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Jorinda and Joringel

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Jorinda and Joringel
Grimm’s Fairy Tales
(Ideal for 1st Grade)
*Audio file at the end

jorinde_und_joringel_by_gold_seven

There was once an old castle in the midst of a large and dense
forest, and in it an old woman who was a witch dwelt all
alone. In the day-time she changed herself into a car or a
screech-owl, but in the evening she took her proper shape
again as a human being. She could lure wild beasts and birds
to her, and then she killed and boiled and roasted them. If
anyone came within one hundred paces of the castle he was
obliged to stand still, and could not stir from the place until
she bade him be free. But whenever an innocent maiden came
within this circle, she changed her into a bird, and shut her
up in a wicker-work cage, and carried the cage into a room in the
castle. She had about seven thousand cages of rare birds in
the castle.

Now, there was once a maiden who was called jorinda, who was
fairer than all other girls. She and a handsome youth named
joringel had promised to marry each other. They were still in
the days of betrothal, and their greatest happiness was being
together. One day in order that they might be able to talk
together in peace they went for a walk in the forest. Take
care, said joringel, that you do not go too near the castle.
It was a beautiful evening. The sun shone brightly between
the trunks of the trees into the dark green of the forest, and
the turtle-doves sang mournfully upon the beech trees.

Jorinda wept now and then. She sat down in the sunshine and
was sorrowful. Joringel was sorrowful too. They were as
sad as if they were about to die. Then they looked around them,
and were quite at a loss, for they did not know by which way
they should go home. The sun was still half above the
mountain and half under.

Joringel looked through the bushes, and saw the old walls of the
castle close at hand. He was horror-stricken and filled with
deadly fear. Jorinda was singing,

my little bird, with the necklace red,
sings sorrow, sorrow, sorrow,
he sings that the dove must soon be dead,
sings sorrow, sor – jug, jug, jug.

Joringel looked for jorinda. She was changed into a nightingale,
and sang, jug, jug, jug. A screech-owl with glowing eyes
flew three times round about her, and three times cried, to-whoo,
to-whoo, to-whoo.

Joringel could not move. He stood there like a stone, and
could neither weep nor speak, nor move hand or foot.
The sun had now set. The owl flew into the thicket, and directly
afterwards there came out of it a crooked old woman, yellow
and lean, with large red eyes and a hooked nose, the point of
which reached to her chin. She muttered to herself, caught the
nightingale, and took it away in her hand.

Joringel could neither speak nor move from the spot. The
nightingale was gone. At last the woman came back, and said
in a hollow voice, greet you, zachiel. If the moon shines on
the cage, zachiel, let him loose at once. Then joringel was
freed. He fell on his knees before the woman and begged that
she would give him back his jorinda, but she said that he
should never have her again, and went away. He called, he wept,
he lamented, but all in vain, hooh, what is to become of me.

Joringel went away, and at last came to a strange village, where
he kept sheep for a long time. He often walked round and round
the castle, but not too near to it. At last he dreamt one
night that he found a blood-red flower, in the middle of
which was a beautiful large pearl. That he picked the flower
and went with it to the castle, and that everything he touched
with the flower was freed from enchantment. He also dreamt
that by means of it he recovered his jorinda.

In the morning, when he awoke, he began to seek over hill and
dale for such a flower. He sought until the ninth day, and then,
early in the morning, he found the blood-red flower. In the
middle of it there was a large dew-drop, as big as the finest
pearl.

Day and night he journeyed with this flower to the castle. When
he was within a hundred paces of it he was not held fast, but
walked on to the door. Joringel was full of joy. He touched the
door with the flower, and it sprang open. He walked in through
the courtyard, and listened for the sound of the birds. At
last he heard it. He went on and found the room from whence it
came, and there the witch was feeding the birds in the seven
thousand cages.

When she saw joringel she was angry, very angry, and scolded
and spat poison and gall at him, but she could not come within
two paces of him. He did not take any notice of her, but went
and looked at the cages with the birds. But there were many
hundred nightingales, how was he to find his jorinda again.
Just then he saw the old woman quietly take away a cage with
a bird in it, and go towards the door.

Swiftly he sprang towards her, touched the cage with the flower,
and also the old woman. She could now no longer bewitch anyone.
And jorinda was standing there, clasping him round the neck,
and she was as beautiful as ever. Then all the other birds
were turned into maidens again, and he went home with his jorinda,
and they lived happily together for a long time.

Listen to the audio from LibriVox here:

Brother and Sister

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Brother and Sister
Grimm’s Fairy Tales
(Ideal for 1st Grade)

seven-crows-anne-anderson

Little brother took his little sister by the hand and said, since
our mother died we have had no happiness. Our step-mother
beats us every day, and if we come near her she kicks us away
with her foot. Our meals are the hard crusts of bread that are left
over. And the little dog under the table is better off, for she
often throws it a choice morsel. God pity us, if our mother only
knew. Come, we will go forth together into the wide world.

They walked the whole day over meadows, fields, and stony
places. And when it rained the little sister said, heaven and our
hearts are weeping together. In the evening they came to a large
forest, and they were so weary with sorrow and hunger and the
long walk, that they lay down in a hollow tree and fell asleep.
The next day when they awoke, the sun was already high in the
sky, and shone down hot into the tree. Then the brother said,
sister, I am thirsty. If I knew of a little brook I would go and
just take a drink. I think I hear one running. The brother got up
and took the little sister by the hand, and they set off to find
the brook. But the wicked step-mother was a witch, and had seen how
the two children had gone away, and had crept after them secretly,
as witches creep, and had bewitched all the brooks in the forest.

Now when they found a little brook leaping brightly over the
stones, the brother was going to drink out of it, but the sister
heard how it said as it ran, who drinks of me will be a tiger.
Who drinks of me will be a tiger. Then the sister cried, pray,
dear brother, do not drink, or you will become a wild beast, and
tear me to pieces. The brother did not drink, although he was so
thirsty, but said, I will wait for the next spring.

When they came to the next brook the sister heard this also say,
who drinks of me will be a wolf. Who drinks of me will be a wolf.
Then the sister cried out, pray, dear brother, do not drink,
or you will become a wolf, and devour me. The brother did not
drink, and said, I will wait until we come to the next spring, but
then I must drink, say what you like. For my thirst is too great.
And when they came to the third brook the sister heard how it
said as it ran, who drinks of me will be a roebuck. Who drinks
of me will be a roebuck. The sister said, oh, I pray you, dear
brother, do not drink, or you will become a roebuck, and run away
from me. But the brother had knelt down at once by the brook,
and had bent down and drunk some of the water, and as soon as
the first drops touched his lips he lay there in the form of a
young roebuck.

And now the sister wept over her poor bewitched brother, and
the little roe wept also, and sat sorrowfully near to her. But at
last the girl said, be quiet, dear little roe, I will never,
never leave you.

Then she untied her golden garter and put it round the roebuck’s
neck, and she plucked rushes and wove them into a soft cord. This
she tied to the little animal and led it on, and she walked deeper
and deeper into the forest.

And when they had gone a very long way they came at last to a
little house, and the girl looked in. And as it was empty, she
thought, we can stay here and live. Then she sought for leaves
and moss to make a soft bed for the roe. And every morning she
went out and gathered roots and berries and nuts for herself, and
brought tender grass for the roe, who ate out of her hand, and was
content and played round about her. In the evening, when the sister
was tired, and had said her prayer, she laid her head upon the
roebuck’s back – that was her pillow, and she slept softly on it.
And if only the brother had had his human form it would have been a
delightful life.

For some time they were alone like this in the wilderness. But
it happened that the king of the country held a great hunt in the
forest. Then the blasts of the horns, the barking of dogs and the
merry shouts of the huntsmen rang through the trees, and the roebuck
heard all, and was only too anxious to be there. Oh, said he,
to his sister, let me be off to the hunt, I cannot bear it any
longer, and he begged so much that at last she agreed. But, said
she to him, come back to me in the evening. I must shut my door for
fear of the rough huntsmen, so knock and say, my little sister,
let me in, that I may know you. And if you do not say that, I
shall not open the door. Then the young roebuck sprang away. So
happy was he and so merry in the open air.

The king and the huntsmen saw the lovely animal, and started
after him, but they could not catch him, and when they thought
that they surely had him, away he sprang through the bushes and
vanished. When it was dark he ran to the cottage, knocked, and
said, my little sister, let me in. Then the door was opened for
him, and he jumped in, and rested himself the whole night through
upon his soft bed.

The next day the hunt began again, and when the roebuck once
more heard the bugle-horn, and the ho. Ho. Of the huntsmen, he
had no peace, but said, sister, let me out, I must be off. His
sister opened the door for him, and said, but you must be here again
in the evening and say your pass-word.

When the king and his huntsmen again saw the young roebuck
with the golden collar, they all chased him, but he was too quick
and nimble for them. This lasted the whole day, but by the evening
the huntsmen had surrounded him, and one of them wounded him
a little in the foot, so that he limped and ran slowly. Then a
hunter crept after him to the cottage and heard how he said, my
little sister, let me in, and saw that the door was opened for him,
and was shut again at once. The huntsman took notice of it all, and
went to the king and told him what he had seen and heard. Then
the king said, to-morrow we will hunt once more.

The little sister, however, was dreadfully frightened when she
saw that her fawn was hurt. She washed the blood off him, laid
herbs on the wound, and said, go to your bed, dear roe, that you
may get well again. But the wound was so slight that the roebuck,
next morning, did not feel it any more. And when he again heard
the sport outside, he said, I cannot bear it, I must be there.
They shall not find it so easy to catch me. The sister cried, and
said, this time they will kill you, and here am I alone in the
forest and forsaken by all the world. I will not let you out. Then
you will have me die of grief, answered the roe. When I hear the
bugle-horns I feel as if I must jump out of my skin. Then the
sister could not do otherwise, but opened the door for him with a
heavy heart, and the roebuck, full of health and joy, bounded into
the forest.

When the king saw him, he said to his huntsmen, now chase
him all day long till night-fall, but take care that no one does him
any harm.

As soon as the sun had set, the king said to the huntsman, now
come and show me the cottage in the wood. And when he was at
the door, he knocked and called out, dear little sister, let me in.
Then the door opened, and the king walked in, and there stood
a maiden more lovely than any he had ever seen. The maiden was
frightened when she saw, not her little roe, but a man come in who
wore a golden crown upon his head. But the king looked kindly
at her, stretched out his hand, and said, will you go with me to
my palace and be my dear wife. Yes, indeed, answered the
maiden, but the little roe must go with me, I cannot leave him.
The king said, it shall stay with you as long as you live, and
shall want nothing. Just then he came running in, and the sister
again tied him with the cord of rushes, took it in her own hand, and
went away with the king from the cottage.

The king took the lovely maiden upon his horse and carried
her to his palace, where the wedding was held with great pomp.
She was now the queen, and they lived for a long time happily
together. The roebuck was tended and cherished, and ran about in
the palace-garden.

But the wicked step-mother, because of whom the children had
gone out into the world, had never thought but that the sister had
been torn to pieces by the wild beasts in the wood, and that the
brother had been shot for a roebuck by the huntsmen. Now when
she heard that they were so happy, and so well off, envy and
jealousy rose in her heart and left her no peace, and she thought of
nothing but how she could bring them again to misfortune. Her own
daughter, who was ugly as night, and had only one eye, reproached
her and said, a queen. That ought to have been my luck. Just be
quiet, answered the old woman, and comforted her by saying,
when the time comes I shall be ready.

