased to
protect us in the same manner until we arrive again in our own country.
Hear me, O Lord, and grant my request.”
The young man cast his eyes upon me, and said, “My good lady,
pray let me know who you are, and what has brought you to this desolate
city; and, in return, I will tell you who I am, what happened to me, why
the inhabitants of this city are reduced to that state you see them in, and
why I alone am safe and sound in the midst of such a terrible disaster.”
 55
I told him in few words from whence I came, what made me under-
take the voyage, and how I had safely arrived at the port after twenty
days’ sailing; and when I had done I prayed him to fulfill his promise, and
told him how much I was struck by the frightful desolation which I had
seen in all places as I came along.
“My dear lady,” said the young man, “have patience for a moment.”
At these words he shut the Koran, put it into a rich case, and laid it
in the niche. I took that opportunity of observing him, and perceived so
much good-nature and beauty in him that I felt strange emotion.
He made me sit down by him; and before he began his discourse I
could not forbear saying to him, “Sir, I can scarcely have patience to wait
for an account of all those wonderful things that I have seen since the
first time I came into your city; and my curiosity cannot be satisfied too
soon: therefore pray, sir, let me know by what miracle you alone are left
alive among so many persons that have died in so strange a manner.”
“Madam,” said the young man, “you have given me to understand
that you have a knowledge of the true God by the prayer you have just
now addressed to Him. I will acquaint you with the most remarkable
effect of His greatness and power. You must know that this city was the
metropolis of a mighty kingdom, over which the king, my father, did
reign. He, his whole court, the inhabitants of the city, and all his other
subjects were magi, worshippers of fire, and of Nardoun, the ancient
king of the giants, who rebelled against God.
“And though I had an idolatrous father and mother, I had the good
fortune in my youth to have a governess who was a good Mussulman; I
learned the Koran by heart, and understood the explanation of it per-
fectly. ‘Dear prince,’ would she oftentimes say, ‘there is but one true God;
take heed that you do not acknowledge and adore any other.’
“She taught me to read Arabic, and the book she gave me to prac-
tice upon was the Koran. As soon as I was capable of understanding it,
she explained to me all the heads of this excellent book, and infused pi-
ety into my mind, unknown to my father or anybody else. She happened
to die, but not before she had instructed me in all that was necessary to
convince me of the truth of the Mussulman religion. After her death I
persisted with constancy in this belief; and I abhor the false god Nar-
doun, and the adoration of fire.
“It is about three years and some months ago that a thundering
voice was heard, all of a sudden, so distinctly, through the whole city
that nobody could miss hearing it. The words were these: ‘Inhabitants,
abandon the worship of Nardoun, and of fire, and worship the only God
that shows mercy.’
56
“This voice was heard for three years successively, but nobody was
converted: so on the last day of the year, at four o’clock in the morning,
all the inhabitants were changed in an instant into stone, every one in the
same condition and posture they happened to be then in. The king, my
father, had the same fate, for he was metamorphosed into a black stone,
as he is to be seen in this palace; and the queen, my mother, had the like
destiny.
“I am the only person that did not suffer under that heavy judg-
ment, and ever since I have continued to serve God with more fervency
than before. I am persuaded, dear lady, that He has sent you hither for
my comfort, for which I render Him infinite thanks; for I must own that
this solitary life is very unpleasant.”
“Prince,” said I, “there is no doubt that Providence hath brought me
into your port to present you with an opportunity of withdrawing from
this dismal place. The ship that I came in may in some measure persuade
you that I am in some esteem at Bagdad, where I have also left a consid-
erable estate; and I dare engage to promise you sanctuary there, until the
mighty Commander of the Faithful, who is vice-regent to our Prophet,
whom you acknowledge, shows you the honor that is due to your merit.
This renowned prince lives at Bagdad, and as soon as he is informed of
your arrival in his capital, you will find that it is not vain to implore his
assistance. It is impossible you can stay any longer in a city where all
the objects you see must renew your grief: my vessel is at your service,
where you may absolutely command as you think fit.”
He accepted the offer, and we discoursed the remaining part of the
night about our sailing.
As soon as it was day we left the palace, and came aboard my ship,
where we found my sisters, the captain, and the slaves, all very much
troubled at my absence. After I had presented my sisters to the prince, I
told them what had hindered my return to the vessel the day before, how
I had met with the young prince, his story, and the cause of the desola-
tion of so fine a city.
The seamen were taken up several days in unlading the merchan-
dise I had brought with me, and embarking instead all the precious things
in the palace, jewels, gold and money. We left the furniture and goods,
which consisted of an infinite quantity of plate, etc., because our vessel
could not carry it, for it would have required several vessels more to car-
ry all the riches to Bagdad that we might have chosen to take with us.
