Now as the king to whom the wood belonged was hunting in it, his dogs
came to the tree, and began to snuff about, and run round and round, and
bark. ‘Look sharp!’ said the king to the huntsmen, ‘and see what sort
of game lies there.’ And the huntsmen went up to the tree, and when they
came back again said, ‘In the hollow tree there lies a most wonderful
beast, such as we never saw before; its skin seems to be of a thousand
kinds of fur, but there it lies fast asleep.’ ‘See,’ said the king, ‘if
you can catch it alive, and we will take it with us.’ So the huntsmen
took it up, and the maiden awoke and was greatly frightened, and said,
‘I am a poor child that has neither father nor mother left; have pity on
me and take me with you.’ Then they said, ‘Yes, Miss Cat-skin, you will
do for the kitchen; you can sweep up the ashes, and do things of that
sort.’ So they put her into the coach, and took her home to the king’s
palace. Then they showed her a little corner under the staircase, where
no light of day ever peeped in, and said, ‘Cat-skin, you may lie and
sleep there.’ And she was sent into the kitchen, and made to fetch wood
and water, to blow the fire, pluck the poultry, pick the herbs, sift the
ashes, and do all the dirty work.
Thus Cat-skin lived for a long time very sorrowfully. ‘Ah! pretty
princess!’ thought she, ‘what will now become of thee?’ But it happened
one day that a feast was to be held in the king’s castle, so she said to
the cook, ‘May I go up a little while and see what is going on? I will
take care and stand behind the door.’ And the cook said, ‘Yes, you may
go, but be back again in half an hour’s time, to rake out the ashes.’
Then she took her little lamp, and went into her cabin, and took off the
fur skin, and washed the soot from off her face and hands, so that her
beauty shone forth like the sun from behind the clouds. She next opened
her nutshell, and brought out of it the dress that shone like the sun,
and so went to the feast. Everyone made way for her, for nobody knew
her, and they thought she could be no less than a king’s daughter. But
the king came up to her, and held out his hand and danced with her; and
he thought in his heart, ‘I never saw any one half so beautiful.’
When the dance was at an end she curtsied; and when the king looked
round for her, she was gone, no one knew wither. The guards that stood
at the castle gate were called in: but they had seen no one. The truth
was, that she had run into her little cabin, pulled off her dress,
blackened her face and hands, put on the fur-skin cloak, and was
Cat-skin again. When she went into the kitchen to her work, and began
to rake the ashes, the cook said, ‘Let that alone till the morning, and
heat the king’s soup; I should like to run up now and give a peep: but
take care you don’t let a hair fall into it, or you will run a chance of
never eating again.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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