Three Parrot Tales

Everything recounted here happened in ancient times. And in those times, it was like this: you’d travel for a day and arrive in one kingdom, travel another day and arrive in another kingdom. And, of course, in every kingdom, whether big or small, there was its own king. Because what kind of kingdom would it be without a king!

So, in those ancient years, in a dense, very dense forest, there lived a woodcutter.

He didn’t have much or little in terms of possessions: a gray donkey, a sharp axe, and a cheerful song. The woodcutter also had a lovely little house in a clearing, and in the house, a welcoming wife. How could he not be happy? He would have been happy, if not for his wife’s sorrow.

When the woodcutter went into the forest or took firewood to the city to sell on his donkey, his wife would grow lonely, with no one to exchange a word with. She’d start lighting the hearth and would talk to the fire, go to the well and talk to the water, start cooking and strike up a conversation with the spoons and bowls. And they all listened, but none replied. It was enough to make one cry. And the woodcutter’s wife often wiped her tears with her apron.

One day, the woodcutter came home and said, “Look, wife, what I found in the forest!” And he handed his wife a doll. The woodcutter’s wife looked at it and was enchanted. She had never known such dolls existed in the world. Dressed in silk and velvet, with black hair, blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and scarlet lips—it looked as if it might start speaking any moment. The wife laughed with joy.

From that day on, she never cried again. When her husband went to the forest, she would go about her chores, always talking to the doll. The doll, of course, only listened, but it gazed with its blue eyes and smiled with its scarlet lips. And so, the woman felt as though the doll understood everything.

Time, like a road—there’s less ahead, more behind.

One day, the woodcutter’s wife and the woodcutter himself were sitting at the table in their little house, having dinner. The doll was also sitting at the table, watching them with its round blue eyes.

Suddenly, someone knocked on the window.

“Who could that be?” wondered the woodcutter’s wife. But the woodcutter said nothing, got up, and opened the window. A bird flew into the room and landed in the middle of the table. Now even the woodcutter was surprised. He had seen countless birds in the forest, but never one like this.

The bird bowed its crested head and spoke in a human voice:

“May your home always have plenty of everything, except tears and sorrow.”

“Thank you for your kind words,” said the woodcutter, who often went to the market in the city and had learned polite manners there. “But could you tell us, winged sir, who you are?”

“I am a wonder-bird—a talking parrot. And I’ve come to you for this reason. I need the doll, the very one sitting at your table. My mistress, the beautiful Rosalinda, has been longing for it ever since she lost it. A squirrel that lives in the pine tree by the porch once saw the doll through the window and told a blue-feathered jay, who told a magpie, and the magpie carried the news on its tail straight to the palace, where its cousin, the court raven, lives. Well, what the magpie and the raven know, the whole bird kingdom knows. So, I’ve come for the doll.”

“Oh, wife,” said the woodcutter, “it seems we’ll have to give the doll back, now that its owner has been found.”

But the woodcutter’s wife grabbed the doll and held it tightly to her chest.

“I won’t even think of giving it away. I’ve cherished it like my own daughter, and now suddenly I’m supposed to hand it over to some unknown Rosalinda, whom I’ve never even heard of.”

“What?” the parrot exclaimed. “You’ve never heard of the wise and beautiful Rosalinda! Well, then I’ll tell you about her glorious and kind deeds. Listen carefully.”

THE PARROT'S FIRST TALE

There once lived a wealthy merchant. He had a daughter, as beautiful as the moon and the sun rising together in the sky. Her name was Rosalinda.

One day, the merchant prepared for a long voyage to distant lands. Before leaving, he asked Rosalinda:

“My daughter, what shall I bring you as a gift from faraway lands? Perhaps a dress embroidered with gold, or a precious necklace?”

“Oh, father, I don’t need a dress or a necklace. If you really want to give me a gift, bring me a wonder-bird—a talking parrot from a foreign land. You’ve assigned three old nannies to me, but all they do is grumble at me and quarrel among themselves. I have a beloved doll, a beautiful companion, but she cannot speak. So, you see, how much I need a talking parrot.”

The merchant laughed at his daughter’s whims but promised to fulfill her wish. Then he boarded a ship and set off on his long journey.

