The Geese-Swans

Once there lived an old man and an old woman; they had a daughter and a little son.

“Daughter, daughter!” the mother said. “We are going to work. We will bring you a bun, sew you a little dress, and buy you a kerchief. Be good, look after your little brother, and do not leave the yard.”

The grown-ups left, but the daughter forgot what she had been told. She sat her little brother on the grass beneath the window, then ran outside and became absorbed in her games. The geese-swans swooped down, seized the boy, and carried him away on their wings. The girl came back and saw that her brother was gone! She gasped and rushed here and there, but he was nowhere to be found. She called for him, wept bitterly, and wailed that she would be in trouble with her father and mother, but her little brother did not answer. She ran out into the open field. Far away, the geese-swans flashed past and vanished beyond the dark forest. The geese-swans had long had a bad name: they caused much mischief and stole little children. The girl realized that they had taken her brother and rushed after them. She ran and ran until she came to a stove.

“Stove, stove, tell me which way the geese flew.”

“Eat my rye pie, and I will tell you.”

“Oh, at my father’s house even wheat pies go uneaten!”

The stove did not tell her. She ran farther and came to an apple tree.

“Apple tree, apple tree, tell me which way the geese flew.”

“Eat my wild apple, and I will tell you.”

“Oh, at my father’s house even orchard apples go uneaten!”

She ran farther and came to a river of milk with banks of kissel.

“River of milk with banks of kissel, which way did the geese fly?”

“Eat some of my plain kissel with milk, and I will tell you.”

“Oh, at my father’s house even cream goes uneaten!”

She might have run through the fields and wandered through the forest for a long time, but luckily she met a hedgehog. She wanted to push him aside, but was afraid of being pricked, so she asked:

“Hedgehog, hedgehog, did you see which way the geese flew?”

“Over that way!” he said, pointing.

She ran on and came to a little hut standing on chicken legs, turning round and round. Inside the hut sat Baba Yaga, with a sinewy face and a leg of clay. Her little brother sat on a bench, playing with golden apples. The girl saw him, crept up, seized him, and carried him away. But the geese flew after her in pursuit. The villains were gaining on her—where could she hide? There flowed the river of milk with banks of kissel.

“Mother River, hide me!”

“Eat some of my kissel!”

There was nothing else to do, so she ate it. The river sheltered her beneath its bank, and the geese flew past. She came out, said, “Thank you!” and ran on again with her brother. But the geese turned back and flew toward them. What could she do? Trouble! There stood the apple tree.

“Apple tree, dear mother apple tree, hide me!”

“Eat my wild apple!”

She quickly ate it. The apple tree screened her with its branches and covered her with its leaves, and the geese flew past. She came out and ran on again with her brother, but the geese saw them and chased after her. They were almost upon them, beating their wings, ready at any moment to snatch him from her arms! Luckily, the stove stood beside the road.

“Madam Stove, hide me!”

“Eat my rye pie!”

The girl quickly put the pie into her mouth and climbed into the stove, sitting just inside its opening. The geese circled and circled, cried and cried, and finally flew away empty-handed. She ran home, and it was a good thing she arrived in time, for just then her father and mother returned.