The old woman returned home and told Vasilisa everything. “I knew all along that I would have to do this work,” Vasilisa told her. Vasilisa locked herself in her room and began sewing. She worked without stopping and soon a dozen shirts were ready.
The old woman took the shirts to the tsar. Vasilisa washed up, combed her hair, dressed in her finest clothes, and sat down by the window to see what would happen. She saw one of the tsar’s servants enter the courtyard. The messenger came into the room and said: “His Majesty wishes to meet the seamstress who made his shirts and wants to reward her with his own hands.”
Vasilisa appeared before the tsar. When the tsar saw Vasilisa the Fair, he fell head over heels in love with her. “No, my beauty,” he said. “I shall never part from you. You will be my wife.”
The tsar took Vasilisa by her white hands and sat her down next to him. The wedding was celebrated at once. Soon afterward Vasilisa’s father returned. He was overjoyed with her good fortune and went to live in his daughter’s house. Vasilisa took the old woman into her home as well and carried the doll in her pocket until the day she died.
* * *
† Originally published in Narodnye russkie skazki (Russian Fairy Tales; Moscow: A. Semena, 1855–63). Translated by Maria Tatar for The Annotated Classic Fairy Tales (New York: Norton, 2002), pp. 172–85. Copyright © 2002 by Maria Tatar. Used by permission of W. W. Norton & Company.
Momotaro, or the Peach Boy†
If you’ll believe me there was a time when the fairies were none so shy as they are now. That was the time when beasts talked to men, when there were spells and enchantments and magic every day, when there was great store of hidden treasure to be dug up, and adventures for the asking.
At that time, you must know, an old man and an old woman lived alone by themselves. They were good and they were poor and they had no children at all.
One fine day, “What are you doing this morning, good man?” says the old woman.
“Oh,” says the old man, “I’m off to the mountains with my billhook to gather sticks for our fire. And what are you doing, good wife?”
“Oh,” says the old woman, “I’m off to the stream to wash clothes. It’s my washing day,” she adds.
So the old man went to the mountains and the old woman went to the stream.
Now, while she was washing the clothes, what should she see but a fine ripe peach that came floating down the stream! The peach was big enough, and rosy red on both sides.
“I’m in luck this morning,” said the dame, and she pulled the peach to shore with a split bamboo stick.
By-and-by, when her good man came home from the hills, she set the peach before him. “Eat, good man,” she said. “This is a lucky peach I found in the stream and brought home for you.”
But the old man never got a taste of the peach. And why did he not?
All of a sudden the peach burst in two and there was no stone to it, but a fine boy baby where the stone should have been.
“Mercy me!” says the old woman.
“Mercy me!” says the old man.
The boy baby first ate up one half of the peach and then he ate up the other half. When he had done this he was finer and stronger than ever.
“Momotaro! Momotaro!” cries the old man. “The eldest son of the peach.”
“Truth it is indeed,” says the old woman. “He was born in a peach.”
Both of them took such good care of Momotaro that soon he was the stoutest and bravest boy of all that country-side. He was a credit to them, you may believe. The neighbors nodded their heads and they said, “Momotaro is the fine young man!”
“Mother,” says Momotaro one day to the old woman, “make me a good store of kimi-dango” (which is the way that they call millet dumplings in those parts).
“What for do you want kimi-dango?” says his mother.
“Why,” says Momotaro, “I’m going on a journey, or as you may say, an adventure, and I shall be needing the kimi-dango on the way.”
“Where are you going, Momotaro?” says his mother.
“I’m off to the Ogres’ Island,” says Momotaro, “to get their treasure, and I should be obliged if you’d let me have the kimi-dango as soon as may be,” he says.
So they made him the kimi-dango, and he put them in a wallet, and he tied the wallet to his girdle and off he set.
“Sayonara, and good luck to you, Momotaro!” cried the old man and the old woman.
“Sayonara! Sayonara!” cried Momotaro.
He hadn’t gone far when he fell in with a monkey.
“Kia! Kia!” says the monkey. “Where are you off to, Momotaro?”
