Now only five.
“. . . The juniper tree.”
Now just one.
“Tweet, tweet, I’m a pretty birdie, look at me!”
Then the last one also stopped what he was doing and heard the last words of the song. “Bird,” said he, “you sing so sweetly! I’d like to hear it all, sing it to me one more time.”
“No,” said the bird, “I won’t sing it a second time for nothing. If you give me the millstone I’ll sing it again.”
“If it belonged to me alone,” he said, “you could have it.”
“Okay,” the others agreed, “if the bird sings it again he can have it.”
Then the bird came flying down, and twenty millers heaved a beam and lifted up the stone, with an “Ally-oop, ally-oop, ally-oop!”
Whereupon the bird poked its head through the hole in the millstone, and wearing it like a collar, flew back up to the tree and sang:
“My mother, she smote me,
My father, he ate me,
My sister, sweet Marlenikin,
Gathered all my little bonikins,
Bound them in a silken scarf,
And lay them under the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet, I’m a pretty birdie, look at me!”
And having sung it to the end, the bird flapped its wings, with the chain in its right claw, the shoes in its left, and the millstone around its neck, and flew off to the father’s house.
There at the table sat the father, the mother, and Marlenikin, and the father said, “I feel so glad-hearted, so happy through and through.”
“Not me,” said the mother. “I feel a deep dread, as if a dark storm were headed our way.”
But Marlenikin just sat there, crying her eyes out.
Then the bird came flying up and landed on the rooftop, and the father said, “I feel as good as gold, and the sun is shining so brightly outside. I’ve got a funny feeling I’m going to meet again someone near and dear to me.”
“Not me,” said the wife. “I’m so scared my teeth are rattling and my blood runs like fire through my veins.” And she tore open her bodice to breathe a little better.
But Marlenikin sat crying in a corner, and holding a handkerchief to her eyes she soaked it through and through with her tears.
Then the bird landed on the juniper tree and sang:
“My mother, she smote me.”
Whereupon the mother held her ears and eyes shut so as not to hear or see, but there was a terrible tempest storming in her ears and her eyes burned like they were struck with lightning.
“My father, he ate me.”
“Oh, Mother,” said the man, “there’s a pretty bird singing so sweetly, and the sun-baked air’s so warm. I swear it smells like cinnamon.”
“My sister, sweet Marlenikin,” sang the bird.
Whereupon the girl lay her head on her knees and wept like there was no tomorrow.
But the man said, “I’ve got to go out and see that bird up close.”
“Don’t go, I beg you,” said the woman. “It feels like the whole house were on fire, every timber trembling.”
But the man went out and peered at the bird.
“Gathered all my little bonikins,
Bound them in a silken scarf,
And lay them under the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet, I’m a pretty birdie, look at me!”
Whereupon the bird dropped the golden chain and it fell around the man’s neck, and it landed so lithely that it fit him just right. Then he went back inside and said, “Will you look at that, the pretty bird gave me a lovely golden chain, and it looks terrific on me.”
But the woman was so frightened she fell down flat on the floor and her cap tumbled off her head.
Then the bird sang it again:
“My mother, she smote me.”
“If only I were a thousand fathoms underground, so I wouldn’t have to hear that infernal twitter!”
“My father, he ate me.”
The woman collapsed like she was dead.
“My sister, sweet Marlenikin.”
“Oh,” said Marlenikin, “I too want to go out to see if the bird will give me something.” So she went out.
“Gathered all my little bonikins,
Bound them in a silken scarf.”
Then the bird tossed her the shoes.
“And lay them under the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet, I’m a pretty birdie, look at me!”
Now she was happy as could be. She donned the new red shoes, dancing and jumping for joy. “Oh,” she said, “I was so sad when I went out and now I’m giddy with glee. That wonderful bird just gave me a pair of red shoes.”
“No,” cried the woman and leapt up with her hair standing on end, like it was on fire. “I feel like the world was about to go under, let me go out too and see if it makes me feel any better.”