Rosalinda stayed behind with her three nannies. And it must be said that the nannies fussed over her as if she were a foolish child. They wouldn’t let her take a single step, wouldn’t allow a speck of dust to fall on her. Within two days, they had driven Rosalinda to despair. After all, she was already sixteen years old.

On the third day, while the nannies were still fast asleep, Rosalinda took her beloved doll and secretly ran off to the forest for a walk.

On the meadow, she saw a big-eyed dragonfly and decided to catch it. She ran after it, leaving the doll under a bush. Rosalinda chased the dragonfly, and the dragonfly led her deeper and deeper into the forest. Finally, the dragonfly grew tired of the game, soared upward, and disappeared. The girl looked around—all she saw was a dense, impenetrable forest, with no paths or trails in sight.

She began searching for the way home but only got more lost. Soon, the sun began to set. Exhausted, Rosalinda lay down under the roots of an oak tree on the fallen leaves and fell asleep.

The sun set, the moon rose. The moon set, the sun rose. And Rosalinda slept and slept.

Meanwhile, in the early morning, a young prince was not sleeping. He was riding through the forest on a good horse, chasing a white stag.

Suddenly, the prince’s horse reared up on its hind legs. The prince grew angry, whipped the horse, but it wouldn’t budge. The prince looked and saw a girl of unparalleled beauty sleeping under the roots of an oak tree. His heart split in two—one half urged him to chase the stag, the other commanded him to stay by the girl’s side forever. But then the prince reasoned that while the girl slept, he could hunt the stag and present the precious prize to the beauty as a gift.

He took a silk handkerchief from his belt and covered the girl’s face, so that no one in the world, not even the sun itself, could gaze upon her beauty. Then he spurred his horse and galloped away.

Let the prince chase the stag. We’ll stay with Rosalinda. She woke up and saw that her face was covered with a silk handkerchief, but there was no one around. Rosalinda was puzzled, tucked the handkerchief away, and set off once more to find her way.

She searched for a day, then two, and finally found a path. The path led her straight to a palace. The girl grew a little nervous—she had never been to a royal palace before. But what could she do? She was so tired and hungry! So, she gently knocked on the iron gates.

The king himself hurried to meet her, took her by the hand, and led her into the palace as an honored guest.

Rosalinda stayed at the palace for three days and grew so dear to the old king that he began to plead with her:

“Stay with me, child. It’s been a year since my daughter disappeared. She would be your age now. When I hear your ringing laughter, it feels as though she has returned, and my heart is not so heavy with grief.”
Rosalind asked:

- What happened to your daughter?

The king, sighing, told her how a year ago, some old man appeared at the palace and asked the king for shelter. The king did not refuse the old man and ordered the courtiers to treat him as an honored guest. But this was not enough for the old man. He wanted to try on the royal crown. Of course, the king did not allow it, for the crown is not an old hat. Then the old man said: "Then you shall have neither a crown nor a daughter!" That same day, the old man disappeared, and with him vanished the king's only daughter. No matter how much they searched for her, she was never found.

Rosalind listened to this sad story and thought: "My father won’t be back for a while, so there’s no one to worry about me. I lost my favorite doll in the forest. That means only grumpy nannies are waiting for me at home. Well, let them wait! But I’ll help this old king forget his sorrow, even if only for a little while."

And so she stayed.

Rosalind sang songs to the king or told funny stories to cheer him up. And when the king was busy with his royal duties or sleeping—for he loved to sleep—the girl wandered through the palace gardens. One day, she strayed into the most remote corner of the old park, near a half-ruined pond. Above the pond stood a tower, locked with seven rusty bolts. The uneven stones it was built from were overgrown with wild moss and lichen.

Rosalind sat by the pond and began to watch a spider weaving its web by the tower door. The spider worked diligently. In less than an hour, the entire door was covered with a fine, silvery net—not a mosquito or a gnat could pass through. Rosalind marveled at the skill of the eight-legged weaver and returned to the palace.

She came back to the pond the next day. She looked—the web was torn to shreds.

"What a wonder," thought Rosalind. "It seems someone entered the tower. But no, that can’t be."

Rosalind sat by the pond until evening, but everything around was quiet and empty. Another girl would have simply left and that would have been the end of it. Rosalind also left, but as she walked through the grass, she straightened every bent stalk and every trampled leaf. And the next morning, the grass was trampled again. So, someone had indeed come here. That’s how clever Rosalind was!