As time went on the queen had a pretty little boy, and it
happened that the king was out hunting. So the old witch took the
form of the chamber maid, went into the room where the queen
lay, and said to her, come the bath is ready. It will do you good,
and give you fresh strength. Make haste before it gets cold.
Her daughter also was close by. So they carried the weakly
queen into the bath-room, and put her into the bath. Then they
shut the door and ran away. But in the bath-room they had made
a fire of such hellish heat that the beautiful young queen was soon
suffocated.

When this was done the old woman took her daughter, put a
nightcap on her head, and laid her in bed in place of the queen.
She gave her too the shape and look of the queen, only she
could not make good the lost eye. But in order that the king might
not see it, she was to lie on the side on which she had no eye.
In the evening when he came home and heard that he had a son
he was heartily glad, and was going to the bed of his dear wife to
see how she was. But the old woman quickly called out, for your
life leave the curtains closed. The queen ought not to see the
light yet, and must have rest. The king went away, and did not find
out that a false queen was lying in the bed.

But at midnight, when all slept, the nurse, who was sitting in the
nursery by the cradle, and who was the only person awake, saw
the door open and the true queen walk in. She took the child out
of the cradle, laid it on her arm, and suckled it. Then she shook
up its pillow, laid the child down again, and covered it with the
little quilt. And she did not forget the roebuck, but went into the
corner where it lay, and stroked its back. Then she went quite
silently out of the door again. The next morning the nurse asked
the guards whether anyone had come into the palace during the night,
but they answered, no, we have seen no one.

She came thus many nights and never spoke a word. The nurse
always saw her, but she did not dare to tell anyone about it.
When some time had passed in this manner, the queen began to
speak in the night, and said,
how fares my child, how fares my roe.
Twice shall I come, then never more.

The nurse did not answer, but when the queen had gone again,
went to the king and told him all. The king said, ah, God.
What is this. To-morrow night I will watch by the child. In the
evening he went into the nursery, and at midnight the queen again
appeared and said,
how fares my child, how fares my roe.
Once will I come, then never more.

And she nursed the child as she was wont to do before she
disappeared. The king dared not speak to her, but on the next
night he watched again. Then she said,
how fares my child, how fares my roe.
This time I come, then never more.

Then the king could not restrain himself. He sprang towards her,
and said, you can be none other than my dear wife. She answered,
yes, I am your dear wife, and at the same moment she received
life again, and by God’s grace became fresh, rosy and full of
health.

Then she told the king the evil deed which the wicked witch
and her daughter had been guilty of towards her. The king ordered
both to be led before the judge, and the judgment was delivered
against them. The daughter was taken into the forest where she was
torn to pieces by wild beasts, but the witch was cast into the fire
and miserably burnt. And as soon as she was burnt to ashes, the
roebuck changed his shape, and received his human form again, so the
sister and brother lived happily together all their lives.

Cinderella

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Cinderella
Grimm’s Fairy Tales
(Ideal for 1st Grade)

public-domain-vintage-childrens-book-illustration-cinderella-elenore-abbott-2 Illustration -Eleanor Abbott

The wife of a rich man fell sick, and as she felt that her end
was drawing near, she called her only daughter to her bedside and
said, dear child, be good and pious, and then the
good God will always protect you, and I will look down on you
from heaven and be near you. Thereupon she closed her eyes and
departed. Every day the maiden went out to her mother’s grave,
and wept, and she remained pious and good. When winter came
the snow spread a white sheet over the grave, and by the time the
spring sun had drawn it off again, the man had taken another wife.
The woman had brought with her into the house two daughters,
who were beautiful and fair of face, but vile and black of heart.

Now began a bad time for the poor step-child. Is the stupid goose
to sit in the parlor with us, they said. He who wants to eat bread
must earn it. Out with the kitchen-wench. They took her pretty
clothes away from her, put an old grey bedgown on her, and gave
her wooden shoes. Just look at the proud princess, how decked
out she is, they cried, and laughed, and led her into the kitchen.
There she had to do hard work from morning till night, get up
before daybreak, carry water, light fires, cook and wash. Besides
this, the sisters did her every imaginable injury – they mocked her
and emptied her peas and lentils into the ashes, so that she was
forced to sit and pick them out again. In the evening when she had
worked till she was weary she had no bed to go to, but had to sleep
by the hearth in the cinders. And as on that account she always
looked dusty and dirty, they called her cinderella.

It happened that the father was once going to the fair, and he
asked his two step-daughters what he should bring back for them.
Beautiful dresses, said one, pearls and jewels, said the second.
“And you, cinderella, said he, what will you have.”

“Father break off for me the first branch which knocks against your hat on your way home.”

So he bought beautiful dresses, pearls and jewels for his two step-daughters, and on his way home, as he was riding through a green thicket, a hazel twig brushed against him and
knocked off his hat. Then he broke off the branch and took it with
him. When he reached home he gave his step-daughters the things
which they had wished for, and to cinderella he gave the branch
from the hazel-bush. Cinderella thanked him, went to her mother’s
grave and planted the branch on it, and wept so much that the tears
fell down on it and watered it. And it grew and became a handsome
tree. Thrice a day cinderella went and sat beneath it, and wept and
prayed, and a little white bird always came on the tree, and if
cinderella expressed a wish, the bird threw down to her what she
had wished for.

It happened, however, that the king gave orders for a festival
which was to last three days, and to which all the beautiful young
girls in the country were invited, in order that his son might choose
himself a bride. When the two step-sisters heard that they too were
to appear among the number, they were delighted, called cinderella
and said, comb our hair for us, brush our shoes and fasten our
buckles, for we are going to the wedding at the king’s palace.
Cinderella obeyed, but wept, because she too would have liked to
go with them to the dance, and begged her step-mother to allow
her to do so. You go, cinderella, said she, covered in dust and
dirt as you are, and would go to the festival. You have no clothes
and shoes, and yet would dance. As, however, cinderella went on
asking, the step-mother said at last, I have emptied a dish of
lentils into the ashes for you, if you have picked them out again in
two hours, you shall go with us. The maiden went through the
back-door into the garden, and called, you tame pigeons, you
turtle-doves, and all you birds beneath the sky, come and help me
to pick
the good into the pot,
the bad into the crop.

Then two white pigeons came in by the kitchen window, and
afterwards the turtle-doves, and at last all the birds beneath the
sky, came whirring and crowding in, and alighted amongst the ashes.
And the pigeons nodded with their heads and began pick, pick,
pick, pick, and the rest began also pick, pick, pick, pick, and
gathered all the good grains into the dish. Hardly had one hour
passed before they had finished, and all flew out again. Then the
girl took the dish to her step-mother, and was glad, and believed
that now she would be allowed to go with them to the festival.
But the step-mother said, no, cinderella, you have no clothes and
you can not dance. You would only be laughed at. And as
cinderella wept at this, the step-mother said, if you can pick two
dishes of lentils out of the ashes for me in one hour, you shall go
with us. And she thought to herself, that she most certainly
cannot do again. When the step-mother had emptied the two
dishes of lentils amongst the ashes, the maiden went through the
back-door into the garden and cried, you tame pigeons, you
turtle-doves, and all you birds beneath the sky, come and help me
to pick
the good into the pot,
the bad into the crop.

Then two white pigeons came in by the kitchen-window, and
afterwards the turtle-doves, and at length all the birds beneath the
sky, came whirring and crowding in, and alighted amongst the
ashes. And the doves nodded with their heads and began pick,
pick, pick, pick, and the others began also pick, pick, pick, pick,
and gathered all the good seeds into the dishes, and before half an
hour was over they had already finished, and all flew out again.
Then the maiden was delighted, and believed that she might now go
with them to the wedding. But the step-mother said, all this will
not help. You cannot go with us, for you have no clothes and can
not dance. We should be ashamed of you. On this she turned her
back on cinderella, and hurried away with her two proud daughters.

As no one was now at home, cinderella went to her mother’s
grave beneath the hazel-tree, and cried –
shiver and quiver, little tree,
silver and gold throw down over me.

Then the bird threw a gold and silver dress down to her, and
slippers embroidered with silk and silver. She put on the dress
with all speed, and went to the wedding. Her step-sisters and the
step-mother however did not know her, and thought she must be a
foreign princess, for she looked so beautiful in the golden dress.
They never once thought of cinderella, and believed that she was
sitting at home in the dirt, picking lentils out of the ashes. The
prince approached her, took her by the hand and danced with her.
He would dance with no other maiden, and never let loose of her
hand, and if any one else came to invite her, he said, this is my
partner.

She danced till it was evening, and then she wanted to go home.
But the king’s son said, I will go with you and bear you company,
for he wished to see to whom the beautiful maiden belonged.
She escaped from him, however, and sprang into the
pigeon-house. The king’s son waited until her father came, and
then he told him that the unknown maiden had leapt into the
pigeon-house. The old man thought, can it be cinderella. And
they had to bring him an axe and a pickaxe that he might hew
the pigeon-house to pieces, but no one was inside it. And when they
got home cinderella lay in her dirty clothes among the ashes, and
a dim little oil-lamp was burning on the mantle-piece, for
cinderella had jumped quickly down from the back of the pigeon-house
and had run to the little hazel-tree, and there she had taken off
her beautiful clothes and laid them on the grave, and the bird had
taken them away again, and then she had seated herself in the
kitchen amongst the ashes in her grey gown.

Next day when the festival began afresh, and her parents and
the step-sisters had gone once more, cinderella went to the
hazel-tree and said –
shiver and quiver, my little tree,
silver and gold throw down over me.

Then the bird threw down a much more beautiful dress than on
the preceding day. And when cinderella appeared at the wedding
in this dress, every one was astonished at her beauty. The king’s
son had waited until she came, and instantly took her by the hand
and danced with no one but her. When others came and invited
her, he said, this is my partner. When evening came she wished
to leave, and the king’s son followed her and wanted to see into
which house she went. But she sprang away from him, and into
the garden behind the house. Therein stood a beautiful tall tree on
which hung the most magnificent pears. She clambered so nimbly
between the branches like a squirrel that the king’s son did not
know where she was gone. He waited until her father came, and
said to him, the unknown maiden has escaped from me, and I
believe she has climbed up the pear-tree. The father thought,
can it be cinderella. And had an axe brought and cut the
tree down, but no one was on it. And when they got into the
kitchen, cinderella lay there among the ashes, as usual, for she
had jumped down on the other side of the tree, had taken the
beautiful dress to the bird on the little hazel-tree, and put on her
grey gown.

On the third day, when the parents and sisters had gone away,
cinderella went once more to her mother’s grave and said to the
little tree –
shiver and quiver, my little tree,
silver and gold throw down over me.

And now the bird threw down to her a dress which was more
splendid and magnificent than any she had yet had, and the
slippers were golden. And when she went to the festival in the
dress, no one knew how to speak for astonishment. The king’s son
danced with her only, and if any one invited her to dance, he said
this is my partner.

