TATTERHOOD

TATTERHOOD

Once on a time there was a king and a queen who had no children, and that gave

the queen much grief; she scarce had one happy hour. She was always bewailing

and bemoaning herself, and saying how dull and lonesome it was in the palace.

“If we had children there’d be life enough”, she said.

Wherever she went in all her realm she found God’s blessing in children,

even in the vilest hut; and wherever she came she heard the Goodies scolding

the bairns, and saying how they had done that and that wrong. All this the

queen heard, and thought it would be so nice to do as other women did. At last

the king and queen took into their palace a stranger lassie to rear up, that

they might have her always with them, to love her if she did well, and scold

her if she did wrong, like their own child.

So one day the little lassie whom they had taken as their own, ran down into

the palace yard, and was playing with a gold apple. Just then an old beggar

wife came by, who had a little girl with her, and it wasn’t long before

the little lassie and the beggar’s bairn were great friends, and began to

play together, and to toss the gold apple about between them. When the Queen

saw this, as she sat at a window in the palace, she tapped on the pane for her

foster-daughter to come up. She went at once, but the beggar-girl went up too;

and as they went into the Queen’s bower, each held the other by the hand.

Then the Queen began to scold the little lady, and to say:

“You ought to be above running about and playing with a tattered

beggar’s brat.”

And so she wanted to drive the lassie downstairs.

“If the Queen only knew my mother’s power, she’d not drive me

out”, said the little lassie; and when the Queen asked what she meant

more plainly, she told her how her mother could get her children if she chose.

The Queen wouldn’t believe it, but the lassie held her own, and said

every word of it was true, and bade the Queen only to try and make her mother

do it. So the Queen sent the lassie down to fetch up her mother.

“Do you know what your daughter says?” asked the Queen of the old

woman, as soon as ever she came into the room.

No; the beggar wife knew nothing about it.

“Well, she says you can get me children if you will”, answered the

Queen.

“Queens shouldn’t listen to beggar lassies’ silly

stories”, said the old wife, and strode out of the room.

Then the Queen got angry, and wanted again to drive out the little lassie; but

she declared it was true every word that she had said.

“Let the Queen only give my mother a drop to drink,” said the

lassie; “when she gets merry she’ll soon find out a way to help

you.”

The Queen was ready to try this; so the beggar wife was fetched up again once

more, and treated both with wine and mead as much as she chose; and so it was

not long before her tongue began to wag. Then the Queen came out again with the

same question she had asked before.

“One way to help you perhaps I know”, said the beggar wife.

“Your Majesty must make them bring in two pails of water some evening

before you go to bed. In each of them you must wash yourself, and afterwards

throw away the water under the bed. When you look under the bed next morning,

two flowers will have sprung up, one fair and one ugly. The fair one you must

eat, the ugly one you must let stand; but mind you don’t forget the

last.”

That was what the beggar wife said.

Yes; the Queen did what the beggar wife advised her to do; she had the water

brought up in two pails, washed herself in them, and emptied them under the

bed; and lo! when she looked under the bed next morning, there stood two

flowers; one was ugly and foul, and had black leaves; but the other was so

bright, and fair, and lovely, she had never seen its like; so she ate it up at

once. But the pretty flower tasted so sweet, that she couldn’t help

herself. She ate the other up too, for, she thought, “it can’t hurt

or help one much either way, I’ll be bound”.

Well, sure enough, after a while the Queen was brought to bed. First of all,

she had a girl who had a wooden spoon in her hand, and rode upon a goat;

loathly and ugly she was, and the very moment she came into the world, she

bawled out “Mamma”.

“If I’m your mamma”, said the Queen, “God give me grace

to mend my ways.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry”, said the girl, who rode on the goat,

“for one will soon come after me who is better looking.”

So, after a while, the Queen had another girl, who was so fair and sweet, no

one had ever set eyes on such a lovely child, and with her you may fancy the

Queen was very well pleased. The elder twin they called

“Tatterhood”, because she was always so ugly and ragged, and

because she had a hood which hung about her ears in tatters. The Queen could

scarce bear to look at her, and the nurses tried to shut her up in a room by

herself, but it was all no good; where the younger twin was, there she must

also be, and no one could ever keep them apart.

Well, one Christmas eve, when they were half grown up, there rose such a

frightful noise and clatter in the gallery outside the Queen’s bower. So

Tatterhood asked what it was that dashed and crashed so out in the passage.

“Oh!” said the Queen, “it isn’t worth asking

about.”