Says Momotaro, “I’m off to the Ogres’ Island for an adventure.”
“What have you got in the wallet hanging at your girdle?”
“Now you’re asking me something,” says Momotaro. “Sure, I’ve some of the best millet dumplings in all Japan.”
“Give me one,” says the monkey, “and I will go with you.”
So Momotaro gave a millet dumpling to the monkey, and the two of them jogged on together. They hadn’t gone far when they fell in with a pheasant.
“Ken! Ken!” said the pheasant. “Where are you off to, Momotaro?”
Says Momotaro, “I’m off to the Ogres’ Island for an adventure.”
“What have you got in your wallet, Momotaro?”
“I’ve got some of the best millet dumplings in all Japan.”
“Give me one,” says the pheasant, “and I will go with you.”
So Momotaro gave a millet dumpling to the pheasant, and the three of them jogged on together.
They hadn’t gone far when they fell in with a dog.
“Bow! Wow! Wow!” says the dog. “Where are you off to, Momotaro?”
Says Momotaro, “I’m off to the Ogres’ Island.”
“What have you got in your wallet, Momotaro?”
“I’ve got some of the best millet dumplings in all Japan.”
“Give me one,” says the dog, “and I will go with you.”
So Momotaro gave a millet dumpling to the dog, and the four of them jogged on together. By-and-by they came to the Ogres’ Island.
“Now, brothers,” says Momotaro, “listen to my plan. The pheasant must fly over the castle gate and peck the Ogres. The monkey must climb over the castle wall and pinch the Ogres. The dog and I will break the bolts and bars. He will bite the Ogres, and I will fight the Ogres.”
Then there was the great battle.
The pheasant flew over the castle gate: “Ken! Ken! Ken!”
Momotaro broke the bolts and bars, and the dog leapt into the castle courtyard. “Bow! Wow! Wow!”
The brave companions fought till sundown and overcame the Ogres. Those that were left alive they took prisoners and bound with cords—a wicked lot they were.
“Now, brothers,” says Momotaro, “bring out the Ogres’ treasure.”
So they did.
The treasure was worth having, indeed. There were magic jewels there, and caps and coats to make you invisible. There was gold and silver, and jade and coral, and amber and tortoise-shell and mother-of-pearl.
“Here’s riches for all,” says Momotaro. “Choose, brothers, and take your fill.”
“Kia! Kia!” says the monkey. “Thanks, my Lord Momotaro.”
“Ken! Ken!” says the pheasant. “Thanks, my Lord Momotaro.”
“Bow! Wow! Wow!” says the dog. “Thanks, my dear Lord Momotaro.”
* * *
† “Momotaro, or the Peach Boy” as told by Yei Theodora Ozaki in Japanese Fairy Tales by Lafcadio Hearn and Others (New York: Boni and Liveright, 1918), pp. 154–60.
JOSEPH JACOBS
Jack and the Beanstalk†
There was once upon a time a poor widow who had an only son named Jack, and a cow named Milky-white. And all they had to live on was the milk the cow gave every morning, which they carried to the market and sold. But one morning Milky-white gave no milk, and they di
dn’t know what to do.
“What shall we do, what shall we do?” said the widow, wringing her hands.
“Cheer up, mother, I’ll go and get work somewhere,” said Jack.
“We’ve tried that before, and nobody would take you,” said his mother; “we must sell Milky-white and with the money start shop, or something.”
“All right, mother,” says Jack; “it’s market-day today, and I’ll soon sell Milky-white, and then we’ll see what we can do.”
So he took the cow’s halter in his hand, and off he started. He hadn’t gone far when he met a funny-looking old man, who said to him: “Good morning, Jack.”
“Good morning to you,” said Jack, and wondered how he knew his name.
“Well, Jack, and where are you off to?” said the man.
“I’m going to market to sell our cow here.”
“Oh, you look the proper sort of chap to sell cows,” said the man; “I wonder if you know how many beans make five.”
“Two in each hand and one in your mouth,” says Jack, as sharp as a needle.