When evening came, cinderella wished to leave, and the king’s
son was anxious to go with her, but she escaped from him so quickly
that he could not follow her. The king’s son, however, had
employed a ruse, and had caused the whole staircase to be smeared
with pitch, and there, when she ran down, had the maiden’s left
slipper remained stuck. The king’s son picked it up, and it was
small and dainty, and all golden. Next morning, he went with it to
the father, and said to him, no one shall be my wife but she whose
foot this golden slipper fits. Then were the two sisters glad,
for they had pretty feet. The eldest went with the shoe into her
room and wanted to try it on, and her mother stood by. But she
could not get her big toe into it, and the shoe was too small for
her. Then her mother gave her a knife and said, cut the toe off,
when you are queen you will have no more need to go on foot. The
maiden cut the toe off, forced the foot into the shoe, swallowed
the pain, and went out to the king’s son. Then he took her on his
his horse as his bride and rode away with her. They were
obliged, however, to pass the grave, and there, on the hazel-tree,
sat the two pigeons and cried –
turn and peep, turn and peep,
there’s blood within the shoe,
the shoe it is too small for her,
the true bride waits for you.

Then he looked at her foot and saw how the blood was trickling
from it. He turned his horse round and took the false bride
home again, and said she was not the true one, and that the
other sister was to put the shoe on. Then this one went into her
chamber and got her toes safely into the shoe, but her heel was
too large. So her mother gave her a knife and said, cut a bit
off your heel, when you are queen you will have no more need
to go on foot. The maiden cut a bit off her heel, forced
her foot into the shoe, swallowed the pain, and went out to the
king’s son. He took her on his horse as his bride, and rode away
with her, but when they passed by the hazel-tree, the two pigeons
sat on it and cried –
turn and peep, turn and peep,
there’s blood within the shoe,
the shoe it is too small for her,
the true bride waits for you.

He looked down at her foot and saw how the blood was running
out of her shoe, and how it had stained her white stocking quite
red. Then he turned his horse and took the false bride home
again. This also is not the right one, said he, have you no
other daughter. No, said the man, there is still a little
stunted kitchen-wench which my late wife left behind her, but
she cannot possibly be the bride. The king’s son said he was
to send her up to him, but the mother answered, oh, no, she is
much too dirty, she cannot show herself. But he absolutely
insisted on it, and cinderella had to be called. She first
washed her hands and face clean, and then went and bowed down
before the king’s son, who gave her the golden shoe. Then she
seated herself on a stool, drew her foot out of the heavy
wooden shoe, and put it into the slipper, which fitted like a
glove. And when she rose up and the king’s son looked at her
face he recognized the beautiful maiden who had danced with
him and cried, that is the true bride. The step-mother and
the two sisters were horrified and became pale with rage, he,
however, took cinderella on his horse and rode away with her. As
they passed by the hazel-tree, the two white doves cried –
turn and peep, turn and peep,
no blood is in the shoe,
the shoe is not too small for her,
the true bride rides with you,
and when they had cried that, the two came flying down and
placed themselves on cinderella’s shoulders, one on the right,
the other on the left, and remained sitting there.

When the wedding with the king’s son was to be celebrated, the
two false sisters came and wanted to get into favor with
cinderella and share her good fortune. When the betrothed
couple went to church, the elder was at the right side and the
younger at the left, and the pigeons pecked out one eye from
each of them. Afterwards as they came back the elder was at
the left, and the younger at the right, and then the pigeons
pecked out the other eye from each. And thus, for their
wickedness and falsehood, they were punished with blindness
all their days.

Golden Goose

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Golden Goose
Grimm’s Fairy Tales
(Ideal for 5-6 Year Olds)

Simpleton_takes_The_Golden_Goose_to_the_inn_-_Project_Gutenberg_eText_15661

There was a man who had three sons, the youngest of whom was called
Dummling, and was despised, mocked, and sneered at on every occasion.

It happened that the eldest wanted to go into the forest to hew wood,
and before he went his mother gave him a beautiful sweet cake and a
bottle of wine in order that he might not suffer from hunger or
thirst.

When he entered the forest he met a little grey-haired old man who
bade him good-day, and said, do give me a piece of cake out of your
pocket, and let me have a draught of your wine, I am so hungry and
thirsty. But the clever son answered, if I give you my cake and
wine, I shall have none for myself, be off with you, and he left the
little man standing and went on.

But when he began to hew down a tree, it was not long before he made
a false stroke, and the axe cut him in the arm, so that he had to go
home and have it bound up. And this was the little grey man’s doing.

After this the second son went into the forest, and his mother gave
him, like the eldest, a cake and a bottle of wine. The little old
grey man met him likewise, and asked him for a piece of cake and a
drink of wine. But the second son, too, said sensibly enough, what I
give you will be taken away from myself, be off, and he left the
little man standing and went on. His punishment, however, was not
delayed, when he had made a few blows at the tree he struck himself
in the leg, so that he had to be carried home.

Then Dummling said, father, do let me go and cut wood. The father
answered, your brothers have hurt themselves with it, leave it alone,
you do not understand anything about it. But Dummling begged so long
that at last he said, just go then, you will get wiser by hurting
yourself. His mother gave him a cake made with water and baked in
the cinders, and with it a bottle of sour beer.

When he came to the forest the little old grey man met him likewise,
and greeting him, said, give me a piece of your cake and a drink out
of your bottle, I am so hungry and thirsty.

Dummling answered, I have only cinder-cake and sour beer, if that
pleases you, we will sit down and eat. So they sat down, and when
Dummling pulled out his cinder-cake, it was a fine sweet cake, and
the sour beer had become good wine. So they ate and drank, and after
that the little man said, since you have a good heart, and are
willing to divide what you have, I will give you good luck. There
stands an old tree, cut it down, and you will find something at the
roots. Then the little man took leave of him.

Dummling went and cut down the tree, and when it fell there was a
goose sitting in the roots with feathers of pure gold. He lifted her
up, and taking her with him, went to an inn where he thought he would
stay the night. Now the host had three daughters, who saw the goose
and were curious to know what such a wonderful bird might be, and
would have liked to have one of its golden feathers.

The eldest thought, I shall soon find an opportunity of pulling out a
feather, and as soon as Dummling had gone out she seized the goose by
the wing, but her finger and hand remained sticking fast to it.

The second came soon afterwards, thinking only of how she might get a
feather for herself, but she had scarcely touched her sister than she
was held fast.

At last the third also came with the like intent, and the others
screamed out, keep away, for goodness, sake keep away. But she did
not understand why she was to keep away. The others are there, she
thought, I may as well be there too, and ran to them, but as soon as
she had touched her sister, she remained sticking fast to her. So
they had to spend the night with the goose.

The next morning Dummling took the goose under his arm and set out,
without troubling himself about the three girls who were hanging on
to it. They were obliged to run after him continually, now left, now
right, wherever his legs took him.

In the middle of the fields the parson met them, and when he saw the
procession he said, for shame, you good-for-nothing girls, why are
you running across the fields after this young man. Is that seemly?
At the same time he seized the youngest by the hand in order to pull
her away, but as soon as he touched her he likewise stuck fast, and
was himself obliged to run behind.

Before long the sexton came by and saw his master, the parson,
running behind three girls. He was astonished at this and called
out, hi, your reverence, whither away so quickly. Do not forget that
we have a christening to-day, and running after him he took him by
the sleeve, but was also held fast to it. Whilst the five were
trotting thus one behind the other, two laborers came with their hoes
from the fields, the parson called out to them and begged that they
would set him and the sexton free. But they had scarcely touched the
sexton when they were held fast, and now there were seven of them
running behind Dummling and the goose.

Soon afterwards he came to a city, where a king ruled who had a
daughter who was so serious that no one could make her laugh. So he
had put forth a decree that whosoever should be able to make her
laugh should marry her. When Dummling heard this, he went with his
goose and all her train before the king’s daughter, and as soon as
she saw the seven people running on and on, one behind the other, she
began to laugh quite loudly, and as if she would never stop.

Thereupon Dummling asked to have her for his wife, but the king did
not like the son-in-law, and made all manner of excuses and said he
must first produce a man who could drink a cellarful of wine.

Dummling thought of the little grey man, who could certainly help
him, so he went into the forest, and in the same place where he had
felled the tree, he saw a man sitting, who had a very sorrowful face.
Dummling asked him what he was taking to heart so sorely, and he
answered, I have such a great thirst and cannot quench it, cold water
I cannot stand, a barrel of wine I have just emptied, but that to me
is like a drop on a hot stone.

There, I can help you, said Dummling, just come with me and you shall
be satisfied.

He led him into the king’s cellar, and the man bent over the huge
barrels, and drank and drank till his loins hurt, and before the day
was out he had emptied all the barrels. Then Dummling asked once
more for his bride, but the king was vexed that such an ugly fellow,
whom everyone called Dummling, should take away his daughter, and he
made a new condition, he must first find a man who could eat a whole
mountain of bread. Dummling did not think long, but went straight
into the forest, where in the same place there sat a man who was
tying up his body with a strap, and making an awful face, and saying,
I have eaten a whole ovenful of rolls, but what good is that when one
has such a hunger as I. My stomach remains empty, and I must tie
myself up if I am not to die of hunger.

At this Dummling was glad, and said, get up and come with me, you
shall eat yourself full. He led him to the king’s palace, where all
the flour in the whole kingdom was collected, and from it he caused a
huge mountain of bread to be baked. The man from the forest stood
before it, began to eat, and by the end of one day the whole mountain
had vanished. Then Dummling for the third time asked for his bride,
but the king again sought a way out, and ordered a ship which could
sail on land and on water. As soon as you come sailing back in it,
said he, you shall have my daughter for wife.

Dummling went straight into the forest, and there sat the little grey
man to whom he had given his cake. When he heard what Dummling
wanted, he said, since you have given me to eat and to drink, I will
give you the ship, and I do all this because you once were kind to
me. Then he gave him the ship which could sail on land and water,
and when the king saw that, he could no longer prevent him from
having his daughter. The wedding was celebrated, and after the
king’s death, Dummling inherited his kingdom and lived for a long
time contentedly with his wife.

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Rapunzel

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Rapunzel
Grimm’s Fairy Tales
(Ideal for 1st Grade)
*Audio file at the end

tumblr_mofma8vSIX1rz5qxqo1_500 Art by Emma Florence Harrison

There were once a man and a woman who had long in vain
wished for a child. At length the woman hoped that God
was about to grant her desire. These people had a little
window at the back of their house from which a splendid garden
could be seen, which was full of the most beautiful flowers and
herbs. It was, however, surrounded by a high wall, and no one
dared to go into it because it belonged to an enchantress, who had
great power and was dreaded by all the world. One day the woman
was standing by this window and looking down into the garden,
when she saw a bed which was planted with the most beautiful
rampion – rapunzel, and it looked so fresh and green that she
longed for it, and had the greatest desire to eat some. This desire
increased every day, and as she knew that she could not get any
of it, she quite pined away, and began to look pale and miserable.

