crusts; but the kind little girl gave me a good
loaf."

"Ah!" said the little birch tree, "in all the years I've served you,
you never tied me up, even with thread; but the kind little girl tied
me up with a gay blue ribbon."

"Ah!" said the servant, "in all the years I've served you, you have
never given me even a rag; but the kind little girl gave me a pretty
handkerchief."

Baba Yaga gnashed at them with her iron teeth. Then she jumped into
the mortar and sat down. She drove it along with the pestle, and swept
up her tracks with a besom, and flew off in pursuit of the little
girl.

The little girl ran and ran. She put her ear to the ground and
listened. Bang, bang, bangety bang! she could hear Baba Yaga beating
the mortar with the pestle. Baba Yaga was quite close. There she was,
beating with the pestle and sweeping with the besom, coming along the
road.

As quickly as she could, the little girl took out the towel and threw
it on the ground. And the towel grew bigger and bigger, and wetter and
wetter, and there was a deep, broad river between Baba Yaga and the
little girl.

The little girl turned and ran on. How she ran!

Baba Yaga came flying up in the mortar. But the mortar could not float
in the river with Baba Yaga inside. She drove it in, but only got wet
for her trouble. Tongs and pokers tumbling down a chimney are nothing
to the noise she made as she gnashed her iron teeth. She turned home,
and went flying back to the little hut on hen's legs. Then she got
together all her cattle and drove them to the river.

"Drink, drink!" she screamed at them; and the cattle drank up all the
river to the last drop. And Baba Yaga, sitting in the mortar, drove it
with the pestle, and swept up her tracks with the besom, and flew over
the dry bed of the river and on in pursuit of the little girl.

The little girl put her ear to the ground and listened. Bang, bang,
bangety bang! She could hear Baba Yaga beating the mortar with the
pestle. Nearer and nearer came the noise, and there was Baba Yaga,
beating with the pestle and sweeping with the besom, coming along the
road close behind.

The little girl threw down the comb, and grew bigger and bigger, and
its teeth sprouted up into a thick forest, thicker than this forest
where we live--so thick that not even Baba Yaga could force her way
through. And Baba Yaga, gnashing her teeth and screaming with rage and
disappointment, turned round and drove away home to her litt