pillow and said, ‘Listen, Vasilisa. Remember these last words of mine and do as I say. I’m dying now and together with my parental blessing I give you this doll. Keep the doll with you wherever you go, but never show her to anyone. When you meet trouble, just give her some food and ask her advice. First she’ll have something to eat. Then she’ll tell you how to help your unhappiness.’ And the mother kissed her daughter and died.
When the merchant had finished mourning his wife, he decided to marry again. He was a good, kind man, and there were plenty of young women who’d have been only too glad to marry him. Instead, however, he chose a widow. She was no longer young, and she had two daughters who were almost the same age as Vasilisa. He thought she’d make a good housekeeper and mother, but he was mistaken. Vasilisa was the most beautiful girl in the village, and her stepmother and stepsisters were jealous of her. They thought she’d grow ugly if she were outside all day in the sun and wind, so they gave her all the work they could find. The girl had a hard life.
But Vasilisa did as she was told and never complained. And with every day she grew plumper and more beautiful. Her stepmother and stepsisters could see this, and their envy made them grow thinner and uglier – even though they just sat around the whole time like ladies, with their arms folded.
So how did all this come about? But for the doll, things would have been very different indeed. Some days Vasilisa ate nothing at all. She’d wait until everyone was in bed in the evening and then go up to her attic with some special titbit for the doll. ‘Here, doll! I’ve brought you some food. Listen to me now. This stepmother of mine’s going to be the death of me. Tell me how I can live and what I must do!’ First the doll would eat. Then she would talk to Vasilisa and comfort her in her grief. And in the morning she would do all her work for her. Vasilisa would lie down in the shade, or perhaps pick flowers, while the doll weeded the beds, watered the cabbages, went to the well and lit the stove. The doll even gave Vasilisa herbs against sunburn. Life went well for her with the doll.
The years passed. Vasilisa grew up. All the young men in the village wanted to marry her, while no one would so much as look at her stepsisters. The stepmother grew to hate Vasilisa even more. ‘No,’ she would repeat, ‘I’m not giving the youngest away before her elder sisters.’ Then she would send the young men on their way and take it out on Vasilisa by beating her.
Then one day, Vasilisa’s father had to go on a long journey. Her stepmother moved to a hut on the edge of the forest. In this forest was a glade, and in the glade was a hut where a baba yaga lived. This baba yaga lived on her own and she ate men and women as if they were chickens. Every now and then the stepmother would think of a reason to send Vasilisa into the forest, but Vasilisa always came back safe and sound. Her doll showed her the way and did not let her go anywhere near this baba yaga’s hut.
Autumn set in. One evening the stepmother set each of the girls a task. She told Vasilisa to spin yarn, one of her daughters to make lace and the other to knit stockings. Then she snuffed out all the candles except where the girls were working. She went up to bed. For a while the girls kept on with their work. Then the candle began to gutter. One of the girls took the tweezers. And then, as if by mistake, instead of trimming the wick, she extinguished the candle – just as her mother had told her to. ‘What can we do now?’ said the girls. ‘There isn’t a light in the house and we haven’t nearly finished our work. Someonewill have to go round to the baba yaga’s.’ ‘I’m not going,’ said the one who was making lace. ‘I can see by the light of my pins.’ ‘I’m not going,’ said the one who was knitting stockings. ‘I can see by the light of my knitting needles.’ ‘Then