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Borzoi Books FOR YOUNG PEOPLE
By ROGER DUVOISIN
THE THREE SNEEZES and Other
Swiss Tales
Selected by PHYLLIS R. FENNER
TIME TO LAUGH: Funny Tales from
Here and There
THERE WAS A HORSE: Folktales from
Many Lands
By MARION LOWNDES
GHOSTS THAT STILL WALK: Real
Ghosts of America
By PATRICIA FENT ROSS
IN MEXICO THEY SAY
By HOPE BRISTER WATKINS
THE CUNNING FOX and Other Tales
Published by ALFRED • A • KNOPF
GIANTS
AND
WITCHES
and
a Dragon or Two
Copyright 1943 by Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages or reproduce not more than three illustrations in a review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper. Manufactured in the United States of America. Published simultaneously in Canada by The Ryerson Press. FIRST EDITION
THIS BOOK HAS BEEN PRODUCED
in full compliance with all government regulations for the conser-
vation of paper, metal, and other essential materials.
To the Grand Memory of
OLA
whose “Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum”
made such lovely shivers
go up and down
my spine.
THERE IS NOT A SINGLE GIANT OR witch or even a tiny dragon today, I suspect. At least, I never saw one. Perhaps I am just as well off. But take giants now—they were often rather pleasant fellows when you got to know them, especially the Irish variety like the one in JACK THE ASHYPET. English giants were out and out about things. They just hit you over the head or picked you up by the heels and dashed your brains out. Welsh giants, on the other hand, would invite you to spend the night in a friendly sort of way, then creep in with a club and whack you one while you were soundly snoring (unless you had been crafty enough to sleep in a corner). Trolls were kind of simple-minded creatures from Scandinavia, full of evil intentions but easily outwitted. I think the Albanian giants must have been the most fearsome of all. Great big fellows they were, tall as pine trees with black beards reaching to their knees. They caught men to eat and women to fan the flies away from them.
Old witches were never pleasant. They were always ugly to look at, and they seemed to be about the same no matter where they came from. They enticed little children into their homes (which were always neat with cute little beds) and then prepared to boil them. Of course, Russian witches, Baba Yagas, while they looked much the same as the others, drove about in mortars which they beat with pestles, using a broom to sweep away traces of themselves. And they lived in little houses up on chicken legs that turned round and round and round.
I’m almost sorry I never saw a dragon, for they must have been quite beautiful with the smoke and fire coming from their nostrils.
But perhaps it is just as well for all of us to sit at home quietly and read about giants and witches and dragons. So here are some of the best stories I know. I hope they will make pleasant chills go up your spine.
P.R.F.
CONTENTS
(book cover)
Borzoi Books For Young People
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Author’s Note
1. King Stork
2. Jack the Ashypet
3. Molly Whuppie
4. The Giant Who Had No Heart in His Body
5. The Hungry Old Witch
6. Billy Beg and the Bull
7. Baba Yaga
8. Peterkin and the Little Grey Hare
9. Buttercup
10. Jack and the Beanstalk
11. Hansel and Grethel
12. Jack the Giant Killer
13. The Dragon and His Grandmother
14. The Terrible Olli
15. The Hobyahs
16. Pies of a Princess
17. The Boy Who Killed the Dif
Acknowledgment
A Note on the Type
(back cover)
GIANTS
AND
WITCHES
and
a Dragon or Two
1
KING STORK
“AND THERE WAS A GREAT ONE-EYED WITCH WITH A BEARD ON HER CHIN, AND A NOSE THAT HOOKED OVER HER MOUTH LIKE THE BEAK OF A PARROT.”
There was a drummer marching along the highroad-forward march!—left, right!—tramp, tramp, tramp!—for the fighting was done, and he was coming home from the wars. By and by he came to a great wide stream of water, and there sat an old man as gnarled and as bent as the hoops in a cooper shop. “Are you going to cross the water?” said he.
“Yes,” says the drummer, “I am going to do that if my legs hold out to carry me.”
“And will you not help a poor body across?” says the old man.
Now the drummer was as good-natured a lad as ever stood on two legs. “If the young never gave a lift to the old,” says he to himself, “the wide world would not be worth while living in.” So he took off his shoes and stockings, and then bent his back and took the old man on it, and away he started through the water—splash!
But this was no common old man whom the drummer was carrying, and he was not long finding that out, for the farther he went in the water the heavier grew his load—like work put off until to-morrow—so that, when he was half-way across, his legs shook under him and the sweat stood on his forehead like a string of beads in the shop-window. But by and by he reached the other shore, and the old man jumped down from his back.
“Phew!” says die drummer, “I am glad to be here at last!”