Then her husband was alarmed, and asked, what ails you, dear
wife. Ah, she replied, if I can’t eat some of the rampion, which
is in the garden behind our house, I shall die. The man, who loved
her, thought, sooner than let your wife die, bring her some of
the rampion yourself, let it cost what it will. At twilight, he
clambered down over the wall into the garden of the enchantress,
hastily clutched a handful of rampion, and took it to his wife. She
at once made herself a salad of it, and ate it greedily. It tasted
so good to her – so very good, that the next day she longed for it
three times as much as before. If he was to have any rest, her
husband must once more descend into the garden. In the gloom of
evening, therefore, he let himself down again. But when he had
clambered down the wall he was terribly afraid, for he saw the
enchantress standing before him. How can you dare, said she with
angry look, descend into my garden and steal my rampion like a
thief. You shall suffer for it. Ah, answered he, let mercy take
the place of justice, I only made up my mind to do it out of
necessity. My wife saw your rampion from the window, and felt such
a longing for it that she would have died if she had not got some
to eat. Then the enchantress allowed her anger to be softened, and
said to him, if the case be as you say, I will allow you to take
away with you as much rampion as you will, only I make one
condition, you must give me the child which your wife will bring
into the world. It shall be well treated, and I will care for it
like a mother. The man in his terror consented to everything, and
when the woman was brought to bed, the enchantress appeared at once,
gave the child the name of rapunzel, and took it away with her.

Rapunzel grew into the most beautiful child under the sun.
When she was twelve years old, the enchantress shut her into a
tower, which lay in a forest, and had neither stairs nor door, but
quite at the top was a little window. When the enchantress
wanted to go in, she placed herself beneath it and cried,
rapunzel, rapunzel,
let down your hair to me.

Rapunzel had magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold, and when
she heard the voice of the enchantress she unfastened her braided
tresses, wound them round one of the hooks of the window above,
and then the hair fell twenty ells down, and the enchantress climbed
up by it.

After a year or two, it came to pass that the king’s son rode
through the forest and passed by the tower. Then he heard a song,
which was so charming that he stood still and listened. This was
rapunzel, who in her solitude passed her time in letting her sweet
voice resound. The king’s son wanted to climb up to her, and
looked for the door of the tower, but none was to be found. He
rode home, but the singing had so deeply touched his heart, that
every day he went out into the forest and listened to it. Once when
he was thus standing behind a tree, he saw that an enchantress
came there, and he heard how she cried,
rapunzel, rapunzel,
let down your hair.

Then rapunzel let down the braids of her hair, and the
enchantress climbed up to her. If that is the ladder by which one
mounts, I too will try my fortune, said he, and the next day when
it began to grow dark, he went to the tower and cried,
rapunzel, rapunzel,
let down your hair.

Immediately the hair fell down and the king’s son climbed up.
At first rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man, such as
her eyes had never yet beheld, came to her. But the king’s son
began to talk to her quite like a friend, and told her that his
heart had been so stirred that it had let him have no rest, and he
had been forced to see her. Then rapunzel lost her fear, and when
he asked her if she would take him for her husband, and she saw that
he was young and handsome, she thought, he will love me more than
old dame gothel does. And she said yes, and laid her hand in his.

She said, I will willingly go away with you, but I do not know
how to get down. Bring with you a skein of silk every time that
you come, and I will weave a ladder with it, and when that is ready
I will descend, and you will take me on your horse. They agreed
that until that time he should come to her every evening, for the
old woman came by day. The enchantress remarked nothing of
this, until once rapunzel said to her, tell me, dame gothel, how
it happens that you are so much heavier for me to draw up than
the young king’s son – he is with me in a moment. Ah. You
wicked child, cried the enchantress. What do I hear you say. I
thought I had separated you from all the world, and yet you have
deceived me. In her anger she clutched rapunzel’s beautiful
tresses, wrapped them twice round her left hand, seized a pair of
scissors with the right, and snip, snap, they were cut off, and the
lovely braids lay on the ground. And she was so pitiless that she
took poor rapunzel into a desert where she had to live in great
grief and misery.

On the same day that she cast out rapunzel, however, the
enchantress fastened the braids of hair, which she had cut off, to
the hook of the window, and when the king’s son came and cried,
rapunzel, rapunzel,
let down your hair,
she let the hair down.

The king’s son ascended, but instead of
finding his dearest rapunzel, he found the enchantress, who gazed
at him with wicked and venomous looks. Aha, she cried mockingly,
you would fetch your dearest, but the beautiful bird sits
no longer singing in the nest. The cat has got it, and will scratch
out your eyes as well. Rapunzel is lost to you. You will never see
her again. The king’s son was beside himself with pain, and in
his despair he leapt down from the tower. He escaped with his life,
but the thorns into which he fell pierced his eyes. Then he
wandered quite blind about the forest, ate nothing but roots and
berries, and did naught but lament and weep over the loss of his
dearest wife. Thus he roamed about in misery for some years, and at
length came to the desert where rapunzel, with the twins to which
she had given birth, a boy and a girl, lived in wretchedness. He
heard a voice, and it seemed so familiar to him that he went towards
it, and when he approached, rapunzel knew him and fell on his neck
and wept. Two of her tears wetted his eyes and they grew clear
again, and he could see with them as before. He led her to his
kingdom where he was joyfully received, and they lived for a long
time afterwards, happy and contented.

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Donkey Cabbage

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Donkey Cabbage
Grimm’s Fairy Tales
(Ideal for 1st Grade)
*Audio file at the end

Donkey Cabbage
Donkey Cabbage

There was once a young huntsman who went into the forest to lie in
wait. He had a fresh and joyous heart, and as he was going thither,
whistling upon a leaf, an ugly old crone came up, who spoke to him
and said, “Good-day, dear huntsman, truly you are merry and
contented, but I am suffering from hunger and thirst, do give me an
alms.” The huntsman took pity on the poor old creature, felt in his
pocket, and gave her what he could afford.

He was then about to go further, but the old woman stopped him and
said, “Listen, dear huntsman, to what I tell you. I will make you a
present in return for your good heart. Go on your way now, but in a
little while you will come to a tree, whereon nine birds are sitting
which have a cloak in their claws, and are fighting for it, take your
gun and shoot into the midst of them. They will let the cloak fall
down to you, but one of the birds will be hurt, and will drop down
dead. Carry away the cloak, it is a wishing-cloak. When you throw
it over your shoulders, you only have to wish to be in a certain
place, and you will be there in the twinkling of an eye. Take out
the heart of the dead bird and swallow it whole, and every morning
early, when you get up, you will find a gold piece under your
pillow.” The huntsman thanked the wise woman, and thought to himself,
“Those are fine things that she has promised me, if all does but come
true.” And verily when he had walked about a hundred paces, he heard
in the branches above him such a screaming and twittering that he
looked up and saw there a swarm of birds who were tearing a piece of
cloth about with their beaks and claws, and tugging and fighting as
if each wanted to have it all to himself. “Well,” said the huntsman,
“this is amazing, it has really come to pass just as the old crone
foretold,” and he took the gun from his shoulder, aimed and fired
right into the midst of them, so that the feathers flew about. The
birds instantly took to flight with loud outcries, but one dropped
down dead, and the cloak fell at the same time. Then the huntsman
did as the old woman had directed him, cut open the bird, sought the
heart, swallowed it down, and took the cloak home with him.

Next morning, when he awoke, the promise occurred to him, and he
wished to see if it also had been fulfilled. When he lifted up the
pillow, the gold piece shone in his eyes, and next day he found
another, and so it went on, every time he got up. He gathered
together a heap of gold, but at last he thought, “Of what use is all
my gold to me if I stay at home? I will go forth and see the world.”

He then took leave of his parents, buckled on his huntsman’s pouch
and gun, and went out into the world. It came to pass, that one day
he traveled through a dense forest, and when he came to the end of
it, in the plain before him stood a fine castle. An old woman was
standing with a wonderfully beautiful maiden, looking out of one of
the windows. The old woman, however, was a witch and said to the
maiden, “There comes one out of the forest, who has a wonderful
treasure in his body. We must filch it from him, daughter of my
heart, it is more suitable for us than for him. He has a bird’s
heart about him, by means of which a gold piece lies every morning
under his pillow.” She told her what she was to do to get it, and
what part she had to play, and finally threatened her, and said with
angry eyes, “And if you do not attend to what I say, it will be the
worse for you.” Now when the huntsman came nearer he noticed the
maiden, and said to himself, “I have traveled about for such a long
time, I will take a rest for once, and enter that beautiful castle.
I have certainly money enough.” Nevertheless, the real reason was
that he had caught sight of the beautiful picture.

He entered the house, and was well received and courteously
entertained. Before long he was so much in love with the young witch
that he no longer thought of anything else, and only saw things as
she saw them, and liked to do what she desired. The old woman then
said, “Now we must have the bird’s heart, he will never miss it.” She
brewed a potion, and when it was ready, poured it into a goblet and
gave it to the maiden, who was to present it to the huntsman. She
did so, saying, “Now, my dearest, drink to me.”

So he took the goblet, and when he had swallowed the draught, he
brought up the heart of the bird. The girl had to take it away
secretly and swallow it herself, for the old woman would have it so.
Thenceforward he found no more gold under his pillow, but it lay
instead under that of the maiden, from whence the old woman fetched
it away every morning, but he was so much in love and so befooled,
that he thought of nothing else but of passing his time with the
girl.

Then the old witch said, “We have the bird’s heart, but we must also
take the wishing-cloak away from him.” The girl answered, “We will
leave him that, he has lost his wealth.” The old woman was angry and
said, “Such a mantle is a wonderful thing, and is seldom to be found
in this world. I must and will have it.” She gave the girl several
blows, and said that if she did not obey, it should fare ill with
her. So she did the old woman’s bidding, placed herself at the
window and looked on the distant country, as if she were very
sorrowful. The huntsman asked, “Why do you stand there so
sorrowfully?” “Ah, my beloved,” was her answer, “over yonder lies the
garnet mountain, where the precious stones grow. I long for them so
much that when I think of them, I feel quite sad, but who can get
them. Only the birds, they fly and can reach them, but a man never.”
“Have you nothing else to complain of?” said the huntsman. “I will
soon remove that burden from your heart.” With that he drew her under
his mantle, wished himself on the garnet mountain, and in the
twinkling of an eye they were sitting on it together. Precious
stones were glistening on every side so that it was a joy to see
them, and together they gathered the finest and costliest of them.

Now, the old woman had, through her sorceries, contrived that the
eyes of the huntsman should become heavy. He said to the maiden, “We
will sit down and rest awhile, I am so tired that I can no longer
stand on my feet.” Then they sat down, and he laid his head in her
lap, and fell asleep. When he was asleep, she unfastened the mantle
from his shoulders, and wrapped herself in it, picked up the garnets
and stones, and wished herself back at home with them.

But when the huntsman had slept his fill and awoke, and perceived
that his sweetheart had betrayed him, and left him alone on the wild
mountain, he said, “Oh, what treachery there is in the world,” and
sat down there in trouble and sorrow, not knowing what to do. But
the mountain belonged to some wild and monstrous giants who dwelt
thereon and lived their lives there, and he had not sat long before
he saw three of them coming towards him, so he lay down as if he were
sunk in a deep sleep.

Then the giants came up, and the first kicked him with his foot and
said, “What sort of an earth-worm is this, lying here contemplating
his inside?” The second said, “Step upon him and kill him.” But the
third said, contemptuously, “That would indeed be worth your while,
just let him live, he cannot remain here, and when he climbs higher,
toward the summit of of the mountain, the clouds will lay hold of him
and bear him away.” So saying they passed by. But the huntsman had
paid heed to their words, and as soon as they were gone, he rose and
climbed up to the summit of the mountain, and when he had sat there a
while, a cloud floated towards him, caught him up, carried him away,
and traveled about for a long time in the heavens. Then it sank
lower, and let itself down on a great cabbage-garden, girt round by
walls, so that he came softly to the ground on cabbages and
vegetables.

