The Blue Fairy Book
The poor man, knowing very well that he must not play tricks with
Ogresses, took his great knife and went up into little Morning’s
chamber. She was then four years old, and came up to him jumping and
laughing, to take him about the neck, and ask him for some sugar-candy.
Upon which he began to weep, the great knife fell out of his hand, and
he went into the back yard, and killed a little lamb, and dressed it
with such good sauce that his mistress assured him that she had never
eaten anything so good in her life. He had at the same time taken up
little Morning, and carried her to his wife, to conceal her in the
lodging he had at the bottom of the courtyard.
About eight days afterward the wicked Queen said to the clerk of the
kitchen, “I will sup on little Day.”
He answered not a word, being resolved to cheat her as he had done
before. He went to find out little Day, and saw him with a little foil
in his hand, with which he was fencing with a great monkey, the child
being then only three years of age. He took him up in his arms and
carried him to his wife, that she might conceal him in her chamber along
with his sister, and in the room of little Day cooked up a young kid,
very tender, which the Ogress found to be wonderfully good.
This was hitherto all mighty well; but one evening this wicked Queen
said to her clerk of the kitchen:
“I will eat the Queen with the same sauce I had with her children.”
It was now that the poor clerk of the kitchen despaired of being able
to deceive her. The young Queen was turned of twenty, not reckoning the
hundred years she had been asleep; and how to find in the yard a beast
so firm was what puzzled him. He took then a resolution, that he might
save his own life, to cut the Queen’s throat; and going up into her
chamber, with intent to do it at once, he put himself into as great
fury as he could possibly, and came into the young Queen’s room with his
dagger in his hand. He would not, however, surprise her, but told
her, with a great deal of respect, the orders he had received from the
Queen-mother.
“Do it; do it” (said she, stretching out her neck). “Execute your
orders, and then I shall go and see my children, my poor children, whom
I so much and so tenderly loved.”
For she thought them dead ever since they had been taken away without
her knowledge.
“No, no, madam” (cried the poor clerk of the kitchen, all in tears);
“you shall not die, and yet you shall see your children again; but then
you must go home with me to my lodgings, where I have concealed them,
and I shall deceive the Queen once more, by giving her in your stead a
young hind.”
Upon this he forthwith conducted her to his chamber, where, leaving her
to embrace her children, and cry along with them, he went and dressed a
young hind, which the Queen had for her supper, and devoured it with
the same appetite as if it had been the young Queen. Exceedingly was
she delighted with her cruelty, and she had invented a story to tell the
King, at his return, how the mad wolves had eaten up the Queen his wife
and her two children.
One evening, as she was, according to her custom, rambling round about
the courts and yards of the palace to see if she could smell any fresh
meat, she heard, in a ground room, little Day crying, for his mamma was
going to whip him, because he had been naughty; and she heard, at the
same time, little Morning begging pardon for her brother.
The Ogress presently knew the voice of the Queen and her children, and
being quite mad that she had been thus deceived, she commanded next
morning, by break of day (with a most horrible voice, which made
everybody tremble), that they should bring into the middle of the great
court a large tub, which she caused to be filled with toads, vipers,
snakes, and all sorts of serpents, in order to have thrown into it the
Queen and her children, the clerk of the kitchen, his wife and maid;
all whom she had given orders should be brought thither with their hands
tied behind them.
They were brought out accordingly, and the executioners were just going
to throw them into the tub, when the King (who was not so soon expected)
entered the court on horseback (for he came post) and asked, with the
utmost astonishment, what was the meaning of that horrible spectacle.
No one dared to tell him, when the Ogress, all enraged to see what had
happened, threw herself head foremost into the tub, and was instantly
devoured by the ugly creatures she had ordered to be thrown into it for
others. The King could not but be very sorry, for she was his mother;
but he soon comforted himself with his beautiful wife and his pretty
children.
CINDERELLA, OR THE LITTLE GLASS SLIPPER
Once there was a gentleman who married, for his second wife, the
proudest and most haughty woman that was ever seen. She had, by a former
husband, two daughters of her own humor, who were, indeed, exactly like
her in all things. He had likewise, by another wife, a young daughter,
but of unparalleled goodness and sweetness of temper, which she took
from her mother, who was the best creature in the world.
No sooner were the ceremonies of the wedding over but the mother-in-law
began to show herself in her true colors. She could not bear the good
qualities of this pretty girl, and the less because they made her own
daughters appear the more odious. She employed her in the meanest work
of the house: she scoured the dishes, tables, etc., and scrubbed madam’s
chamber, and those of misses, her daughters; she lay up in a sorry
garret, upon a wretched straw bed, while her sisters lay in fine rooms,
with floors all inlaid, upon beds of the very newest fashion, and where
they had looking-glasses so large that they might see themselves at
their full length from head to foot.