This time, she didn’t return to the palace in the evening. She hid behind a rosebush and sat there until midnight. Exactly at midnight, a whistle was heard, and a dragon flew to the edge of the pond. It crawled to the tower door, struck the ground, and turned into an old man. The old man took a gilded key hanging on a long chain from his neck and ran it across the door from left to right. And so the heavy door with seven rusty bolts swung open silently. The old man entered the tower. And the fearless Rosalind tiptoed in after him. No sooner had she slipped inside than the door closed just as quietly. Rosalind hid in a dark corner and waited to see what would happen next.

The old man lit a lamp. Bats fluttered to the sides. Then Rosalind saw a girl no older than herself sitting on a straw mat.

- What will you tell me today? - asked the wizard, for it was clear to anyone that the old man was a wizard. But the girl remained silent.

- Ah, I forgot to unlock your lips! - exclaimed the old man and ran the golden key across the girl’s lips from left to right.

- Well, what will you say now? - he repeated.

- No! - said the girl.

The wizard became so angry that he struck the ground twice. The first time, he turned into a dragon; the second time, back into an old man.

- Nasty, disobedient girl! - he shouted. - Sooner or later, you will say 'yes.'

- No, - said the girl.

- Fine, fine, - grumbled the wizard. - Now let’s eat. I’m quite hungry myself.

He stamped his foot, and a table laden with food and drink appeared in that spot. The old man and the girl began to eat. Rosalind, hidden in the dark corner, could hardly keep her mouth from watering—she hadn’t eaten all day either.

After eating his fill, the old man said:

- A hearty meal always makes me sleepy. Women love to chatter. If they have no one to talk to, they talk to themselves. So, I won’t lock your lips now. Talk while I sleep. But to keep you from running away, I’ll lock your hands and feet.

The wizard stamped his foot again, and the table disappeared, replaced by a soft bed covered with carpets. Then he took his key and ran it across the girl’s hands and feet from right to left.

And now the girl, as if bound by heavy chains, could not even move.

The wizard collapsed onto the bed and immediately began to snore loudly.

Then the girl truly began to speak. She lamented bitterly about her fate:

- Oh, how miserable I am! It’s been a whole year since I’ve been languishing in this dark tower. The evil wizard will release me if I agree to steal my father’s crown for him. And every night, I tell him 'no.' For if I say 'yes,' the wizard will take on the king’s appearance, and my poor father will turn into a mule used to carry water. Surely, I will die here, for I will never say that 'yes.'

- Don’t cry, sister, - whispered Rosalind and approached the girl.

She quietly removed the chain with the key from the sleeping wizard’s neck and quickly locked the old man’s hands and feet. She had seen everything, noted everything from her dark corner. Then Rosalind freed the girl and, using the same key to open the tower doors, ran with her back to the palace. How many happy tears were shed when the king saw his daughter alive and unharmed!

The next day, Rosalind said to the king:

- Now you have your own daughter, and I am no longer needed. I beg you, give me a carriage so I can return to my father’s house.

But the king and his daughter pleaded with Rosalind not to leave them until she agreed to stay a little longer.

Then came balls and celebrations. The girls became such close friends that they began to call each other sisters.

As for the wizard, the king ordered the tower to be blown up with him inside, and a high hill was raised on that spot.

And that’s the end.

The parrot bowed solemnly and said:
- Now you know how intelligent, kind, and beautiful my mistress Rosalinda is.
- Oh, what an interesting story you have told us, Signor Miracle Bird, the talking parrot! - exclaimed the woodcutter's wife.
The woodcutter nodded his head. He always agreed with his little wife. And she continued:
- Of course, I will give Rosalinda her doll, but not before I hear what happened next. After all, Signor Parrot, you said nothing about the prince. My husband and I don’t even know if he killed the white deer.
- Well then, - said the parrot. - Listen to what happened next.

