The brother and sister were betrothed, and he went into the room and cried out, “Sister mine, come in!”
“I will come in in a moment, brother; I am only taking off my earrings.”
And the dolls in the four corners began to sing:
Coo-Coo—Prince Danílo
Coo-Coo—Govorílo
Coo-Coo—’Tis a brother
Coo-Coo—Weds his sister:
Coo-Coo—Earth must split asunder
Cooo—And the sister lie hid under.
Then the earth rose up and slowly swallowed the sister.
And the brother cried out again, “Sister mine, come in to the featherbed!”
“In a minute, brother. I am undoing my girdle.”
Then the dolls began to sing:
Coo-Coo—Prince Danílo
Coo-Coo—Govorílo
Coo-Coo—’Tis a brother
Coo-Coo—Weds his sister:
Coo-Coo—Earth must split asunder;
Cooo—And the sister lie hid under.
Only she had vanished now, all but her head. And the brother cried out again: “Come into the featherbed.”
“In a minute, brother; I am taking off my shoes.”
And the dolls went on cooing, and she vanished under the earth.
And the brother kept crying, and crying, and crying. And when she never returned, he became angry and ran out to fetch her. He could see nothing but the dolls, which kept singing. So he knocked off their heads and threw them into the stove.
The sister went farther under the earth, and she saw a little hut standing on cocks’ feet and turning round. “Hut!” she cried out, “Stand as you should with your back to the wood.”
So the hut stopped and the doors opened, and a fair maiden looked out. She was knitting a cloth with gold and silver thread. She greeted the guest friendlily and kindly, but sighed and said, “Oh, my darling, my sister! Oh, I am so glad to see you. I shall be so glad to look after you and to care for you as long as my mother is not here. But as soon as she flies in, woe to you and me, for she is a witch.”
When she heard this the maiden was frightened, but could not fly anywhere. So she sat down and began helping the other maiden at her work. So they chattered along; and soon, at the right time before the mother came, the fair maiden turned her guest into a needle, stuck her into the besom and put it on one side. But scarcely had this been done, when Bába Yagá came in.
“Now, my fair daughter, my little child, tell me at once, why does the room smell so of Russian bones?”
“Mother, there have been strange men journeying past who wanted a drink of water.”
“Why did you not keep them?”
“They were too old, mother; much too tough a snack for your teeth.”
“Henceforth, entice them all into the house and never let them go. I must now get about again and look out for other booty.”
As soon as ever she had gone, the maidens set to work again knitting, talking and laughing.
Then the witch came into the room once more. She sniffed about the house, and said, “Daughter, my sweet daughter, my darling, tell me at once, why does it so smell of Russian bones?”
“Old men who were just passing by who wanted to warm their hands. I did my best to keep them, but they would not stay.”
So the witch was angry, scolded her daughter, and flew away. In the meantime her unknown guest was sitting in the besom.
The maidens once more set to work, sewed, laughed, and thought how they might escape the evil witch. This time they forgot how the hours were flying by, and suddenly the witch stood in front of them.
“Darling, tell me, where have the Russian bones crept away?”
“Here, my mother; a fair maiden is waiting for you.”
“Daughter mine, darling, heat the oven quickly; make it very hot.”
So the maiden looked up and was frightened to death. For Bába Yagá with the wooden legs stood in front of her, and to the ceiling rose her nose. So the mother and daughter carried firewood in, logs of oak and maple; made the oven ready till the flames shot up merrily.
Then the witch took her broad shovel and said in a friendly voice: “Go and sit on my shovel, fair child.”
So the maiden obeyed, and the Bába Yagá was going to shove her into the oven. But the girl stuck her feet against the wall of the hearth.
“Will you sit still, girl?”
But it was not any good. Bába Yagá could not put the maiden into the oven. So she became angry, thrust her back and said, “You are simply wasting time! Just look at me and see how it is done.” Down she sat on the shovel with her legs nicely trussed together. So the maidens instantly put her into the oven, shut the oven door, and slammed her in; took their knitting with them, and their comb and brush, and ran away.
They ran hard away, but when they turned round there was Bába Yagá running after them. She had set herself free. “Hoo, Hoo, Hoo! there run the two!” So the maidens, in their need, threw the brush away, and a thick, dense coppice arose which she could not break through. So she stretched out her claws, scratched herself a way through, and again ran after them. Whither should the two poor girls flee? They flung their comb behind them, and a dark, murky oak forest grew up, so thick, no fly could ever have flown its way through. Then the witch whetted her teeth and set to work. And she went on tearing up one tree after another by the roots, and she made herself a way, and again set out after
