English Fairy Tales

Then the stepmother hated her more for the beauty of her hair; so she said to her, “I cannot part your hair on my knee, fetch a billet of wood.” So she fetched it. Then said the stepmother, “I cannot part your hair with a comb, fetch me an axe.” So she fetched it.

“Now,” said the wicked woman, “lay your head down on the billet whilst I part your hair.”

Well! she laid down her little golden head without fear; and whist! down came the axe, and it was off. So the mother wiped the axe and laughed.

Then she took the heart and liver of the little girl, and she stewed them and brought them into the house for supper. The husband tasted them and shook his head. He said they tasted very strangely. She gave some to the little boy, but he would not eat. She tried to force him, but he refused, and ran out into the garden, and took up his little sister, and put her in a box, and buried the box under a rose-tree; and every day he went to the tree and wept, till his tears ran down on the box.

One day the rose-tree flowered. It was spring, and there among the flowers was a white bird; and it sang, and sang, and sang like an angel out of heaven. Away it flew, and it went to a cobbler's shop, and perched itself on a tree hard by; and thus it sang,

“My wicked mother slew me,My dear father ate me,My little brother whom I loveSits below, and I sing aboveStick, stock, stone dead.”

“Sing again that beautiful song,” asked the shoemaker. “If you will first give me those little red shoes you are making.” The cobbler gave the shoes, and the bird sang the song; then flew to a tree in front of a watchmaker's, and sang:

“My wicked mother slew me,My dear father ate me,My little brother whom I loveSits below, and I sing aboveStick, stock, stone dead.”

“Oh, the beautiful song! sing it again, sweet bird,” asked the watchmaker. “If you will give me first that gold watch and chain in your hand.” The jeweller gave the watch and chain. The bird took it in one foot, the shoes in the other, and, after having repeated the song, flew away to where three millers were picking a millstone. The bird perched on a tree and sang:

“My wicked mother slew me,My dear father ate me,My little brother whom I loveSits below, and I sing aboveStick!”

Then one of the men put down his tool and looked up from his work,