THE PARROT'S SECOND TALE

The Spanish princess, the daughter of the Spanish king, turned sixteen. It was time to marry her off. Suitors heard of this, and a great multitude of them arrived from all corners of the earth.
There was an Indian raja, the heir to the French throne, a Portuguese prince, a Persian shah, and countless dukes and princes. The last to arrive was the Turkish sultan, old and bow-legged.
The princess peeked through a crack at the suitors, whom her father received in the grand hall, and laughed until she cried. Only twice did she not laugh. The first time was when she saw the Portuguese prince, because he was tall, handsome, and very much to the princess's liking. The second time she did not laugh was when she saw the Turkish sultan - he was simply too terrifying.
The princess's father was at a loss: all the suitors were noble and wealthy - how could he choose the most worthy one? After all, he loved his princess as dearly as any father loves his only daughter, crown or no crown. He thought for three days and finally came up with an idea. Let the princess throw a golden ball at random. Whoever it hits will become her husband.
So, on the appointed day, the suitors gathered in front of the palace. The princess stepped out onto the balcony, and all the suitors closed their eyes, dazzled by her beauty. Then the princess threw her golden ball. She aimed, of course, at the Portuguese prince. But, alas, the Turkish sultan stood nearby. Seeing where the ball was headed, he pressed himself tightly against the Portuguese prince. The ball touched the prince's shoulder, but - alas! - it also touched the shoulder of the cunning Turk.
And so, both stood before the king and his daughter.
The king was confused. After all, he had come up with this ball-throwing scheme to avoid having to make a choice. And, to make matters worse, his beloved daughter, looking at her two suitors, alternated between crying and laughing, and the king could not understand whom she wanted to marry.
- Your Royal Majesty, - said the Portuguese prince, - I love your daughter and ask for her hand in marriage.
- I am no less fond of the princess, - retorted the Turkish sultan. - There is no need for such a beautiful maiden to marry a greenhorn who has never even been married before. I, on the other hand, have a hundred wives and know well how to treat them. So, do not doubt, Your Royal Majesty, give your daughter to me.
But then the princess firmly said:
- My husband can only be the one for whom I will be the only one, like the heart in the chest.
And she looked at the Portuguese prince.
The king finally understood what his daughter wanted and replied:
- Nothing can be done, Your Turkish Sultanate, look for your hundred-and-first wife elsewhere, for I will not give you my daughter.
The Turkish sultan was terribly enraged. In his fury, he stomped on his turban and muttered that it deserved no better treatment, since its owner had been so humiliated. Finally, he said to the king:
- If your daughter is not to be mine, then let her be no one's.
With these words, he picked up his turban and left.
The next day, the Spanish princess fell gravely ill. She grew thinner and paler by the hour, her eyes sunken deep into her face. The illness wracked her body, and the princess kept bending over as if she were a sheaf binder. The healers did not know what to call the illness or how to cure it.
Then, in despair, the king rang the Council bell.
- Lords of the Council! - he said. - My daughter is wasting away day by day. Tell me what to do.
And the wise lords of the Council replied:
- We have heard that in Italy, at the court of one of the kings, lives a girl named Rosalinda. She is as beautiful as she is wise. She found the missing daughter of that king and saved her. Send for her; perhaps she will save your daughter as well.
- Excellent! - exclaimed the king. - Your advice, Lords of the Council, pleases me greatly.
The king clapped his hands and ordered ships to be prepared at once. He appointed the eldest lord of the Council as the ambassador to the Italian king.
The ships were already raising their anchors when the king, out of breath, ran to the shore.
- Ah, eldest lord of the Council, I nearly forgot to give you the iron glove. If that king refuses to let Rosalinda go, throw the glove at his feet as a declaration of war.
The ambassador bowed to the king, took the glove, and the ships set sail.
The glove almost came in handy. Because the king, Rosalinda's adoptive father, flatly refused to let his foster daughter go to Spain. And there would have been war if Rosalinda herself had not rushed into the hall. Hearing why the ambassador had come, she said:
- Do not grieve, dear king, I will go to Spain for a short while. Perhaps I can help the Spanish princess.
And she pleaded with the king until he agreed.
So, the ships returned to Spain. The Spanish king himself and the sorrowful Portuguese prince came out to greet Rosalinda.
As soon as Rosalinda stepped onto the shore, she said:

"Take me to your daughter quickly."

And it was high time, for the princess had nearly wasted away.

"This is no ordinary illness," Rosalinda thought to herself. "There's something more to it!" She locked herself in the princess's chambers with her and ordered that no one disturb them for three days and three nights. The Spanish king himself, with his royal hands, placed seven large wax seals on the doors leading to his daughter's rooms.

