le-pipe sang again:--

"Wake me, wake me, dear father, from a bitter dream, by fetching water
from the well of the Tzar. Till then, dear father, a blanket of black
earth and the shade of the green birch tree."

So they covered the little girl with her blanket of earth, and the
shepherd with his dogs watched the mound night and day. He begged for
the whistle-pipe to keep him company, poor lad, and all the days and
nights he thought of the sweet face of the little pretty one he had
seen there under the birch tree.

The old merchant harnessed his horse, as if he were going to the town;
and he drove off through the forest, along the roads, till he came to
the palace of the Tzar, the little father of all good Russians. And
then he left his horse and cart and waited on the steps of the palace.

The Tzar, the little father, with rings on his fingers and a gold
crown on his head, came out on the steps in the morning sunshine; and
as for the old merchant, he fell on his knees and kissed the feet of
the Tzar, and begged,--

"O little father, Tzar, give me leave to take water--just a little
drop of water--from your holy well."

"And what will you do with it?" says the Tzar.

"I will wake my daughter from a bitter dream," says the old merchant.
"She was murdered by her sisters--killed in the deep forest--for the
sake of a silver saucer, for the sake of a transparent apple."

"A silver saucer?" says the Tzar--"a transparent apple? Tell me about
that."

And the old merchant told the Tzar everything, just as I have told it
to you.

And the Tzar, the little father, he gave the old merchant a glass of
water from his holy well. "But," says he, "when your daughterkin
wakes, bring her to me, and her sisters with her, and also the silver
saucer and the transparent apple."

The old man kissed the ground before the Tzar, and took the glass of
water and drove home with it, and I can tell you he was careful not to
spill a drop. He carried it all the way in one hand as he drove.

He came to the forest and to the flowering mound under the little
birch tree, and there was the shepherd watching with his dogs. The old
merchant and the shepherd took away the blanket of black earth.
Tenderly, tenderly the shepherd used his fingers, until the little
girl, the pretty one, the good one, lay there as sweet as if she were
not dead.

Then the merchant scattered the holy water from the glass over the
little girl. And his daughterkin blushed