“Right you are,” says the man, “and here they are, the very beans themselves,” he went on, pulling out of his pocket a number of strange-looking beans. “As you are so sharp,” says he, “I don’t mind doing a swap with you—your cow for these beans.”
“Go along,” says Jack; “wouldn’t you like it?”
“Ah! you don’t know what these beans are,” said the man; “if you plant them overnight, by morning they grow right up to the sky.”
“Really?” said Jack; “you don’t say so.”
“Yes, that is so, and if it doesn’t turn out to be true you can have your cow back.”
“Right,” says Jack, and hands him over Milky-white’s halter and pockets the beans.
Back goes Jack home, and as he hadn’t gone very far it wasn’t dusk by the time he got to his door.
“Back already, Jack?” said his mother; “I see you haven’t got Milky-white, so you’ve sold her. How much did you get for her?”
“You’ll never guess, mother,” says Jack.
“No, you don’t say so. Good boy! Five pounds, ten, fifteen, no, it can’t be twenty.”
“I told you you couldn’t guess. What do you say to these beans; they’re magical, plant them overnight and—”
“What!” says Jack’s mother, “have you been such a fool, such a dolt, such an idiot, as to give away my Milky-white, the best milker in the parish, and prime beef to boot, for a set of paltry beans? Take that! Take that! Take that! And as for your precious beans here they go out of the window. And now off with you to bed. Not a sup shall you drink, and not a bit shall you swallow this very night.”
So Jack went upstairs to his little room in the attic, and sad and sorry he was, to be sure, as much for his mother’s sake, as for the loss of his supper.
At last he dropped off to sleep.
When he woke up, the room looked so funny. The sun was shining into part of it, and yet all the rest was quite dark and shady. So Jack jumped up and dressed himself and went to the window. And what do you think he saw? Why, the beans his mother had thrown out of the window into the garden had sprung up into a big beanstalk which went up and up and up till it reached the sky. So the man spoke truth after all.
The beanstalk grew up quite close past Jack’s window, so all he had to do was to open it and give a jump on to the beanstalk which ran up just like a big ladder. So Jack climbed, and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed till at last he reached the sky. And when he got there he found a long broad road going as straight as a dart. So he walked along and he walked along and he walked along till he came to a great big tall house, and on the doorstep there was a great big tall woman.
“Good morning, mum,” says Jack, quite polite-like. “Could you be so kind as to give me some breakfast?” For he hadn’t had anything to eat, you know, the night before and was as hungry as a hunter.
“It’s breakfast you want, is it?” says the great big tall woman, “it’s breakfast you’ll be if you don’t move off from here. My man is an ogre and there’s nothing he likes better than boys broiled on toast. You’d better be moving on or he’ll soon be coming.”
“Oh! please, mum, do give me something to eat, mum. I’ve had nothing to eat since yesterday morning, really and truly, mum,” says Jack. “I may as well be broiled as die of hunger.”
Well, the ogre’s wife was not half so bad after all. So she took Jack into the kitchen, and gave him a hunk of bread and cheese and a jug of milk. But Jack hadn’t half finished these when thump! thump! thump! the whole house began to tremble with the noise of someone coming.
“Goodness gracious me! It’s my old man,” said the ogre’s wife, “what on earth shall I do? Come along quick and jump in here.” And she bundled Jack into the oven just as the ogre came in.
He was a big one, to be sure. At his belt he had three calves strung up by the heels, and he unhooked them and threw them down on the table and said: ‘Here, wife, broil me a couple of these for breakfast. Ah! what’s this I smell?
“Fee-fi-fo-fum,
I smell the blood of an Englishman,
Be he alive, or be he dead
I’ll have his bones to grind my bread.”
“Nonsense, dear,” said his wife, “you’re dreaming. Or perhaps you smell the scraps of that little boy you liked so much for yesterday’s dinner. Here, you go and have a wash and tidy up, and by the time you come back your breakfast’ll be ready for you.”
