THE ROSE TREE

Once upon a time, long long years ago, in the days when one had to be careful about witches, there lived a good man, whose young wife died, leaving him a baby girl.

Now this good man felt he could not look after the baby properly, so he married a young woman whose husband had died leaving her with a baby boy.

Thus the two children grew up together, and loved each other dearly, dearly.

But the boy’s mother was really a wicked witch-woman, and so jealous that she wanted all the boy’s love for herself, and when the girl-baby grew white as milk, with cheeks like roses and lips like cherries, and when her hair, shining like golden silk, hung down to her feet so that her father and all the neighbours began to praise her looks, the stepmother fairly hated her, and did all in her power to spoil her looks.  She would set the child hard tasks, and send her out in all weathers to do difficult messages, and if they were not well performed would beat her and scold her cruelly.

Now one cold winter evening when the snow was drifting fast, and the wild rose tree in the garden under which the children used to play in summer was all brown and barren save for snowflake flowers, the stepmother said to the little girl: 

“Child! go and buy me a bunch of candles at the grocer’s.  Here is some money; go quickly, and don’t loiter by the way.”

So the little girl took the money and set off quickly through the snow, for already it was growing dark.  Now there was such a wind blowing that it nearly blew her off her feet, and as she ran her beautiful hair got all tangled and almost tripped her up.  However, she got the candles, paid for them, and started home again.  But this time the wind was behind her and blew all her beautiful golden hair in front of her like a cloud, so that she could not see her steps, and, coming to a stile, had to stop and put down the bundle of candles in order to see how to get over it.  And when she was climbing it a big black dog came by and ran off with the bunch of candles!  Now she was so afraid of her stepmother that she durst not go home, but turned back and bought another bunch of candles at the grocer’s, and when she arrived at the stile once more, the same thing happened.  A big black dog came down the road and ran away with the bunch of candles.  So yet once again she journeyed back to the grocer’s through wind and snow, and, with her last penny, bought yet another bunch of candles.  To no purpose, for alas, and alack-a-day! when she laid them down in order to part her beautiful golden hair and to see how to get over the stile, a big black dog ran away with them.

So nothing was left save to go back to her stepmother in fear and trembling.  But, for a wonder, her stepmother did not seem very angry.  She only scolded her for being so late, for, see you, her father and her little playmate had gone to their beds and were in the Land of Nod.