Wonder Stories: The Best Myths for Boys and Girls

by Carolyn Sherwin Bailey

The afternoon was passing and it would soon be dusk. The strangers, tired and half famished, climbed a hill on the edge of the village and came at last upon a little cottage set there among the trees. It was a very poor and humble cottage, thatched with straw, and barely large enough for the two old peasants, Philemon and his wife, Baucis, who lived there. But it opened at once when the strangers knocked to let in the two strangers.

"We have come to-day from a far country," the one who seemed to be the older of the two explained.

"And we have not touched food since yesterday," added the younger one who might have been his son.

"Then you are welcome to whatever we have to offer you," said Philemon. "We are as poor as the birds that nest in the straw of our eaves, but my old wife, Baucis, can prepare a meal from very little which may perhaps serve you if you are hungry. Come in, and share with us whatever we have."

The two guests crossed the humble threshold, bowing their heads in order to pass beneath the low lintel, and Baucis offered them a seat and begged them to try and feel at home.

The day had grown chilly and the old woman raked out the coals from the ashes, covered them with leaves and dry bark, and blew the fire into flame with her scanty breath. Then she brought some split sticks and dry branches from a corner where she had kept them like a treasure and put them under the kettle that hung over the fire. Afterward, she spread a white cloth on the table.

As Baucis made these preparations, Philemon went out to their small garden and gathered the last of the pot-herbs. Baucis put these to boil in the kettle and Philemon cut a piece from their last flitch of bacon and put it in to flavor the herbs. A bowl carved from beech wood was filled with warm water that the strangers might be refreshed by bathing their faces, and then Baucis tremblingly made the preparations for serving the meal.

The guests were to sit on the only bench which the cottage afforded and Baucis laid a cushion stuffed with seaweed on it and over the cushion she spread a piece of embroidered cloth, ancient and coarse, but one that she used only on great occasions. One of the legs of the table was shorter than the other, but Philemon placed a flat stone under it to make it level, and Baucis rubbed sweet smelling herbs over the entire top of the table. Then she placed the food before the strangers, the steaming, savory herbs, olives from the wild trees of Minerva, some sweet berries preserved in vinegar, cheese, radishes, and eggs cooked lightly in the ashes. It was served in earthen dishes and beside the guests stood an earthenware pitcher and two wooden cups.

There could hardly have been a more appetizing supper, and the kindly cheer of the two old peasants made it seem even more delectable. The guests ate hungrily and when they had emptied the dishes Baucis brought a bowl of rosy apples and a comb of wild honey for dessert. She noticed that the two seemed to be enjoying their milk hugely and it made her anxious, for the pitcher had not been more than half full. They filled their cups again and again and drained them.

"They will finish the milk and ask for more," Baucis thought, "and I have not another drop."