After we had laden the vessel with what we thought fit, we took
such provisions and water aboard as were necessary for our voyage (for
we had still a great deal of those provisions left that we had taken in at
 57
Balsora): at last we set sail with a wind as favorable as we could wish.
The young prince, my sisters and myself enjoyed ourselves for
some time very agreeably; but alas! this good understanding did not last
long, for my sisters grew jealous of the friendship between the prince
and me, and maliciously asked me one day what we should do with him
when we came to Bagdad.
I perceived immediately why they put this question to me; there-
fore, resolving to put it off with a jest, I answered them, “I will take him
for my husband”; and upon that, turning myself to the prince, “Sir,” said
I, “I humbly beg of you to give your consent; for as soon as we come
to Bagdad I design to do you all the service that is in my power and to
resign myself wholly to your commands.”
The prince answered, “I know not, madam, whether you be in jest
or no; but for my own part I seriously declare, before these ladies your
sisters, that from this moment I heartily accept your offer, as my lady
and mistress. Nor will I pretend to have any power over your actions.”
At these words my sisters changed color, and I could perceive after-
wards that they did not love me as formerly.
We had come into the Persian Gulf, not far from Balsora, where I
hoped, considering the fair wind, we might arrive the day following; but
in the night, when I was asleep, my sisters watched their time and threw
me overboard. They did the same to the prince, who was drowned. I
swam for some minutes in the water; but by good fortune, or rather
miracle, I soon felt ground. I went towards a black place, that, so far as I
could discern in the dark, seemed to be land, and actually was a flat on
the coast. When day came, I found it to be a desert island, lying about
twenty miles from Balsora. I soon dried my clothes in the sun; and as
I walked along I found several sorts of fruit, and likewise fresh water,
which gave me some hope of preserving my life.
I laid myself down in the shade and soon after I saw a winged ser-
pent, very large and long, coming towards me, wriggling to the right and
to the left, and hanging out his tongue, which made me think he was ill.
I arose, and saw a larger serpent following him, holding him by the tail,
and endeavoring to devour him. I had compassion on him, and instead
of flying away, I had the boldness and courage to take up a stone that by
chance lay by me, and threw it with all my strength at the great serpent,
whom I hit on the head, and killed him. The other, finding himself at
liberty, took to his wings and flew away. I looked a long while after him in
the air, as an extraordinary thing; but he flew out of sight, and I lay down
again in another place in the shade, and fell asleep.
When I awoke, judge how surprised I was to see by me a black wom-
58
an, of lively and agreeable looks, who held, tied together in her hand,
two dogs of the same color. I sat up and asked her who she was.
“I am,” said she, “the serpent whom you delivered not long since
from my mortal enemy. I knew not how to acknowledge the great kind-
ness you did me, but by doing what I have done. I knew the treachery of
your sisters, and, to revenge you on them, as soon as I was set at liberty
by your generous assistance I called several of my companions together,
fairies like myself. We have carried into your storehouses at Bagdad all
your lading that was in your vessel, and afterwards sunk it.
“These two black dogs are your sisters, whom I have transformed
into this shape. But this punishment is not sufficient; for I will have you
treat them after such a manner as I shall direct.”
At those words the fairy took me fast under one of her arms, and
the two dogs in the other, and carried me to my house in Bagdad, where
I found in my storehouses all the riches which were laden on board my
vessel.
Before she left me she delivered the two dogs, and told me, “If you
will not be changed into a dog as they are, I order you to give each of
your sisters every night a hundred lashes with a rod, for the punishment
of the crime they have committed against your person and the young
prince whom they drowned.”
I was forced to promise that I would obey her order. For many
months I whipped them every night, though with regret. I gave evidence
by my tears with how much sorrow and reluctance I must perform this
cruel duty.
Now the fairy had left with me a bundle of hair, saying withal that
her presence would one day be of use to me; and then, if I only burnt
two tufts of this hair, she would be with me in a moment, though she
were beyond Mount Caucasus.
Desirous at length to see the fairy and beg her to restore the two
black dogs, my sisters, to their proper shape, I caused fire one day to be
brought in, and threw the whole bundle of hair into it. The house began
to shake at that very instant, and the fairy appeared in the form of a lady
very richly dressed.
I besought her, with every form of entreaty I could employ, to re-
store my sisters to their natural shape, and to release me from the cruel
duty that I had always unwillingly performed.
The fairy at length consented, and desired a bowl of water to be
brought; she pronounced over it some words which I did not understand,
and then sprinkled the water upon the dogs. They immediately became
two ladies of surprising beauty, and I recognized in them the sisters to
 59
whose human form I had so long been a stranger. They soon after mar-
ried the sons of kings, and lived happily for the rest of their lives.
60

