One day, the father was going to the fair and he asked his two stepdaughters what they wanted from there. “Beautiful dresses,” said one.
“Pearls and jewels,” said the other.
“But you, Cinderella,” he asked, “what do you want?”
“Father,” she said, “break off the first branch that brushes against your hat on the way home and bring it to me.”
And so he bought beautiful dresses, pearls, and jewels for the two stepsisters. On the way home, when he was riding through a thicket of green bushes, a hazel branch brushed against him and knocked his hat off. When he arrived home, he gave his stepdaughters what they had asked for, and to Cinderella he gave the branch from the hazel bush. Cinderella thanked him, went to her mother’s grave, and planted a hazel sprig on it. She cried so hard that her tears fell to the ground and watered it. It grew and became a beautiful tree. Three times a day Cinderella went and sat under it, and wept and prayed. Each time a little white bird would also fly to the tree, and if she made a wish, the little bird would toss down what she had asked for.
It happened that one day the king announced a festival that was to last for three days and to which all the beautiful young ladies of the land were invited from whom his son might choose a bride. When the two stepsisters heard that they too had received invitations to attend, they were in high spirits. They called Cinderella and said: “Comb our hair, brush our shoes, and fasten our buckles. We’re going to the wedding at the king’s palace.”
Cinderella did as she was told, but she wept, for she too would have liked to go to the ball, and she begged her stepmother to let her go.
“Cinderella,” she said, “How can you go to a wedding when you’re covered with dust and dirt? How can you want to go to a ball when you have neither a dress nor shoes?”
Cinderella kept pleading with her, and so she finally said: “Here, I’ve dumped a bowlful of lentils into the ashes. If you can pick out the lentils in the next two hours, then you may go.”
The girl went out the back door into the garden and called out: “O tame little doves, little turtledoves, and all you little birds in the sky, come and help me put
the good ones into the little pot,
the bad ones into your little crop.”
Two little white doves came flying in through the kitchen window, followed by little turtledoves. And finally all the birds in the sky came swooping and fluttering and settled down in the ashes. The little doves nodded their heads and began to peck, peck, peck, peck, and then the others began to peck, peck, peck, peck and put all the good lentils into the bowl. Barely an hour had passed when they were finished and flew back out the window.
The girl brought the bowl to her stepmother and was overjoyed because she was sure that she would now be able to go to the wedding. But the stepmother said: “No, Cinderella, you have nothing to wear, and you don’t know how to dance. Everybody would just laugh at you.”
When Cinderella began to cry, the stepmother said: “If you can pick out two bowlfuls of lentils from the ashes in the next hour, then you can go.”
But she thought to herself: “She’ll never be able to do it.”
After she had dumped the two bowlfuls of lentils into the ashes, the girl went out the back door into the garden and called out: “O tame little doves, little turtledoves, and all you little birds in the sky, come and help me put
the good ones into the little pot,
the bad ones into your little crop.”
Two little white doves came flying in through the kitchen window, followed by little turtledoves. And finally all the birds in the sky came swooping and fluttering and settled down in the ashes. The little doves nodded their heads and began to peck, peck, peck, peck, and then the others began to peck, peck, peck, peck and put all the good lentils into the bowl. Barely a half hour had passed when they were finished and flew back out the window.
The girl brought the bowls back to her stepmother and was overjoyed because she was sure that she would now be able to go to the wedding. But her stepmother said: “It’s no use. You can’t come along since you have nothing to wear and don’t know how to dance. We would be so embarrassed.” Turning her back on Cinderella, she hurried off with her two proud daughters.
Now that no one was at home any longer, Cinderella went to her mother’s grave under the hazel tree and called:
“Shake your branches, little tree,
Toss gold and silver down on me.”
