“Leave it to me; leave it to me,” said the old woman. “Are you not my nursling?”
So the next time the Sun came to see his sister the old woman changed her into a little cake, and hid her under the ashes as if to bake.
In came the Sun and looked about him. “Good nurse, I am tired and hungry,” said he. “Have you nothing here for me to eat?”
“There is bread and wine yonder on the shelf.”
“Nay, I know of something that suits me better than that,” said the Sun, and he uncovered the white cake that lay among the ashes and made as though to eat it.
“Oh, my brother, spare me!” cried the cake.
“What!” cried the Sun, pretending to be very much surprised. “Can it be that this is not a cake at all, but the beautiful Helen, who has taken this form?”
Then Helen was obliged to take her own form again, and so beautiful did she appear with the silvery ashes powdering her golden hair that the Sun was more determined upon the marriage than ever.
After he had gone, Helen began to reproach the nurse because her magic had been of so little avail.
“Do not grieve to death because of that,” said the old woman, “for I have better magic than that in my head. The next time the Sun comes to visit you we will be in the garden and I will change you into a blade of grass, and among all the other blades he will be sure not to find you.”