O
ONCE upon a time there was a dear little girl named Isabella. She lived with her father, and her stepmother, and her two stepsisters.
Isabella was a pretty child and had sweet manners. Her stepsisters were not pretty, and they and their mother were jealous of Isabella.
They seldom spoke kindly to her; they made her do the hard work of the home, and treated her in a harsh manner, very much as Cinderella’s stepmother and stepsisters treated Cinderella.
One of her hard duties was to fetch the water for the household from the well just outside the village.
It was quite a long walk to the well, and after Isabella had worked all the morning, cooking, and washing the dishes, and washing and ironing, or sweeping, she felt sometimes that she was too tired to go so far and carry home such a heavy load.
One day after washing and ironing, she said, “I wish one of you girls would go with me to the well to-day, and help me bring back the water. I am so tired.”
“Indeed, they shall not!” exclaimed her stepmother angrily. “What do you think—that my daughters shall wait on you?”
“I do not care to get tanned in the sun,” yawned one.
“I do not wish my hands to look as though I work,” said the other haughtily.
So Isabella set out alone. She sat down to rest several times on her way, but after a while she reached the well. It was an old-fashioned affair, and had a moss-covered bucket on a long chain which wound on a roller. It was not hard work to drop thebucket down the well, but it was hard work to turn the handle of the roller until the dripping bucket reached the top. It was still harder work to empty the bucket into the pail she carried.
This day, when Isabella came to the well there was an old woman sitting on the well-curb. She was a wretched-looking old woman. She wore an old shawl about her head and shoulders.
When she saw Isabella she said, “Good-morrow, little maid.”
“Good morning,” said the little girl. “How do you do?”
“I should do very well, thank you,” said the old woman, “if I had a drink of water.”
“That you shall soon have,” said Isabella, forgetting her own tiredness because she felt sorry for her.
Isabella soon had the well bucket up, filled her pail, and then held it so that the thirsty woman could drink out of the side. She drank long and eagerly.
“Thank you,” she said at length. “Dear child, you will never be sorry for your kindness;” and she rose and walked away.
Isabella threw away the rest of the water, and after refilling her pail, set out for home.
When she reached the house, her stepmother said, “You are late! Where have you been?”
Isabella opened her mouth to answer—and what do you think happened? Out fell diamonds and roses.
Quickly the stepmother called her daughters and they began to sweep them up.
“Where have you been?” cried the stepsisters. “What has happened to you?”
Isabella tried to think what could have brought such a thing about, for she was as much surprised as any of them, but she could not think of anything unusual except the meeting with the old woman.
“Speak!” demanded her stepmother. “Are you trying to hide something from us?”
She Drank Long and Eagerly
She Drank Long and Eagerly
Isabella said that she had met a strange old lady at the well, but that she could not remember anything else that had not happened every time she had gone for water.
Every once in a while as she was speaking diamonds and roses fell from her mouth.
“You need not go for the water the next time,” said her stepmother. “I shall send my own girls.”
The next day the two stepsisters went to fetch the water.
When they came to the well, there sat the old ragged woman on the curb.
“Good-morrow, young maidens,” said the old woman.
The stepsisters just stared at her.
“My, it is a warm day,” said the old woman, “and I am very thirsty. Will you give me a drink of water?”
“Indeed, we will not!” said the older one haughtily.
“The very idea!” exclaimed the younger one, looking at the old woman’s ragged clothes. “I should think not!”
Then they drew the water, all the time complaining and groaning about the hard work.
When they started to go home, the old woman spoke.
“You are not kind,” she said, “you will be sorry.” But they only laughed and hurried away.
Their mother met them at the door.
“Well, my dears,” she said, “how fared you? Did you meet any good fortune?”
“All we saw was an old woman at the well—such a ragged, wretched old thing she was, too!” answered one girl.
“And she wanted us to give her a drink of water. The idea!” the other girl said at the same time.
With the last words, out of their mouths fell several snakes and toads, which went scudding across the floor.
Their mother screamed and, gathering her skirts about her, jumped on a chair.
“Oh, where have you been?” she cried. “What has happened to you?”
And when the girls told her that they did not know, more snakes and toads fell from their mouths.
“This is an outrage!” exclaimed their mother. “Isabella has formed some terrible plot against you. She is to blame! Go bring her here, and I shall punish her. I shall whip her until she tells us the charm she has found.”
The girls ran out, and soon came back dragging Isabella between them.
Just as they reached their mother a bright light appeared in the room, and suddenly a beautiful fairy stood before them.
“Do not touch Isabella!” she said to the stepmother. “She is not in the least to blame for your children’s misfortune. Their cruel fate is their own fault. When I met Isabella at the well and asked her for a drink of water, she gave it to me gladly and willingly, but when I met your daughters and asked them for a drink they treated me proudly and unkindly.”
“You!” exclaimed the stepmother, looking upon the radiant creature with her shining fairy robes about her. “Met you, and would not give you a drink of water!”
The fairy smiled. “Ah, yes; it was I, but I did not look then as I now do. I was the ragged old woman at the well.”
“If they had known it was you—” said the stepmother.
“If they had known it was I,” the fairy said, “how could I have judged whether they were kind of heart, and polite to old people, and helpful to people in need?”
“When I met Isabella,” the fairy went on, “I looked just as when I met your daughters, and she was very polite and kind to me, and gave me a drink, holding the pail while I drank, even though she was very tired. Because only polite and kind words came from her mouth, I gave her a good fairy gift, and because only impolite and unkind words came from the mouths of your daughters, I gave them another kind of gift.”
“Oh, please take back the one you gave them,” pleaded the mother.
“Do you mean Isabella’s gift, too?” asked the fairy.
“Oh, no,” the mother said. “Let her have her gift—but please, please take away the awful gift of my daughters!”
“Let me see,” said the fairy, “what Isabella says about that. Shall I take back the gift of your stepsisters, my dear?”
“Oh, please, please do!” cried Isabella. “I am so sorry that they are unhappy.”
“Very well, then,” said the fairy. “For Isabella’s sake, I shall take their gifts back, but only on one condition—that they promise to be kind and polite from now on.”
“Oh, we promise! We promise!” cried both stepsisters at once.
“Unless you keep your promise,” said the fairy, “the snakes and toads will come from your mouths again.” And the fairy disappeared as suddenly as she had come.
But the snakes and toads did not come again, for the stepsisters and their mother were very kind to every one ever after, and Isabella lived a happy life from that day.
* * * * * *
“They just had to keep their promise, didn’t they?” commented Mary Frances. “I am glad they did, for I do not like people to break promises.”
“Neither do I,” agreed the Story Lady; “and that reminds me of one of our favorite stories—Coralie and the Magic Necklace.”
“Oh,” said Mary Frances, “but I like a story with magic in it.”
“Very well,” said the Story Lady, “I will tell you the story.”