Italian Folktales (58 page)

“Have no fear, Majesty, I will look after her to the very best of my ability.”

As soon as the king was gone, the stepmother queen went to all lengths to get into his room. She put opium into the wine of his servant and stole the key from him when he fell asleep. She unlocked the door and turned the room upside down in search of clues to her stepson's strange behavior; but the more she searched, the less she found. The only thing out of the ordinary in the room was that splendid apple in a golden fruit bowl. “It must be this apple that is always on his mind!”

Queens, as you well know, always have a small dagger concealed in their sashes. She took out her dagger and began pricking the apple all over. Out of every wound flowed a rivulet of blood. The stepmother queen grew frightened, ran away, and replaced the key in the sleeping servant's pocket.

When the servant awakened, he had no idea what had happened to him. He ran into the king's room and found blood all over the place. “Oh, my goodness, what will I do now?” he exclaimed and fled.

He went to an aunt of his who was a fairy and possessed all the magic powders. The aunt took a powder suitable for apples under spells and another for bewitched maidens, and blended them.

The servant returned to the apple and sprinkled all the wounds with the mixture. The apple burst open, and out stepped the maiden in bandages and plaster casts.

The king came home, and for the first time, the maiden spoke. “Would you believe that your stepmother stabbed me all over with her dagger? But your servant has nursed me back to health. I am eighteen and was under a spell. If you like, I will be your bride.”

“If I like! Indeed I do!”

The wedding was celebrated, to the great joy of both palaces. The only person missing was the stepmother, who fled and was never heard of again.

 

Merrily through life they went,

But were only content

To give me one cent

I never spent.

 

(
Florence
)

86

There was once a husband and a wife who lived in a pretty little house. And this little house had a window overlooking the fairies' garden.

The woman was expecting a baby and had a craving for parsley. She looked out the window and saw in the fairies' garden a large patch of parsley. Waiting until the fairies were out, she descended into the garden by means of a rope ladder, gorged herself with parsley, then climbed back up the ladder and closed the window behind her.

The next day, and the next, and the next, she did the same thing. Not a day went by that she didn't eat her fill of parsley. At last the fairies, out walking in the garden, noticed that their parsley was almost all gone.

“Know what we should do?” said one of the fairies. “Pretend we've all gone out, while one of us stays behind and hides. That way we'll find out who's stealing the parsley.”

When the woman descended into the garden, out jumped a fairy. “Ah-ha! I've caught you at last, you villain!”

“Please don't be angry with me,” said the woman. “I crave parsley because I'm expecting a baby . . . ”

“We will forgive you,” answered the fairy. “But if the baby is a boy you must name him Prezzemolino—that is, Little Parsley-Boy. If it is a girl, you are to call her Prezzemolina—that is, Little Parsley-Girl. And when the child is older, no matter whether it is a boy or a girl, we will take it away from you!”

The women returned home in tears. When her husband learned of her
pact with the fairies, he was furious. “You awful glutton! Don't you see you've brought this on yourself?”

The baby was a girl, Prezzemolina. In time her parents forgot all about the pact with the fairies.

When Prezzemolina was a big girl, she started to school. And every day on her way home she met the fairies, who would say, “Child, tell Mother to remember what she owes us.”

“Mamma,” said little Prezzemolina as she walked in, “the fairies say for you to remember what you owe them.” At those words her mother would wince, but say nothing.

One day her mother had other things on her mind. Prezzemolina came in from school and said, “The fairies say for you to remember what you have to give them.” Without thinking, her mother replied, “Of course. Tell them to go ahead and take it.”

The next day the child went to school. “Well, does Mother remember?” asked the fairies.

“Yes, she said you can go ahead and take what she owes you.”

The fairies didn't have to be told twice. They grabbed Prezzemolina and away they flew.

When her mother didn't see her come home, she began to worry more and more. All of a sudden she remembered what she had told the little girl, and exclaimed, “Oh, dear! What have I done! And there's no way to make up for it . . . ”

The fairies took Prezzemolina to their house and showed her the grimy room where they kept their coal. “See this room, Prezzemolina? When we come home tonight, the walls must be milk-white and have all the birds of the air painted on them. Or else we'll eat you alive.” They went off and left Prezzemolina crying her heart out.

A knock was heard at the door. Prezzemolina went to open it, sure the fairies were back and that her time had come. But in walked Meme, the fairies' cousin. “Why are you crying, Prezzemolina?” he asked.

“You would cry too,” replied Prezzemolina, “if you had to make these filthy black walls milk-white and then paint all the birds of the air on them before the fairies get home! If I don't do it, they will eat me alive!”

“Give me a kiss,” said Meme, “and I'll do every bit of the work myself.”

But Prezzemolina replied:

 

“Rather let the fairies eat me,

Than allow a man to kiss me.”

 

“The answer is so charming,” said Meme, “that I'll do the work all the same.”

He waved his magic wand, and the walls became as white as white could be, with all the birds on them, the way the fairies had directed.

Meme went away, and the fairies came back. “Well, Prezzemolina, did you get your work done?”

“I certainly did, ladies. Come see.”

The fairies looked at one another. “Tell the truth, Prezzemolina; our cousin Meme came by, didn't he?”

Prezzemolina replied:

 

“I saw neither your cousin Memé

Nor my dear mother who brought me to the light of day.”

 

The next morning the fairies put their heads together. “How can we get to eat her? There must be some way . . . Prezzemolina!”

“What is it, ladies?”

“Tomorrow morning you are to go to Morgan le Fay and tell her to give you Handsome Clown's box.”

“All right,” replied Prezzemolina, and set out the next morning. After walking and walking she met Meme, the fairies' cousin, who asked, “Where are you going?”

“To Morgan le Fay, to get Handsome Clown's box.”

