"Have a care! Do not take anything from her that you can help. She is meaning to fatten us and cook us,"—which was the exact truth. At that moment, Hänsel got clear of the rope which had been about his neck and ran to Gretel, but the old witch pointed at them a stick which had been hanging at her girdle, and instantly they found themselves spellbound. She repeated this blood-curdling rhyme, and there they stood, quite helpless:
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Hocus pocus, witches' charm! Move not as you fear my arm. Back or forward, do not try, Fixed you are, by the evil eye! |
And "fixed" they were. Now, right in the middle of the forenoon, it began to grow horribly dark, and as it darkened, the little knob on the end of her stick began to glow brilliantly, and as Hänsel watched it, fascinated, the witch gradually led him, by the stick's charm, into the stable, and fastened him in. Then the knob of the stick gradually ceased to glow, and Gretel was still standing there.
"Now while I feed Hänsel up till he is plump as a partridge, you stand where you are," said the witch, and into the house she went. Gretel stood horrified, and Hänsel whispered to her:
"Don't speak loud, and be very watchful, Gretelkin. Pretend to do everything the witch commands, yet be very watchful. There she comes again"; and so she did, with a basket full of raisins and other things for him to eat. She stuck good things into his mouth, as if she were fattening a Strasburg goose, and after that she disenchanted Gretel with a juniper branch.
"Now, then, you go and set the table," she ordered, then turning again to Hänsel she found him apparently asleep.
"That's good! It is a way to grow fat," she grinned. "I'll just begin my supper with Gretel. She looks quite plump enough as she is. Here, my love," she cried, opening the oven door, and sniffing some gingerbread figures within, "just look into the oven and tell me if it is hot enough to bake in," she called.
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Oh, when from the oven I take her, She'll look like a cake from the baker, |
the old wretch giggled to herself. But Gretel pretended not to hear her; and after all, she thought the oven not quite hot enough to push Gretel into, so she began jabbering about the witch's ride she was going to have that night at twelve, on her broomstick. As she thought about it she became very enthusiastic, and getting upon her broom she went galloping about the house and back. When she got through performing in this outrageous manner—which fairly froze Gretel's blood in her veins—the old witch tickled Hänsel with a birch-twig till he woke.
"Here, my little darling, show me your tongue," she said, and Hänsel stuck out his tongue as if the doctor had been called to investigate his liver. "My, but you are in fine condition," the old wretch mumbled smacking her lips. "Let me see your thumb," she demanded, and instead of sticking out his plump thumb, Hänsel poked a tiny bone through the bars of the cage. "Oh! how lean and scraggy! You won't do yet"; and she called to Gretel to bring more food for him, and there she stopped to stuff him again. Then she again opened the oven door, looking all the while at Gretel.