But Tatterhood wouldn’t give over till she found out all about it and so

the Queen told her it was a pack of Trolls and witches who had come there to

keep Christmas. So Tatterhood said she’d just go out and drive them away;

and in spite of all they could say, and however much they begged and prayed her

to let the Trolls alone, she must and would go out to drive the witches off;

but she begged the Queen to mind and keep all the doors close shut, so that not

one of them came so much as the least bit ajar. Having said this, off she went

with her wooden spoon, and began to hunt and sweep away the hags; and all this

while there was such a pother out in the gallery, the like of it was never

heard. The whole Palace creaked and groaned as if every joint and beam were

going to be torn out of its place. Now, how it was, I’m sure I

can’t tell; but somehow or other one door did get the least bit ajar,

then her twin sister just peeped out to see how things were going with

Tatterhood, and put her head a tiny bit through the opening. But, POP! up came

an old witch, and whipped off her head, and stuck a calf’s head on her

shoulders instead; and so the Princess ran back into the room on all-fours, and

began to “moo” like a calf. When Tatterhood came back and saw her

sister, she scolded them all round, and was very angry because they

hadn’t kept better watch, and asked them what they thought of their

heedlessness now, when her sister was turned into a calf.

“But still I’ll see if I can’t set her free”, she said.

Then she asked the King for a ship in full trim, and well fitted with stores;

but captain and sailors she wouldn’t have. No; she would sail away with

her sister all alone; and as there was no holding her back, at last they let

her have her own way.

Then Tatterhood sailed off, and steered her ship right under the land where the

witches dwelt, and when she came to the landing-place, she told her sister to

stay quite still on board the ship; but she herself rode on her goat up to the

witches’ castle. When she got there, one of the windows in the gallery

was open, and there she saw her sister’s head hung up on the window

frame; so she leapt her goat through the window into the gallery, snapped up

the head, and set off with it. After her came the witches to try to get the

head again, and they flocked about her as thick as a swarm of bees or a nest of

ants; but the goat snorted, and puffed, and butted with his horns, and

Tatterhood beat and banged them about with her wooden spoon; and so the pack of

witches had to give it up. So Tatterhood got back to her ship, took the

calf’s head off her sister, and put her own on again, and then she became

a girl as she had been before. After that she sailed a long, long way, to a

strange king’s realm.

Now the king of that land was a widower, and had an only son. So when he saw

the strange sail, he sent messengers down to the strand to find out whence it

came, and who owned it; but when the king’s men came down there, they saw

never a living soul on board but Tatterhood, and there she was, riding round

and round the deck on her goat at full speed, till her elf locks streamed again

in the wind. The folk from the palace were all amazed at this sight, and asked,

were there not more on board? Yes, there were; she had a sister with her, said

Tatterhood. Her, too, they wanted to see, but Tatterhood said “No”:

“No one shall see her, unless the king comes himself”, she said;

and so she began to gallop about on her goat till the deck thundered again.

So when the servants got back to the palace, and told what they had seen and

heard down at the ship, the king was for setting out at once, that he might see

the lassie that rode on the goat. When he got down, Tatterhood led out her

sister, and she was so fair and gentle, the king fell over head and ears in

love with her as he stood. He brought them both back with him to the Palace,

and wanted to have the sister for his queen; but Tatterhood said

“No”; the king couldn’t have her in any way, unless the

king’s son chose to have Tatterhood. That you may fancy the prince was

very loath to do, such an ugly hussy as Tatterhood was; but at last the king

and all the others in the palace talked him over, and he yielded, giving his

word to take her for his queen; but it went sore against the grain, and he was

a doleful man.

Now they set about the wedding, both with brewing and baking; and when all was

ready, they were to go to church; but the prince thought it the weariest

churching he had ever had in all his life. First, the king drove off with his

bride, and she was so lovely and so grand, all the people stopped to look after

her all along the road, and they stared at her till she was out of sight. After

them came the prince on horseback by the side of Tatterhood, who trotted along

on her goat with her wooden spoon in her fist, and to look at him, it was more

like going to a burial than a wedding, and that his own; so sorrowful he

seemed, and with never a word to say.

“Why don’t you talk?” asked Tatterhood, when they had ridden

a bit.

“Why, what should I talk about?” answered the prince.

“Well, you might at least ask me why I ride upon this ugly goat”,

said Tatterhood.

“Why do you ride on that ugly goat?” asked the prince.

“Is it an ugly goat? why, it’s the grandest horse bride ever rode

on”, answered Tatterhood; and in a trice the goat became a horse, and

that the finest the prince had ever set eyes on.

Then they rode on again a bit, but the prince was just as woeful as before, and

couldn’t get a word out. So Tatterhood asked him again why he

didn’t talk, and when the Prince answered he didn’t know what to

talk about, she said:

“You can at least ask me why I ride with this ugly spoon in my

fist.”

“Why do you ride with that ugly spoon? “asked the prince.

“Is it an ugly spoon? why, it’s the loveliest silver wand bride

ever bore”, said Tatterhood; and in a trice it became a silver wand, so

dazzling bright, the sunbeams glistened from it.

So they rode on another bit, but the Prince was just as sorrowful, and said

never a word. In a little while, Tatterhood asked him again why he didn’t

talk, and bade him ask why she wore that ugly grey hood on her head.

“Why do you wear that ugly grey hood on your head?” asked the

Prince.

“Is it an ugly hood? why, it’s the brightest golden crown bride

ever wore”, answered Tatterhood, and it became a crown on the spot.

