It happened, however, that the King appointed a festival which was to
last three days, and to which all the beautiful young girls in the
country were invited, in order that his son might choose himself a
bride. When the two step-sisters heard that they too were to appear
among the number, they were delighted, called Cinderella and said,
“Comb our hair for us, brush our shoes and fasten our buckles, for we
are going to the festival at the King’s palace.” Cinderella obeyed, but
wept, because she too would have liked to go with them to the dance,
and begged her step-mother to allow her to do so. “Thou go,
Cinderella!” said she; “Thou art dusty and dirty and wouldst go to the
festival? Thou hast no clothes and shoes, and yet wouldst dance!” As,
however, Cinderella went on asking, the step-mother at last said, “I
have emptied a dish of lentils into the ashes for thee, if thou hast
picked them out again in two hours, thou shalt go with us.” The maiden
went through the back-door into the garden, and called, “You tame
pigeons, you turtle-doves, and all you birds beneath the sky, come and
help me to pick
“The good into the pot,
The bad into the crop.”
Then two white pigeons came in by the kitchen-window, and afterwards
the turtle-doves, and at last all the birds beneath the sky, came
whirring and crowding in, and alighted amongst the ashes. And the
pigeons nodded with their heads and began pick, pick, pick, pick, and
the rest began also pick, pick, pick, pick, and gathered all the good
grains into the dish. Hardly had one hour passed before they had
finished, and all flew out again. Then the girl took the dish to her
step-mother, and was glad, and believed that now she would be allowed
to go with them to the festival. But the step-mother said, “No,
Cinderella, thou hast no clothes and thou canst not dance; thou wouldst
only be laughed at.” And as Cinderella wept at this, the step-mother
said, “If thou canst pick two dishes of lentils out of the ashes for me
in one hour, thou shalt go with us.” And she thought to herself, “That
she most certainly cannot do.” When the step-mother had emptied the two
dishes of lentils amongst the ashes, the maiden went through the
back-door into the garden and cried, You tame pigeons, you
turtle-doves, and all you birds under heaven, come and help me to pick
“The good into the pot,
The bad into the crop.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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