The bird tossed down a dress of gold and silver, with slippers embroidered with silk and silver. She slipped the dress on hastily and left for the wedding. Her sisters and her stepmother had no idea who she was. She looked so beautiful in the dress of gold that they thought she must be the daughter of a foreign king. They never imagined it could be Cinderella for they were sure that she was at home, sitting in the dirt and picking lentils out of the ashes.
The prince approached Cinderella, took her by the hand, and danced with her. He had no intention of dancing with anyone else and never let go of her hand. Whenever anyone else asked her to dance, he would say: “She is my partner.”
Cinderella danced until it turned dark, then she wanted to go home. The prince said: “I will go with you and be your escort,” for he wanted to find out about the beautiful girl’s family. But she managed to slip away from him and bounded into a dovecote. The prince waited until Cinderella’s father arrived and told him that the strange girl had bounded into the dovecote. The old man thought: “Could it be Cinderella?” He sent for an ax and pick and broke into the dovecote, but no one was inside it. And when they went back to the house, there was Cinderella, lying in the ashes in her filthy clothes with a dim little oil lamp burning on the mantel. Cinderella had jumped down from the back of the dovecote and had run over to the little hazel tree, where she slipped out of her beautiful dress and put it on the grave. The bird took the dress back, and Cinderella slipped into her gray smock and settled back into the ashes in the kitchen.
The next day, when the festivities started up again and the parents had left with the stepsisters, Cinderella went to the hazel tree and said:
“Shake your branches, little tree,
Toss gold and silver down on me.”
The bird tossed down a dress that was even more splendid than the previous one. And when she appeared at the wedding in this dress, everyone was dazzled by her beauty. The prince, who had been waiting for her to arrive, took her by the hand and danced with her alone. Whenever anyone came and asked her to dance, he would say: “She is my partner.”
At night she wanted to leave, and the prince followed her, hoping to see which house she would enter. But she bounded away and disappeared into the garden behind the house, where there was a beautiful, tall tree from whose branches hung magnificent pears. She climbed up through the branches as nimbly as a squirrel, and the prince had no idea where she was. He waited until her father got there and said to him: “The strange girl has escaped, but I believe that she climbed up into the pear tree.”
The father thought: “Could it be Cinderella?” and he sent for an ax and chopped down the tree. But no one was in it. When they went into the kitchen, Cinderella was, as usual, lying in the ashes, for she had jumped down on the other side of the tree, taken the beautiful dress to the bird on the hazel tree, and slipped on her little gray smock again.
On the third day, when the parents and sisters had left, Cinderella went to her mother’s grave and said to the little tree:
“Shake your branches, little tree,
Toss gold and silver down on me.”
The bird tossed down a dress more splendid and radiant than anything she had ever had, and the slippers were covered in gold. When she arrived at the wedding in that dress, everyone was speechless with amazement. The prince danced with her alone, and if someone asked her to dance, he would say: “She is my partner.”
At night, Cinderella wanted to leave, and the prince wanted to escort her, but she slipped away so quickly that h
e was unable to follow her. The prince had planned a trick. The entire staircase had been coated with pitch, and as the girl went running down the stairs, her left slipper got stuck. The prince lifted it up: it was a dainty little shoe covered with gold.
The next morning he went with it to his father and said to him: “No one else will be my bride but the woman whose foot fits this golden shoe.” The two sisters were overjoyed, for they both had beautiful feet. The elder went with her mother into a room to try it on. But the shoe was too small for her, and she couldn’t get her big toe into it. Her mother handed her a knife and said: “Cut the toe off. Once you’re queen, you won’t need to go on foot any more.”
The girl sliced off her toe, forced her foot into the shoe, gritted her teeth, and went out to meet the prince. He lifted her up on his horse as his bride, and rode away with her. But they had to pass by the grave, where two little doves were perched in the little hazel tree, calling out:
“Roo coo coo, roo coo coo,
blood’s in the shoe:
the shoe’s too tight,
the real bride’s waiting another night.”