The Soldier
and the Vampire
A Russian Vampire Folk Tale
Anonymous
A certain soldier was allowed to go home on furlough. Well, he
walked and walked, and after a time he began to draw near to his native
village. Not far off from that village lived a miller in his mill. In old times
the soldier had been very intimate with him: why shouldn’t he go and
see his friend? He went. The miller received him cordially, and at once
brought out liquor; and the two began drinking, and chattering about
their ways and doings. All this took place towards nightfall, and the sol-
dier stopped so long at the miller’s that it grew quite dark.
When he proposed to start for his village, his host exclaimed,
“Spend the night here, trooper! It’s very late now, and perhaps you might
run into mischief.”
“How so?”
“God is punishing us! A terrible warlock has died among us, and by
night he rises from his grave, wanders through the village, and does such
things as bring fear upon the very boldest! How could even you help
being afraid of him?”
“Not a bit of it! A soldier is a man who belongs to the crown, and
‘crown property cannot be drowned in water nor burnt in fire.’ I’ll be off.
I’m tremendously anxious to see my people as soon as possible.”
Off he set. His road lay in front of a graveyard. On one of the
graves he saw a great fire blazing.
“What’s that?” thought he. “Let’s have a look.” When he drew near,
he saw that the warlock was sitting by the fire, sewing boots.
“Hail, brother!” called out the soldier.
The warlock looked up and said, “What have you come here for?”
“Why, I wanted to see what you’re doing.”
The warlock threw his work aside and invited the soldier to a wed-
ding.
“Come along, brother,” said he, “let’s enjoy ourselves. There’s a
wedding going on in the village.”
 61
They came to where the wedding was; there they were given drink,
and treated with the utmost hospitality. The warlock drank and drank,
reveled and reveled, and then grew angry. He chased all the guests and
relatives out of the house, threw the wedded pair into a slumber, took
out two phials and an awl, pierced the hands of the bride and bride-
groom with the awl, and began drawing off their blood.
Having done this, he said to the soldier: “Now let’s be off.”
Well, they went off.
On the way the soldier said, “Tell me; why did you draw off their
blood in those phials?”
“Why, in order that the bride and bridegroom might die. Tomorrow
morning no one will be able to wake them. I alone know how to bring
them back to life.”
“How’s that managed?”
“The bride and bridegroom must have cuts made in their heels, and
some of their own blood must then be poured back into those wounds.
I’ve got the bridegroom’s blood stowed away in my right-hand pocket,
and the bride’s in my left.”
The soldier listened to this without letting a single word escape
him. Then the warlock began boasting again.
“Whatever I wish,” said he, “that I can do!”
“I suppose it’s quite impossible to get the better of you?” said the
soldier.
“Why impossible? If any one were to make a pyre of aspen boughs,
a hundred loads of them, and were to burn me on that pyre, then he’d be
able to get the better of me. Only he’d have to look out sharp in burning
me; for snakes and worms and different kinds of reptiles would creep
out of my inside, and crows and magpies and jackdaws would come
flying up. All these must be caught and flung on the pyre. If so much as
a single maggot were to escape, then there’d be no help for it; in that
maggot I should slip away!”
The soldier listened to all this and did not forget it. He and the war-
lock talked and talked, and at last they arrived at the grave.
“Well, brother,” said the warlock, “now I’ll tear you to pieces. Other-
wise you’d be telling all this.”
“What are you talking about? Don’t you deceive yourself; I serve
God and the Emperor.”
The warlock gnashed his teeth, howled aloud, and sprang at the
soldier— who drew his sword and began laying about him with sweeping
blows. They struggled and struggled; the soldier was all but at the end of
his strength. Ah! thought he, I’m a lost man— and all for nothing! Sud
62
denly the cocks began to crow. The warlock fell lifeless to the
ground.
The soldier took the phials of blood out of the warlock’s pockets,
and went on to the house of his own people.
When he had got there, and had exchanged greetings with his rela-
tives, they said: “Did you see any disturbance, soldier?”
“No, I saw none.”
“There now! Why we’ve a terrible piece of work going on in the
village. A warlock has taken to haunting it!”
After talking awhile, they lay down to sleep.
Next morning the soldier awoke, and began asking, “I’m told you’ve
got a wedding going on somewhere here?”
“There was a wedding in the house of a rich moujik,” replied his
relative, “but the bride and bridegroom have died this very night— what
from, nobody knows.”
They showed him the house. Thither he went without speaking a
word. When he got there, he found the whole family in tears.
“What are you mourning about?” said he.
“Such and such is the state of things soldier,” said they.
“I can bring your young people to life again. What will you give me
if I do?”
“Take what you like, even were it half of what we’ve got!”
The soldier did as the warlock had instructed him, and brought the
young people back to life. Instead of weeping there began to be happi-
ness and rejoicing; the soldier was hospitably treated and well rewarded.
Then— left about, face! off he marched to the Starosta, and told him
to call the peasants together and to get ready a hundred loads of aspen
wood. Well, they took the wood into the graveyard, dragged the warlock
out of his grave, placed him on the pyre, and set it alight— the people all
standing round in a circle with brooms, shovels, and fire-irons. The pyre
became wrapped in flames, the warlock began to burn. His corpse burst,
and out of it crept snakes, worms, and all sorts of reptiles, and up came
flying crows, magpies, and jackdaws. The peasants knocked them down
and flung them into the fire, not allowing so much as a single maggot to
creep away! And so the warlock was thoroughly consumed, and the sol-
dier collected his ashes and strewed them to the winds. From that time
forth there was peace in the village.
The soldier received the thanks of the whole community. He stayed
at home some time, enjoying himself thoroughly. Then he want back
to the czar’s service with money in his pocket. When he had served his
time, he retired from the army, and began to live at his ease.
 63

