Once upon a time there was a widowed old man who lived alone in a hut
with his little daughter. Very merry they were together, and they used
to smile at each other over a table just piled with bread and jam.
Everything went well, until the old man took it into his head to marry
again.
Yes, the old man became foolish in the years of his old age, and he
took another wife. And so the poor little girl had a stepmother. And
after that everything changed. There was no more bread and jam on the
table, and no more playing bo-peep, first this side of the samovar and
then that, as she sat with her father at tea. It was worse than that,
for she never did sit at tea. The stepmother said that everything that
went wrong was the little girl's fault. And the old man believed his
new wife, and so there were no more kind words for his little
daughter. Day after day the stepmother used to say that the little
girl was too naughty to sit at table. And then she would throw her a
crust and tell her to get out of the hut and go and eat it somewhere
else.
And the poor little girl used to go away by herself into the shed in
the yard, and wet the dry crust with her tears, and eat it all alone.
Ah me! she often wept for the old days, and she often wept at the
thought of the days that were to come.
Mostly she wept because she was all alone, until one day she found a
little friend in the shed. She was hunched up in a corner of the shed,
eating her crust and crying bitterly, when she heard a little noise.
It was like this: scratch--scratch. It was just that, a little gray
mouse who lived in a hole.
Out he came, his little pointed nose and his long whiskers, his little
round ears and his bright eyes. Out came his little humpy body and his
long tail. And then he sat up on his hind legs, and curled his tail
twice round himself and looked at the little girl.
The little girl, who had a kind heart, forgot all her sorrows, and
took a scrap of her crust and threw it to the little mouse. The
mouseykin nibbled and nibbled, and there, it was gone, and he was
looking for another. She gave him another bit, and presently that was
gone, and another and another, until there was no crust left for the
little girl. Well, she didn't mind that. You see, she was so happy
seeing the little mouse nibbling and nibbling.
When the crust was done the mouseykin looks up at her with his little
bright eyes, and "Thank you," he says, in a little squeaky voice.
"Thank you," he says; "you are a kind little girl, and I am only a
mouse, and I've eaten all your crust. But there is one thing I can do
for you, and that is to tell you to take care. The old woman in the
hut (and that was the cruel stepmother) is own sister to Baba Yaga,
the bony-legged, the witch. So if ever she sends you on a message to
your aunt, you come and tell me. For Baba Yaga would eat you soon
enough with her iron teeth if you did not know what to do."
"Oh, thank you," said the little girl; and just then she heard the
stepmother calling to her to come in and clean up the tea things, and
tidy the house, and brush out the floor, and clean everybody's boots.
So off she had to go.
When she went in she had a good look at her stepmother, and sure
enough she had a long nose, and she was as bony as a fish with all the
flesh picked off, and the little girl thought of Baba Yaga and
shivered, though she did not feel so bad when she remembered the
mouseykin out there in the shed in the yard.
The very next morning it happened. The old man went off to pay a visit
to some friends of his in the next village, just as I go off sometimes
to see old Fedor, God be with him. And as soon as the old man was out
of sight the wicked stepmother called the little girl.
"You are to go to-day to your dear little aunt in the forest," says
she, "and ask her for a needle and thread to mend a shirt."
"But here is a needle and thread," says the little girl.
"Hold your tongue," says the stepmother, and she gnashes her teeth,
and they make a noise like clattering tongs. "Hold your tongue," she
says. "Didn't I tell you you are to go to-day to your dear little aunt
to ask for a needle and thread to mend a shirt?"
"How shall I find her?" says the little girl, nearly ready to cry, for
she knew that her aunt was Baba Yaga, the bony-legged, the witch.
The stepmother took hold of the little girl's nose and pinched it.
"That is your nose," she says. "Can you feel it?"
"Yes," says the poor little girl.
"You must go along the road into the forest till you come to a fallen
tree; then you must turn to your left, and then follow your nose and
you will find her," says the stepmother. "Now, be off with you, lazy
one. Here is some food for you to eat by the way." She gave the little
girl a bundle wrapped up in a towel.