When he looked down at her foot, he saw blood spurting from it and turned his horse around. He brought the false bride back home, and said that since she was not the true bride, her sister should try the shoe on. The sister went into her room and succeeded in getting her toes into the shoe, but her heel was too big. Her mother handed her a knife and said: “Cut off part of your heel. Once you’re queen, you won’t need to go on foot any more.”
The girl sliced off a piece of her heel, forced her foot into the shoe, gritted her teeth, and went out to meet the prince. He lifted her up on his horse as his bride, and rode away with her. When they passed by the little hazel tree, two little doves were perched there, calling out:
“Roo coo coo, roo coo coo,
blood’s in the shoe:
the shoe’s too tight,
the real bride’s waiting another night.”
When he looked down at her foot, he saw blood spurting from it and staining her white stockings completely red. Then he turned his horse around and brought the false bride back home. “She’s not the true bride either,” he said. “Don’t you have another daughter?”
“No,” said the man, “there’s only puny little Cinderella, my dead wife’s daughter, but she can’t possibly be the bride.”
The prince asked that she be sent for, but the mother said: “Oh no, she’s much too dirty to be seen.”
The prince insisted, and Cinderella was summoned. First she washed her hands and face completely clean, then she went and curtsied before the prince, who handed her the golden shoe. She sat down on a stool, took her foot out of the heavy wooden shoe, and put it into the slipper. It fit perfectly. And when she stood up and the prince looked her straight in the face, he recognized the beautiful girl with whom he had danced and exclaimed: “She is the true bride.” The stepmother and the two sisters were horrified and turned pale with rage. But the prince lifted Cinderella up on his horse and rode away with her. When they passed by the little hazel tree, the two little white doves called out:
“Roo coo coo, roo coo coo,
no blood in the shoe:
the shoe’s not tight,
the real bride’s here tonight.”
After they had called out these words, the doves both came flying down and perched on Cinderella’s shoulders, one on the right, the other on the left, and there they stayed.
On the day of the wedding to the prince, the two false sisters came and tried to be charming and share in Cinderella’s good fortune. When the couple went to church, the elder sister was on the right, the younger on the left side: the doves pecked one eye from each one. Later, when they left the church, the elder sister was on the left, the younger on the right. The doves pecked the other eye from each one. And so they were punished for their wickedness and malice with blindness for the rest of their lives.
* * *
† Jacob Grimm and Wilhelm Grimm, “Aschenputtel,” in Kinder- und Hausmärchen, 7th ed. (Berlin: Dieterich, 1857; first published: Berlin: Realschulbuchhandlung, 1812). Translated for the first edition of this Norton Critical Edition by Maria Tatar. Copyright © 1999 by Maria Tatar.
Cinderella†
Po’ little Cinderella was livin’ with her auntie. De woman had two daughter of her own. An’ she live in de fire-heart’. Wouldn’ let her sleep in no bed no’ not’in’. An’ ev’y night her an’ de two girls dress up des’ as fine as dey could be, go out to de dance, big feas’, havin’ all kind of fun. Po’ little Cinderella had to stay home in de ashes, nakin’, an’ havin’ not’in’ to eat. Ev’y time dey come home, dey huff up po’ little Cinderella. Say she an’t do what they leave her to do. De two girls d’ess up in robe in diamon’s all ower, an’ was goin’ to de dance, goin’ t’rough de woods. So de king an’ de queen give a dance. An’ de king inwited dem out. An’ he had a gol’ slippers (I think he was number two). An’ dese fancy girls had wanted dem. An’ de king said who de slipper fitted would be his wife dat night. De dove come an’ bring some clothes fo’ Cinderella. Den Cinderella gone out to de dance, an’ dey didn’ know her, dress so much. Dey was wonderin’ what strange woman dat is. Den de king tryin’ on de shoe on dey all feet. Some cut off deir toe, tryin’ to make de shoe fit dem. Some trim deir heels off, tryin’ to make de shoe fit dem. After all, de shoes couldn’ fit none of dem dat been dere. Den po’ little Cinderella she come right on up in dat time, an’ she grab de shoes. An’ fit her right on de feet. Den she become de queen, married to de king, an’ ride in de firs’ chariot.
