ig dog leapt up to tear her to pieces. Just as he was going to
spring on her he saw who she was.

"Why, this is the little girl who gave me the loaf," says he. "A good
journey to you, little girl;" and he lay down again with his head
between his paws.

When she came to the gates they opened quietly, quietly, without
making any noise at all, because of the oil she had poured into their
hinges.

Outside the gates there was a little birch tree that beat her in the
eyes so that she could not go by.

"How lucky," says the little girl, "that I picked up the ribbon!" And
she tied up the birch tree with the pretty blue ribbon. And the birch
tree was so pleased with the ribbon that it stood still, admiring
itself, and let the little girl go by.

How she did run!

Meanwhile the thin black cat sat at the loom. Clickety clack, clickety
clack, sang the loom; but you never saw such a tangle as the tangle
made by the thin black cat.

And presently Baba Yaga came to the window.

"Are you weaving, little niece?" she asked. "Are you weaving, my
pretty?"

"I am weaving, auntie," says the thin black cat, tangling and
tangling, while the loom went clickety clack, clickety clack.

"That's not the voice of my little dinner," says Baba Yaga, and she
jumped into the hut, gnashing her iron teeth; and there was no little
girl, but only the thin black cat, sitting at the loom, tangling and
tangling the threads.

"Grr," says Baba Yaga, and jumps for the cat, and begins banging it
about. "Why didn't you tear the little girl's eyes out?"

"In all the years I have served you," says the cat, "you have only
given me one little bone; but the kind little girl gave me scraps of
meat."

Baba Yaga threw the cat into a corner, and went out into the yard.

"Why didn't you squeak when she opened you?" she asked the gates.

"Why didn't you tear her to pieces?" she asked the dog.

"Why didn't you beat her in the face, and not let her go by?" she
asked the birch tree.

"Why were you so long in getting the bath ready? If you had been
quicker, she never would have got away," said Baba Yaga to the
servant.

And she rushed about the yard, beating them all, and scolding at the
top of her voice.

"Ah!" said the gates, "in all the years we have served you, you never
even eased us with water; but the kind little girl poured good oil
into our hinges."

"Ah!" said the dog, "in all the years I've served you, you never threw
me anything but burnt