Kentucky Folktales

by Mary Hamilton

That night Kate again crept in the shadows and listened to the fairies talk:

  “Just think, three more nights of dancing and the prince will be ours.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” another fairy gloated. “He’ll never return to the palace and no one will know what happened to him. He’ll be our dancing partner forever and ever.”

  “It is a complicated, time-consuming spell, but it’s nearly complete.”

  “Oh yes! The only way to interrupt it now would be to feed the prince a stew made from the little yellow birdie the baby’s playing with . . .”

  Kate thought, “Where’s that baby?” She crept in the shadows until she found the baby playing with the birdie. Again she rolled nut after nut. Finally the baby laughed, let go of the birdie, and crawled after the nuts. Kate snatched the yellow birdie, hid it in her apron, and slipped out to await the prince.

  When they returned to the palace, the prince fell into his bed. Kate wrung the yellow birdie’s neck, plucked off all its feathers, dropped it into a pot of water, and began cooking yellow birdie stew. The aroma from the cooking pot drifted over to the sleeping prince. He opened his eyes, “Oh, what is that wonderful smell?”

  “Yellow birdie stew,” said Kate. She filled a bowl and carried it to his bed. Gently Kate lifted the prince’s head and spooned yellow birdie stew into his mouth.

  “More,” said the prince, and he propped himself up on his elbows. Kate fed him more.

  “More, please,” said the prince, and he sat up in his bed. Kate fed him more.

  “More, please,” he said, and he stood up. Kate Crackernuts handed him the entire bowl.

  When the king came to check on his son, he found Kate Crackernuts sitting in front of the fire, cracking nuts open with her bare hands. Beside her sat the prince, helping himself to yellow birdie stew, laughing, talking, and falling in love with Kate Crackernuts.

  Annie and the other prince fell in love too.

  In time, a grand double wedding was held. After the wedding ceremony, celebrations lasted for days and days. Annie and her prince attended every celebration and danced every dance. Kate and her prince attended every celebration and danced the first dance at each one—just to be polite. Then they slipped away for walks in the woods.

  Kate’s prince never did like dancing. He had no idea why he did not like dancing, he just thought, “I don’t enjoy dancing.” But he loved walking in the woods, never getting lost, and never feeling hungry, because he walked beside his beloved Kate Crackernuts.

  COMMENTARY

  ATU Tale Type 711 The Beautiful and Ugly Twin Sisters

  I first encountered this tale in the version retold by Joseph Jacobs in English Fairy Tales, where he included this source note: “Given by Mr. Lang in Longmans’ Magazine, vol. xiv. (not xiii as cited in Folk-Lore below) and reprinted in Folk-Lore, Sept. 1890. It is very corrupt, both girls being called Kate, and I have had largely to rewrite.”1 Andrew Lang in Folk-Lore included the following citation: “Collected by Mr. D. J. Robertson of the Orkneys. Printed in Longman’s Magazine, vol. xiii.”2

  Here is the Joseph Jacobs retelling:

  Kate Crackernuts

  Once upon a time there was a king and a queen, as in many lands have been. The king had a daughter, Anne, and the queen had one named Kate, but Anne was far bonnier than the queen’s daughter, though they loved one another like real sisters. The queen was jealous of the king’s daughter being bonnier than her own, and cast about to spoil her beauty. So she took counsel of the henwife, who told her to send the lassie to her next morning fasting.

  So next morning early, the queen said to Anne, “Go, my dear, to the henwife in the glen, and ask her for some eggs.” So Anne set out, but as she passed through the kitchen she saw a crust, and she took and munched it as she went along.

  When she came to the henwife’s she asked for eggs, as she had been told to do; the henwife said to her, “Lift the lid off that pot there and see.” The lassie did so, but nothing happened. “Go home to your minnie and tell her to keep her larder door better locked,” said the henwife. So she went home to the queen and told her what the henwife had said. The queen knew from this that the lassie had had something to eat, so watched the next morning and sent her away fasting; but the princess saw some country-folk picking peas by the roadside, and being very kind she spoke to them and took a handful of the peas, which she ate by the way.