The Quarrel of the Monkey

and the Crab
Japanese Folk Tale
Anonymous
Long, long ago, one bright autumn day in Japan, it happened, that
a pink-faced monkey and a yellow crab were playing together along the
bank of a river. As they were running about, the crab found a rice-dump-
ling and the monkey a persimmon-seed.
The crab picked up the rice-dumpling and showed it to the monkey,
saying, “Look what a nice thing I have found!”
Then the monkey held up his persimmon-seed and said, “I also have
found something good! Look!”
Now though the monkey is always very fond of persimmon fruit,
he had no use for the seed he had just found. The persimmon-seed is as
hard and uneatable as a stone. He, therefore, in his greedy nature, felt
very envious of the crab’s nice dumpling, and he proposed an exchange.
The crab naturally did not see why he should give up his prize for a hard
stone-like seed, and would not consent to the monkey’s proposition.
Then the cunning monkey began to persuade the crab, saying,
“How unwise you are not to think of the future! Your rice-dumpling can
be eaten now, and is certainly much bigger than my seed; but if you sow
this seed in the ground it will soon grow and become a great tree in a
few years, and bear an abundance of fine ripe persimmons year after
year. If only I could show it to you then with the yellow fruit hanging on
its branches! Of course, if you don’t believe me I shall sow it myself;
though I am sure, later on, you will be very sorry that you did not take
my advice.”
The simple-minded crab could not resist the monkey’s clever
persuasion. He at last gave in and consented to the monkey’s proposal,
and the exchange was made. The greedy monkey soon gobbled up the
dumpling, and with great reluctance gave up the persimmon-seed to the
crab. He would have liked to keep that too, but he was afraid of making
the crab angry and of being pinched by his sharp scissor-like claws. They
then separated, the monkey going home to his forest trees and the crab
64
to his stones along the river-side. As soon as the crab reached home he
put the persimmon-seed in the ground as the monkey had told him.
In the following spring the crab was delighted to see the shoot of a
young tree push its way up through the ground. Each year it grew bigger,
till at last it blossomed one spring, and in the following autumn bore
some fine large persimmons. Among the broad smooth green leaves the
fruit hung like golden balls, and as they ripened they mellowed to a deep
orange. It was the little crab’s pleasure to go out day by day and sit in the
sun and put out his long eyes in the same way as a snail puts out its horn,
and watch the persimmons ripening to perfection.
“How delicious they will be to eat!” he said to himself.
At last, one day, he knew the persimmons must be quite ripe and he
wanted very much to taste one. He made several attempts to climb the
tree, in the vain hope of reaching one of the beautiful persimmons hang-
ing above him; but he failed each time, for a crab’s legs are not made for
climbing trees but only for running along the ground and over stones,
both of which he can do most cleverly. In his dilemma he thought of his
old playmate the monkey, who, he knew, could climb trees better than
any one else in the world. He determined to ask the monkey to help him,
and set out to find him.
Running crab-fashion up the stony river bank, over the pathways
into the shadowy forest, the crab at last found the monkey taking an
afternoon nap in his favorite pine-tree, with his tail curled tight around a
branch to prevent him from falling off in his dreams. He was soon wide
awake, however, when he heard himself called, and eagerly listening to
what the crab told him. When he heard that the seed which he had long
ago exchanged for a rice-dumpling had grown into a tree and was now
bearing good fruit, he was delighted, for he at once devised a cunning
plan which would give him all the persimmons for himself.
He consented to go with the crab to pick the fruit for him. When
they both reached the spot, the monkey was astonished to see what
a fine tree had sprung from the seed, and with what a number of ripe
persimmons the branches were loaded.
He quickly climbed the tree and began to pluck and eat, as fast as
he could, one persimmon after another. Each time he chose the best and
ripest he could find, and went on eating till he could eat no more. Not
one would he give to the poor hungry crab waiting below, and when he
had finished there was little but the hard, unripe fruit left.
You can imagine the feelings of the poor crab after waiting patient-
ly, for so long as he had done, for the tree to grow and the fruit to ripen,
when he saw the monkey devouring all the good persimmons. He was so
 65
disappointed that he ran round and round the tree calling to the mon-
key to remember his promise. The monkey at first took no notice of the
crab’s complaints, but at last he picked out the hardest, greenest per-
simmon he could find and aimed it at the crab’s head. The persimmon is
as hard as stone when it is unripe. The monkey’s missile struck home and
the crab was sorely hurt by the blow. Again and again, as fast as he could
pick them, the monkey pulled off the hard persimmons and threw them
at the defenseless crab till he dropped dead, covered with wounds all
over his body. There he lay a pitiful sight at the foot of the tree he had
himself planted.
When the wicked monkey saw that he had killed the crab he ran
away from the spot as fast as he could, in fear and trembling, like a cow-
ard as he was.
Now the crab had a son who had been playing with a friend not far
from the spot where this sad work had taken place. On the way home he
came across his father dead, in a most dreadful condition—his head was
smashed and his shell broken in several places, and around his body lay
the unripe persimmons which had done their deadly work. At this dread-
ful sight the poor young crab sat down and wept.
But when he had wept for some time he told himself that this
crying would do no good; it was his duty to avenge his father’s murder,
and this he determined to do. He looked about for some clue which
would lead him to discover the murderer. Looking up at the tree he
noticed that the best fruit had gone, and that all around lay bits of peel
and numerous seeds strewn on the ground as well as the unripe persim-
mons which had evidently been thrown at his father. Then he understood
that the monkey was the murderer, for he now remembered that his
father had once told him the story of the rice-dumpling and the persim-
mon-seed. The young crab knew that monkeys liked persimmons above
all other fruit, and he felt sure that his greed for the coveted fruit had
been the cause of the old crab’s death. Alas!
He at first thought of going to attack the monkey at once, for he
burned with rage. Second thoughts, however, told him that this was use-
less, for the monkey was an old and cunning animal and would be hard
to overcome. He must meet cunning with cunning and ask some of his
friends to help him, for he knew it would be quite out of his power to kill
him alone.
The young crab set out at once to call on the mortar, his father’s
old friend, and told him of all that had happened. He besought the
mortar with tears to help him avenge his father’s death. The mortar was
very sorry when he heard the woeful tale and promised at once to help
66
the young crab punish the monkey to death. He warned him that he must
be very careful in what he did, for the monkey was a strong and cunning
enemy. The mortar now sent to fetch the bee and the chestnut (also the
crab’s old friends) to consult them about the matter. In a short time the
bee and the chestnut arrived. When they were told all the details of the
old crab’s death and of the monkey’s wickedness and greed, they both
gladly consented to help the young crab in his revenge.
After talking for a long time as to the ways and means of carry-
ing out their plans they separated, and Mr. Mortar went home with the
young crab to help him bury his poor father.
While all this was taking place the monkey was congratulating him-
self (as the wicked often do before their punishment comes upon them)
on all he had done so neatly. He thought it quite a fine thing that he had
robbed his friend of all his ripe persimmons and then that he had killed
him. Still, smile as hard as he might, he could not banish altogether the
fear of the consequences should his evil deeds be discovered. If he were
found out (and he told himself that this could not be for he had escaped
unseen) the crab’s family would be sure to bear him hatred and seek to
take revenge on him. So he would not go out, and kept himself at home
for several days.
He found this kind of life, however, extremely dull, accustomed as
he was to the free life of the woods, and at last he said, “No one knows
that it was I who killed the crab! I am sure that the old thing breathed his
last before I left him. Dead crabs have no mouths! Who is there to tell
that I am the murderer? Since no one knows, what is the use of shut-
ting myself up and brooding over the matter? What is done cannot be
undone!”
With this he wandered out into the crab settlement and crept about
as slyly as possible near the crab’s house and tried to hear the neighbors’
gossip round about. He wanted to find out what the crabs were saving
about their chief’s death, for the old crab had been the chief of the
tribe.
But he heard nothing and said to himself, “They are all such fools
that they don’t know and don’t care who murdered their chief!”
Little did he know in his so-called “monkey’s wisdom” that this
seeming unconcern was part of the young crab’s plan. He purposely pre-
tended not to know who killed his father, and also to believe that he had
met his death through his own fault. By this means he could the better
keep secret the revenge on the monkey, which he was meditating.
So the monkey returned home from his walk quite content. He told
himself he had nothing now to fear.
 67