And as she stepped out the door, blam! The bird dropped the millstone on her head so that she was crushed flat as a pancake. The father and Marlenikin heard the crash and went out to see what happened. A great column of smoke and shooting flames rose from the spot, and when the fire had burned itself out there stood the little brother, and he took his father and Marlenikin by the hand, and the three of them were so very happy, they went inside and sat down to eat.
HANSEL AND GRETEL
On the edge of a deep, dark forest there lived a poor woodcutter with his wife and his two children; the boy’s name was Hansel and the girl was named Gretel. The woodcutter had little to nibble or gnaw on, and once, when there was great famine in the land, he could no longer even bring home his daily crust of bread. As he kept ruminating and tossing and turning that evening in bed, he let out a sigh and said to his wife, “What will become of us? How can we feed our poor children, as we ourselves have nothing to eat?”
“You know what, husband,” replied his wife, “tomorrow bright and early we’ll take the children into the woods to where it’s darkest and deepest. There we’ll light them a fire and leave them a last few crumbs of bread, then we’ll go about our business and leave them there. They’ll never find their way home again and we’ll be rid of them.”
“No, woman,” said the man, “I will not do that. How can I ever find it in my heart to leave my children in the woods alone? The wild animals would soon come and tear them to pieces.”
“Oh, you fool,” she said, “then all four of us will starve to death. All you’ll have left to do is plane the planks for our coffins.” And she would not let up until he agreed.
“Still I feel sorry for my poor children all the same,” said the man.
But hunger kept the two children awake and they overheard what their stepmother said to their father. Gretel cried bitter tears and said to Hansel, “Now we’re done for.”
“Quiet, Gretel,” said Hansel. “Don’t worry, I’ll find a way out.” And once the grown-ups had fallen asleep, he got up, put on his little coat, opened the back door, and slipped out. The moon shone very brightly, and the white pebbles scattered in front of the house glistened like silver. Hansel bent down and stuffed his coat pockets to bursting. Then he went back in and said to Gretel, “Calm yourself, my dear little sister, and sleep tight, God will not forsake us,” and he lay back down in his bed.
At the break of day, even before sunrise, the woman came and woke the two children. “Get up, you lazybones, we’re going to the forest to fetch wood.” Then she gave each of them a crust of bread and said, “Here’s something for the midday meal, but don’t eat it before then, for you’ll get nothing else.” Gretel took the bread into her apron pocket, because Hansel already had his pockets full of pebbles, then they all set off for the forest. After they had walked for a while, Hansel stopped and peered back at the house, and did it again and again.
The father said, “Hansel, why do you keep looking back and lagging behind? Watch where you’re going and shake a leg.”
“Oh, Father,” said Hansel, “I’m looking back at my little white cat that??
?s seated on the rooftop and wants to say goodbye.”
The woman said, “Fool, that’s no cat, that’s the rising sun shining on the chimney.” But Hansel hadn’t been looking at his cat, for each time he turned he dropped a white pebble from his pocket on the path.
Once they’d reached the heart of the forest, the father said, “Go fetch wood, children, I’ll build you a fire so that you don’t freeze.” Hansel and Gretel gathered brushwood, a whole heap of it.
The brushwood was lighted, and when the flames burned high, the woman said, “Now lay yourselves down beside the fire, children, and rest up. We’re going into the forest to cut wood. When we’re done, we’ll come back and get you.”
Hansel and Gretel sat by the fire, and when midday came, each ate their little crust of bread. And because they heard the sound of the wood ax chopping, they thought their father was near. But it was not the ax, it was a branch their father had tied to a withered tree, which the wind rattled back and forth. And as they had sat there waiting a long while, their eyes grew heavy with fatigue and they fell fast asleep. When at last they woke up it was already the dead of night. Gretel started crying. “How will we ever find our way out of the woods!”