  When she came to the henwife’s, she said, “Lift the lid off the pot and you’ll see.” So Anne lifted the lid but nothing happened. Then the henwife was rare angry and said to Anne, “Tell your minnie the pot won’t boil if the fire’s away.” So Anne went home and told the queen.

  The third day the queen goes along with the girl herself to the henwife. Now, this time, when Anne lifted the lid off the pot, off falls her own pretty head, and on jumps a sheep’s head. So the queen was now quite satisfied, and went back home.

  Her own daughter, Kate, however, took a fine linen cloth and wrapped it round her sister’s head and took her by the hand and they both went out to seek their fortune. They went on, and they went on, and they went on, till they came to a castle. Kate knocked at the door, and asked for a night’s lodging for herself and a sick sister. They went in and found it was a king’s castle, who had two sons, and one of them was sickening away to death and no one could find out what ailed him. And the curious thing was that whoever watched him at night was never seen any more. So the king had offered a peck of silver to any one who would stop up with him. Now Katie was a very brave girl, so she offered to sit up with him.

  Till midnight all went well. As twelve o’clock rang, however, the sick prince rose, dressed himself, and slipped downstairs. Kate followed, but he didn’t seem to notice her. The prince went to the stable, saddled his horse, called his hound, jumped into the saddle, and Kate leapt lightly up behind him. Away rode the prince and Kate through the greenwood, Kate, as they pass, plucking nuts from the trees and filling her apron with them. They rode on and on till they came to a green hill. The prince here drew bridle and spoke, “Open, open, green hill, and let the young prince in with his horse and his hound,” and Kate added, “and his lady behind.”

  Immediately the green hill opened and they passed in. The prince entered a magnificent hall, brightly lighted up and many beautiful fairies surrounded the prince and led him off to the dance. Meanwhile, Kate, without being noticed, hid herself behind the door. There she saw the prince dancing, and dancing, and dancing, till he could dance no longer and fell upon a couch. Then the fairies would fan him till he could rise again and go on dancing.

  At last the cock crew, and the prince made all haste to get on horseback; Kate jumped up behind, and home they rode. When the morning sun rose they came in and found Kate sitting down by the fire and cracking her nuts. Kate said the prince had a good night; but she would not sit up another night unless she was to get a peck of gold. The second night passed as the first had done. The prince got up at midnight and rode away to the green hill and the fairy ball, and Kate went with him, gathering nuts as they rode through the forest. This time she did not watch the prince, for she knew he would dance, and dance, and dance. But she saw a fairy baby playing with a wand, and overheard one of the fairies say: “Three strokes of that wand would make Kate’s sick sister as bonnie as ever she was.” So Kate rolled nuts to the fairy baby and rolled nuts till the baby toddled after the nuts and let fall the wand, and Kate took it up and put it in her apron. And at cock crow they rode home as before, and the moment Kate got home to her room she rushed and touched Anne three times with the wand, and the nasty sheep’s head fell off and she was her own pretty self again. The third night Kate consented to watch, only if she should marry the sick prince. All went on as on the first two nights. This time the fairy baby was playing with a birdie; Kate heard one of the fairies say: “Three bites of that birdie would make the sick prince as well as he ever was.” Kate rolled all the nuts she had to the fairy baby till the birdie was dropped, and Kate put it in
her apron.

  At cockcrow they set off again, but instead of cracking her nuts as she used to do, this time Kate plucked the feathers off and cooked the birdie. Soon there arose a very savoury smell. “Oh,” said the sick prince, “I wish I had a bite of that birdie,” so Kate gave him a bite of the birdie, and he rose up on his elbow. By-and-by he cried out again: “Oh, if I had another bite of that birdie!” so Kate gave him another bite, and he sat up on his bed. Then he said again: “Oh! if I but had a third bite of that birdie!” So Kate gave him a third bite, and he rose hale and strong, dressed himself, and sat down by the fire, and when the folk came in next morning they found Kate and the young prince cracking nuts together. Meanwhile his brother had seen Annie and had fallen in love with her, as everybody did who saw her sweet pretty face. So the sick son married the well sister, and the well son married the sick sister, and they all lived happy and died happy, and never drank out of a dry cappy.

