‘We will first go and see our own dear grandmother, and tell her where our step-mother is sending us.’
And when the grandmother heard where they were going, she cried and said:
‘You poor motherless children! How I pity you; and yet I can do nothing to help you! Your step-mother is not sending you to her granny, but to a wicked witch who lives in that great gloomy wood. Now listen to me, children. You must be civil and kind to everyone, and never say a cross word to anyone, and never touch a crumb belonging to anyone else. Who knows if, after all, help may not be sent to you?’
And she gave her grandchildren a bottle of milk and a piece of ham and a loaf of bread, and they set out for the great gloomy wood. When they reached it they saw in front of them, in the thickest of the trees, a queer little hut, and when they looked into it, there lay the witch, with her head on the threshold of the door, with one foot in one corner and the other in the other corner, and her knees cocked up, almost touching the ceiling.
‘Who’s there?’ she snarled, in an awful voice, when she saw the children.
And they answered civilly, though they were so terrified that they hid behind one another, and said:
‘Good-morning, granny; our step-mother has sent us to wait upon you, and serve you.’
‘See that you do it well, then,’ growled the witch. ‘If I am pleased with you, I’ll reward you; but if I am not, I’ll put you in a pan and fry you in the oven—that’s what I’ll do with you, my pretty dears! You have been gently reared, but you’ll find my work hard enough. See if you don’t.’
And, so saying, she set the girl down to spin yarn, and she gave the boy a sieve in which to carry water from the well, and she herself went out into the wood. Now, as the girl was sitting at her distaff, weeping bitterly because she could not spin, she heard the sound of hundreds of little feet, and from every hole and corner in the hut mice came pattering along the floor, squeaking and saying:
‘Little girl, why are your eyes so red?
If you want help, then give us some bread.’