Michal really believed that Pirka had come straight out of the water, although her clothes and boots were quite dry.
"Eh, what great supper are we getting ready yonder!" cried Pirka, catching sight of the army of pots on the hearth. Then she looked into them all, one after the other. "Water, water, nothing but boiling water. Well, well! let us put something into one of them that we may have a little good broth."
With that she took out of her knapsack a handful of scraps of paper, and threw them into the boiling water.
"These are names clipped out of the perpetual almanac," whispered she to Michal, with a grin. "The first that comes to the surface will be the name of our beloved."
Then she took a ladle, and fished out the first piece of paper which appeared on the surface of the boiling water. Michal, she said, was to see what was written on it.
Michal took the scrap, and read aloud the name:
"Valentine!"
In her terror she threw it back into the flames.
But the flames, so far from consuming the wet scrap of paper, tossed it up into the air, and the name of the beloved one flew up the chimney with the smoke.
"It won't burn, ladykin!" laughed Pirka. "Hocus-pocus! there it is again!"