The Priest’s Farmhand

In a certain village, a priest hired a farmhand and sent him out to plough with a little female dog. He gave him a whole round loaf of bread and said:

“Here, farmhand. See that you eat your fill and the little dog eats hers, but keep the loaf whole.”

The farmhand took it and went out to the field. When he arrived, he began to plough. He ploughed and ploughed, until it seemed high time for a bite to eat: his stomach was twisting with hunger. But what could he do about the priest’s orders? Hunger shows no mercy, though it can teach you a thing or two. At last the farmhand thought of a plan, and a promising one it was! Well, that was how he would do it. He carefully lifted the top crust off the loaf, pulled out all the soft bread inside, ate his fill and fed the little dog. Then he put the crusts back together as they had been and went on ploughing until evening, as if nothing had happened, without a care in the world. It was growing dark, so he set off home. When he arrived, the priest was already waiting at the gate and asked:

“Well, farmhand, have you eaten your fill?”

He said:

“I have.”

The priest asked again:

“And has the little dog eaten hers?”

The farmhand said:

“She has.”

The priest asked again:

“And is the loaf whole?”

The farmhand said:

“It is! Here you are, Father, all in one piece.”

The priest took a good look, burst out laughing and said:

“You rascal, what a clever fellow you are! Looking at you, I can see you’ll do well. I like your ways and your quick wits. You’ve managed it nicely, well done! Stay here and work for me. You’re just the sort I need.”

He kept the farmhand and paid him more than they had agreed, for the lad was bold and spirited and wonderfully quick-witted. From then on, life was one long Maslenitsa feast for the farmhand: he could have gone on living for ever!