The poor girl bore all patiently, and dared not tell her father, who
would have rattled her off; for his wife governed him entirely. When she
had done her work, she used to go into the chimney-corner, and sit down
among cinders and ashes, which made her commonly be called Cinderwench;
but the youngest, who was not so rude and uncivil as the eldest, called
her Cinderella. However, Cinderella, notwithstanding her mean apparel,
was a hundred times handsomer than her sisters, though they were always
dressed very richly.
It happened that the King’s son gave a ball, and invited all persons of
fashion to it. Our young misses were also invited, for they cut a very
grand figure among the quality. They were mightily delighted at this
invitation, and wonderfully busy in choosing out such gowns, petticoats,
and head-clothes as might become them. This was a new trouble to
Cinderella; for it was she who ironed her sisters’ linen, and plaited
their ruffles; they talked all day long of nothing but how they should
be dressed.
“For my part,” said the eldest, “I will wear my red velvet suit with
French trimming.”
“And I,” said the youngest, “shall have my usual petticoat; but then,
to make amends for that, I will put on my gold-flowered manteau, and my
diamond stomacher, which is far from being the most ordinary one in the
world.”
They sent for the best tire-woman they could get to make up their
head-dresses and adjust their double pinners, and they had their red
brushes and patches from Mademoiselle de la Poche.
Cinderella was likewise called up to them to be consulted in all these
matters, for she had excellent notions, and advised them always for the
best, nay, and offered her services to dress their heads, which they
were very willing she should do. As she was doing this, they said to
her:
“Cinderella, would you not be glad to go to the ball?”
“Alas!” said she, “you only jeer me; it is not for such as I am to go
thither.”
“Thou art in the right of it,” replied they; “it would make the people
laugh to see a Cinderwench at a ball.”
Anyone but Cinderella would have dressed their heads awry, but she was
very good, and dressed them perfectly well They were almost two days
without eating, so much were they transported with joy. They broke above
a dozen laces in trying to be laced up close, that they might have a
fine slender shape, and they were continually at their looking-glass.
At last the happy day came; they went to Court, and Cinderella followed
them with her eyes as long as she could, and when she had lost sight of
them, she fell a-crying.
Her godmother, who saw her all in tears, asked her what was the matter.
“I wish I could--I wish I could--“; she was not able to speak the rest,
being interrupted by her tears and sobbing.
This godmother of hers, who was a fairy, said to her, “Thou wishest thou
couldst go to the ball; is it not so?”
“Y--es,” cried Cinderella, with a great sigh.
“Well,” said her godmother, “be but a good girl, and I will contrive
that thou shalt go.” Then she took her into her chamber, and said to
her, “Run into the garden, and bring me a pumpkin.”
Cinderella went immediately to gather the finest she could get, and
brought it to her godmother, not being able to imagine how this pumpkin
could make her go to the ball. Her godmother scooped out all the inside
of it, having left nothing but the rind; which done, she struck it with
her wand, and the pumpkin was instantly turned into a fine coach, gilded
all over with gold.
She then went to look into her mouse-trap, where she found six mice, all
alive, and ordered Cinderella to lift up a little the trapdoor, when,
giving each mouse, as it went out, a little tap with her wand, the mouse
was that moment turned into a fine horse, which altogether made a very
fine set of six horses of a beautiful mouse-colored dapple-gray. Being
at a loss for a coachman,
“I will go and see,” says Cinderella, “if there is never a rat in the
rat-trap--we may make a coachman of him.”
“Thou art in the right,” replied her godmother; “go and look.”
Cinderella brought the trap to her, and in it there were three huge
rats. The fairy made choice of one of the three which had the largest
beard, and, having touched him with her wand, he was turned into a fat,
jolly coachman, who had the smartest whiskers eyes ever beheld. After
that, she said to her:
“Go again into the garden, and you will find six lizards behind the
watering-pot, bring them to me.”
She had no sooner done so but her godmother turned them into six
footmen, who skipped up immediately behind the coach, with their
liveries all bedaubed with gold and silver, and clung as close behind
each other as if they had done nothing else their whole lives. The Fairy
then said to Cinderella:
“Well, you see here an equipage fit to go to the ball with; are you not
pleased with it?”
“Oh! yes,” cried she; “but must I go thither as I am, in these nasty
rags?”
Her godmother only just touched her with her wand, and, at the same
instant, her clothes were turned into cloth of gold and silver, all
beset with jewels. This done, she gave her a pair of glass slippers, the
prettiest in the whole world. Being thus decked out, she got up into her
coach; but her godmother, above all things, commanded her not to stay
till after midnight, telling her, at the same time, that if she stayed
one moment longer, the coach would be a pumpkin again, her horses mice,
her coachman a rat, her footmen lizards, and her clothes become just as
they were before.
She promised her godmother she would not fail of leaving the ball before
midnight; and then away she drives, scarce able to contain herself for
joy. The King’s son who was told that a great princess, whom nobody
knew, was come, ran out to receive her; he gave her his hand as she
alighted out of the coach, and led her into the ball, among all the
company. There was immediately a profound silence, they left off