And now for the wonder of all this: The old man was an old man no longer, but a splendid tall fellow with hair as yellow as gold. “And who do you think I am?” said he.
But of that the drummer knew no more than the mouse in the haystack, so he shook his head, and said nothing.
“I am king of the storks, and here I have sat for many days; for the wicked one-eyed witch who lives on the glass hill put it upon me for a spell that I should be an old man until somebody should carry me over the water. You are the first to do that, and you shall not lose by it. Here is a little bone whistle; whenever you are in trouble just blow a turn or two on it, and I will be by to help you.
Thereupon King Stork drew a feather cap out of his pocket and clapped it on his head, and away he flew, for he was turned into a great, long, red-legged stork as quick as a wink.
But the drummer trudged on the way he was going, as merry as a cricket, for it is not everybody who cracks his shins against such luck as he had stumbled over, I can tell you. By and by he came to the town over the hill, and there he found great bills stuck up over the walls. They were all of them proclamations. And this is what they said:
The princess of that town was as clever as she was pretty; that was saying a great deal, for she was the handsomest in the whole world. (“Phew! but that is a fine lass for sure and certain,” said the drummer.) So it was proclaimed that any lad who could answer a question the princess would ask, and would ask a question the princess could not answer, and would catch the bird that she would be wanting, should have her for his wife and half of the kingdom to boot. (“Hi! but here is luck for a clever lad,” says the drummer.) But whoever should fail in any one of the three tasks should have his head chopped off as sure as he lived. (“Ho! but she is a wicked one for all that,” says the drummer.)
That was what the proclamation said, and the drummer would have a try for her; “for,” said he, “it is a poor fellow who cannot manage a wife when he has her”—and he knew as much about that business as a goose about churning butter. As for chopping off heads, he never bothered his own about that; for, if one never goes out for fear of rain one never catches fish.
Off he went to the king’s castle as fast as he could step, and there he knocked on the door, as bold as though his own grandmother lived there.
But when the king heard what the drummer had come for, he took out his pocket-handkerchief and began to wipe his eyes, for he had a soft heart under his jacket, and it made him cry like anything to see another coming to have his head chopped off, as so many had done before him. For there they were, all along the wall in front of the princess’s window, like so many apples.
But the drummer was not to be scared away by the king’s crying a bit, so in he came, and by and by they all sat down to supper—he and the king and the princess. As for the princess, she was so pretty that the drummer’s heart melted inside of him, like a lump of butter on the stove—and that was what she was after. After a while she asked him if he had come to answer a question of hers, and to ask her a question of his, and to catch the bird that she should set him to catch.
“Yes,” said the drummer, “I have come to do that very thing.” And he spoke as boldly and as loudly as the clerk in church.
“Very well, then,” says the princess, as sweet as sugar candy, “just come along to-morrow,
Off went the drummer; he put his whistle to his lips and blew a turn or two, and there stood King Stork, and nobody knows where he stepped from.
“And what do you want?” says he.
The drummer told him everything, and how the princess was going to ask him a question to-morrow morning that he would have to answer, or have his head chopped off.
“Here you have walked into a pretty puddle, and with your eyes open,” says King Stork, for he knew that the princess was a wicked enchantress, and loved nothing so much as to get a lad into just such a scrape as the drummer had tumbled into. “But see, here is a little cap and a long feather—the cap is a dark-cap, and when you put it on your head one can see you no more than so much thin air. At twelve o’clock at night the princess will come out into the castle garden and will fly away through the air. Then throw your leg over the feather, and it will carry you wherever you want to go; and if the princess flies fast it will carry you as fast and faster.”
“Dong! Dong!” The clock struck twelve, and the princess came out of her house; but in the garden was the drummer waiting for her with the dark-cap on his head, and he saw her as plain as a pike-staff. She brought a pair of great wings which she fastened to her shoulders, and away she flew. But the drummer was as quick with his tricks as she was with hers; he flung his leg over the feather which King Stork had given him, and away he flew after her, and just as fast as she with her great wings.
By and by they came to a huge castle of shining steel that stood on a mountain of glass. And it was a good thing for the drummer that he had on his cap of darkness, for all around outside of the castle stood fiery dragons and savage lions to keep anybody from going in without leave. -
But not a thread of the drummer did they see; in he walked with the princess, and there was a great one-eyed witch with a beard on her chin, and a nose that hooked over her mouth like the beak of a parrot.
“Uff!” said she, “here is a smell of Christian blood in the house.”
“Tut, mother!”-says the princess, “how you talk! Do you not see that there is nobody with me?” For the drummer had taken care that the wind should not blow the cap of darkness off his head, I can tell you. By and by they sat down to supper, the princess and the witch, but it was little the princess ate, for as fast as anything was put on her plate the drummer helped himself to it, so that it was all gone before she could get a bite.
