says the little mouse; "I think it will be useful.
And remember what I said about the things you find on the way. And now
good-bye," says he.
"Good-bye," says the little girl, and runs along.
As she was running along she found a nice new handkerchief lying in
the road. She picked it up and took it with her. Then she found a
little bottle of oil. She picked it up and took it with her. Then she
found some scraps of meat.
[Illustration: There she was, beating with the pestle and sweeping
With the besom.]
"Perhaps I'd better take them too," she said; and she took them.
Then she found a gay blue ribbon, and she took that. Then she found a
little loaf of good bread, and she took that too.
"I daresay somebody will like it," she said.
And then she came to the hut of Baba Yaga, the bony-legged, the witch.
There was a high fence round it with big gates. When she pushed them
open they squeaked miserably, as if it hurt them to move. The little
girl was sorry for them.
"How lucky," she says, "that I picked up the bottle of oil!" and she
poured the oil into the hinges of the gates.
Inside the railing was Baba Yaga's hut, and it stood on hen's legs and
walked about the yard. And in the yard there was standing Baba Yaga's
servant, and she was crying bitterly because of the tasks Baba Yaga
set her to do. She was crying bitterly and wiping her eyes on her
petticoat.
"How lucky," says the little girl, "that I picked up a handkerchief!"
And she gave the handkerchief to Baba Yaga's servant, who wiped her
eyes on it and smiled through her tears.
Close by the hut was a huge dog, very thin, gnawing a dry crust.
"How lucky," says the little girl, "that I picked up a loaf!" And she
gave the loaf to the dog, and he gobbled it up and licked his lips.
The little girl went bravely up to the hut and knocked on the door.
"Come in," says Baba Yaga.
The little girl went in, and there was Baba Yaga, the bony-legged, the
witch, sitting weaving at a loom. In a corner of the hut was a thin
black cat watching a mouse-hole.
"Good-day to you, auntie," says the little girl, trying not to
tremble.
"Good-day to you, niece," says Baba Yaga.
"My stepmother has sent me to you to ask for a needle and thread to
mend a shirt."
"Very well," says Baba Yaga, smiling, and showing her iron teeth. "You
sit down here at the loom, and go on with my weaving, while I go and
get you the needle and thread."
The little girl sat down at
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