From Algernon Bertram Freeman-Mitford’s Tales of Old Japan, 1910.

68
One fine day, when the monkey was sitting at home, he was sur-
prised by the appearance of a messenger from the young crab.
While he was wondering what this might mean, the messenger
bowed before him and said, “I have been sent by my master to inform
you that his father died the other day in falling from a persimmon tree
while trying to climb the tree after fruit. This, being the seventh day, is
the first anniversary after his death, and my master has prepared a little
festival in his father’s honor, and bids you come to participate in it as you
were one of his best friends. My master hopes you will honor his house
with your kind visit.”
When the monkey heard these words he rejoiced in his inmost
heart, for all his fears of being suspected were now at rest. He could not
guess that a plot had just been set in motion against him.
He pretended to be very surprised at the news of the crab’s death,
and said, “I am, indeed, very sorry to hear of your chief’s death. We
were great friends as you know. I remember that we once exchanged a
rice-dumpling for a persimmon-seed. It grieves me much to think that
that seed was in the end the cause of his death. I accept your kind invi-
tation with many thanks. I shall be delighted to do honor to my poor old
friend!” And he screwed some false tears from his eyes.
The messenger laughed inwardly and thought, The wicked monkey
is now dropping false tears, but within a short time he shall shed real
ones. But aloud he thanked the monkey politely and went home.
When he had gone, the wicked monkey laughed aloud at what he
thought was the young crab’s innocence, and without the least feeling
began to look forward to the feast to be held that day in honor of the
dead crab, to which he had been invited. He changed his dress and set
out solemnly to visit the young crab.
He found all the members of the crab’s family and his relatives
waiting to receive and welcome him. As soon as the bows of meeting
were over they led him to a hall. Here the young chief mourner came
to receive him. Expressions of condolence and thanks were exchanged
between them, and then they all sat down to a luxurious feast and enter-
tained the monkey as the guest of honor.
The feast over, he was next invited to the tea-ceremony room to
drink a cup of tea. When the young crab had conducted the monkey to
the tearoom he left him and retired. Time passed and still he did not
return. At last the monkey became impatient.
He said to himself, “This tea ceremony is always a very slow affair. I
am tired of waiting so long. I am very thirsty after drinking so much sake
at the dinner!”
 69
He then approached the charcoal fire-place and began to pour out
some hot water from the kettle boiling there, when something burst out
from the ashes with a great pop and hit the monkey right in the neck. It
was the chestnut, one of the crab’s friends, who had hidden himself in
the fireplace. The monkey, taken by surprise, jumped backward, and then
started to run out of the room.
The bee, who was hiding outside the screens, now flew out and
stung him on the cheek. The monkey was in great pain, his neck was
burned by the chestnut and his face badly stung by the bee, but he ran
on screaming and chattering with rage.
Now the stone mortar had hidden himself with several other stones
on the top of the crab’s gate, and as the monkey ran underneath, the
mortar and all fell down on the top of the monkey’s head. Was it possi-
ble for the monkey to bear the weight of the mortar falling on him from
the top of the gate? He lay crushed and in great pain, quite unable to get
up.
As he lay there helpless the young crab came up, and, holding his
great claw scissors over the monkey, he said, “Do you now remember
that you murdered my father?”
“Then you—are—my—enemy?” gasped the monkey brokenly.
“Of course,” said the young crab.
“It—was—your—father’s—fault—not—mine!” gasped the unre-
pentant monkey.
“Can you still lie? I will soon put an end to your breath!” and with
that he cut off the monkey’s head with his pitcher claws. Thus the
wicked monkey met his well-merited punishment, and the young crab
avenged his father’s death.
This is the end of the story of the monkey, the crab, and the per-
simmon-seed.
70

