They say there was a peasant whose wife had died and left him one
little girl, who was the most beautiful creature that ever was seen;
no one on earth could compare with her for beauty. After a while the
peasant married again: this time he married a peasant-woman who had
a daughter who was the most deformed object that ever was seen; no
cripple on earth could compare with her for deformity; and, moreover,
her skin was quite black and shrivelled, and altogether no one could
bear to look at her, she was so hideous.
One day when everyone was out, and only the fair daughter at home, the
king came by from hunting thirsty, and he stopped at the cottage and
asked the fair maid for a glass of water. When he saw how fair she was
and with what grace she waited on him, he said, 'Fair maiden, if you
will, I will come back in eight days and make you my wife.' The maiden
answered, 'Indeed I will it, your Majesty!' and the king rode away.
When the stepmother came home the simple maiden told her all that
had happened, and she answered her deceitfully, congratulating her
on her good fortune. Before the day came round, however, she shut
the fair maiden in the cellar. When the king came she went out to
meet him with a smiling face, saying, 'Good day, Sire! What is your
royal pleasure?' And the king answered, 'To marry your daughter am I
come.' Then the stepmother brought out her own daughter to him, all
wrapped up in a wide mantle, and her face covered with a thick veil,
and a hood over that.
'Rest assured, good woman, that your daughter will be my tenderest
care,' said the king; 'but you must take those wrappers off.'
'By no means, Sire!' exclaimed the stepmother. 'And beware you do
it not. You have seen how fair she is above all the children of
earth. But this exceeding beauty she has on one condition. If one
breath of air strike her she loses it all. Therefore, Oh, king! let
not the veil be removed.'
When the king heard that he called for another veil, and another
hood, and wrapping her still more carefully round, handed her into
the carriage he had brought for her, shut the door close, and rode
away on horseback by her side.
When they arrived at the palace the hideous daughter of the stepmother
was married to the king all wrapt up in her veils.
The stepmother, however, went into her room, full of triumph at what
she had done. 'But what am I to do with the other girl!' she said to
herself; 'somehow or other some day she will get out of the cellar,
and the king will see her, and it will be worse for my daughter than
before.' And as she knew not what to do she went to a witch to help
her. 'This is what you must do,' said the witch; 'take this pin'
(and she gave her a long pin with a gold head), 'and put it into the
head of the maiden, and she will become a dove. Then have ready a cage,
and keep her in it, and no one will ever see her for a maiden more.'
The stepmother went therefore, and bought a cage, and taking the
large pin [33] down into the cellar, she drove the pin into the fair
maiden's head, holding open the cage as she did so.
As soon as the pin entered the maiden's head she became a dove, but
instead of flying into the cage she flew over the stepmother's head
far away out of sight.
On she flew till she came to the king's palace, right against the
window of the kitchen where the cook was ready preparing a great
dinner for the king. The cook looked round as he heard the poor
little dove beating its frightened breast against the window, and,
fearful lest it should hurt itself, he opened the window.
In flew the dove as soon as he opened the window, and flew three
times round his head, singing each time as she did so:--'O cook! O
cook! of the royal kitchen, what shall we do with the Queen? All of
you put yourselves to sleep, and may the dinner be burnt up!' [34]
As soon as she had sung this the third time the cook sank into a deep
sleep; the dinner from want of attention was all burnt up; and when
the king sat down to table, there was nothing to set before him.
'Where is the dinner?' exclaimed the king, as he looked over the
empty table to which he had brought his bride, still wrapt up in her
thick veils.
'Please your Majesty, the dinner is all burnt up as black as charcoal,'
said the chamberlain; 'and the cook sits in the kitchen so fast asleep
that no one can wake him.'
'Go and fetch me a dinner from the inn,' said the king; 'and the cook,
when he comes to himself, let him be brought before me.'
After a time the cook came to himself, and the chamberlain brought
him before the king.
'Tell me how this happened,' said the king to the cook. 'All these
years you have served me well and faithfully; how is it that to-day,
when the dinner should have been of the best in honour of my bride,
everything is burnt up, and the king's table is left empty?'
'Indeed, the dinner had been of the best, Sire,' answered the cook. 'So
had I prepared it. Only, when all was nearly ready, there came a
dove flying in at the window, and flew three times round my head,
singing each time,
Cook of the royal kitchen,
What shall we do with the Queen?
Sleep ye all soundly, and burnt be the meal
Which on the King's board should have been.
After that a deep sleep fell on me and I know nothing more of what
happened.'
'That must have been a singular dove,' said the king; 'bring her to
me and you shall be forgiven.'
The cook went down to look for the dove, and found her midway, flying
to meet him.
'There is the dove, Sire,' said the cook, handing the dove to the king.
'So you spoilt my dinner, did you palombelletta,' said the king. 'But
never mind; you are a dear little dove, and I forgive you,' and he
put her in his breast and stroked her. Thus, as he went on stroking
and fondling her, calling her 'palombelletta bella!' he felt the gold
head of the stepmother's big pin through the feathers. 'What have you
got in your head, palombelletta dear?' he said, and pulled the pin out.
Instantly the fair maiden stood before him in all her surpassing
beauty as he had seen her at the first. 'Are you not my fair maiden
who promised to marry me?' exclaimed the king.
'The very same, and no other,' replied the maiden.
'Then who is this one?' said the king, and he turned to the
stepmother's daughter beside him, and tore off her veil. Then he
understood the deceit that had been played on him, and he sent for the
stepmother, and ordered that she and her daughter should be punished
with death.
[The next group most prolific in variety of incidents is that
in which the stepmother represents the evil genius of the story;
sometimes there is a daughter only, sometimes a daughter and a son,
and sometimes, but less frequent, a son only. Allied to it is that in
which the character devolves on two elder sisters, not specified to
be stepsisters, and the incidents in these two branches are closely
interwoven. I give the first place to Cinderella, because it has
acquired a homely importance.]