The Halcyon Fairy Book

for “Is that a helluva title or what?” Good heavens, Greece!
THERE were once three sisters spinning flax, and they said, “Whosever spindle falls, let us kill her and eat her.”
I will hand it to the Greek storytellers here that they did not mess around getting to the weird plot point. No “Once upon a time in a land far, far away … ” no marital history of some poor woodcutter, just bam! Cannibalism right out of the gate. I can only assume that very easily distracted children were involved, and if you didn’t have a hook in under two seconds, they’d go tie explosives to the cow.
The mother’s spindle fell, and they left her alone.
Again they sat down to spin, and again the mother’s spindle fell, and again and yet again.
You’d think Mom would be a little more careful, given the context, or, I dunno, excuse herself to go visit relatives that were less … predatory.
“Ah, well!” said they, “let us eat her now!”
“No!” said the youngest, “do not eat her; eat me, if flesh you will have.”
Mom is still curiously silent during this whole exchange.
But they would not; and two of them killed their mother and cooked her for eating.
When they had sat down to make a meal of her, they said to the youngest, “Come and eat too!”
But she refused, and sat down on a saddle which the fowls were covering with filth, and wept, and upbraided them.
This has got to be some kind of translation thing, or else it was normal among the Greek peasantry to have a saddle laying around the house being crapped on by the chickens. Lacking any context, I’m picturing a big Western one, but I suspect something like a sawhorse might be more accurate.
Many a time they said to her, “Come and eat!” but she would not; and when they had done eating, they all went away.
Well, that was delicious. Time to go to the mall!
Then the youngest, whom they called Little Saddleslut, gathered all the bones together and buried them underneath the grate, and smoked them every day with incense for forty days; and after the forty days were out, she went to take them away and put them in another place. And when she lifted up the stone, she was astonished at the rays of light which it sent forth, and raiment was found there, like unto the heavens and the stars, the spring with its flowers, the sea with its waves; and many coins of every kind; and she left them where she found them.
Apparently it’s hereditary. If my sisters were cannibals and had left town for the moment, I would grab the money and run like hell. Raiment like unto the heavens and the stars will buy a pretty good horse, and hey, you’ve already got a saddle!
Yes, yes, I know, it’s like “Why didn’t the Eagles take the Ring to Mt. Doom?” Because then there wouldn’t be a story. Moving on.
Afterwards her sisters came and found her sitting on the saddle, and jeered at her. On Sunday her sisters went to church;
Forgive me, father, for I have sinned. I killed and ate my mother following a rash of spindle-dropping. How many Our Fathers is that, exactly?
then she, too, arose; she washed and attired herself, putting on the garment that was as the heavens with the stars, and went to church, taking with her a few gold pieces in her purse. When she went into the church all the people were amazed, and could not gaze upon her by reason of the brightness of her garments. When she left the church, the people followed her to see whither she went. Then she filled her hand with money from her bag and cast it in the way, and so she kept throwing it down all the way she went, so that they might not get near her. Then the crowd scrambled for the coins, and left her alone.
This trick also works in Assassin’s Creed.
And straightway she went into her house, and changed her clothes, and put on her old things, and sat down upon the saddle.
Her sisters came home from church and said to her, “Where are you, wretch? Come and let us tell you how there came into the church a maiden more glorious than the sun, who had such garments on as you could not look on, so brightly did they gleam and shine, and she strewed money on the way! Look, see what a lot we have picked up! Why did not you come too? Worse luck to you!”
“You are welcome to what you picked up; I don’t want it,” said she.
Next Sunday they went to church again, and she did the same. Then they went another Sunday, and just as she was flinging the money, she lost her shoe among the crowd, and left it behind her.
Now the king’s son was following her, but could not catch her, and only found her shoe. Then said he to himself, “Whose ever foot this shoe exactly fits, without being either too large or too small, I will take her for my wife.”
The shoe definitely comes up a lot.
And he went to all the women he knew and tried it on, but could not manage to fit it. Then her sisters came to her and spoke as follows to her, “You go and try; perhaps it will fit you!”
I’m … torn. On the one hand, they’re cannibals and did stick her with that nickname. On the other hand, this is possibly the only Cinderella story I’ve ever read where the sisters try to get the heroine to try on the shoe, apparently without any malice.
“Get away with you!” said she. “Do you think he will put the shoe on me, and get it covered with filth? Do not make fun of me.”
The prince had taken all the houses in turn, and so he came at length to the house of Little Saddleslut, and his servants told her to