“Look, mother!” she said, “I eat nothing, and yet it all goes from my plate; why is that so?” But that the old witch could not tell her, for she could see nothing of the drummer.
“There was a lad came to-day to answer the question I shall put to him,” said the princess. “Now what shall I ask him by way of a question?”
“I have a tooth in the back part of my head,” said the witch, “and it has been grumbling a bit; ask him what it is you are thinking about, and let it be that.”
Yes; that was a good question and for sure and certain, and the princess would give it to the drummer tomorrow, to see what he had to say for himself. As for the drummer, you can guess how he grinned, for he heard every word that they said.
After a while the princess flew away home again, for it was nearly the break of day, and she must be back before the sun rose. And the drummer flew close behind her, but she knew nothing of that.
The next morning up he marched to the king’s castle and knocked at the door, and they let him in.
There sat the king and the princess, and lots of folks besides. Well, had he come to answer her question? That was what the princess wanted to know.
Yes; that was the very business he had come about.
Very well, this was the question, and he might have three guesses at it; what was she thinking of at that minute?
Oh, it could be no hard thing to answer such a question as that, for lasses’ heads all ran upon the same things more or less; was it a fine silk dress with glass buttons down the front that she was thinking of now?
No, it was not that.
Then, was it of a good stout lad like himself for a sweetheart, that she was thinking of?
No, it was not that.
No? Then it was the bad tooth that had been grumbling in the head of the one-eyed witch for a day or two past, perhaps.
Dear, dear! but you should have seen the princess’s face when she heard this! Up she got and off she packed without a single word, and the king saw without the help of his spectacles that the drummer had guessed right. He was so glad that he jumped up and down and snapped his fingers for joy. Besides that he gave out that bonfires should be lighted all over the town, and that was a fine thing for the little boys.
The next night the princess flew away to the house of the one-eyed witch again, but there was the drummer close behind her just as he had been before.
“Uff!” said the one-eyed witch, “here is a smell of Christian blood, for sure and certain.” But all the same, she saw no more of the drummer than if he had never been born.
“See, mother,” said the princess, “that rogue of a drummer answered my question without winking over it.”
“So,” said the old witch, “we have missed for once, but the second time hits the mark; he will be asking you a question to-morrow, and here is a book that tells everything that has happened in the world, and if he asks you more than that he is a smart one and no mistake.”
After that they sat down to supper again, but it was little the princess ate, for the drummer helped himself out of her plate just as he had done before.
After a while the princess flew away home, and the drummer with her.
“And, now, what will we ask her that she cannot answer?” said the drummer; so off he went back of the house, and blew a turn or two on his whistle, and there stood King Stork.
“And what will we ask the princess,” said he, “when she has a book that tells her everything?”
King Stork was not long in telling him that; “Just ask her so and so and so and so,” said he, “and she would not dare to answer the question.”
Well, the next morning there was the drummer at the castle all in good time; and, had he come to ask her a question? that was what the princess wanted to know.
Oh, yes, he had come for that very thing.
Very well, then, just let him begin, for the princess was ready and waiting, and she wet her thumb, and began to turn over the leaves of her Book of Knowledge.
Oh, it was an easy question the drummer was going to ask, and it needed no big book like that to answer it. The other night he dreamed that he was in a castle all built of shining steel, where there lived a witch with one eye. There was a handsome bit of a lass there who was as great a witch as the old woman herself, but for the life of him he could not tell who she was; now perhaps the princess could make a guess at it.
There the drummer had her as tight as a fly in a bottle, for she did not dare to let folks know that she was a wicked witch like the one-eyed one; so all she could do was to sit there and gnaw her lip. As for the Book of Knowledge, it was no more use to her than a fifth wheel under a cart.
But if the king was glad when the drummer answered the princess’s question, he was twice as glad when he found she could not answer his.
All the same, there is more to do yet, and many a slip betwixt the cup and the lip. “The bird I want is the oneeyed raven,” said the princess; “Now bring her to me if you want to keep your head off of the wall yonder.”
Yes, the drummer thought he might do that as well as another thing. So off he went back of the house to talk to King Stork of the matter.
“Look,” said King Stork, and he drew a net out of his pocket as fine as a cobweb and as white as milk; “take this with you when you go with the princess to the oneeyed witch’s house to-night, throw it over the witch’s head, and then see what will happen; only when you catch the one-eyed raven you are to wring her neck as soon as you lay hands on her, for if you don’t it will be the worse for you.”
Well, that night off flew the princess just as she had done before, and off flew the drummer at her heels, until they came to the witch’s house, both of them.
