The King’s son had waited till she came, and at once took her hand, and she danced with no one but him. When others came forward and invited her to dance, he said, ‘This is my partner.’
At nightfall she wished to leave; but the Prince went after her, hoping to see into what house she went, but she sprang out into the garden behind the house. There stood a fine big tree on which the most delicious pears hung. She climbed up among the branches as nimbly as a squirrel, and the Prince could not make out what had become of her.
But he waited till her Father came, and then said to him, ‘The unknown maiden has slipped away from me, and I think that she has jumped into the pear-tree.’
The Father thought, ‘Can it be Ashenputtel?’ And he had the axe brought to cut down the tree, but there was no one on it. When they went home and looked into the kitchen, there lay Ashenputtel among the cinders as usual; for she had jumped down on the other side of the tree, taken back the beautiful clothes to the bird on the hazel-tree, and put on her old grey frock.
On the third day, when her parents and sisters had started, Ashenputtel went again to her mother’s grave, and said:
‘Shiver and shake, dear little tree,
Gold and silver shower on me.’
Then the bird threw down a dress which was so magnificent that no one had ever seen the like before, and the slippers were entirely of gold. When she appeared at the festival in this attire, they were all speechless with astonishment. The Prince danced only with her, and if any one else asked her to dance, he said, ‘This is my partner.’
When night fell and she wanted to leave, the Prince was more desirous than ever to accompany her, but she darted away from him so quickly that he could not keep up with her. But the Prince had used a stratagem, and had caused the steps to be covered with cobbler’s wax. The consequence was, that as the maiden sprang down them, her left slipper remained sticking there. The Prince took it up. It was small and dainty, and entirely made of gold.
The next morning he went with it to Ashenputtel’s Father, and said to him, ‘No other shall become my wife but she whose foot this golden slipper fits.’
The two sisters were delighted at that, for they both had beautiful feet. The eldest went into the room intending to try on the slipper, and her Mother stood beside her. But her great toe prevented her getting it on, her foot was too long.
Then her Mother handed her a knife, and said, ‘Cut off the toe; when you are Queen you won’t have to walk any more.’
The girl cut off her toe, forced her foot into the slipper, stifled her pain, and went out to the Prince. Then he took her up on his horse as his Bride, and rode away with her.
However, they had to pass the grave on the way, and there sat the two Doves on the hazel-tree, and cried:
‘Prithee, look back, prithee, look back,
There’s blood on the track,
The shoe is too small,
At home the true Bride is waiting thy call.’
Then he looked at her foot and saw how the blood was streaming from it. So he turned his horse round and carried the false Bride back to her home, and said that she was not the right one; the second sister must try the shoe.
Then she went into the room, and succeeded in getting her toes into the shoe, but her heel was too big.
Then her Mother handed her a knife, and said, ‘Cut a bit off your heel; when you are Queen you won’t have to walk any more.’
The maiden cut a bit off her heel, forced her foot into the shoe, stifled her pain, and went out to the Prince.
Then he took her up on his horse as his Bride, and rode off with her.
As they passed the grave, the two Doves were sitting on the hazel-tree, and crying:
‘Prithee, look back, prithee, look back,
There’s blood on the track,
The shoe is too small,
At home the true Bride is waiting thy call.’
He looked down at her foot and saw that it was streaming with blood, and there were deep red spots on her stockings. Then he turned his horse and brought the false Bride back to her home.
‘This is not the right one either,’ he said. ‘Have you no other daughter?’
‘No,’ said the man. ‘There is only a daughter of my late wife’s, a puny, stunted drudge, but she cannot possibly be the Bride.’
The Prince said that she must be sent for.
But the Mother answered, ‘Oh no, she is much too dirty; she mustn’t be seen on any account.’
He was, however, absolutely determined to have his way, and they were obliged to summon Ashenputtel.
When she had washed her hands and face, she went up and curtsied to the Prince, who handed her the golden slipper.
Then she sat down on a bench, pulled off her wooden clog and put on the slipper, which fitted to a nicety.
And when she stood up and the Prince looked into her face, he recognised the beautiful maiden that he had danced with, and cried: ‘This is the true Bride!’
The Step-mother and the two sisters were dismayed and turned white with rage; but he took Ashenputtel on his horse and rode off with her.
As they rode past the hazel-tree the two White Doves cried:
‘Prithee, look back, prithee, look back,
No blood’s on the track,
The shoe’s not too small,
You carry the true Bride home to your hall.’
And when they had said this they both came flying down, and settled on Ashenputtel’s shoulders, one on the right, and one on the left, and remained perched there.
When the wedding was going to take place, the two false sisters came and wanted to curry favour with her, and take part in her good fortune. As the bridal party was going to the church, the eldest was on the right side, the youngest on the left, and the Doves picked out one of the eyes of each of them.
Afterwards, when they were coming out of the church, the elder was on the left, the younger on the right, and the Doves picked out the other eye of each of them. And so for their wickedness and falseness they were punished with blindness for the rest of their days.
The White Snake
A LONG time ago there lived a King whose wisdom was celebrated far and wide. Nothing was unknown to him, and news of the most secret transactions seemed to reach him through the air.
Now he had one very odd habit. Every day at dinner, when the courtiers had withdrawn, and he was quite alone, a trusted Servant had to bring in another dish. It was always covered, and even the Servant did not know what it contained, nor any one else, for the King never uncovered it till he was alone. This had gone on for a long time, when one day the Servant who carried the dish was overcome by his curiosity, and took the dish to his own room.
When he had carefully locked the door, he took the dish-cover off, and saw a White Snake lying on the dish.
At the sight of it, he could not resist tasting it; so he cut a piece off, and put it into his mouth.
Hardly had he tasted it, however, when he heard a wonderful whispering of delicate voices.
He went to the window and listened, and he noticed that the whispers came from the sparrows outside. They were chattering away, and telling each other all kinds of things that they had heard in the woods and fields. Eating the Snake had given him the power of understanding the language of birds and animals.
Now it happened on this day that the Queen lost her most precious ring, and