And so, evening came. Rosalinda wanted to light a candle, but she had no flint, no tinderbox, and no kindling. She glanced out the window and noticed a faint light far, far away on a hill. Without hesitation, Rosalinda took a candle, leapt out the window, and ran in that direction. The further she went, the brighter the fire became. And when Rosalinda approached closely, she saw a large bonfire. On the fire stood a huge cauldron, in which something was boiling. An old, bow-legged Turk in a turban was stirring the brew and muttering something—not in Italian, not in Spanish, but in his own language, Turkish.

"Ah," thought Rosalinda, "could it be that the life of the Spanish princess is melting away in this cauldron?" And she said to the Turk:

"Oh, poor thing, take a little rest. You must be very tired."

"I cannot rest," replied the Turk. "I have been stirring for three months, day and night, night and day. It won't be much longer now. Soon I will return to my Turkey, or else my hundred wives might start quarreling among themselves."

"Well, then let me stir for you," said Rosalinda.

"Stir, stir, but I swear by the beard of Muhammad, if you stir poorly, I will boil you in this cauldron too."

The Turk sat down on the ground, crossing his legs, and Rosalinda began diligently stirring the foul brew with a dried owl's foot.

"Am I stirring well?" she asked the Turk.

"Stir, stir," muttered the Turk.

"Then you sleep," said Rosalinda. The Turk fell asleep.

Then Rosalinda tipped the cauldron of magical brew right onto the Turk.

Oh, what a commotion there was! The Turk immediately became as thin as a stick, shriveled up, and finally turned into a pile of dust.

Rosalinda lit her candle from the smoldering embers and rushed back to the palace.

When she returned, the Spanish princess was sleeping peacefully for the first time in many days, like a child. A blush appeared on her pale cheeks. On the day appointed by Rosalinda, the Spanish king broke the seven seals and opened the doors. His cheerful and healthy daughter threw herself into his arms.

The king rewarded Rosalinda with rich gifts and sent her back to Italy with great honors. The Spanish princess hugged her tightly, kissed her, and begged her not to forget that she had a sister in Spain. And the Portuguese prince, her fiancé, added—a brother as well.

"That's all," said the parrot.

"What do you mean, that's all!" exclaimed the woodcutter's wife. "No, no, sir miracle bird, talking parrot, I won't give up the doll until I know everything to the end."

"Yes," the woodcutter said thoughtfully, "even at the market, you don't hear such marvelous stories every day. So, please, winged sir, tell us what happened next."

The parrot said:

"I could talk about my mistress until morning. It seems like it's already starting to get light. Just as the sun rises, I will have time to tell you the shortest and happiest story about the beautiful Rosalinda."

THE PARROT'S THIRD TALE

In a kingdom in the south of Italy, there lived a king. He had an only son, as slender as a cypress, as agile and strong as a young lion, and as handsome as the moon in the sky. He loved hunting more than anything in the world.

One day, he heard that in the west of Italy, beyond ten mountains, ten valleys, and nine forests, in the tenth forest, there lived a white deer. The prince took his huntsmen and rode off on a long hunt.

For two months, the prince was gone, and when he returned, his own father, the king, did not recognize his son. An evil ailment had taken hold of the prince, and each day it sapped his strength. The prince neither ate nor drank. He lay on his gilded bed all day, sighing heavily.

The king questioned the prince's huntsmen, asking if anything had happened to him on the journey. But they knew nothing. They only said that the prince had ridden off after the white deer and returned in the evening, saddened and without any game.

"Oh, holy Madonna!" exclaimed the king. "To grieve so over some forest creature!"

The king resorted to a trick. He ordered a deer from the nearby forest to be caught and brought to the palace. Secretly, he painted the deer with the whitest paint he could find in the kingdom. Then he released it into the palace park and ran to his son.

"My son, get up quickly, go to the park, and you will see what your soul yearns for."

The prince jumped out of bed and, staggering from weakness, ran into the park. When he saw the white deer from afar, a groan escaped his chest. What good was the deer if he had lost a beautiful girl and his own heart through his own fault!

From that hour, the prince grew worse. His life was fading like a thin candle. All the doctors of the kingdom were already sitting in the palace dungeon, for none of them could cure the prince.

