The Halcyon Fairy Book

a very beautiful steed. She broke off a branch of the birch tree, struck the hearth with it, so that the seeds flew into the pot, and then hastened to the castle.
Again the king’s son came out to meet her, tied her horse to a pillar, and led her into the banqueting hall. At the feast the girl sat next him in the place of honor, as she had done the day before. But the witch’s daughter gnawed bones under the table, and the prince gave her a push by mistake, which broke her leg — he had never noticed her crawling about among the people’s feet. She was very unlucky!
I love you so much, nameless Russian storyteller.
The good man’s daughter hastened home again betimes, but the king’s son had smeared the doorposts with tar, and the girl’s golden circlet stuck to it.
Hang on, hang on, hold up. In order for her circlet to stick to the doorposts, does she not have to walk into the door? And wouldn’t her hair stick? Seriously? What is this guy’s thing with tar? I mean, if it had happened the second day, then it would make sense, because she got away the first day, but this just gives the impression that his idea of a good time is going out with a bucket of tar and making things good ’n’ sticky. Peasants in his town must live in mild dread of the prince’s visits. “Goddamnit, Ivan! The prince was here, and wait until you see what he did to the outhouse door! I’ve told you to watch him!”
She had not time to look for it, but sprang to the saddle and rode like an arrow to the birch tree. There she left her horse and her fine clothes, and said to her mother, “I have lost my circlet at the castle; the doorpost was tarred, and it stuck fast.”
“And even had you lost two of them,” answered her mother, “I would give you finer ones.”
This has a call-and-response sort of air to it, and I would almost expect it to go with losing the ring as well.
Also, how do you ever expect her to learn the value of a circlet when you just replace them right away, tree lady?
Then the girl hastened home, and when her father came home from the feast with the witch, she was in her usual place behind the stove. Then the witch said to her, “You poor thing! what is there to see here compared with what we have seen at the palace? The king’s son carried my daughter from one room to another; he let her fall, ’tis true, and my child’s foot was broken.”
Where is the witch when this girl is under the table gnawing bones? Get a kid-leash, lady! (See? Again with the dog thing! I’m telling you, it’s a natural!)
Also, it just occurred to me that the prince kicks his dogs hard enough to break bones. To hell with him. I hope somebody turns him into a sheep.
The man’s daughter held her peace all the time, and busied herself about the hearth.
The night passed, and when the day began to dawn, the witch awakened her husband, crying, “Hi! get up, old man! We are bidden to the royal banquet.”
So the old man got up. Then the witch gave him the child, saying, “Take you the little one; I will give the other girl work to do, else she will weary at home alone.”
She did as usual. This time it was a dish of milk she poured upon the ashes, saying, “If you do not get all the milk into the dish again before I come home, you will suffer for it.”
How frightened the girl was this time! She ran to the birch tree, and by its magic power her task was accomplished; and then she rode away to the palace as before. When she got to the courtyard she found the prince waiting for her. He led her into the hall, where she was highly honored; but the witch’s daughter sucked the bones under the table, and crouching at the people’s feet she got an eye knocked out, poor thing!
Sweet CHRIST. How pointy are these people’s shoes?
Now no one knew any more than before about the good man’s daughter, no one knew whence she came; but the prince had had the threshold smeared with tar, and as she fled her gold slippers stuck to it. She reached the birch tree, and laying aside her finery, she said, “Alas! dear little mother, I have lost my gold slippers!”
They were so pointy, and I loved them. Bit of goop on the toe of the left one, though. Say, have you seen my half-sister around? No reason.
“Let them be,” was her mother’s reply; “if you need them I shall give you finer ones.”
Scarcely was she in her usual place behind the stove when her father came home with the witch. Immediately the witch began to mock her, saying, “Ah! you poor thing, there is nothing for you to see here, and we — ah: what great things we have seen at the palace! My little girl was carried about again, but had the ill-luck to fall and get her eye knocked out. You stupid thing, you, what do you know about anything?”
I know that you probably shouldn’t let the prince carry your daughter around if he keeps breaking her arms and knocking her eyes out, lady.
“Yes, indeed, what can I know?” replied the girl; “I had enough to do to get the hearth clean.”
And at no point does the witch stop and go “Hey, wait a minute, getting a dish of milk out of ash is not actually possible to mortals!” Feh. Baba Yaga ought to repo this woman’s broomstick. Sheep-mom is twice the witch she is, and she’s DEAD.
Now the prince had kept all the things the girl had lost, and he soon set about finding the owner of them. For this purpose a great banquet