Then the huntsman looked about him and said, “If I had but something
to eat. I am so hungry, and to proceed on my way from here will be
difficult. I see here neither apples nor pears, nor any other sort
of fruit, everywhere nothing but cabbages, but at length he thought,
at a pinch I can eat some of the leaves, they do not taste
particularly good, but they will refresh me.” With that he picked
himself out a fine head of cabbage, and ate it, but scarcely had he
swallowed a couple of mouthfuls than he felt very strange and quite
different.

Four legs grew on him, a thick head and two long ears, and he saw
with horror that he was changed into an ass. Still as his hunger
increased every minute, and as the juicy leaves were suitable to his
present nature, he went on eating with great zest. At last he
arrived at a different kind of cabbage, but as soon as he had
swallowed it, he again felt a change, and resumed his former human
shape.

Then the huntsman lay down and slept off his fatigue. When he awoke
next morning, he broke off one head of the bad cabbages and another
of the good ones, and thought to himself, this shall help me to get
my own again and punish treachery. Then he took the cabbages with
him, climbed over the wall, and went forth to look for the castle of
his sweetheart. After wandering about for a couple of days he was
lucky enough to find it again. He dyed his face brown, so that his
own mother would not have known him, and begged for shelter, “I am so
tired,” said he, “that I can go no further.” The witch asked, “Who
are you, countryman, and what is your business?” “I am a king’s
messenger, and was sent out to seek the most delicious salad which
grows beneath the sun. I have even been so fortunate as to find it,
and am carrying it about with me, but the heat of the sun is so
intense that the delicate cabbage threatens to wither, and I do not
know if I can carry it any further.”

When the old woman heard of the exquisite salad, she was greedy, and
said, “Dear countryman, let me just try this wonderful salad.” “Why
not?” answered he. “I have brought two heads with me, and will give
you one of them,” and he opened his pouch and handed her the bad
cabbage. The witch suspected nothing amiss, and her mouth watered so
for this new dish that she herself went into the kitchen and dressed
it. When it was prepared she could not wait until it was set on the
table, but took a couple of leaves at once, and put them in her
mouth, but hardly had she swallowed them than she was deprived of her
human shape, and she ran out into the courtyard in the form of an
ass.

Presently the maid-servant entered the kitchen, saw the salad
standing there ready prepared, and was about to carry it up, but on
the way, according to habit, she was seized by the desire to taste,
and she ate a couple of leaves. Instantly the magic power showed
itself, and she likewise became an ass and ran out to the old woman,
and the dish of salad fell to the ground.

Meantime the messenger sat beside the beautiful girl, and as no one
came with the salad and she also was longing for it, she said, “I
don’t know what has become of the salad.” The huntsman thought, the
salad must have already taken effect, and said, “I will go to the
kitchen and inquire about it.” As he went down he saw the two asses
running about in the courtyard, the salad, however, was lying on the
ground. “All right,” said he, “the two have taken their portion,” and
he picked up the other leaves, laid them on the dish, and carried
them to the maiden. “I bring you the delicate food myself,” said he,
“in order that you may not have to wait longer.” Then she ate of it,
and was, like the others, immediately deprived of her human form, and
ran out into the courtyard in the shape of an ass.

After the huntsman had washed his face, so that the transformed ones
could recognize him, he went down into the courtyard, and said, “Now
you shall receive the wages of your treachery,” and bound them
together, all three with one rope, and drove them along until he came
to a mill. He knocked at the window, the miller put out his head,
and asked what he wanted. “I have three unmanageable beasts,
answered he, which I don’t want to keep any longer. Will you take
them in, and give them food and stable room, and manage them as I
tell you, and then I will pay you what you ask?” The miller said,
“Why not? But how am I to manage them?” The huntsman then said that
he was to give three beatings and one meal daily to the old donkey,
and that was the witch, one beating and three meals to the younger
one, which was the servant-girl, and to the youngest, which was the
maiden, no beatings and three meals, for he could not bring himself
to have the maiden beaten. After that he went back into the castle,
and found therein everything he needed.

After a couple of days, the miller came and said he must inform him
that the old ass which had received three beatings and only one meal
daily was dead. The two others, he continued, are certainly not
dead, and are fed three times daily, but they are so sad that they
cannot last much longer. The huntsman was moved to pity, put away
his anger, and told the miller to drive them back again to him. And
when they came, he gave them some of the good salad, so that they
became human again. The beautiful girl fell on her knees before him,
and said, “Ah, my beloved, forgive me for the evil I have done you,
my mother drove me to it. It was done against my will, for I love
you dearly. Your wishing-cloak hangs in a cupboard, and as for the
bird’s-heart I will take a vomiting potion.” But he thought
otherwise, and said, “Keep it. It is all the same, for I will take
you for my true wife.” So the wedding was celebrated, and they lived
happily together until their death.

Listen to the audio from LibriVox here:

King Thrushbeard

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King Thrushbeard
Grimm’s Fairy Tales
(ideal for first Grade)

King Thrushbeard
King Thrushbeard

A king had a daughter who was beautiful beyond all measure,
but so proud and haughty withal that no suitor was good
enough for her. She sent away one after the other, and
ridiculed them as well.

Once the king made a great feast and invited thereto, from far
and near, all the young men likely to marry. They were all
marshalled in a row according to their rank and standing. First
came the kings, then the grand-dukes, then the princes, the
earls, the barons, and the gentry. Then the king’s daughter was
led through the ranks, but to each one she had some objection
to make. One was too fat, the wine-barrel, she said. Another
was too tall, long and thin has little in. The third was too
short, short and thick is never quick. The fourth was too
pale, as pale as death. The fifth too red, a fighting cock.
The sixth was not straight enough, a green log dried behind
the stove.

So she had something to say against each one, but she made
herself especially merry over a good king who stood quite
high up in the row, and whose chin had grown a little crooked.
Look, she cried and laughed, he has a chin like a thrush’s
beak. And from that time he got the name of king thrushbeard.

But the old king, when he saw that his daugher did nothing
but mock the people, and despised all the suitors who were
gathered there, was very angry, and swore that she should have
for her husband the very first beggar that came to his doors.

A few days afterwards a fiddler came and sang beneath the
windows, trying to earn a few pennies. When the king heard him
he said, let him come up. So the fiddler came in, in his dirty,
ragged clothes, and sang before the king and his daughter, and
when he had ended he asked for a trifling gift. The king said,
your song has pleased me so well that I will give you my
daughter there, to wife.

The king’s daughter shuddered, but the king said, I have taken
an oath to give you to the very first beggar-man and I will keep
it. All she could say was in vain. The priest was brought,
and she had to let herself be wedded to the fiddler on the
spot. When that was done the king said, now it is not proper
for you, a beggar-woman, to stay any longer in my palace, you may
just go away with your husband.

The beggar-man led her out by the hand, and she was obliged to
walk away on foot with him. When they came to a large forest
she asked, to whom does that beautiful forest belong. It
belongs to king thrushbeard. If you had taken him, it would
have been yours. Ah, unhappy girl that I am, if I had but taken
king thrushbeard.

Afterwards they came to a meadow, and she asked again, to whom
does this beautiful green meadow belong. It belongs to king
thrushbeard. If you had taken him, it would have been
yours. Ah, unhappy girl that I am, if I had but taken king
thrushbeard.

Then they came to a large town, and she asked again, to whom
does this fine large town belong. It belongs to king thrushbeard.
If you had taken him, it would have been yours. Ah, unhappy
girl that I am, if I had but taken king thrushbeard.
It does not please me, said the fiddler, to hear you always
wishing for another husband. Am I not good enough for you.

At last they came to a very little hut, and she said, oh
goodness. What a small house. To whom does this miserable,
tiny hovel belong. The fiddler answered, that is my house and
yours, where we shall live together.

She had to stoop in order to go in at the low door. Where are
the servants, said the king’s daughter. What servants, answered
the beggar-man. You must yourself do what you wish to have done.
Just make a fire at once, and set on water to cook my supper,
I am quite tired. But the king’s daughter knew nothing about
lighting fires or cooking, and the beggar-man had to lend a
hand himself to get anything fairly done. When they had
finished their scanty meal they went to bed. But he forced
her to get up quite early in the morning in order to look after
the house.

For a few days they lived in this way as well as might be, and
came to the end of all their provisions. Then the man said,
wife, we cannot go on any longer eating and drinking here and
earning nothing. You must make baskets. He went out, cut some
willows, and brought them home. Then she began to make baskets,
but the tough willows wounded her delicate hands.

I see that this will not do, said the man. You had better spin,
perhaps you can do that better. She sat down and tried to spin,
but the hard thread soon cut her soft fingers so that the blood
ran down. See, said the man, you are fit for no sort of work.
I have made a bad bargain with you. Now I will try to make a
business with pots and earthenware. You must sit in the
market-place and sell the ware. Alas, thought she, if any of
the people from my father’s kingdom come to the market and see
me sitting there, selling, how they will mock me. But it was
of no use, she had to yield unless she chose to die of hunger.
For the first time she succeeded well, for the people were glad
to buy the woman’s wares because she was good-looking, and
they paid her what she asked. Many even gave her the money and
left the pots with her as well. So they lived on what she had
earned as long as it lasted, then the husband bought a lot of
new crockery. With this she sat down at the corner of the
market-place, and set it out round about her ready for sale.
But suddenly there came a drunken hussar galloping along, and
he rode right amongst the pots so that they were all broken into
a thousand bits. She began
to weep, and did now know what to do for fear. Alas, what will
happen to me, cried she. What will my husband say to this.
She ran home and told him of the misfortune. Who would seat
herself at a corner of the market-place with crockery, said
the man. Leave off crying, I see very well that you cannot
do any ordinary work, so I have been to our king’s palace and
have asked whether they cannot find a place for a kitchen-maid,
and they have promised me to take you. In that way you will
get your food for nothing.

The king’s daughter was now a kitchen-maid, and had to be at
the cook’s beck and call, and do the dirtiest work. In both her
pockets she fastened a little jar, in which she took home her
share of the leavings, and upon this they lived.

It happened that the wedding of the king’s eldest son was to be
celebrated, so the poor woman went up and placed herself by
the door of the hall to look on. When all the candles were lit,
and people, each more beautiful than the other, entered, and
all was full of pomp and splendor, she thought of her lot with
a sad heart, and cursed the pride and haughtiness which had
humbled her and brought her to so great poverty.

The smell of the delicious dishes which were being taken in
and out reached her, and now and then the servants threw her
a few morsels of them. These she put in her jars to take home.

All at once the king’s son entered, clothed in velvet and silk,
with gold chains about his neck. And when he saw the
beautiful woman standing by the door he seized her by the hand,
and would have danced with her. But she refused and shrank
with fear, for she saw that it was king thrushbeard, her
suitor whom she had driven away with scorn. Her struggles
were of no avail, he drew her into the hall. But the string
by which her pockets were hung broke, the pots fell down, the
soup ran out, and the scraps were scattered all about. And
when the people saw it, there arose general laughter and
derision, and she was so ashamed that she would rather have
been a thousand fathoms below the ground. She sprang to the
door and would have run away, but on the stairs a man caught
her and brought her back. And when she looked at him it was
king thrushbeard again. He said to her kindly, do not be
afraid, I and the fiddler who has been living with you in that
wretched hovel are one. For love of you I disguised myself
so. And I also was the hussar who rode through your crockery.
This was all done to humble your proud spirit, and to punish
you for the insolence with which you mocked me.

