Little Annette

Once upon a time, there lived a girl. When she turned fifteen, she lost her mother, and the following year her father married a widow who had three daughters. All three stayed at home and lazed about, while poor Annette spent her entire day in the fields tending sheep. In the evening, when she returned home, she was not allowed to rest; instead, she was forced to wash the dishes, even though she had not dirtied them—after all, Annette never had the chance to eat from a plate. Every morning, she was given a piece of stale bread to take with her to the field so she could have her meal there without returning home, and even then, her stepmother made sure to give her only the crust. It was no wonder that the poor girl often suffered from hunger.

One day, after eating her meager meal and washing it down with water from a stream, which she scooped up with her hands, the young shepherdess began to reflect on how sad her life had become.

"It was so different when my mother was alive. She made sure I never went cold or hungry; she loved me and was so tender and kind to me!"

Remembering the past, the shepherdess began to cry, but suddenly, through her tears, she saw a beautiful woman with a sweet and kind face. It was a fairy.

"What troubles you, my child?" asked the fairy.

"Alas, madam! I weep because I remember my dear mother."

"I know, I know—you lost your mother, and now you are unhappy. But be patient; I will take care of you and ease your burden. To begin with, here is a wand: whenever you feel hungry, all you need to do is touch your black ram with it."

The fairy disappeared before the girl could thank her. The shepherdess wanted to test the power of the wand as soon as possible; she touched the black ram with it, and in that very moment, a table laden with all kinds of food appeared before her. She ate her fill and did not forget her faithful dog, who diligently helped her guard the flock. This happened day after day: all the shepherdess had to do was wish, and she was instantly served dishes more plentiful and delicious than even the king's. As a result, she went from being thin and weak to strong and healthy, and now she positively glowed with vitality. Her stepmother, who still kept her on the brink of starvation, was astonished to see the girl growing plumper by the day. She sensed something was amiss.

"Marie," she said to her eldest daughter, "you will go to the field with the shepherdess. Watch closely what she eats and report everything to me in detail; but don't let her suspect anything. Act as if you are just accompanying her."

Marie went with Annette, who treated her stepsister better than she was treated at home: she wove her a little basket from willow branches and gathered a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers for her. But the widow's daughter was not used to walking in the fields for long; she soon grew tired and sat down to rest on the grass.

"Sit beside me and lay your head on my lap; I will comb your hair," Annette said to her stepsister.

The shepherdess guessed that the girl had been sent to spy on her; so, while combing her hair, she began to softly sing: "Close one eye, sister, close the other! Close one eye, sister, close the other!" She kept singing until Marie fell asleep. Meanwhile, the shepherdess managed to eat; she had a good meal, and Marie noticed nothing.

"Well, Marie," her stepmother asked when the girl returned, "can you tell me what food it is that makes Annette so healthy?"

"I assure you, mother, I saw her eat only her stale bread and drink water from the stream."

"Go to bed, lazy girl! Your sister will do a better job of finding out. Fanchette, listen to what I tell you: tomorrow you will rise early and go to the field with Annette; watch what she does and tell me what she eats."

"Very well, mother, I will keep an eye on everything." But the same thing happened to Fanchette as it did to her sister: she fell asleep and saw nothing. Her mother scolded her as well.

"I bet both these lazy girls fell asleep there. Well, this time it will be different. Lisette, my little goat, come to your mother. Tomorrow you will go to the field with Annette; if you get tired—sleep, close one eye, or even both, but don't close the one I will place in the back of your head. You will be in trouble if you don't do as I say!"

Lisette promised her mother she would observe everything. When she grew tired of running around, she laid her head on Annette's lap, and the shepherdess began to sing as before: "Close one eye, sister, close the other!" But she did not know that Lisette had a third eye: it remained open and saw what Annette did when she needed a table laden with all sorts of delicious food. Lisette did not delay in telling her mother everything she had seen.

"Ah, mother, no wonder the shepherdess grows so fat—she lives better than we do. Her black ram provides her with all kinds of delicacies!"

The stepmother grew envious that her stepdaughter had such good fortune and decided: this must not continue! She went to bed and pretended to be ill.

"I think I am going to die," she said to her husband, "but I know of a remedy that could cure me."

"Tell me, tell me quickly, dear wife; we will get whatever you need."

"I want to eat the meat of the black ram."

"Is that all? Well, that is an easy wish to fulfill! A black ram or a white one—it makes no difference to me: I will slaughter it."

Annette overheard the entire conversation, and while the master sharpened his large knife, she sneaked into the yard and then into the sheepfold.

"My black ram, let's run away quickly! They want to slaughter you!"

"Ah, don't worry! Don't oppose them; let them kill me, it must be so. Just do one thing: take my liver and bury it in the garden."

Annette wept for a long time, but there was nothing she could do. She had to accept that her black ram was slaughtered. The stepmother and her daughters feasted on it with great delight. The stepmother's illness seemed to vanish—now she was sure she had dealt a blow to her helpless stepdaughter. She gleefully offered the girl some roast meat from the black ram. But she was reluctant to give Annette any choice morsel, so she handed her the liver:

"Here, take this; it's enough for you!"

This was exactly what Annette needed. She did as the ram had instructed her, and in the spot where she buried the liver, a tree grew. It was so tall, so tall, that even the longest ladder could not reach its branches, and its trunk was so smooth that no one could climb even halfway up. The beautiful fruits that ripened on it tempted everyone, but they could only admire them from afar. Only Annette could pick them, because the branches bent down for her and no one else.

One day, the king's son was passing through the area and saw the beautiful fruits. His mouth watered—they looked so enticing, but no one could pluck them. However, the prince wanted to taste them so badly that he vowed to marry the daughter of anyone who could obtain them for him. All the fathers and mothers wanted to try their luck; daughters themselves attempted to reach the fruits. But it was no use! No one succeeded.

Annette's stepmother, who harbored ambitious plans for her daughters, decided she was cleverer than anyone else. She ordered a very long ladder and leaned it against the tree, but the ladder still fell several feet short of the lowest branches. The stepmother climbed to the very top step, stood on her tiptoes to reach a fruit hanging above her head, lost her balance, fell backward, and broke her neck. That was the end of her and all her malice!

This incident deterred all the ambitious climbers—no one else tried to scale the ladder or climb the trunk. However, the prince's desire was so strong that people feared he might fall ill. Then little Annette took pity on him. As soon as she approached the tree, the branches began to bend until they were low enough for her to touch. Annette filled a basket with the fruits and brought them to the ailing prince. It is easy to guess what reward she received for this precious gift: she became the prince's wife and lived with him in happiness and contentment for the rest of her days.

And that is the end of the story.

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Little Annette

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