"Grr," says Baba Yaga, and jumps for the cat, and begins banging it about. "Why didn't you tear the little girl's eyes out?"
"In all the years I have served you," says the cat, "you have only given me one little bone; but the kind little girl gave me scraps of meat."
Baba Yaga threw the cat into a corner, and went out into the yard.
"Why didn't you squeak when she opened you?" she asked the gates.
"Why didn't you tear her to pieces?" she asked the dog.
"Why didn't you beat her in the face, and not let her go by?" she asked the birch tree.
"Why were you so long in getting the bath ready? If you had been quicker, she never would have got away," said Baba Yaga to the servant.
And she rushed about the yard, beating them all, and scolding at the top of her voice.
"Ah!" said the gates, "in all the years we have served you, you never even eased us with water; but the kind little girl poured good oil into our hinges."