  And here is the version Lang published, collected by D. J. Robertson:

  The Story of Kate Crackernuts

  Once upon a time there was a king and a queen, as in many lands have been. The king had a dochter, Kate, and the queen had one. The queen was jealous of the king’s dochter being bonnier than her own, and cast about to spoil her beauty. So she took counsel of the henwife, who told her to send the lassie to her next morning fasting. The queen did so, but the lassie found means to get a piece before going out. When she came to the henwife’s she asked for eggs, as she had been told to do; the henwife desired her to “lift the lid off that pot there” and see. The lassie did so, but naething happened. “Gae hame to your minnie and tell her to keep her press door better steekit,” said the henwife. The queen knew from this that the lassie had had something to eat, so watched the next morning and sent her away fasting; but the princess saw some country folk picking peas by the roadside, and being very affable she spoke to them and took a handful of the peas, which she ate by the way.

  In consequence, the answer at the henwife’s house was the same as on the preceding day.

  The third day the queen goes along with the girl to the henwife. Now, when the lid is lifted off the pot, off jumps the princess’s ain bonny head and on jumps a sheep’s head.

  The queen, now quite satisfied, returns home.

  Her own daughter, however, took a fine linen cloth and wrapped it round her sister’s head and took her by the hand and gaed out to seek their fortin. They gaed and they gaed far, and far’er than I can tell, till they cam to a king’s castle. Kate chappit at the door and sought a “night’s lodging for hersel’ and a sick sister.” This is granted on condition that Kate sits up all night to watch the king’s sick son, which she is quite willing to do. She is also promised a “pock of siller” “if a’s right.” Till midnight all goes well. As twelve o’clock rings, however, the sick prince rises, dresses himself, and slips downstairs, followed by Kate unnoticed. The prince went to the stable, saddled his horse, called his hound, jumped into the saddle, Kate leaping lightly up behind him. Away rode the prince and Kate through the greenwood, Kate, as they pass, plucking nuts from the trees and filling her apron with them. They rode on and on till they came to a green hill. The prince here drew bridle and spoke, “Open, open, green hill, an’ let the young prince in with his horse and his hound,” and, added Kate, “his lady him behind.”

  Immediately the green hill opened and they passed in. A magnificent hall is entered, brightly lighted up, and many beautiful ladies surround the prince and lead him off to the dance, while Kate, unperceived, seats herself by the door. Here she sees a bairnie playing with a wand, and overhears one of the fairies say, “Three strakes o’ that wand would mak Kate’s sick sister as bonnie as ever she was.” So Kate rowed nuts to the bairnie, and rowed (rolled) nuts till the bairnie let fall the wand, and Kate took it up and put it in her apron.

  Then the cock crew, and the prince made all haste to get on horseback, Kate jumping up behind, and home they rode, and Kate sat down by the fire and cracked her nuts, and ate them. When the morning came Kate said the prince had a good night, and she was willing to sit up another night, for which she was to get a “pock o’ gowd.” The second night passes as the first had done. The third night Kate consented to watch only if she should marry the sick prince. This time the bairnie was playing with a birdie; Kate heard one of the fairies say, “Three bites of that birdie would mak the sick prince as weel as ever he was.” Kate rowed nuts to the bairnie till the birdie was dropped, and Kate put it in her apron.

  At cockcrow they set off again, but instead of cracking her nuts as she used to do, Kate plucked the feathers off and cooked the birdie. Soon there arose a very savoury smell. “Oh!” said the sick prince, “I wish I had a bite o’ that birdie,” so Kate gave him a bit o’ the birdie, and he rose up on his elbow. By-and-by he cried out again, “Oh, if I had anither bite o’ that birdie!” so Kate gave him another bit, and he sat up on his bed. Then he said again, “Oh! if I had a third bite o’ that birdie!” So Kate gave him a third bit, and he rose quite well, dressed himself, and sat down by the fire, and when “the folk came i’ the mornin’ they found Kate and the young prince cracking nuts th’gether.” So the sick son married the weel sister, and the weel son married the sick sister, and they all lived happy and dee’d happy, and never drank out o’ a dry cappy.