The Juniper
Tree
German Fairy Tale
Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm
One or two thousand years ago there was a rich man who had a
beautiful and pious wife; they loved one another dearly, but they had no
children. They wished and prayed for some night and day, but still they
had none. In front of their house was a yard, where stood a Juniper-tree,
and under it the wife stood once in winter, and peeled an apple, and as
she peeled the apple she cut her finger, and the blood fell on the snow.
“Oh,” said she, sighing deeply and looking sorrowfully at the blood,
“if I only had a child as red as blood, and as white as snow!”
While she spoke, she became quite happy; it seemed to her as if
her wish would surely come to pass. Then she went into the house; and
a month passed, and the snow melted; and two months, and the ground
was green; and three months, and the flowers came up out of the earth;
and four months, and all the trees in the wood burst forth, and the
green twigs all grew thickly together; the little birds sang so that the
whole wood rang, and the blossoms fell from the trees. The fifth month
passed, and she stood under the Juniper-tree, and it smelt so beautiful,
and her heart leaped with joy. She fell upon her knees, but could not
speak. When the sixth month was gone, the fruit was large and ripe, and
she was very quiet; the seventh month, she took the juniper berries, ate
them eagerly, and was sick and sorrowful; and the eighth month went
by, and she called to her husband, and cried and said, “If I die, bury me
under the Juniper-tree.”
After this she was quite comforted and happy, ‘til the next month
was passed, and then she had a child as white as snow and as red as
blood. When she beheld it, she was so glad that she died.
Her husband buried her under the Juniper-tree, and began to
mourn very much; but after a little time, he became calmer, and when he
had wept a little more, he left off weeping entirely, and soon afterwards
he took another wife.
The second wife brought him a daughter, but the child of the first
 71
wife was a little son, and was as red as blood, and as white as snow.
When the wife looked at her daughter, she loved her; but when she
looked at the little boy, she hated him, and it seemed as if he were
always in her way, and she was always thinking how she could get all the
property for her daughter. The Evil One possessed her so, that she was
quite angry with the little boy, and pushed him about from one corner to
another, and cuffed him here and pinched him there, until the poor child
was always in fear. When he came home from school, he could not find a
quiet place to creep into.
Once, when the woman went up to her room, her little daughter
came up too, and said, “Mother, give me an apple.”
“Yes, my child,” said the woman, and gave her a beautiful apple out
of the chest; and the chest had a great heavy lid, with a great sharp iron
lock.
“Mother,” said the little daughter, “shall not brother have one too?”
That vexed the woman, but she said, “Yes, when he comes from
school.”
And when she saw from the window that he was coming, it was just
as if the Evil One came into her, and she snatched away the apple from
her daughter, and said, “You shall not have one before your brother.”
Then she threw the apple into the chest, and shut the lid close
down. When the little boy came in at the door, the Evil One made her say
kindly, “My son, will you have an apple?”
Yet she looked so angry all the time, that the little boy said, “Moth-
er, how dreadful you look! Yes, give me an apple.”
Then she felt that she must speak to him.
“Come with me,” said she, and opened the lid; “pick out an apple
for yourself.”
And as the little boy stooped over, the Evil One prompted her, and
smash! she banged the lid down so that his head flew off and fell among
the red apples. Then she was seized with terror and thought, “Can I get
rid of the blame of this?”
So she went up to her room to her chest of drawers, and took out
of the top drawer a white cloth, and placed the head on the neck again,
and tied the handkerchief round it, so that one could see nothing, and
set him before the door on a chair, and gave him the apple in his hand.
Soon after, little Margery came to her mother, who stood by the
kitchen fire, and had a pot of hot water before her, which she kept stir-
ring round.
“Mother,” said little Margery, “Brother sits before the door, and
looks quite white, and has an apple in his hand; I asked him to give me
72
the apple, but he did not answer me, and I was frightened.”
“Go to him again,” said her mother, “and if he will not answer you,
give him a box on the ear.”
Then Margery went and said, “Brother, give me the apple.”
But he was silent, so she gave him a box on the ear, and the head
fell down.
She was frightened, and began to cry and sob, and ran to her moth-
er, and said, “Oh, mother, I have knocked my brother’s head off!” and
cried and cried, and would not be comforted.
“Margery,” said her mother, “what have you done!—but now be
quiet, and no one will notice; it cannot be helped now—we will cook him
in vinegar.”
Then the mother took the little boy, and chopped him in pieces, put
him into the pot, and cooked him in vinegar. But Margery stood by, and
cried and cried, and all her tears fell into the pot, so that the cookery did
not want any salt.
When the father came home, and sat down to dinner, he said,
“Where is my son?”
The mother brought a great big dish of black soup, and Margery
cried and cried without ceasing. Then the father said again, “Where is my
son?”
“Oh,” said the mother, “he is gone into the country, to see his un-
cle, where he is going to stay awhile.”
“What does he want there? And he has not even said good-bye to
me!”
“Oh, he wished very much to go, and asked if he might remain away
six weeks; he is well taken care of there, you know.”
“Well,” said the father, “I am sorry; for he ought to have bade me
good-bye.”
After that he began to eat, and said, “Margery, what are you crying
for? Brother will be sure to come back. Oh, wife,” continued he, “how
delicious this food tastes; give me some more.”
And the more he ate, the more he wanted; and he said, “Give me
more, you shall not have any of it; I feel as if it were all mine.”
And he ate and ate, throwing the bones under the table, till he had
finished it all. But Margery went to her drawers, and took out of the
bottom drawer her best silk handkerchief, and fetched out all the bones
from under the table; she tied them up in the silk handkerchief, and took
them out of doors, and shed bitter tears over them. Then she laid them
under the Juniper-tree in the green grass; and when she had put them
there, she felt all at once quite happy, and did not cry any more.
 73
Soon the Juniper began to move, and the twigs kept dividing and
then closing, just as if the tree were clapping its hands for joy. After
that there went up from it a sort of mist, and right in the center of the
mist burnt a fire, and out of the fire flew a beautiful bird, who, singing
deliciously, rose up high in the air. When he was out of sight, the Juni-
per-tree was just as it had been before, only the handkerchief with the
bones was gone. But Margery felt quite pleased and happy, just as if
her brother were still alive. And she went back merrily into the house to
dinner.
The bird flew away, sat himself on a goldsmith’s house, and began
to sing:
“My mother, she killed me;
My father, he ate me;
My sister, little Margery,
Gathered up all my bones,
Tied them in a silk handkerchief,
And laid them under the Juniper-tree:
Kywitt! Kywitt! what a beautiful bird am I!”
The goldsmith sat in his workshop, making a gold chain, but he