Then she wept bitterly and said, I have done great wrong, and
am not worthy to be your wife. But he said, be comforted,
the evil days are past. Now we will celebrate our wedding.
Then the maids-in-waiting came and put on her the most splendid
clothing, and her father and his whole court came and wished
her happiness in her marriage with king thrushbeard, and
the joy now began in earnest. I wish you and I had been there
too.

The Poor Miller’s Boy and the Cat
In a certain mill lived an old miller who had neither wife nor child,
and three apprentices served under him. As they had been with him
several years, he one day said to them, “I am old, and want to sit
behind the stove. Go out, and whichsoever of you brings me the best
horse home, to him will I give the mill, and in return for it he
shall take care of me till my death.”

The third of the boys, however, was the dunce, who was looked on as
foolish by the others, they begrudged the mill to him, and afterwards
he would not even have it. Then all three went out together, and
when they came to the village, the two said to stupid Hans, “You may
just as well stay here, as long as you live you will never get a
horse.” Hans, however, went with them, and when it was night they
came to a cave in which they lay down to sleep. The two smart ones
waited until Hans had fallen asleep, then they got up, and went away
leaving him where he was. And they thought they had done a very
clever thing, but it was certain to turn out ill for them.

When the sun rose, and Hans woke up, he was lying in a deep cavern.
He looked around on every side and exclaimed, “Oh, heavens, where am
I?” Then he got up and clambered out of the cave, went into the
forest, and thought, “Here I am quite alone and deserted, how shall I
obtain a horse now?” Whilst he was thus walking full of thought, he
met a small tabby-cat which said quite kindly, “Hans, where are you
going?” “Alas, you can not help me.” “I well know your desire,” said
the cat. “You wish to have a beautiful horse. Come with me, and be
my faithful servant for seven years long, and then I will give you
one more beautiful than any you have ever seen in your whole life.”
“Well, this is a strange cat,” thought Hans, “But I am determined to
see if she is telling the truth.”

So she took him with her into her enchanted castle, where there were
nothing but kittens who were her servants. They leapt nimbly
upstairs and downstairs, and were merry and happy. In the evening
when they sat down to dinner, three of them had to make music. One
played the bass viol, the other the fiddle, and the third put the
trumpet to his lips, and blew out his cheeks as much as he possibly
could. When they had dined, the table was carried away, and the cat
said, “Now, Hans, come and dance with me.” “No,” said he, “I won’t
dance with a pussy cat. I have never done that yet.” “Then take him
to bed,” said she to the cats. So one of them lighted him to his
bed-room, one pulled his shoes off, one his stockings, and at last
one of them blew out the candle. Next morning they returned and
helped him out of bed, one put his stockings on for him, one tied his
garters, one brought his shoes, one washed him, and one dried his
face with her tail. “That feels very soft,” said Hans.

He, however, had to serve the cat, and chop some wood every day, and
to do that, he had an axe of silver, and the wedge and saw were of
silver and the mallet of copper. So he chopped the wood small,
stayed there in the house and had good meat and drink, but never saw
anyone but the tabby-cat and her servants. Once she said to him, “Go
and mow my meadow, and dry the grass,” and gave him a scythe of
silver, and a whetstone of gold, but bade him deliver them up again
carefully. So Hans went thither, and did what he was bidden, and
when he had finished the work, he carried the scythe, whetstone, and
hay to the house, and asked if it was not yet time for her to give
him his reward. “No,” said the cat, “you must first do something
more for me of the same kind. There is timber of silver, carpenter’s
axe, square, and everything that is needful, all of silver – with
these build me a small house.” Then Hans built the small house, and
said that he had now done everything, and still he had no horse.

Nevertheless the seven years had gone by with him as if they were six
months. The cat asked him if he would like to see her horses. “Yes,”
said Hans. Then she opened the door of the small house, and when she
had opened it, there stood twelve horses, – such horses, so bright
and shining, that his heart rejoiced at the sight of them. And now
she gave him to eat and drink, and said, “Go home, I will not give
you your horse now, but in three days, time I will follow you and
bring it.” So Hans set out, and she showed him the way to the mill.

She, however, had never once given him a new coat, and he had been
obliged to keep on his dirty old smock, which he had brought with
him, and which during the seven years had everywhere become too small
for him. When he reached home, the two other apprentices were there
again as well, and each of them certainly had brought a horse with
him, but one of them was a blind one, and the other lame. They asked
Hans where his horse was. “It will follow me in three days, time.”
Then they laughed and said, “Indeed, stupid Hans, where will you get
a horse?” “It will be a fine one.” Hans went into the parlor, but the
miller said he should not sit down to table, for he was so ragged and
torn, that they would all be ashamed of him if any one came in. So
they gave him a mouthful of food outside, and at night, when they
went to rest, the two others would not let him have a bed, and at
last he was forced to creep into the goose-house, and lie down on a
little hard straw.

In the morning when he awoke, the three days had passed, and a coach
came with six horses and they shone so bright that it was delightful
to see them – and a servant brought a seventh as well, which was for
the poor miller’s boy. And a magnificent princess alighted from the
coach and went into the mill, and this princess was the little
tabby-cat whom poor Hans had served for seven years. She asked the
miller where the miller’s boy and dunce was. Then the miller said,
“We cannot have him here in the mill, for he is so ragged, he is
lying in the goose-house.” Then the king’s daughter said that they
were to bring him immediately. So they brought him out, and he had
to hold his little smock together to cover himself. The servants
unpacked splendid garments, and washed him and dressed him, and when
that was done, no king could have looked more handsome. Then the
maiden desired to see the horses which the other apprentices had
brought home with them, and one of them was blind and the other lame.
So she ordered the servant to bring the seventh horse, and when the
miller saw it, he said that such a horse as that had never yet
entered his yard. “And that is for the third miller’s boy,” said she.
“Then he must have the mill,” said the miller, but the king’s
daughter said that the horse was there, and that he was to keep his
mill as well, and took her faithful Hans and set him in the coach,
and drove away with him.

They first drove to the little house which he had built with the
silver tools, and behold it was a great castle, and everything inside
it was of silver and gold, and then she married him, and he was rich,
so rich that he had enough for all the rest of his life. After this,
let no one ever say that anyone who is silly can never become a
person of importance.

Queen Bee

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Queen Bee
Grimm’s Fairy Tales
(Ideal for 5-6 Year Olds)

Two kings’ sons once went out in search of adventures, and fell into
a wild, disorderly way of living, so that they never came home again.
The youngest, who was called simpleton, set out to seek his brothers,
but when at length he found them they mocked him for thinking that he
with his simplicity could get through the world, when they two could
not make their way, and yet were so much cleverer.

They all three traveled away together, and came to an ant-hill. The
two elder wanted to destroy it, to see the little ants creeping about
in their terror, and carrying their eggs away, but simpleton said,
leave the creatures in peace, I will not allow you to disturb them.

Then they went onwards and came to a lake, on which a great number of
ducks were swimming. The two brothers wanted to catch a couple and
roast them, but simpleton would not permit it, and said, leave the
creatures in peace, I will not suffer you to kill them.

At length they came to a bee’s nest, in which there was so much honey
that it ran out of the trunk of the tree where it was. The two
wanted to make a fire beneath the tree, and suffocate the bees in
order to take away the honey, but simpleton again stopped them and
said, leave the creatures in peace, I will not allow you to burn
them.

At length the three brothers arrived at a castle where stone horses
were standing in the stables, and no human being was to be seen, and
they went through all the halls until, quite at the end, they came to
a door in which were three locks. In the middle of the door,
however, there was a little pane, through which they could see into
the room. There they saw a little grey man, who was sitting at a
table. They called him, once, twice, but he did not hear, at last
they called him for the third time, when he got up, opened the locks,
and came out. He said nothing, however, but conducted them to a
handsomely-spread table, and when they had eaten and drunk, he took
each of them to a bedroom.

Next morning the little grey man came to the eldest, beckoned to him,
and conducted him to a stone table, on which were inscribed three
tasks, by the performance of which the castle could be delivered from
enchantment.

The first was that in the forest, beneath the moss, lay the
princess’s pearls, a thousand in number, which must be picked up, and
if by sunset one single pearl was missing, he who had looked for them
would be turned into stone. The eldest went thither, and sought the
whole day, but when it came to an end, he had only found one hundred,
and what was written on the table came true, and he was turned into
stone. Next day, the second brother undertook the adventure, but it
did not fare much better with him than with the eldest, he did not
find more than two hundred pearls, and was changed to stone. At last
it was simpleton’s turn to seek in the moss, but it was so difficult
for him to find the pearls, and he got on so slowly, that he seated
himself on a stone, and wept. And while he was thus sitting, the
king of the ants whose life he had once saved, came with five
thousand ants, and before long the little creatures had got all the
pearls together, and laid them in a heap.

The second task, however, was to fetch out of the lake the key of the
king’s daughter’s bed-chamber. When simpleton came to the lake, the
ducks which he had saved, swam up to him, dived down, and brought the
key out of the water.

But the third task was the most difficult, from amongst the three
sleeping daughters of the king was the youngest and dearest to be
sought out. They, however, resembled each other exactly, and were
only to be distinguished by their having eaten different sweetmeats
before they fell asleep, the eldest a bit of sugar, the second a
little syrup, and the youngest a spoonful of honey.

Then the queen of the bees, whom simpleton had protected from the
fire, came and tasted the lips of all three, and at last she remained
sitting on the mouth which had eaten honey, and thus the king’s son
recognized the right princess. Then the enchantment was at an end,
everything was delivered from sleep, and those who had been turned to
stone received once more their natural forms.

Simpleton married the youngest and sweetest princess, and after her
father’s death became king, and his two brothers received the two
other sisters.

The Seven Ravens

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The Seven Ravens
Grimm’s Fairy Tales
(Ideal for 5-6 Year Olds)

seven-crows-anne-anderson Illustration -Anne Anderson

the-swan-princes-aka-six-swans-anne-anderson Illustration -Anne Anderson

There was once a man who had seven sons, and still he had
no daughter, however much he wished for one. At length his
wife again gave him hope of a child, and when it came into
the world it was a girl. The joy was great, but the child was
sickly and small, and had to be privately baptized on account of
its weakness. The father sent one of the boys in haste to the
spring to fetch water for the baptism. The other six went with
him, and as each of them wanted to be first to fill it, the jug
fell into the well. There they stood and did not know what to do,
and none of them dared to go home. As they still did not return,
the father grew impatient, and said, they have certainly forgotten
it while playing some game, the wicked boys. He became afraid that
the girl would have to die without being baptized, and in his
anger cried, I wish the boys were all turned into ravens. Hardly
was the word spoken before he heard a whirring of wings over his
head, looked up and saw seven coal-black ravens flying away.