  When you compare the two, you can easily see some of the changes Jacobs made in his retelling. From his notes, we know Jacobs thought the version Lang published needed to be rewritten. But what about my version? Why is it so different from the Jacobs version?

  I was familiar with this tale and attempted retellings of it for over twenty years before I managed to retell it in a way that both pleased me and held the attention of my listeners. I loved the story’s positive portrayal of the relationship between stepsisters. However, for years, I kept wondering why Kate’s mother wanted to destroy Annie. The explanation given in both Jacobs’s and Lang’s versions, that the king’s daughter was bonnier than the queen’s daughter, seemed inadequate motivation. In my retelling attempts, Kate’s mother’s actions never felt truly believable.

  Yes, I know that one girl’s being prettier than the other seems reason enough for the actions of the stepmother in the previous story, “Rawhead and Bloody Bones,” a recent addition to my telling repertoire, and I’ve been asking myself why. What’s the difference? Perhaps my mind accepts the jealousy motivation there because in that story the girls do have equal opportunity for success, and they act alone. In “Kate Crackernuts” Annie doesn’t have a chance. The story is not structured as an equal opportunity tale. She is powerless to escape her stepmother’s evil plans. She’s obedient, she’s kind, but it’s simply not enough. Without Kate’s help, Annie is doomed.

  Yes, I also know both stories are fairy tales, so none of it really happened, but for me to tell a story well, the characters have to behave in a manner that I can believe throughout the story. I want to be able to talk about them with the same ease with which I could tell about something that happened to me. “She’s prettier, so I’ll destroy her” never quite satisfied my need for a believable motivation for Kate’s mother.

  Then real life provided additional insight. In 1991 a Texas mother was found guilty of attempting to hire a hit man to kill the mother of her daughter’s cheerleading rival.3 The mother wanted to improve her daughter’s chances of making the cheerleading team by creating such turmoil in the other girl’s life that she would be too upset to try out. Hearing about this incident immediately reminded me of the relationship between Kate Crackernuts and her mother. Both mothers wanted to help their daughters, but their actions reveal a lack of confidence in a daughter’s ability to succeed in the world. This real-life incident sent me back to the folktale with a deeper understanding of the possible fears and doubts motivating Kate’s mother and even more admiration for Kate’s intelligence and courage.

  In addition, both the Lang and Jacobs versions begin with the narrator talking about the kin
g and queen, and then telling about the queen setting up the spell with the henwife. Beginning the story with the king and queen simply did not work for me. I wanted to meet the girls right away and learn more about them. Once I changed the narrator’s focus to Kate and Annie from the very beginning of the tale, their journey became clearer to me, and I found much more pleasure in recounting the tale. Yes, Kate’s mother still makes horrible decisions, but the story I am telling is of Kate, a girl who, even though lacking the guidance of a mother who accepts her strengths and helps her nurture them as she grows up, still manages to know herself, trust herself, and succeed.

  And no, I’m not saying getting married is the mark of success. I count Kate successful because she charts her own course. She does what is needed to secure her finances, and it is she who sets the terms for marriage in her bargaining with the king. That Kate sets her own marriage terms is not my invention. It was included in Jacobs’s and Lang’s versions and was one of the details I found appealing from my first contact with the tale.

  In working with this story over the years, I created word outlines, time lines, and story maps (stick figure cartoon-like drawings) as part of my story learning process.

  Here’s a sample from a word outline:

  Beginning—Kate’s mother and Anne’s father married.

  Kate & Anne like each other

  Kate’s mother worries that Anne is prettier, more graceful, talented—dancing and needlework? So, she decides to destroy her.

  Kate’s mother sends Anne to henwife for eggs.

  1st time—Anne eats bread crust—nothing happens.

  2nd time—Anne sees gardeners, give peas, eats—nothing happens

  3rd time—Kate’s mother goes along

  Anne’s head replaced with sheep’s head

  Mother overjoyed

  Here? Middle?