"Off with you both to the wood!" she cried. "And hurry up, too! Pick strawberries for supper! If the basket isn't full, you'll get a whipping. Yes, that's what you'll get." She shook her fist to make the admonition more impressive.
Scarcely had they gone, however, when the woman, completely exhausted, sat down by the table and began to weep and moan. You see, she was really not an ill-natured woman at all. Poverty had embittered her, and the mere thought that her children might be starving, caused her to lose entire control of her feelings. It had been a long, wearisome, and disappointing day, and now, even at its end, her own irritability had caused another calamity. Angry with herself, the world, and everything, she rested her head on her arms and sobbed herself to sleep.
Do you know the old verse, "It is always darkest just before dawn"? Now, if the mother had been patient only a little longer, all would have been well. But then there would have been no story to tell.
The mother was still sleeping when the father came home. He was singing joyfully, and he awoke her with a kiss.
"See," he cried happily, "my brooms are all sold. There was a festival in the town to-day, and every one must needs be clean. Such a sweeping and a dusting and a cleaning! I drove a roaring trade, I tell you. So, here's butter and eggs and ham and sausage. And tea, too. Hurry up, good wife, and get supper ready!"
The mother packed away the things. She lighted the fire. She hustled and bustled about. Suddenly the father, missing the children, inquired:
"Where are Haensel and Gretel?" He went to the door to call.
"Don't call," answered the mother. "They were naughty, and I sent them to the woods in disgrace."
"The woods!" exclaimed the father, and his voice was full of horror.
"It is growing dark," he said, "and my children are in those gloomy woods without stars or moon to guide them! Don't you know that there is enchantment in those woods? Don't you know that the Witch walks there?" His voice sank to a whisper.