So off the ogre went, and Jack was just going to jump out of the oven and run away when the woman told him not. “Wait till he’s asleep,” says she; “he always has a doze after breakfast.”
Well, the ogre had his breakfast, and after that he goes to a big chest and takes out of it a couple of bags of gold, and down he sits and counts till at last his head began to nod and he began to snore till the whole house shook again.
Then Jack crept out on tiptoe from his oven, and as he was passing the ogre he took one of the bags of gold under his arm, and off he pelters till he came to the beanstalk, and then he threw down the bag of gold, which, of course, fell into his mother’s garden, and then he climbed down and climbed down till at last he got home and told his mother and showed her the gold and said: “Well, mother, wasn’t I right about the beans? They are really magical, you see.”
So they lived on the bag of gold for some time, but at last they came to the end of it, and Jack made up his mind to try his luck once more at the top of the beanstalk. So one fine morning he rose up early, and got on to the beanstalk, and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed till at last he came out on to the road again and up to the great big tall house he had been to before. There, sure enough, was the great big tall woman a-standing on the doorstep.
“Good morning, mum,” says Jack, as bold as brass, “could you be so good as to give me something to eat?”
“Go away, my boy,” said the big tall woman, “or else my man will eat you up for breakfast. But aren’t you the youngster who came here once before? Do you know, that very day my man missed one of his bags of gold.”
“That’s strange, mum,” said Jack, “I dare say I could tell you something about that, but I’m so hungry I can’t speak till I’ve had something to eat.”
Well, the big tall woman was so curious that she took him in and gave him something to eat. But he had scarcely begun munching it as slowly as he could when thump! thump! they heard the giant’s footstep, and his wife hid Jack away in the oven.
All happened as it did before. In came the ogre as he did before, said: “Fe-fi-fo-fum,” and had his breakfast of three broiled oxen. Then he said: “Wife, bring me the hen that lays the golden eggs.” So she brought it, and the ogre said: “Lay,” and it laid an egg all of gold. And then the ogre began to nod his head, and to snore till the house shook.
Then Jack crept out of the oven on tiptoe and
caught hold of the golden hen, and was off before you could say “Jack Robinson.” But this time the hen gave a cackle which woke the ogre, and just as Jack got out of the house he heard him calling: “Wife, wife, what have you done with my golden hen?”
And the wife said: “Why, my dear?”
But that was all Jack heard, for he rushed off to the beanstalk and climbed down like a house on fire. And when he got home he showed his mother the wonderful hen, and said “Lay” to it; and it laid a golden egg every time he said “Lay.”
Well, Jack was not content, and it wasn’t very long before he determined to have another try at his luck up there at the top of the beanstalk. So one fine morning, he rose up early, and got on to the beanstalk, and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed till he got to the top. But this time he knew better than to go straight to the ogre’s house. And when he got near it, he waited behind a bush till he saw the ogre’s wife come out with a pail to get some water, and then he crept into the house and got into the copper. He hadn’t been there long when he heard thump! thump! thump! as before, and in came the ogre and his wife.
“Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman,” cried out the ogre. “I smell him, wife, I smell him.”
“Do you, my dearie?” says the ogre’s wife. “Then, if it’s that little rogue that stole your gold and the hen that laid the golden eggs he’s sure to have got into the oven.” And they both rushed to the oven. But Jack wasn’t there, luckily, and the ogre’s wife said: “There you are again with your fee-fi-fo-fum. Why, of course, it’s the boy you caught last night that I’ve just broiled for your breakfast. How forgetful I am, and how careless you are not to know the difference between live and dead after all these years.”
So the ogre sat down to the breakfast and ate it, but every now and then he would mutter: “Well, I could have sworn—” and he’d get up and search the larder and the cupboards and everything, only, luckily, he didn’t think of the copper.
After breakfast was over, the ogre called out: “Wife, wife, bring me my golden harp.” So she brought it and put it on the table before him. Then he said: “Sing!” and the golden harp sang most beautifully. And it went on singing till the ogre fell asleep, and commenced to snore like thunder.
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