Then Vasilísa buried the skull in the earth, locked the house up, and went into the town. And she asked a poor old woman to take her home and to give her food until her father came back; she said to the old woman, “Mother, sitting here idle makes me feel dull. Go and buy me some of the very best flax; I should like to spin.” So the old woman went and bought good flax. Vasilísa set herself to work, and the work went merrily along, and the skein was as smooth and as fine as hair, and when she had a great deal of yarn, no one would undertake the weaving, so she turned to her doll, who said: “Bring me some old comb from somewhere, some old spindle, some old shuttle, and some horse mane; and I will do it for you.” Vasilísa went to bed, and the doll in that night made a splendid spinning stool; and by the end of the winter all the linen had been woven, and it was so fine that it could be drawn like a thread through the eye of a needle. And in the spring they bleached the linen, and Vasilísa said to the old mistress: “Go and sell the cloth, and keep the money for yourself.” The old woman saw the cloth and admired it, and said: “Oh, my child! nobody except the Tsar could ever wear such fine linen; I will take it to Court.” The old woman went to the Tsar’s palace, and kept walking up and down in front of it. The Tsar saw her and said: “Oh, woman, what do you want?” “Almighty Tsar, I am bringing you some wonderful goods, which I will show to nobody except you.” The Tsar ordered the old woman to be given audience, and as soon as ever he had seen the linen he admired it very much. “What do you want for it?” he asked her. “It is priceless, Bátyushka,” she said; “I will give it you as a present.” And the Tsar thought it over and sent her away with rich rewards. Now the Tsar wanted to have shirts made out of this same linen, but he could not find any seamstress to undertake the work. And he thought for long, and at last he sent for the old woman again, and said: “If you can spin this linen and weave it, perhaps you can make a shirt out of it?” “I cannot weave and spin the linen,” said the old woman; “only a maiden can who is staying with me.” “Well, she may do the work.” So the woman went home and told Vasilísa everything. “I knew that I should have to do the work!” said Vasilísa. And she locked herself up in her little room, set to work, and never put her hands again on her lap until she had sewn a dozen shirts. The old woman brought the Tsar the shirts, and Vasilísa washed and combed herself, dressed herself, and sat down at the window, and waited. Then there came a henchman of the Tsar’s, entered the room and said: “The Tsar would fain see the artist who has sewn him the shirts, and he wants to reward her with his own hands.” Vasilísa the Fair went to the Tsar. When he saw her, he fell deep in love with her. “No, fairest damsel; I will never part from you. You must be my wife.”