The little girl wanted to go into the shed to tell the mouseykin she
was going to Baba Yaga, and to ask what she should do. But she looked
back, and there was the stepmother at the door watching her. So she
had to go straight on.
She walked along the road through the forest till she came to the
fallen tree. Then she turned to the left. Her nose was still hurting
where the stepmother had pinched it, so she knew she had to go
straight ahead. She was just setting out when she heard a little noise
under the fallen tree. "Scratch--scratch."
And out jumped the little mouse, and sat up in the road in front of
her.
"O mouseykin, mouseykin," says the little girl, "my stepmother has
sent me to her sister. And that is Baba Yaga, the bony-legged, the
witch, and I do not know what to do."
"It will not be difficult," says the little mouse, "because of your
kind heart. Take all the things you find in the road, and do with them
what you like. Then you will escape from Baba Yaga, and everything
will be well."
"Are you hungry, mouseykin?" said the little girl
"I could nibble, I think," says the little mouse.
The little girl unfastened the towel, and there was nothing in it but
stones. That was what the stepmother had given the little girl to eat
by the way.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," says the little girl. "There's nothing for you to
eat."
"Isn't there?" said mouseykin, and as she looked at them the little
girl saw the stones turn to bread and jam. The little girl sat down on
the fallen tree, and the little mouse sat beside her, and they ate
bread and jam until they were not hungry any more.
"Keep the towel," says the little mouse; "I think it will be useful.
And remember what I said about the things you find on the way. And now
good-bye," says he.
"Good-bye," says the little girl, and runs along.
As she was running along she found a nice new handkerchief lying in
the road. She picked it up and took it with her. Then she found a
little bottle of oil. She picked it up and took it with her. Then she
found some scraps of meat.
[Illustration: There she was, beating with the pestle and sweeping
With the besom.]
"Perhaps I'd better take them too," she said; and she took them.
Then she found a gay blue ribbon, and she took that. Then she found a
little loaf of good bread, and she took that too.
"I daresay somebody will like it," she said.
And then she came to the hut of Baba Yaga, the bony-legged, the witch.
There was a high fence round it with big gates. When she pushed them
open they squeaked miserably, as if it hurt them to move. The little
girl was sorry for them.
"How lucky," she says, "that I picked up the bottle of oil!" and she
poured the oil into the hinges of the gates.
Inside the railing was Baba Yaga's hut, and it stood on hen's legs and
walked about the yard. And in the yard there was standing Baba Yaga's
servant, and she was crying bitterly because of the tasks Baba Yaga
set her to do. She was crying bitterly and wiping her eyes on her
petticoat.
"How lucky," says the little girl, "that I picked up a handkerchief!"
And she gave the handkerchief to Baba Yaga's servant, who wiped her
eyes on it and smiled through her tears.
Close by the hut was a huge dog, very thin, gnawing a dry crust.
"How lucky," says the little girl, "that I picked up a loaf!" And she
gave the loaf to the dog, and he gobbled it up and licked his lips.
The little girl went bravely up to the hut and knocked on the door.
"Come in," says Baba Yaga.
The little girl went in, and there was Baba Yaga, the bony-legged, the
witch, sitting weaving at a loom. In a corner of the hut was a thin
black cat watching a mouse-hole.
"Good-day to you, auntie," says the little girl, trying not to
tremble.
"Good-day to you, niece," says Baba Yaga.
"My stepmother has sent me to you to ask for a needle and thread to
mend a shirt."
"Very well," says Baba Yaga, smiling, and showing her iron teeth. "You
sit down here at the loom, and go on with my weaving, while I go and
get you the needle and thread."
The little girl sat down at the loom and began to weave.
Baba Yaga went out and called to her servant, "Go, make the bath hot
and scrub my niece. Scrub her clean. I'll make a dainty meal of her."
The servant came in for the jug. The little girl begged her, "Be not
too quick in making the fire, and carry the water in a sieve." The
servant smiled, but said nothing, because she was afraid of Baba Yaga.
But she took a very long time about getting the bath ready.