The parents could not withdraw the curse, and however sad they
were at the loss of their seven sons, they still to some extent
comforted themselves with their dear little daughter, who soon
grew strong and every day became more beautiful. For a long time
she did not know that she had had brothers, for her parents were
careful not to mention them before her, but one day she
accidentally heard some people saying of herself, that the girl was
certainly beautiful, but that in reality she was to blame for the
misfortune which had befallen her seven brothers. Then she was much
troubled, and went to her father and mother and asked if it was
true that she had had brothers, and what had become of them. The
parents now dared keep the secret no longer, but said that what
had befallen her brothers was the will of heaven, and that her
birth had only been the innocent cause. But the maiden took it to
heart daily, and thought she must save her brothers. She had no
rest or peace until she set out secretly, and went forth into the
wide world to search for her brothers and set them free, let it
cost what it might. She took nothing with her but a little ring
belonging to her parents as a keepsake, a loaf of bread against
hunger, a little pitcher of water against thirst, and a little
chair as a provision against weariness.

And now she went continually onwards, far, far to the very end of
the world. Then she came to the sun, but it was too hot and
terrible, and devoured little children. Hastily she ran away, and
ran to the moon, but it was far too cold, and also awful and
malicious, and when it saw the child, it said, I smell, I smell
the flesh of men. At this she ran swiftly away, and came to the
stars, which were kind and good to her, and each of them sat on its
own particular little chair. But the morning star arose, and gave
her the drumstick of a chicken, and said, if you have not that
drumstick you can not open the glass mountain, and in the glass
mountain are your brothers.

The maiden took the drumstick, wrapped it carefully in a cloth,
and went onwards again until she came to the glass mountain. The
door was shut, and she thought she would take out the drumstick.
But when she undid the cloth, it was empty, and she had lost the
good star’s present. What was she now to do. She wished to rescue
her brothers, and had no key to the glass mountain. The good
sister took a knife, cut off one of her little fingers, put it in
the door, and succeeded in opening it. When she had gone inside, a
little dwarf came to meet her, who said, my child, what are you
looking for. I am looking for my brothers, the seven ravens, she
replied. The dwarf said, the lord ravens are not at home, but if
you will wait here until they come, step in. Thereupon the little
dwarf carried the ravens’ dinner in, on seven little plates, and
in seven little glasses, and the little sister ate a morsel from
each plate, and from each little glass she took a sip, but in the
last little glass she dropped the ring which she had brought away
with her.

Suddenly she heard a whirring of wings and a rushing through
the air, and then the little dwarf said, now the lord ravens are
flying home. Then they came, and wanted to eat and drink, and
looked for their little plates and glasses. Then said one after
the other, who has eaten something from my plate. Who has drunk
out of my little glass. It was a human mouth. And when the
seventh came to the bottom of the glass, the ring rolled against
his mouth. Then he looked at it, and saw that it was a ring
belonging to his father and mother, and said, God grant that our
sister may be here, and then we shall be free. When the maiden,
who was standing behind the door watching, heard that wish,
she came forth, and on this all the ravens were restored to their
human form again. And they embraced and kissed each other,
and went joyfully home.

Snow-White and Rose Red

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Snow-White and Rose Red
Grimm’s Fairy Tales
(Ideal for 5-6 Year Olds)
*Audio file at the end

Smithsnowred

There was once a poor widow who lived in a lonely cottage. In
front of the cottage was a garden wherein stood two rose-trees,
one of which bore white and the other red roses. She had two
children who were like the two rose-trees, and one was called
snow-white, and the other rose-red. They were as good and happy,
as busy and cheerful as ever two children in the world were, only
snow-white was more quiet and gentle than rose-red. Rose-red
liked better to run about in the meadows and fields seeking
flowers and catching butterflies, but snow-white sat at home
with her mother, and helped her with her house-work, or read to
her when there was nothing to do.

The two children were so fond of one another that they always
held each other by the hand when they went out together, and
when snow-white said, we will not leave each other, rose-red
answered, never so long as we live, and their mother would
add, what one has she must share with the other.

They often ran about the forest alone and gathered red berries,
and no beasts did them any harm, but came close to them
trustfully. The little hare would eat a cabbage-leaf out of
their hands, the roe grazed by their side, the stag leapt
merrily by them, and the birds sat still upon the boughs, and
sang whatever they knew.

No mishap overtook them, if they had stayed too late in the
forest, and night came on, they laid themselves down near one
another upon the moss, and slept until morning came, and their
mother knew this and did not worry on their account.
Once when they had spent the night in the wood and the dawn
had roused them, they saw a beautiful child in a shining white
dress sitting near their bed. He got up and looked quite kindly
at them, but said nothing and went away into the forest. And
when they looked round they found that they had been sleeping
quite close to a precipice, and would certainly have fallen into
it in the darkness if they had gone only a few paces further.
And their mother told them that it must have been the angel who
watches over good children.

Snow-white and rose-red kept their mother’s little cottage so
neat that it was a pleasure to look inside it. In the summer
rose-red took care of the house, and every morning laid a wreath
of flowers by her mother’s bed before she awoke, in which was
a rose from each tree. In the winter snow-white lit the fire and
hung the kettle on the hob. The kettle was of brass and shone
like gold, so brightly was it polished. In the evening, when
the snowflakes fell, the mother said, go, snow-white, and bolt
the door, and then they sat round the hearth, and the mother
took her spectacles and read aloud out of a large book, and the
two girls listened as they sat and spun. And close by them lay
a lamb upon the floor, and behind them upon a perch sat a white
dove with its head hidden beneath its wings.

One evening, as they were thus sitting comfortably together,
someone knocked at the door as if he wished to be let in. The
mother said, quick, rose-red, open the door, it must be a traveler
who is seeking shelter. Rose-red went and pushed back the bolt,
thinking that it was a poor man, but it was not. It was a
bear that stretched his broad, black head within the door.
Rose-red screamed and sprang back, the lamb bleated, the dove
fluttered, and snow-white hid herself behind her mother’s bed.
But the bear began to speak and said, do not be afraid, I will
do you no harm. I am half-frozen, and only want to warm myself
a little beside you.

Poor bear, said the mother, lie down by the fire, only take
care that you do not burn your coat. Then she cried, snow-white,
rose-red, come out, the bear will do you no harm, he means well.
So they both came out, and by-and-by the lamb and dove came
nearer, and were not afraid of him. The bear said, here,
children, knock the snow out of my coat a little. So they
brought the broom and swept the bear’s hide clean, and he
stretched himself by the fire and growled contentedly and
comfortably. It was not long before they grew quite at home,
and played tricks with their clumsy guest. They tugged his
hair with their hands, put their feet upon his back and rolled
him about, or they took a hazel-switch and beat him, and when he
growled they laughed. But the bear took it all in good part, only
when they were too rough he called out, leave me alive, children,
snow-white, rose-red,
will you beat your wooer dead.

When it was bed-time, and the others went to bed, the mother
said to the bear, you can lie there by the hearth, and then you
will be safe from the cold and the bad weather. As soon as day
dawned the two children let him out, and he trotted across
the snow into the forest.

Henceforth the bear came every evening at the same time, laid
himself down by the hearth, and let the children amuse themselves
with him as much as they liked. And they got so used to him that
the doors were never fastened until their black friend had arrived.
When spring had come and all outside was green, the bear said
one morning to snow-white, now I must go away, and cannot come
back for the whole summer. Where are you going, then, dear bear,
asked snow-white. I must go into the forest and guard my treasures
from the wicked dwarfs. In the winter, when the earth is frozen
hard, they are obliged to stay below and cannot work their
way through, but now, when the sun has thawed and warmed the
earth, they break through it, and come out to pry and steal. And
what once gets into their hands, and in their caves, does not
easily see daylight again.

Snow-white was quite sorry at his departure, and as she unbolted
the door for him, and the bear was hurrying out, he caught against
the bolt and a piece of his hairy coat was torn off, and it
seemed to snow-white as if she had seen gold shining through
it, but she was not sure about it. The bear ran away quickly,
and was soon out of sight behind the trees.

A short time afterwards the mother sent her children into the
forest to get fire-wood. There they found a big tree which lay
felled on the ground, and close by the trunk something was
jumping backwards and forwards in the grass, but they could
not make out what it was. When they came nearer they saw a dwarf
with an old withered face and a snow-white beard a yard long. The
end of the beard was caught in a crevice of the tree, and the
little fellow was jumping about like a dog tied to a rope, and did
not know what to do.

He glared at the girls with his fiery red eyes and cried, why do
you stand there. Can you not come here and help me. What are
you up to, little man, asked rose-red. You stupid, prying
goose, answered the dwarf. I was going to split the tree to get
a little wood for cooking. The little bit of food that we people
get is immediately burnt up with heavy logs. We do not swallow
so much as you coarse, greedy folk. I had just driven the
wedge safely in, and everything was going as I wished, but the
cursed wedge was too smooth and suddenly sprang out, and the tree
closed so quickly that I could not pull out my beautiful white
beard, so now it is tight in and I cannot get away, and the silly,
sleek, milk-faced things laugh. Ugh. How odious you are.

The children tried very hard, but they could not pull the
beard out, it was caught too fast. I will run and fetch someone,
said rose-red. You senseless goose, snarled the dwarf. Why
should you fetch someone. You are already two too many for me.
Can you not think of something better. Don’t be impatient, said
snow-white, I will help you, and she pulled her scissors out of
her pocket, and cut off the end of the beard.

As soon as the dwarf felt himself free he laid hold of a bag which
lay amongst the roots of the tree, and which was full of gold,
and lifted it up, grumbling to himself, uncouth people, to cut
off a piece of my fine beard. Bad luck to you, and then he swung the
bag upon his back, and went off without even once looking at
the children.

Some time afterwards snow-white and rose-red went to catch a
dish of fish. As they came near the brook they saw something
like a large grasshopper jumping towards the water, as if
it were going to leap in. They ran to it and found it was the
dwarf. Where are you going, said rose-red, you surely don’t
want to go into the water. I am not such a fool, cried the
dwarf. Don’t you see that the accursed fish wants to pull
me in. The little man had been sitting there fishing, and
unluckily the wind had tangled up his beard with the fishing-line.
A moment later a big fish made a bite and the feeble
creature had not strength to pull it out. The fish kept the
upper hand and pulled the dwarf towards him. He held on to
all the reeds and rushes, but it was of little good, for he
was forced to follow the movements of the fish, and was in
urgent danger of being dragged into the water.

The girls came just in time. They held him fast and tried to
free his beard from the line, but all in vain, beard and line
were entangled fast together. There was nothing to do but to
bring out the scissors and cut the beard, whereby a small part
of it was lost. When the dwarf saw that he screamed out,
is that civil, you toadstool, to disfigure a man’s face. Was
it not enough to clip off the end of my beard. Now you have
cut off the best part of it. I cannot let myself be seen by
my people. I wish you had been made to run the soles off your
shoes. Then he took out a sack of pearls which lay in the
rushes, and without another word he dragged it away and
disappeared behind a stone.

It happened that soon afterwards the mother sent the two children
to the town to buy needles and thread, and laces and ribbons. The
road led them across a heath upon which huge pieces of rock lay
strewn about. There they noticed a large bird hovering in the
air, flying slowly round and round above them. It sank lower and
lower, and at last settled near a rock not far away. Immediately
they heard a loud, piteous cry. They ran up and saw with horror
that the eagle had seized their old acquaintance the dwarf, and was going
to carry him off.

