The Violet Fairy Book | Page 7

been dressed
in them, which was to go back to the village in her stead. By the time
the sun rose the doll had attained her full size, and no one could have
told one girl from the other. Elsa started back when she met herself as
she looked only yesterday.
'You must not be frightened,' said the lady, when she noticed her terror;
'this clay figure can do you no harm. It is for your stepmother, that she
may beat it instead of you. Let her flog it as hard as she will, it can
never feel any pain. And if the wicked woman does not come one day
to a better mind your double will be able at last to give her the
punishment she deserves.'
From this moment Elsa's life was that of the ordinary happy child, who
has been rocked to sleep in her babyhood in a lovely golden cradle. She
had no cares or troubles of any sort, and every day her tasks became
easier, and the years that had gone before seemed more and more like a
bad dream. But the happier she grew the deeper was her wonder at
everything around her, and the more firmly she was persuaded that
some great unknown power must be at the bottom of it all.
In the courtyard stood a huge granite block about twenty steps from the
house, and when meal times came round the old man with the long
beard went to the block, drew out a small silver staff, and struck the
stone with it three times, so that the sound could be heard a long way
off. At the third blow, out sprang a large golden cock, and stood upon
the stone. Whenever he crowed and flapped his wings the rock opened
and something came out of it. First a long table covered with dishes
ready laid for the number of persons who would be seated round it, and
this flew into the house all by itself.
When the cock crowed for the second time, a number of chairs

appeared, and flew after the table; then wine, apples, and other fruit, all
without trouble to anybody. After everybody had had enough, the old
man struck the rock again. the golden cock crowed afresh, and back
went dishes, table, chairs, and plates into the middle of the block.
When, however, it came to the turn of the thirteenth dish, which
nobody ever wanted to eat, a huge black cat ran up, and stood on the
rock close to the cock, while the dish was on his other side.
There they all remained, till they were joined by the old man.
He picked up the dish in one hand, tucked the cat under his arm, told
the cock to get on his shoulder, and all four vanished into the rock. And
this wonderful stone contained not only food, but clothes and
everything you could possibly want in the house.
At first a language was often spoken at meals which was strange to Elsa,
but by the help of the lady and her daughter she began slowly to
understand it, though it was years before she was able to speak it
herself.
One day she asked Kisika why the thirteenth dish came daily to the
table and was sent daily away untouched, but Kisika knew no more
about it than she did. The girl must, however, have told her mother
what Elsa had said, for a few days later she spoke to Elsa seriously:
'Do not worry yourself with useless wondering. You wish to know why
we never eat of the thirteenth dish? That, dear child, is the dish of
hidden blessings, and we cannot taste of it without bringing our happy
life here to an end. And the world would be a great deal better if men,
in their greed, did not seek to snatch every thing for themselves, instead
of leaving something as a thankoffering to the giver of the blessings.
Greed is man's worst fault.'
The years passed like the wind for Elsa, and she grew into a lovely
woman, with a knowledge of many things that she would never have
learned in her native village; but Kisika was still the same young girl
that she had been on the day of her first meeting with Elsa. Each

morning they both worked for an hour at reading and writing, as they
had always done, and Elsa was anxious to learn all she could, but
Kisika much preferred childish games to anything else. If the humour
seized her, she would fling aside her tasks, take her treasure box, and
go off to play in the sea, where no harm ever came to her.
'What a pity,' she would often say to Elsa, 'that you have