Now, they rode on a long while again, and the Prince was so woeful, that he sat

without sound or speech just as before. So his bride asked him again why he

didn’t talk, and bade him ask now, why her face was so ugly and

ashen-grey?

“Ah!” asked the Prince, “why is your face so ugly and

ashen-grey?”

“I ugly”, said the bride; “you think my sister pretty, but I

am ten times prettier”; and lo! when the Prince looked at her, she was so

lovely, he thought there never was so lovely a woman in all the world. After

that, I shouldn’t wonder if the Prince found his tongue, and no longer

rode along hanging down his head.

So they drank the bridal cup both deep and long, and, after that, both Prince

and King set out with their brides to the Princess’s father’s

palace, and there they had another bridal feast, and drank anew, both deep and

long. There was no end to the fun; and, if you make haste and run to the

King’s palace, I dare say you’ll find there’s still a drop of

the bridal ale left for you.

THE COCK AND HEN THAT WENT TO THE DOVREFELL Once on a time there was a Hen that had flown up, and perched on an oak-tree

for the night. When the night came, she dreamed that unless she got to the

Dovrefell, the world would come to an end. So that very minute she jumped down,

and set out on her way. When she had walked a bit she met a Cock. “Good day, Cocky-Locky”, said the Hen. “Good day, Henny-Penny”, said the Cock, “whither away so

early.” “Oh, I’m going to the Dovrefell, that the world mayn’t come

to an end”, said the Hen. “Who told you that, Henny-Penny”, said the Cock. “I sat in the oak and dreamt it last night”, said the Hen. “I’ll go with you”, said the Cock. Well! they walked on a good bit, and then they met a Duck. “Good day, Ducky-Lucky”, said the Cock. “Good day, Cocky-Locky”, said the Duck, “whither away so

early?” “Oh, I’m going to the Dovrefell, that the world mayn’t come

to an end”, said the Cock. “Who told you that, Cocky-Locky?” “Henny-Penny”, said the Cock. “Who told you that, Henny-Penny?” said the Duck. “I sat in the oak and dreamt it last night”, said the Hen. “I’ll go with you”, said the Duck. So they went off together, and after a bit they met a Goose. “Good day, Goosey-Poosey”, said the Duck. “Good day, Ducky-Lucky”, said the Goose, “whither away so

early?” “I’m going to the Dovrefell, that the world mayn’t come to an

end”, said the Duck. “Who told you that, Ducky-Lucky?” asked the Goose. “Cocky-Locky.” “Who told you that, Cocky-Locky?” “Henny-Penny.” “How you do know that, Henny-Penny?” said the Goose. “I sat in the oak and dreamt it last night, Goosey-Poosey”, said

the Hen. “I’ll go with you”, said the Goose. Now when they had all walked along for a bit, a Fox met them. “Good day, Foxsy-Cocksy”, said the Goose. “Good day, Goosey-Poosey.” “Whither away, Foxy-Cocksy?” “Whither away yourself, Goosey-Poosey?” “I’m going to the Dovrefell that the world mayn’t come to an

end”, said the Goose. “Who told you that, Goosey-Poosey?” asked the Fox. “Ducky-Lucky.” “Who told you that, Ducky-Lucky?” “Cocky-Locky.” “Who told you that, Cocky-Locky?” “Henny-Penny.” “How do you know that, Henny-Penny?” “I sat in the oak and dreamt last night, that if we don’t get to

the Dovrefell, the world will come to an end”, said the Hen. “Stuff and nonsense”, said the Fox; “the world won’t

come to an end if you don’t get thither. No! come home with me to my

earth. That’s far better, for it’s warm and jolly there.” Well, they went home with the Fox to his earth, and when they got in, the Fox

laid on lots of fuel, so that they all got very sleepy. The Duck and the Goose, they settled themselves down in a corner, but the Cock

and Hen flew up on a post. So when the Goose and Duck were well asleep, the

Fox, took the Goose and laid him on the embers, and roasted him. The Hen smelt

the strong roast meat, and sprang up to a higher peg, and said, half asleep: Faugh, what a nasty smell! What a nasty smell! “Oh, stuff”, said the Fox; “it’s only the smoke driven

down the chimney; go to sleep again, and hold your tongue.” So the Hen

went off to sleep again. Now the Fox had hardly got the Goose well down his throat, before he did the

very same with the Duck. He took and laid him on the embers, and roasted him

for a dainty bit. Then the hen woke up again, and sprung up to a higher peg

still. Faugh, what a nasty smell! What a nasty smell! She said again, and then she got her eyes open, and came to see how the Fox had

eaten both the twain, goose and duck; so she flew up to the highest peg of all,

and perched there, and peeped up through the chimney. “Nay, nay; just see what a lovely lot of geese flying yonder”, she

said to the Fox. Out ran Reynard to fetch a fat roast. But while he was gone, the Hen woke up

the Cock, and told him how it had gone with Goosey-Poosey and Ducky-Lucky; and

so Cocky-Lucky and Henny-Penny flew out through the chimney, and if they

hadn’t got to the Dovrefell, it surely would have been all over with the

world.