Furicchia was now a famous egg-wife, and the more eggs she sold, the more eggs Coccodé laid. The little hen was both willing and industrious, and loved her kind mistress so dearly that she was never so happy as when helping to make her fortune. Her pride in Furicchia’s first silk gown was comical to witness; she rustled her wings against its handsome folds, and clucked so loudly that the neighbours heard, and came to see what was the matter.
This silken gown it was that roused the anger of the Signora, a wealthy woman who had much, and knew no better than to want more. Hearing of the prodigious number of eggs which Furicchia supplied, though no one had ever seen her with other than a single hen, she set afoot much scandal concerning her, ending by declaring her to be an evil Witch. At this, Furicchia’s neighbours began to look askance at her; but the eggs were so good, and so moderate in price, that on second thoughts they decided to treat the Signora’s hints with the contempt which they deserved.
This made the lady still more angry; she resolved to find out Furicchia’s secret, and ruin her if she could, so that she might obtain her customers for her own eggs. Coccodé was quite aware of what was going on, and before her mistress went out one morning she bade her fetch certain herbs that grew on a corner of barren land, and put these on the fire in a pot of wine.
‘And now, dear mistress,’ she continued, when all had been done as she said, ‘do you go out and trust your luck to Coccodé.’
Furicchia had not long been gone, when the Signora’s crafty face peeped slyly round the door. Finding the room apparently empty, she hurried in, delighted at such an opportunity for prying. First she peered here, and then she peered there, ransacking Furicchia’s chests, and even turning over the leaves of her holy books, that she might see if an incantation to Witches had been written therein. Finally, she raised the latch of the inner chamber, where she had heard Coccodé clucking.
‘I have found out Furicchia’s secret now,’ she thought with glee. ‘Her little white hen is under a spell, and she and it shall be burnt as Witches.’
Coccodé was sitting on a pile of eggs that reached almost up to the ceiling, and even as she clucked she was laying more. The Signora drew close to her, and listened with all her ears, for she had distinguished words amidst her cluckings, and immediately jumped to the conclusion that Coccodé believed herself to be addressing her mistress. This is what she heard:
‘Coccodé! now there are nine!
Bring me quickly the warm red wine.
Coccodé! take them away
Many more for thee will I lay.
And thou shalt be a lady grand,
As fine as any in the land,
And should it happen that any one
Drinks of the wine as I have done,
Eggs like me she shall surely lay;
This is the secret, this is the way,
Coccodé! Coccodé!’[4]
‘Aha!’ said the Signora joyfully, ‘now I have it!’ And running back to the outer room, she lifted the wine off the fire and drank it, every drop, though it scalded her throat and made her choke. As it coursed through her veins she felt a most extraordinary sensation, and hurried home as quickly as she could. A meal was laid on the table, but she found great difficulty in taking her usual place, and could eat nothing but some brown bread, which she pecked at in a most curious manner. As the charm began to work, her legs grew thinner and thinner, and her feet so large that she had to cut off her boots. Next, her brown silk dress became a bundle of draggled feathers, while her nose turned into a beak, and her voice into a discordant cluck; in short, she was just a scraggy brown hen, and her friends held up their hands in horror. Eggs she laid by the score, but before she could sit on them they turned to mice and ran away. So she had nothing for all her trouble; and though she possessed a handsome house, she could only perch in a barn.
This is what comes of greed and envy, and of meddling with other people’s business.”