The children, full of pity, at once took tight hold of the little
man, and pulled against the eagle so long that at last he let
his booty go. As soon as the dwarf had recovered from his
first fright he cried with his shrill voice, could you not have
done it more carefully. You dragged at my brown coat so that it
is all torn and full of holes, you clumsy creatures. Then he
took up a sack full of precious stones, and slipped away again
under the rock into his hole. The girls, who by this time
were used to his ingratitude, went on their way and did their
business in the town.

As they crossed the heath again on their way home they surprised
the dwarf, who had emptied out his bag of precious stones in
a clean spot, and had not thought that anyone would come there
so late. The evening sun shone upon the brilliant stones.
They glittered and sparkled with all colors so beautifully that
the children stood still and stared at them. Why do you stand
gaping there, cried the dwarf, and his ashen-gray face became
copper-red with rage. He was still cursing when a loud
growling was heard, and a black bear came trotting towards them
out of the forest. The dwarf sprang up in a fright, but he
could not reach his cave, for the bear was already close. Then
in the dread of his heart he cried, dear mr. Bear, spare me, I
will give you all my treasures, look, the beautiful jewels
lying there. Grant me my life. What do you want with such a
slender little fellow as I. You would not feel me between
your teeth. Come, take these two wicked girls, they are tender
morsels for you, fat as young quails, for mercy’s sake eat them.

The bear took no heed of his words, but gave the wicked creature
a single blow with his paw, and he did not move again.
The girls had run away, but the bear called to them, snow-white
and rose-red, do not be afraid. Wait, I will come with you.
Then they recognised his voice and waited, and when he came up
to them suddenly his bearskin fell off, and he stood there,
a handsome man, clothed all in gold. I am a king’s son, he said,
and I was bewitched by that wicked dwarf, who had stolen my
treasures.

I have had to run about the forest as a savage bear until I was
freed by his death. Now he has got his well-deserved punishment.
Snow-white was married to him, and rose-red to his brother,
and they divided between them the great treasure which the dwarf
had gathered together in his cave. The old mother lived
peacefully and happily with her children for many years. She took
the two rose-trees with her, and they stood before her window, and
every year bore the most beautiful roses, white and red.

Listen to the audio from LibriVox here:

Little Briar Rose

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Little Briar Rose
Grimm’s Fairy Tales
(Idea for 5-6 Year Olds)
*Audio file at the end

briar-rose-anne-anderson Illustration -Anne Anderson

A long time ago there were a king and queen who said every
day, ah, if only we had a child, but they never had one. But
it happened that once when the queen was bathing, a frog
crept out of the water on to the land, and said to her, your
wish shall be fulfilled, before a year has gone by, you shall
have a daughter.

What the frog had said came true, and the queen had a little
girl who was so pretty that the king could not contain himself
for joy, and ordered a great feast. He invited not only his
kindred, friends and acquaintances, but also the wise women, in
order that they might be kind and well-disposed towards the
child. There were thirteen of them in his kingdom, but, as
he had only twelve golden plates for them to eat out of, one
of them had to be left at home.

The feast was held with all manner of splendor and when it
came to an end the wise women bestowed their magic gifts
upon the baby – one gave virtue, another beauty, a third
riches, and so on with everything in the world that one can
wish for.

When eleven of them had made their promises, suddenly the
thirteenth came in. She wished to avenge herself for not
having been invited, and without greeting, or even looking
at anyone, she cried with a loud voice, the king’s daughter
shall in her fifteenth year prick herself with a spindle, and fall
down dead. And, without saying a word more, she turned round
and left the room.

They were all shocked, but the twelfth, whose good wish still
remained unspoken, came forward, and as she could not undo
the evil sentence, but only soften it, she said, it shall
not be death, but a deep sleep of a hundred years, into which
the princess shall fall.

The king, who would fain keep his dear child from the misfortune,
gave orders that every spindle in the whole kingdom should
be burnt. Meanwhile the gifts of the wise women were plenteously
fulfilled on the young girl, for she was so beautiful, modest,
good-natured, and wise, that everyone who saw her was bound
to love her.

It happened that on the very day when she was fifteen years
old, the king and queen were not at home, and the maiden
was left in the palace quite alone. So she went round into
all sorts of places, looked into rooms and bed-chambers just
as she liked, and at last came to an old tower. She climbed
up the narrow winding-staircase, and reached a little door.
A rusty key was in the lock, and when she turned it the door
sprang open, and there in a little room sat an old woman with
a spindle, busily spinning her flax.

Good day, old mother, said the king’s daughter, what are you
doing there. I am spinning, said the old woman, and nodded
her head. What sort of thing is that, that rattles round
so merrily, said the girl, and she took the spindle and wanted
to spin too. But scarcely had she touched the spindle when the
magic decree was fulfilled, and she pricked her finger with it.

And, in the very moment when she felt the prick, she fell
down upon the bed that stood there, and lay in a deep sleep.
And this sleep extended over the whole palace, the king and
queen who had just come home, and had entered the great hall,
began to go to sleep, and the whole of the court with them.
The horses, too, went to sleep in the stable, the dogs in
the yard, the pigeons upon the roof, the flies on the wall,
even the fire that was flaming on the hearth became quiet
and slept, the roast meat left off frizzling, and the
cook, who was just going to pull the hair of the scullery boy,
because he had forgotten something, let him go, and went to
sleep. And the wind fell, and on the trees before the
castle not a leaf moved again.

But round about the castle there began to grow a hedge of
thorns, which every year became higher, and at last grew
close up round the castle and all over it, so that there
was nothing of it to be seen, not even the flag upon the
roof. But the story of the beautiful sleeping briar-rose,
for so the princess was named, went about the country,
so that from time to time kings’ sons came and tried to
get through the thorny hedge into the castle.

But they found it impossible, for the thorns held fast
together, as if they had hands, and the youths were caught
in them, could not get loose again, and died a miserable
death.

After long, long years a king’s son came again to that
country, and heard an old man talking about the thorn-hedge,
and that a castle was said to stand behind it in which a
wonderfully beautiful princess, named briar-rose, had been
asleep for a hundred years, and that the king and queen and
the whole court were asleep likewise. He had heard, too,
from his grandfather, that many kings, sons had already come,
and had tried to get through the thorny hedge, but they had
remained sticking fast in it, and had died a pitiful death.

Then the youth said, I am not afraid, I will go and see
the beautiful briar-rose. The good old man might dissuade him
as he would, he did not listen to his words.

But by this time the hundred years had just passed, and the
day had come when briar-rose was to awake again. When the
king’s son came near to the thorn-hedge, it was nothing but
large and beautiful flowers, which parted from each other of
their own accord, and let him pass unhurt, then they closed
again behind him like a hedge. In the castle yard he saw the
horses and the spotted hounds lying asleep, on the roof sat
the pigeons with their heads under their wings. And when he
entered the house, the flies were asleep upon the wall, the
cook in the kitchen was still holding out his hand to seize the
boy, and the maid was sitting by the black hen which she
was going to pluck.

He went on farther, and in the great hall he saw the whole of
the court lying asleep, and up by the throne lay the king and
queen.

Then he went on still farther, and all was so quiet that a breath
could be heard, and at last he came to the tower, and opened the
door into the little room where briar-rose was sleeping.

There she lay, so beautiful that he could not turn his eyes away,
and he stooped down and gave her a kiss. But as soon as he
kissed her, briar-rose opened her eyes and awoke, and looked
at him quite sweetly.

Then they went down together, and the king awoke, and the
queen, and the whole court, and looked at each other in
great astonishment. And the horses in the courtyard stood
up and shook themselves, the hounds jumped up and wagged their
tails, the pigeons upon the roof pulled out their heads from
under their wings, looked round, and flew into the open
country, the flies on the wall crept again, the fire in the
kitchen burned up and flickered and cooked the meat, the joint
began to turn and sizzle again, and the cook gave the boy such
a box on the ear that he screamed, and the maid finished
plucking the fowl.

And then the marriage of the king’s son with briar-rose was
celebrated with all splendor, and they lived contented to the
end of their days.

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The Coyote and the Blackbirds

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The Coyote and the Blackbirds

Coyote and the Blackbirds
Coyote and the Blackbirds

Once upon a time a Coyote lived near an open wood. As he went to walk one day near the edge of the wood, he heard the Blackbirds (the Indian name means “seeds of the prairie”) calling excitedly:

“Bring my bag! Bring my bag! It is going to hail!”

The Coyote, being very curious, came near and saw that they all had buckskin bags to which they were tying lassos, the other ends of which were thrown over the boughs of the trees. Very much surprised, the Coyote came to them and asked:

“Blackbird-friends, what are you doing?”

“Oh, friend Coyote,” they replied, “we are making ourselves ready, for soon there will be a very hard hail-storm, and we do not wish to be pelted to death. We are going to get into these bags and pull ourselves up under the branches, where the hail cannot strike us.”

“That is very good,” said the Coyote, “and I would like to do so, too, if you will let me join you.”

“Oh, yes! just run home and get a bag and a lasso, and come back here and we will help you.” said the Pah-táhn, never smiling.

So the Coyote started running for home, and got a large bag and a lasso, and came back to the Blackbirds, who were waiting. They fixed the rope and bag for him, putting the noose around the neck of the bag so that it would be closed tight when the rope was pulled. Then they threw the end of the lasso over a strong branch and said:

“Now, friend Coyote, you get into your bag first, for you are so big and heavy that you cannot pull yourself up, and we will have to help you.”

The Coyote crawled into the bag, and all the Blackbirds taking hold of the rope, pulled with all their might till the bag was swung clear up under the branch. Then they tied the end of the lasso around the tree so the bag could not come down, and ran around picking up all the pebbles they could find. “Mercy! How the hail comes!” they cried excitedly, and began to throw stones at the swinging bag as hard as ever they could.

“Mercy!” howled the Coyote, as the pebbles pattered against him. “But this is a terrible storm, Blackbird-friends! It pelts me dreadfully! And how are you getting along?”

“It is truly very bad, friend Coyote,” they answered, “but you are bigger and stronger than we, and ought to endure it.” And they kept pelting him, all the time crying and chattering as if they, too, were suffering greatly from the hail.

“Ouch!” yelled the Coyote. “That one hit me very near the eye, friends! I fear this evil storm will kill us all!”

“But be brave, friend,” called back the Blackbirds. “We keep our hearts, and so should you, for you are much stronger than we.” And they pelted him all the harder.

So they kept it up until they were too tired to throw any more; and as for the Coyote, he was so bruised and sore that he could hardly move. Then they untied the rope and let the bag slowly to the ground, and loosened the noose at the neck and flew up into the trees with sober faces.

“Ow!” groaned the Coyote, “I am nearly dead!”

And he crawled weeping and groaning from the bag, and began to lick his bruises. But when he looked around and saw the sun shining and the ground dry, and not a hailstone anywhere, he knew that the Blackbirds had given him a trick, and he limped home in a terrible rage, vowing that as soon as ever he got well he would follow and eat the Blackbirds as long as he lived. And ever since, even to this day, he has been following them to eat them, and that is why the Coyote and the Blackbirds are always at war.

retold by Charles Lummis

This is a collection of stories from the Isleta Pueblo people of New Mexico. Charles Lummis [1859-1928] was a pioneering writer, photographer, amateur anthropologist and adventurer

Lummis moved to New Mexico, where he embedded himself in Pueblo culture and collected the stories originally published as The Man Who Married the Moon in 1894