heard the bird, which sat on his roof, and sang, and he thought it very
beautiful. He stood up, and as he went over the door-step he lost one
slipper. But he went right into the middle of the street, with one slipper
and one sock on; he had on his leather apron; in one hand he carried the
gold chain, and in the other the pincers, while the sun shone brightly up
the street. There he stood, and looked at the bird.
“Bird,” said he, “how beautiful you can sing! Sing me that song
again.”
“No,” said the bird, “I do not sing twice for nothing. Give me that
gold chain, and I will sing it again.”
“There,” said the goldsmith; “you shall have the gold chain—now
sing me that song once more.”
Then the bird came and took the gold chain in his right claw, and
went and sat before the goldsmith, and sang:
“My mother, she killed me;
My father, he ate me;
My sister, little Margery,
Gathered up all my bones,
Tied them in a silk handkerchief,
And laid them under the Juniper-tree:
Kywitt! Kywitt! what a beautiful bird am I!”
74
Afterwards he flew away to a shoemaker’s, and set himself on his
roof, and sang:
“My mother, she killed me;
My father, he ate me;
My sister, little Margery,
Gathered up all my bones,
Tied them in a silk handkerchief,
And laid them under the Juniper-tree:
Kywitt! Kywitt! what a beautiful bird am I!”
When the shoemaker heard it, he ran out of his door in his shirt-
sleeves, looked towards his roof, and had to hold his hand over his eyes,
so that the sun should not dazzle him.
“Bird,” said he, “how beautifully you can sing!”
And he called in at his door, “Wife, just come out; there is a bird
here which can sing so beautifully.”
Then he called his daughter and his workpeople, both boys and
girls; they all came into the street, looked at the bird, and saw how
handsome he was; for he had bright red and green feathers, and his neck
shone like real gold, and his eyes twinkled in his head like stars.
“Bird,” said the shoemaker, “now sing me that song again.”
“No,” replied the bird, “I do not sing twice for nothing; you must
give me something.”
“Wife,” said the man, “go to the garret: on the highest shelf there
stands a pair of red shoes—bring them here.”
The wife went and fetched the shoes.
“There,” said the man, “now sing me that song again.”
Then the bird came and took the shoes in his left claw and flew
back on the roof, and sang,
“My mother, she killed me;
My father, he ate me;
My sister, little Margery,
Gathered up all my bones,
Tied them in a silk handkerchief,
And laid them under the Juniper-tree:
Kywitt! Kywitt! what a beautiful bird am I!”
And when he had finished, he flew away, with the chain in his right
claw and the shoes in his left. He flew far away to a mill, and the mill
went, “Clipper, clapper, clipper, clapper, clipper, clapper.” And in the mill
there sat twenty millers, who chopped a stone, and chopped, “Hick,
hack, hick, hack, hick, hack;” and the mill went, “Clipper, clapper, clipper,
 75
clapper, clipper, clapper.”
The bird flew up, and sat in a lime-tree that grew before the mill,
and sang:
“My mother, she killed me;”
then one man stopped;
“My father, he ate me;”
then two more stopped and listened;
“My sister, little Margery,”
then four more stopped;
“Gathered up all my bones,
Tied them in a silk handkerchief,”
now only eight more were chopping,
“Laid them under”
now only five,
“the Juniper-tree.”
now only one.
“Kywitt! Kywitt! what a beautiful bird am I!”
Then the last man stopped too, and heard the last word.
“Bird,” said he, “how beautifully you sing! Please to sing me that
song once more.”
“No,” answered the bird, “I do not sing twice for nothing; give me
the millstone, and I will sing it again.”
“Yes,” said he, “if it belonged to me only, you should have it.”
“Yes,” cried all the others, “if he sings it again, he shall have it.”
Then the bird came down, and all the twenty millers took poles,
and lifted the stone up. The bird stuck his neck through the hole in the
millstone, and put it on like a collar, and flew back to the tree, and sang,
“My mother, she killed me;
My father, he ate me;
My sister, little Margery,
Gathered up all my bones,
Tied them in a silk handkerchief,
And laid them under the Juniper-tree:
Kywitt! Kywitt! what a beautiful bird am I!”
And when he had done singing, he opened his wings, and though he
had in his right claw the chain, in his left the shoes, and round his neck
the millstone, he flew far away to his father’s house.
In the room sat the father, the mother, and little Margery at dinner;
and the father said, “Oh, how happy I am! altogether joyful.”
“For me,” said the mother, “I feel quite frightened, as if a dreadful
76
storm was coming.”
But Margery sat, and cried and cried. Then there came the bird
flying, and as he perched himself on the roof,
“Oh,” said the father, “I feel so happy, and the sun shines out of
doors so beautifully! It is just as if I were going to see an old friend.
“No,” said the wife; “I am so frightened, my teeth chatter, and it
feels as if there was a fire in my veins;” and she tore open her dress.
But Margery sat in a corner, and cried, holding her apron before her
eyes, till the apron was quite wet through.
The bird perched upon the Juniper-tree, and sang:
“My mother, she killed me;”
Then the mother stopped up her ears, and shut her eyes tight, and
did not want to see or hear; but there was a roaring in her ears like the
loudest thunder, and her eyes burned and flashed like lightning—
“My father, he ate me;”
“Oh, wife,” said the man, “look at that beautiful bird!—he sings
so splendidly. And the sun shines so warm, and there is a smell like real
cinnamon!”
“My sister, little Margery,”
Then Margery laid her head on her knee, and sobbed out loud; but
the man said, “I shall go out—I must look at the bird quite close.”
“Oh, do not go,” said the wife; “it seems to me as if the whole
house shook, and was in flames.”
But the man went out and watched the bird, which still went on
singing:
“Gathered up all my bones,
Tied them in a silk handkerchief,
And laid them under the Juniper-tree:
Kywitt! Kywitt! what a beautiful bird am I!”
After that, the bird let the gold chain fall, and it fell right on to the
man’s neck, fitting exactly round it. He went in and said, “See what a
beautiful bird that is—it has given me such a splendid gold chain!”
But the wife was frightened, and fell flat down on the floor, and her
cap dropped off her head.
Then the bird sang again,
“My mother, she killed me;”
“Oh, that I were a thousand feet under the earth, so that I might
not hear!”
“My father, he ate me,”
Then she fell down, as if she was dead.
 77
“My sister, little Margery,”
“Oh!” said Margery, “I will go out too, and see if the bird will give
me anything.”
“Gathered up all my bones,
Tied them in a silk handkerchief,
And laid them under the Juniper-tree:
Kywitt! Kywitt! what a beautiful bird am I!””
Then Margery was very joyful; she put on the new red shoes, and
danced and jumped about.
“Oh,” said she, “I was so unhappy when I came out, and now I am so
happy! That is a wonderful bird; he has given me a pair of red shoes.”
“For me,” cried the wife, and jumped up, and her hair stood on end
like flames of fire, “I feel as if the world were come to an end; I will go
out—perhaps I shall feel easier.”
But as she went out of the door—smash!—the bird threw the mill-
stone on her head, and she was crushed to pieces.
The father and Margery heard it, and rushed out to see what had
happened: there was a great flame and smoke rising up from the place,
and when that was gone, there stood the little brother all alive again—as
if he had never died. He took his father and Margery by the hand, and
they were all three quite happy, and went into the house to dinner.
78