“But don't you know she will eat you alive?”

“So much the better for me. That way it will be all over.”

“Here,” said Meme. “Take with you these two pots of grease. You'll come to a gate that slams in your face. Grease it, and it will let you through. Also take along these two loaves of bread. You'll come upon two dogs in a fight. Throw them the bread, and they will let you pass. Also take with you this string and awl. You will meet a cobbler pulling out his beard and hair with which to stitch shoes. Give him these things, and he will let you pass. Then take these brooms. You will meet a woman baking bread and sweeping out the oven with her bare hands. Give her the brooms, and she will let you pass. And be sure you act quickly.”

Prezzemolina took along grease, loaves, string, and brooms, which she gave to the gate, the dogs, the cobbler, and the woman baking bread. They all thanked her. Then she came to a town square and went up to knock on the door of Morgan le Fay's palace.

“Just a minute, child,” said Morgan le Fay, “just a minute.” But Prezzemolina knew she had to act quickly, so she flew up two flights of steps, found Handsome Clown's box, and made off with it as fast as her legs would carry her.

Hearing her flee, Morgan le Fay yelled out the window, “Woman
baker sweeping out the oven with your bare hands! Stop that child, stop her!”

“Would I be such a fool? She was thoughtful enough to bring me brooms, so I won't have to sweep out the oven any longer with my hands.”

“Cobbler stitching shoes with your beard and hair! Stop that child, stop her!”

“Would I be such a fool? She was thoughtful enough to bring me string and awl, so I won't have to pull out my beard and hair any longer to stitch up shoes.”

“Dogs in a fight! Stop that child!”

“Would we be such fools? She gave us a loaf of bread apiece!”

“Slamming gate! Stop that child!”

“Would I be such a fool? She greased me from head to foot!”

So Prezzemolina got safely through. No sooner was she out of all danger than she began wondering. “Just what could be in Handsome Clown's box?” At last she gave in to the temptation to open it.

Out jumped a whole regiment of tiny, tiny men, who went marching off to the sound of their band, and there was no stopping them now at any cost. Prezzemolina tried her best to get them back into the box; but for every one she caught, ten others slipped away from her. She burst into tears, and just at that moment Meme arrived.

“Curiosity killed the cat!” he said. “Now you see what a fine mess you're in!”

“I was just going to take a peep.”

“There's no way to make up for this. But if you give me a kiss, I'll get the men back into the box.”

She replied:

 

“Rather let the fairies eat me,

Than allow a man to kiss me.”

 

“You put that so nicely that I'm going to help you all the same.” He waved his magic wand, and all the tiny men retreated into Handsome Clown's box.

The fairies were anything but pleased to hear Prezzemolina knock at the door. “How on earth did she ever get away from Morgan le Fay alive?”

“A pleasant day to each of you,” she said. “Here is the box.”

“Ah, you clever girl . . . . And what did Morgan le Fay have to say?”

“She told me to give you her best wishes.”

“So that's it!” whispered the fairies to each other. “We are to eat her ourselves.” That evening Meme called on them. “Know what, Meme? Morgan le Fay didn't eat Prezzemolina. We are to do so ourselves.”

“Fine!” exclaimed Meme. “Wonderful!”

“Tomorrow when she's finished all the housework, we'll have her put on a large laundry tub of water to boil. When the water boils we'll grab her and throw her in.”

“Yes, yes,” he said. “I agree, it's a good idea.”

When the fairies left the house, Meme went to Prezzemolina. “Listen, Prezzemolina. They intend to boil you alive in the laundry tub. But you must say there's no wood and go to the cellar to fetch some. Then I will come in.”

So the fairies told Prezzemolina she had to do the wash and put the tub of water on to boil. She lit the fire, then announced: “But there's hardly any wood left.”

“Go to the cellar and get it.”

When Prezzemolina went down to the cellar, she heard Meme say, “I am here, Prezzemolina.”

He took her by the hand and let her to the back of the cellar where many candles were burning. “These are the fairies' souls. Blow them out!” She started blowing, and for each candle that went out, a fairy died.

Finally only one candle was still burning, the biggest of them all. “This is Morgan le Fay's soul!” They both blew with all their might until they had put it out too and become the sole heirs to everything belonging to the fairies.

“Now you will be my bride,” said Meme, and Prezzemolina gave him the kiss he had been waiting for.

They took up residence in Morgan le Fay's palace, making the cobbler a duke and the baker a marquise. They kept the dogs with them at the palace and left the gate right where it was, carefully greasing it every now and then.

 

Thus they lived happily ever afterward,

But nothing did they give to me their bard.

 

(
Florence
)

87

There was once a nosy king who went prowling in the evenings under the windows of his subjects to hear what they said about him in private. It was a time of unrest, and the king feared the people were hatching some plot against him. Thus, lurking near a humble country dwelling at dusk, he overheard three sisters on their porch in a spirited discussion.

The eldest said, “If I could marry the king's baker, I would make as much bread in a single day as the court eats in a whole year, so taken am I with that handsome young baker!”

The middle girl stated: “For my husband, I would like the king's vintner, and you would see me intoxicate the whole court with one glass of wine, so much does that vintner delight me!”

Then they asked the youngest girl, who held her tongue. “And whom would you marry?”

The youngest, who was also the loveliest of the three, answered, “I would take the king himself, and I would give him two rosy-faced, golden-haired sons, and a rosy-faced, golden-haired daughter with a star on her brow.”

Her sisters made fun of her. “Poor little thing! You ask for so little!” The nosy king, who had heard every word, went home, and the next day he sent for the three sisters. The girls were very frightened, for these were dangerous times when everyone was viewed with suspicion, and anything could happen. They got to the palace, quite upset, but the king said, “Don't be afraid. Just tell me what you were saying last night on your porch.”