And so, in this sorrowful time, news reached the king of the wise Rosalinda, who had saved two royal daughters. The king sent envoys, equipped them with an iron glove just in case, and sent them to fetch Rosalinda.

"What a misfortune!" said Rosalinda's adoptive father, throwing up his hands. "It seems all the kings have decided to take turns showing off the style of their gloves! It's a troublesome business being your father, dear Rosalinda."

"Remember how you grieved for your daughter," the girl replied, "and do not hold me back."
And Rosalinda set off with the ambassadors. Along the way, they told her everything they knew about the prince's illness. Rosalinda began to ponder: the forest where the prince had been hunting was the very same one in which she herself had gotten lost.

"And what is the prince's name?" she asked the ambassadors. The ambassadors replied:

"The prince's name is Gabriel – Giovanni – Marcello – Alfonso – Pietro – Cesare – Antonio – Carlo – Mario – Domenico – Paolo – Giuseppe."

Rosalinda secretly pulled out a silk handkerchief from her bodice, the very same one that some unknown person had used to cover her face in the forest. She glanced at the handkerchief and noticed that along its edge were embroidered the letters:

G. D. M. A. P. Ch. A. K. M. D. P. D.

Rosalinda smiled quietly to herself.

The ambassadors and Rosalinda traveled and traveled, and finally, they arrived.

Rosalinda was led into the prince's chambers. The kind-hearted girl's heart filled with pity, for the prince, so young and handsome, was already very close to death. He lay with his eyes closed, as if dead, and only by his uneven breathing could one guess that life still flickered within him.

"Open your eyes, dear prince, if you wish to become strong and healthy again," said Rosalinda.

"I do not wish to open my eyes," replied the prince. "Let me die in peace."

"I will not," said Rosalinda, "not until you look at what I hold in my hand." And she pulled out the very same handkerchief from her bodice.

But the prince did not even stir. Then Rosalinda slyly said:

"Guess, dear prince, what this is: yesterday it was yours, today it is mine, and tomorrow it will belong to no one or to both of us."

As ill as the prince was, curiosity got the better of him. So he opened one eye. And what did he see? His own silk handkerchief. With this handkerchief, he had covered the face of a sleeping beauty in the distant forest, a beauty he had admired for a moment but lost forever.

At this, the prince opened his other eye and saw the one for whom his heart had been yearning. His eyes sparkled like those of a healthy man.

Rosalinda said:

"Now you have solved the riddle, and you must rest. Close your eyes."

"I do not wish to close my eyes," exclaimed the prince, "I am afraid I will lose you again! But I would gladly eat something, perhaps some strong broth."

From that moment on, Rosalinda did nothing but feed the prince broth.

By order of the happy king, broth was constantly being prepared in the palace kitchen. In three days, so much broth was made that the price of meat rose throughout the entire kingdom.

Soon the prince fully recovered and began asking his father to prepare everything for the wedding feast.

The news spread far and wide that the beautiful Rosalinda was marrying the prince. The first to arrive at the wedding was Rosalinda's own father. He had just returned from overseas and brought his beloved daughter the gift she had asked for—a miracle bird, a talking parrot. The gift came in very handy, as something had to be given for the wedding anyway.

Rosalinda's adoptive father and his daughter, her dear sister, also arrived. From across the sea came the Spanish king and princess, along with the Portuguese prince, who did not wish to be separated from his bride for even a day.

The feast was a grand success!

"Now you know everything to the very end!" said the parrot.

"No, no," cried the woodcutter's wife, "not everything yet!"

"How is it not everything?" the parrot objected. "If it has come to a wedding, then the tale is over."

"And how is Rosalinda doing now?" the woodcutter and his wife asked at once.

"Very well, but she misses her favorite doll. That is why I flew here to search for it."

The woodcutter's wife thanked the parrot for his truthful stories and handed over the doll.

Perhaps you feel sorry for the woodcutter's wife? Do you think she is sad without the doll? Do not worry. She has found comfort, for she has given birth to a daughter. And a real daughter is much better than even the most beautiful doll.

Well then, you might say, so Rosalinda is playing with the doll. Not at all. She has given birth to a son, and a son is no worse than a daughter.

And the Spanish princess, who married the Portuguese prince, gave birth to both a son and a daughter.

The doll was given to Rosalinda's first adoptive sister. She has not yet married.
Fairy girl