* * *
† Folk-Lore of the Sea Islands, South Carolina, ed. Elsie Clews Parsons (New York: American Folklore Society, 1923), pp. 120–21. Told by James Murray and his wife, Pinky Murray, who were living on Hilton Head Island; this version of “Cinderella” is remarkably like the Grimms’ tale in its unedited form, complete with hacked off heels and toes. Gullah, the dialect used to tell this story, was spoken on the once-isolated Sea Islands, which stretch out along the coast of South Carolina. Failing to recognize the triumph of slaves creating a distinct idiom of their own, one native informant told Elsie Clews Parsons, who collected this tale: “Dere is not’in’ de matter wid us but bad grammar.”
CHARLES PERRAULT
Donkeyskin†
Once upon a time there lived a king who was the most powerful ruler on earth. Gentle in peace and terrifying in war, he had no rivals. While his neighbors feared him, his subjects were perfectly content. Under his protection, civic virtues and the fine arts flourished everywhere. His better half, his faithful companion, was so charming and so beautiful, with a disposition so sweet and generous, that he was prouder about being her husband than about being king. From their pure, tender marriage, which was full of affection and pleasure, was born a girl with so many virtues that they easily compensated for the lack of additional progeny.
Everything in the king’s palatial, luxurious castle was magnificent. It was teeming with vast numbers of courtiers and servants. In the stables were steeds large and small, of every description, covered with handsome trappings, embroidery, and braids of gold. But what surprised everyone on entering was that the most visible place in the castle was occupied by Master Donkey, who displayed his two immense ears for everyone to see. This incongruity may surprise you, but once you become aware of the superlative virtues of this creature, you too will agree that he was well worth his keep. Nature had formed him in such a way that instead of dropping dung he excreted all kinds of beautiful gold coins that were gathered from his golden litter every morning when he awoke.
Heaven sometimes tires of letting people enjoy happiness and always mingles the good with the bad just like rain with good weather. Out of the blue, a nasty illness attacked the queen and ended her days of joy. Help was summoned from all quarters, but neither erudite physicians nor the charlatans who appeared were able to arrest the fire started by the fever and fueled b
y it.
In her dying hour, the queen said to her husband the king: “Before I die I want to make one request of you. If you wish to remarry when I am no more.…”
“Oh,” said the king, “your fears are unnecessary. I’d never in my life think of it. Rest assured of that.”
“I believe you,” answered the queen. “Your ardent love proves it to me. But just to be absolutely certain, I want you to swear that you will pledge your love and marry only if you meet a woman more beautiful, more accomplished, and more wise than I am.” Confidence in her own qualities convinced the queen that the promise, cunningly extracted, was as good as an oath never to marry. His eyes bathed in tears, the king swore to do everything the queen desired. And the queen died in his arms. Never did a king make such a display of his emotions. To hear him sobbing both day and night one would have thought that his grief could not endure and that he was mourning his deceased wife like a man eager to put an end to the affair quickly.
And indeed, that was the case. After a few months, he wanted to go ahead and choose a new wife. But this was not an easy matter. He had to keep the promise that the new wife would be more charming and attractive than the one who had just been buried. Neither the court with its many beauties, nor the country, nor the city, nor the neighboring kingdoms where they were making the rounds could provide such a woman. Only his own daughter was more beautiful, and she even possessed certain charms that his dead wife never had. The king noticed it himself and, burning with a desire that drove him mad, he took it into his head that she ought to marry him. He even found a sophist who agreed that a case could be made for the marriage. But the young princess, saddened by this kind of love, mourned and wept night and day.
The Classic Fairy Tales_Norton Critical Edition Page 24