APPENDIX
Bibliography of All Included Texts
Asbjørnsen, Peter Christen, and Jørgen Engebretsen Moe, trans. “Prince
Lindworm.” 2010. East of the Sun and West of the Moon: Old Tales from
the North. New York: George H Doran, n.d. 53-64. Print.

Ashlimen, D.L., ed. “The Soldier and the Vampire.” Russian Folk-Tales.
Comp. W.R.S. Ralston. London: Smith, Elder, 1873. N. pag. Vampires and
Ghost Stories from Russia. Web.

“The Charcoal-Maker Who Became King.” Filipino Popular Tales. Comp.

Dean S. Fansler. N.p.: n.p., 1921. 10-16. Internet Archive. Web.

Colum, Padriac. “Heimdall and Little Hnossa: How All Things Came to
Be.” The Children of Odin: The Book of Northern Myths. London: Collier
Macmillan, 1948. 62-69. Project Gutenberg. Web.

Freeman-Mitford, Algernon Bertram. “The Crackling Mountain.” Tales of

Old Japan. London: n.p., 1910. 141-44. Project Gutenberg. Web.

Grimm, Jacob, and Wilhelm Grimm. “The Juniper Tree.” Grimm’s Fairy
Tales. Trans. Edgar Taylor and Marian Edwardes. N.p.: n.p., n.d. 142-52.
Project Gutenberg. Web.

Grimm, Wilhelm. “Bearskin.” Grimm’s Complete Fairy Tales. By Jacob

Grimm. Garden City, New York: International Collectors Library, 1900.
602-06. International Archive Books. Web.

“The Jellyfish and The Monkey.” Japanese Fairy Tales. Comp. Yei Theodo-
ra Ozaki. Tokyo: n.p., 1908. N. pag. Project Gutenberg. Web.

“The Quarrel of the Monkey and the Crab.” Japanese Fairy Tales. Comp.
Yei Theodora Ozaki. Tokyo: n.p., 1908. N. pag. Print.

“The Story of Zubeide.” Fairy Tales from The Arabian Nights. Ed. E.
Dixon. London: J. M. Dent, 1893. N. pag. First Ser. Fairy Tales from The
Arabian Nights. Wollamshram Canada. Web.
 79

“The Twins.” N.p.: n.p., n.d. N. pag. Fairy Tales of The World. Web.

“The Vampire and St. Michael.” Cossack Fairy Tales. Trans. R. Nisbet Bain.
London: George G. Harrap, 1916. 83-94. Public Domain Review. Web.

Wilhelm Grimm. “The Singing Bone.” Grimm’s Complete Fairy Tales. By

Jacob Grimm. Garden City, New York: International Collectors Library,
1900. 58-59. Print.
80

INDEX (By Title)

Bearskin 30
by the Brothers Grimm
Heimdall and Hnossa:
How All Things Came To Be 3
retold by Padraic Colum
Prince Lindworm 23
translated by Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and
Jørgen Engebretsen Moe
The Charcoal-Maker Who Became King 46
translated by Dean S. Fansler
The Crackling Mountain 42
recorded by Algernon Bertrand Freeman-Mitford
The Jellyfish and the Monkey 9
translated by Yei Theodora Ozaki
The Twins 16
spoken-word story
The Juniper Tree 70
by the Brothers Grimm
The Quarrel of the Monkey and the Crab 63
translated by Yei Theodora Ozaki
The Singing Bone 44
by the Brothers Grimm
The Soldier and the Vampire 60
translated by W.R.S. Ralston
The Story of Zubeide 51
from the Arabian Nights stories
The Vampire and St. Michael 35
translated by R. Nisbet Bein

7
72