But Hansel comforted her. “Just wait for a while until the moon rises, and we’ll find our way all right.” And when the full moon had risen, Hansel took his little sister by the hand and followed the white pebbles; they shimmered like newly minted coins and showed him the way. They walked the whole night and at daybreak got back to their father’s house.
They knocked at the door, and the woman opened it, saw that it was Hansel and Gretel, and said, “You naughty children, why did you sleep so long in the woods? We thought you’d never come home.” But the father, whose heart was heavy at having left them behind in the woods, was overjoyed to see his children again.
Not long thereafter, things got bad again all over the land, and the children overheard their stepmother say to their father in bed at night, “We’re scraping the barrel again, all we have left is half a loaf of bread, and then we’re done for. The children have to go. We’ll take them deeper into the forest this time so that they won’t find their way back, or else we’re goners.” The man felt bad, and thought, Better I should share my last bite with my children. But the woman wouldn’t listen to anything he said and kept on complaining and badgering him. One mistake leads to another, and because he had given in the first time he had to give in again.
But the children were still awake and had overheard the conversation. As soon as the grown-ups were asleep, Hansel got up again and wanted to go out to gather pebbles as he had the last time, but the woman had locked the door and Hansel could not get out. Still he comforted his little sister and said, “Don’t cry, Gretel, and sleep tight. God will help us, you’ll see.”
Early the next morning the woman came to drag the children out of bed. They each received a crust of bread that was even smaller than the last time. On the way into the woods, Hansel crumbled it in his pocket, often stopping to toss a crumb on the ground. “Hansel, why are you just standing there looking around,” said the father. “Shake a leg.”
“I’m looking after my little pigeon that’s perched on the rooftop and wants to wave goodbye,” replied Hansel.
“Fool,” said the woman, “that’s no pigeon, that’s the morning sun shining on the chimney.” But Hansel kept on dropping bread crumbs along the way.
The woman led the children deeper and deeper into the woods, where they’d never been before. Another big fire was lit, and the stepmother said, “Just sit here, children, and when you get tired you can take a little nap. We’re going into the forest to cut wood, and in the evening when we’re done, we’ll come and get you.”
At midday, Gretel shared her bread with Hansel, who had crumbled and scattered his share along the way. Then they nodded off to sleep and darkness fell, but nobody came to pick up the poor children. They awakened in the dead of night and Hansel comforted his little sister and said, “Just wait, Gretel, until the moon rises, then we’ll see the bread crumbs I scattered and they’ll show us the way home.” When the moon rose they set out, but they could not find any bread crumbs, for the flocks of birds that circle woods and fields had eaten them up. They walked all night and another day from morning until evening, but they never made it out of the woods and were very hungry, as they’d eaten nothing but a few berries they found on the ground. And because they were so tired, and their little legs couldn’t carry them any farther, they lay themselves down under a tree and fell asleep.
It was already the third morning since they’d left their father’s house. They began walking again, but they went ever deeper into the woods, and if help did not reach them soon they were done for. At noon they spotted a lovely little snow-white bird perched on a branch, which sang so sweetly they stopped and listened. And when it was done singing, it flapped its wings and fluttered before them, and they followed it until they came to a little cottage on the roof of which the bird landed, and when the children approached they saw that the cottage was built out of bread and covered with cake, but the windows were made of clear sugar crystal.
“Let’s dig in,” said Hansel, “and make a blessed meal of it. I’ll eat a piece of the roof, and you, Gretel, can sup on the window, which ought to taste sweet.” Hansel reached out and broke off a little bit of the roof to see how it tasted, and Gretel walked up to the windowpane and nibbled at it. Whereupon a soft voice called out from within:
“Nibble, nibble, like a mouse,
Who is nibbling at my house?”
To which the children replied:
“The wind blows wild,
The heavenly child,”
and kept right on eating without batting a lash.
