"Good morning, my dear," replies the Baba Yaga. "Mother has sent me to ask you for a needle and thread to make me a shift." "Very well; sit down and weave a little in the meantime." So the girl sat down behind the loom, and the Baba Yaga went outside, and said to her servant-maid: "Go and heat the bath, and get my niece washed; and mind you look sharp after her. I want to breakfast off her." Well, the girl sat there in such a fright that she was as much dead as alive. Presently she spoke imploringly to the servant-maid, saying: "Kinswoman dear, do please wet the firewood instead of making it burn; and fetch the water for the bath in a sieve." And she made her a present of a handkerchief. The Baba Yaga waited awhile; then she came to the window and asked: "Are you weaving, niece? are you weaving, my dear?" "Oh yes, dear aunt, I'm weaving." So the Baba Yaga went away again, and the girl gave the Cat a piece of bacon, and asked: "Is there no way of escaping from here?" "Here's a comb for you and a towel," said the Cat; "take them, and be off. The Baba Yaga will pursue you, but you must lay your ear on the ground, and when you hear that she is close at hand, first of all throw down the towel. It will become a wide, wide river. And if the Baba Yaga gets across the river, and tries to catch you, then you must lay your ear on the ground again, and when you hear that she is close at hand, throw down the comb. It will become a dense, dense forest; through that she won't be able to force her way anyhow." The girl took the towel and the comb and fled. The dogs would have rent her, but she threw them the rolls, and they let her go by; the doors would have begun to bang, but she poured oil on their hinges, and they let her pass through; the birch-tree would have poked her eyes out, but she tied the ribbon around it, and it let her pass on. And the Cat sat down to the loom, and worked away; muddled everything about, if it didn't do much weaving. Up came the Baba Yaga to the window, and asked: "Are you weaving, niece? are you weaving, my dear?" "I'm weaving, dear aunt, I'm weaving," gruffly replied the Cat.