The Cunning Fox

Once upon a time, there lived an old man and an old woman. They had nothing in their household except for a little hen named Khokhlatka.

They lived and lived until they reached the point where there was nothing left to cook. So the old man said to the old woman:
"Old woman, old woman, please cook Khokhlatka. What else can we do?"

The old woman waved her hands in protest:
"What are you thinking, old man? We'd rather go hungry than cook Khokhlatka!"

The hen overheard this, ran into the yard, found a bean seed, and brought it to the old woman.

The old man said:
"Well, that's good! Cook this little bean, old woman."

The old woman looked at the bean:
"My dear old man, what kind of meal can we make from just one little bean? I don't even have a pot small enough for it. Let's plant it instead. When it grows, we can bake a whole bean pie."

"But where should we plant it?" asked the old man.
"In the field," she replied.
"In the field, the crows will peck it out."
"Well, then in the yard."
"In the yard, the chickens will scratch it up."
"Let's plant it under the sleeping platform, inside the house."

"Alright," agreed the old man, and he planted the bean seed under the sleeping platform in the house.

The bean sprouted and began to grow. It grew and grew until it reached the sleeping platform.
"What should we do, old woman?" asked the old man.
"We need to dismantle the sleeping platform."

The old man dismantled the platform, but the bean kept growing—it grew all the way to the ceiling.
"What should we do, old woman?" the old man asked again.
"We need to dismantle the ceiling."

The old man dismantled the ceiling, but the bean kept growing—it grew all the way to the roof.
The old man dismantled the roof too. The bean peeked out into the light and grew even faster. It grew all the way to the sky.

Then the old man took a sack, climbed up the beanstalk to the sky, gathered ripe bean pods, and came back down.

The old woman was delighted: the old man had brought back a whole sack of bean pods.
"Now we'll have plenty of pie!"

The old woman shelled the pods, dried the beans on the stove, ground them, and mixed the dough for the pie in a tub.

The dough rose and rose—it was overflowing from the tub. The old woman placed it on a shovel, shaped the pie, decorated it with patterns to make it prettier, and put it in the oven.

The pie grew and grew—it climbed out of the oven onto the hearth. The old woman opened the oven door, and the pie jumped into the house, out the door, and ran away!

The old man and the old woman rushed to chase the pie, but they couldn't catch it.

The pie rolled into the forest, where a red fox met it. The fox grabbed the pie, ate the filling, stuffed the middle with pinecones, and ran off with the pie to the shepherds.

She found the shepherds in the field and said:
"Shepherds, shepherds, give me a young bull, and I'll give you this pie in return."

The shepherds saw the pie looked good—its golden crust was shining, and they wanted to taste it. They thought about it and gave her the young bull.

"Just don't eat the pie until I go over the hill," said the fox.

She mounted the bull and rode off. As soon as she disappeared over the hill, the shepherds said:
"Let's sit on the sand and have a bite!" They broke the pie, but inside were only pinecones... The sly fox had tricked them!

The fox rode the bull and saw an empty cart on the road, with a man plowing nearby. She quietly approached the cart, hitched the bull to it, sat on the soft straw, and rode on, urging the bull with a whip.

She arrived in the forest, where a wolf met her. He was tired from running and could barely drag his feet.
"Where are you going, cousin?" he asked.
"To the thirtieth kingdom, beyond thrice-nine lands."
"Why?"
"They say there are so many chickens there that even hawks don't peck them..."
"Are there sheep in that kingdom?" the wolf licked his lips.
"Yes, there are plenty of them!"
"Oh, little fox-sister, take me with you: at least carry my tail."
"Why carry just a tail? Sit down, all of you."

The wolf sat down. They rode on and met a bear.
"Where are you going, cousins?"
"To the thirtieth kingdom, beyond thrice-nine lands..."
"Why?"
"They say even hawks don't peck the chickens there," replied the fox.
"And they say there are plenty of sheep there," added the wolf.
"Is there a lot of honey?"
"Yes, they say honey rivers flow there!"

The bear was delighted:
"Then take me with you. At least carry one paw."
"Why carry just one paw? Sit down, all of you."

The three of them sat down and rode on. Suddenly, the shaft broke.
The fox said to the bear:
"Go, cousin, fetch a new shaft."

The bear went into the forest, found an uprooted spruce, and brought it to the cart. The fox saw it and scolded:
"Oh, you clumsy bear! This tree is no good for a shaft!"

Then she turned to the wolf:
"Go, cousin, fetch a thinner shaft."

The wolf went and brought back a crooked spruce branch. The fox scolded him too, spat, and went to fetch the shaft herself. Meanwhile, the bear and the wolf ate the young bull, stuffed its skin with straw, stood it up on its legs, and walked away, laughing.

The fox returned and saw—no wolf, no bear, only the bull standing there. She fitted the shaft, sat in the cart, whipped the bull, but it—buck!—fell over.

The fox looked at the bull and figured it all out.
"Just you wait!" she threatened the wolf and the bear and went on her way.

She walked for a long time, and autumn caught up with her on the road. She met the wolf who had eaten the bull:
"Hello, cousin! How are you?"
"Not well," said the wolf. "I must have caught a chill in the rain—I'm shaking all over. My teeth are chattering."
"Then you need a new fur coat," advised the fox.
"You're right, cousin," agreed the wolf.

He ran to the pasture, grabbed a sheep, and brought it to the forest.
"Is this enough for a coat?" he asked the fox.
"Not enough," said the fox.

He brought another sheep.
"Is this enough now?"
"No, we need one more."

He brought a third sheep.
"Now," said the fox, "we need to find a tailor."
"Where can I find one, cousin?"
"I know a good tailor. Let's go to him."

The fox led the wolf to a meadow. There, in the bushes, a stallion was grazing, tied to a stake.
"Here he is, the tailor."

The wolf laughed:
"What kind of tailor is this? No, cousin, you're not very clever."

The fox was offended:
"Don't talk about my cleverness! I was clever and will be, but you'll always be a fool."

The wolf got angry:
"We'll see who's cleverer!"
"Don't boast," said the fox. "You'll see how they skin you now."
"Who will skin me?" snapped the wolf.
"The owner of this horse."
"Impossible!" the wolf didn't believe her.
"You'll see. What is the stallion tied to?" asked the fox.
"To a rope."

The fox laughed:
"See, you're a fool!"
"Why?" the wolf jumped.
"The stallion is tied to a stake."
"Impossible!" the wolf blinked.
"Come, I'll show you."

The fox led him to the stake, untied the rope, made a loop, and threw it around the wolf's neck. Before the wolf could react, he was caught in the loop.

The fox ran to the stallion, waved her tail. The stallion got scared and bolted home, its horseshoes gleaming.

And so, it dragged the wolf in the loop to its owner, who then skinned him.

The fox returned to the forest, buried the sheep in the moss for later, and left only the brains for lunch. She sat under a spruce tree and ate.

The bear who had eaten the bull came by.
"What are you chewing, cousin?" he asked.
"Brains. Are you blind?"
"Where did you get them?"
"From a head. You can get some too, if you want."
"How?"
"Very simple: run and hit your head against an oak tree, and the brains will pop out."
"Thank you, cousin, for the good advice. I'll do that. I've been wanting to eat for a long time."

He found the thickest oak, ran at it with all his might, and—bang!—hit his head against it.

That was the end of him.

The sly fox ate her fill and went to drink water from a stream. The shepherds saw her.
"Ah, the old deceiver!" they shouted in unison and set the dogs on her. Fairy girl