Hansel, to whom the roof tasted delicious, tore off a great big hunk of it, and Gretel pried off a whole round windowpane, sat herself down, and promptly ate it up. Then all of a sudden the door flew open and an old crone came hobbling out on a crutch. Hansel and Gretel were so petrified they dropped what they had in their hands. But the old woman just shook her head and said, “Oh my dear little children, who brought you here? Come in, come in, and make yourselves at home, no harm will come to you here.” Then she took both of them by the hand and led them into her little house. She fetched all kinds of good things to eat, milk and pancakes with sugar, apples and nuts. And afterward, she made up two little beds with fresh white linen, and Hansel and Gretel lay themselves down and thought they were in heaven.
But the old woman only pretended to be nice. She was an evil witch who lay in wait for children and had only built the house of bread to lure them into a trap. Whenever she got her hands on a fresh young thing, she cooked it up and made a feast of it. Witches have red eyes and can’t see very far, but they have a keen sense of smell, like animals, and know when people are approaching. When Hansel and Gretel came up close to her house, she snickered and sneered to herself, “I’ve got them in the bag, they won’t get away.”
Early the next morning, before the children batted a lash and still lay lost in their sweet slumber, she got up to peer at their round, rosy cheeks, and muttered to herself, “They’ll make a tasty morsel.” Whereupon she grabbed Hansel with her bony-fingered hand, dragged him out to a little pen, and locked him behind a wire gate. Cry as he might, it did him no good. Then she went over to Gretel, shook her awake, and yelled, “Get up, you lazybones, fetch me water from the well and cook your brother something good to eat. He’s out there in the pen and I mean to fatten him up. And when he’s good and plump, I’ll eat him.” Gretel started crying bitterly, but it did her no good, she had to do what the evil witch wanted.
So the finest food was cooked up for poor Hansel, yet Gretel got nothing but crayfish shells. Every morning the old crone slipped off to the pen and cried, “Hansel, stick your finger out so I can feel if you’re fat enough.” But Hansel poked a little bone out of the pen, and the old crone, whose eyes were weak and couldn’t see it, took it for Hanse
l’s finger, surprised that he had failed to fatten up. Once four weeks had gone by and Hansel still stayed skinny, she was gripped by impatience and couldn’t wait any longer. “Get a move on, Gretel!” she cried to the girl. “Be quick and fetch me water – Hansel may be fat or lean, but tomorrow I’ll slaughter and cook him.”
Oh how the poor little sister wailed as she carried the water, and oh what a flood of tears ran down her cheeks! “God help us!” she cried out. “If only the wild animals in the woods had eaten us, as least we would have died together.”
“Save your whimpering,” said the old crone, “it won’t do you any good.”
Early the next morning Gretel had to go out to light a fire and put the kettle to boil. “First we’ll bake,” said the hag. “I already lit the oven and kneaded the dough.” She prodded the poor girl over to the oven, from which flames shot out. “Crawl in,” said the witch, “and see if it’s hot enough to bake the bread.” Once Gretel had poked her head in the witch intended to slam the oven door shut, to roast her and eat her.
But Gretel grasped what she had in mind, and said, “I don’t know how to do it. How am I supposed to climb in?”
“Foolish ninny,” said the old crone, “as you can see for yourself, the opening is even big enough for me to climb in,” whereupon she came hobbling over and poked her head in. Then Gretel gave her a shove so that she went tumbling in, heaved the iron door shut, and slipped the latch. Then the witch started howling something awful – “Ayyyyy!” And Gretel ran off, and the godless witch was burned to a crisp.
But Gretel scampered straight to Hansel, opened the pen, and cried out, “Hansel, we’re saved, the old witch is dead.” And as soon as the gate was opened, Hansel came flying out like a bird from a cage. How they rejoiced, fell into each other’s arms, leapt for joy, and covered each other with kisses! And because they had nothing more to fear, they went back into the witch’s house, in every corner of which stood cupboards filled with pearls and precious stones.
“They’re better than pebbles,” said Hansel, and stuffed as many as he could fit in his pockets.