The Magic Pipe

In ancient times, there lived a husband and wife. They had a daughter who grew up to be the picture of perfection: tall, graceful, and beautiful. People rejoiced at the sight of her, for she was kind, gentle, and polite to everyone, always eager to help however she could.

But then misfortune struck. The girl's mother passed away.

After some time, whether long or short, the father remarried a widow, who brought her own daughter into the household. Now there were four in the family. Life as an orphan was already hard, but with a stepmother, it became even worse. The stepmother doted on her own daughter, pampering and indulging her, but from the very first day, she took a dislike to her stepdaughter. The orphan rose at dawn, washed her face with tears, and worked tirelessly until midnight. She spun, wove, fetched water, carried firewood, and milked the cows. All the while, the wicked woman would scold her:

"You're useless, you good-for-nothing! A burden upon my head!"

One day, the father opened a chest left by his first wife. Inside were a fur-trimmed jacket, a pearl-embroidered headdress, saffian boots, a golden ring with a precious stone, and various other garments.

"Let's divide this equally, and both our daughters will have a dowry," said the father.

But the envious stepmother and her daughter harbored dark thoughts.

"Why divide such wealth in two?" the stepmother whispered to her daughter. "With such a dowry, we could even find a merchant's son for you. You won't marry a peasant, a simpleton. Just don't mess this up!"

Some time after this conversation, the girls decided to go berry-picking. The father jokingly said:

"Well, whoever brings back the most berries will get a slightly larger share of the dowry."

The girls wandered through the forest, calling out to each other as they picked berries. In the evening, they met on a clearing. The stepmother's daughter looked—oh dear!—her stepsister's basket was brimming full, while hers had barely a handful at the bottom. Then she remembered her mother's words: not to divide the dowry in two... As they crossed a swamp, the stepmother's daughter snatched her stepsister's basket of berries and pushed her off the wooden planks into the bottomless mire.

"I'm drowning, I'm dying, dear sister!" the girl cried out. "Help me!"

"Help you? I think not! You'll never escape this swamp. All the dowry will be mine!" shouted the stepmother's daughter.

She crossed the swamp and ran home. Along the way, she poured the berries—clean, large, and perfect—into her own basket and buried her stepsister's basket in the moss.

"My clever girl, my wise one!" her mother greeted her. "Look, old man, how many berries my daughter has gathered!"

"Why didn't you come back together?" asked the father.

"We got separated," replied the stepmother's daughter. "I called and called, but no one answered. I thought she had filled her basket earlier and gone home."

"Where would she manage to finish before you? She must have fallen asleep somewhere and didn't hear you!" the stepmother laughed.

The evening passed, and the night went by. In the morning, the father rose early.

"We must go and look for her," he said. "It seems something terrible has happened."

He gathered the neighbors, and they went into the forest. The stepmother's daughter went with them.

"This is where we parted ways," she said, "and we never saw each other again."

They searched from morning till evening but returned empty-handed.

Summer was nearing its end. An old wanderer walked along those paths. He stepped onto the wooden planks and noticed a reed growing in the marshy spot. The old man cut the reed, put it to his lips, and as soon as he blew into it, he heard it play and sing, lamenting mournfully:

"Play, play, dear grandfather,
Play, play, my beloved.
There were two stepsisters,
And now I have been killed,
For the red berries
And for my mother's dowry,
Drowned in the rotten swamp!"

Late that evening, the old wanderer came to the village and asked for shelter in the farthest hut—the very house where the orphaned girl had gone missing. After supper, the wanderer spoke:

"Not far from your village, I cut a reed. It's quite amusing—it sings and speaks on its own. Here, master, blow into it!"

As soon as the father blew into the reed, it began to sing and speak:

"Play, play, my dear father,
Play, play, my beloved.
There were two stepsisters,
And now I have been killed,
For the red berries
And for my mother's dowry,
Drowned in the rotten swamp!"

The father's face changed. He handed the reed to his stepdaughter:

"Here, you play it!"

As soon as she brought the reed to her lips, it began to play and sing:

"Play, play, my stepsister,
Play, play, you evil-doer,
Play, play, you murderer!
You killed me,
Drowned me in the rotten swamp,
For the red berries
And for my mother's dowry,
You took my life!"

The father rushed to fetch witnesses. The wicked girl and her mother were bound and placed under guard. The father, the witnesses, and the old wanderer ran to the swamp. They searched and soon found the girl. They washed her, dressed her, and she opened her eyes, saying:

"Oh, how long I slept and how much I dreamed! Don't keep the wicked woman or her evil daughter, dear father. There will be no peace for either of us with them around."

In his joy, the father forgave the wicked stepmother and her evil daughter but banished them from the house:

"Go back to where you came from!"

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The Magic Pipe

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