There was once a widow who had two daughters; the elder of the girls
was cross and ugly, but the mother loved her dearly because she was
exactly like herself, and also because she was her own daughter. The
younger girl was only her stepdaughter, and because of this, and also
because the girl was good and pretty the mother hated her, and did all
she could to make her miserable.
One day the good daughter sat by the well spinning, and as she spun
she wept because she was so unhappy. The tears blinded her eyes, and
presently she pricked her finger, and a drop of blood fell on the flax.
The girl was frightened, for she feared her stepmother would scold her
when she saw the flax, so she stooped over the edge of the well to try
to wash the blood off it. But the spindle slipped from her hand and
sank down and down through the water until it was lost to sight.
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That was worse than ever; the girl did not know what her stepmother
would do to her when she heard the spindle had been lost down the well.
Still she was obliged to confess.
The widow was indeed very angry.
“You good-for-nothing!” she cried. “You are the trouble of my life. Out
of my sight, and do not dare to return until you can bring the spindle
with you,” and she gave the girl a push so that she almost fell over.
The girl was so frightened and unhappy that she ran out of the door;
without stopping to think, she jumped into the well. Down, down she
sank, through the waters, just as the spindle had done, and when she
reached the bottom she found herself in a broad green meadow with a
road leading across it.
The girl followed the road, and presently she came to a baker’s oven
that stood beside the way, and it was full of bread. The girl was about
to pass by, but the loaves inside called to her, “Take us out! Take us
out! If we are left in the oven any longer we will burn.”
She was surprised to hear the bread speak to her, but she opened the
door and drew the loaves out, and set them neatly on end to cool. Then
she went on.
A little farther, she came to an apple-tree. It was so loaded down with
fruit that the branches bent with the weight of it.
“Shake me! Shake me!” cried the apple-tree. “My apples are ripe and my
boughs are like to break with the weight of them.”
The girl shook the apple-tree till the apples fell about her in a
shower. She piled the apples neatly about the tree and went on her way.
After awhile she came to a little house, and an ugly old woman
with long yellow teeth was looking out of the window. The girl was
frightened at the old woman’s looks, and was about to turn away, but
the woman called to her, “Do not be afraid. I will not hurt you. I need
a serving-maid. Come in, and if you serve me faithfully I will reward
you well.”
The girl did not feel afraid any longer. She opened the door and went
in.
The old woman took her upstairs and showed her a great feather bed. “I
am Mother Hulda,” said she. “It is I who send out the frost and snow
over the world. Every day you must give my bed a good beating. Then,
when the feathers fly, it snows upon the earth.”
The girl stayed with Mother Hulda many months. Every day she gave the
bed such a good beating that the feathers flew, and there was much snow
that year. Mother Hulda was very much pleased with her. She was kind to
her, and the girl had all she wanted to eat, and that of the best, and
a comfortable bed to sleep in; but all the same, by the time the winter
was over she began to feel sad and dull. She longed to see her home and
her mother and sister, too, even though they were unkind to her.
“Now I see it is time for you to go back to the earth again,” said
Mother Hulda. “You have served me well and faithfully, and you shall be
rewarded as I promised you.”
She then opened a closet door and brought out the girl’s spindle and
gave it to her. After that she took the girl by the hand and led her
out of the house and along a road to a great gate that stood open.
“There lies your way,” said Mother Hulda.
The girl passed out through the gate, and as she did so a shower
of gold fell all about her like rain, and stuck to her so that she
glittered from head to foot with gold; even her shoes and her clothes
were golden.
“That is my reward to you because you have been a good servant,” cried
Mother Hulda. Then the gate closed, and the girl ran along the road and
quickly came to the house of her stepmother.
As she entered the gate the cock crowed loudly, “Cock-a-doodle-doo! Our
golden girl’s come home again.”
She entered the house, and now her mother and sister were glad to see
her because she was covered with gold. They asked her where she had
been and who had given her all that treasure.
The girl told them. Then they were filled with envy.
“Here! Take your spindle,” cried the widow to her own daughter. “Throw
it in the well and jump down after it. If Mother Hulda has rewarded
your sister in this way what will she not do for you? No doubt you will
come home all covered with diamonds and rubies.”
The ugly girl took her spindle and threw it down the well, as her
mother bade her, and jumped in after it. Down, down she went, just
as her sister had done, and there was the green meadow with the road
leading across it.
The girl hurried along the road, for she was in haste to reach Mother
Hulda’s house and get a reward, and presently she came to the oven.
“Take us out! Take us out!” cried the loaves inside. “We will burn if
we are left in here any longer.”
“Why should I blacken my hands for you?” cried the girl. “Stay
where you are, and if you burn no one will be the worse for it but
yourselves.” And so saying she went on her way.
A little farther she came to the apple-tree, and its boughs were bent
with the weight of the fruit it bore.
“Shake me! Shake me!” cried the apple-tree. “My fruit is ripe, and my
boughs are like to break with the weight of it.”
“Not I!” cried the girl. “I will not shake you. Suppose one of the
apples should fall upon my head. Your boughs may break for all of me!”
And so she went on her way, munching an apple that she had picked up
from off the ground.
It was not long before she came to Mother Hulda’s house, and there was
Mother Hulda herself looking out of the window. The ugly girl was not
afraid of her and her long teeth, for the good sister had already told
her about them. She marched up to the door and opened it as bold as
bold.
“I have come to take service with you,” she said, “and to get the
reward.”
“Very well,” answered Mother Hulda. “If you serve me well and
faithfully the reward shall not be lacking.”
She then took the ugly girl upstairs and showed her the bed, and told
her how she was to shake and beat it. Then she left her there.
The ugly girl began to beat the bed, but she soon tired of it and came
downstairs and asked if supper were ready. Mother Hulda frowned, but
she said nothing, and she gave the girl a good supper of bread and meat.
The next day the ugly girl hardly beat the bed at all, and the next day
it was still worse. At the end of the week hardly a flake of snow had
floated out over the world.
“You will never do for me,” said Mother Hulda. “You will have to go.”
“Very well,” answered the girl. “I am willing, but give me my reward
first.”
“Yes, you shall have your reward,” said Mother Hulda, “and you deserve
it.”
She opened the closet and took out the spindle and gave it to her,
and led her along the road to the open gate. The girl was very much
pleased. “Now in a moment,” thought she, “I will be all covered with
gold the way my sister was, unless I am covered with diamonds and
rubies.”
“There lies your way,” cried Mother Hulda.
The girl ran through the gate, but instead of gold or precious stones,
a shower of soot fell over her so that she was black from head to foot.
“That is the reward of your services,” cried Mother Hulda to the girl,
and then she banged the gate and locked it so that the girl could not
come back.
So the lazy daughter ran home, crying, and as she entered the gate the
cock crowed loudly, “Cock-a-doodle-doo! Our sooty girl’s come home
again.”
And try as she might the ugly girl could never get the soot entirely
off her. But as to the good sister she was married to a great nobleman,
and lived happy ever after.
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[Illustration: The Six Companions]