Strong Fairy Tale Heroines #16: THE WELL AT THE WORLD'S END

This is another story from Robert Chambers’ ‘Popular Rhymes of Scotland’. It's told in Scots and the original spelling of the title is ‘The Wal at the Warld’s End’. It likely dates back to at least the mid 16^th century, since a list of titles in ‘The Complaynt of Scotland’ (1548) includes one called ‘The Wolf of the Warldis End’ which is a probable misprint of this one.  

I’ve anglicised the spelling just a little, but you need to know that ‘to flit’ means ‘to move’ in the context of relocating an animal to a new pasture or moving one’s abode – that ‘hecklepins’ are the sharp prickly combs used for teasing out flax – and that ‘scaud’ means ‘scalded’; I've consulted a Scottish friend who suggests that in this context it may mean 'scabby'! To ‘weird’ is to foretell or prophesy, like the ‘weird sisters’ in Macbeth.  

This heroine succeeds without the assistance of any prince (the one who turns up at the end has nothing to do with the story; he's introduced simply to underline her good fortune and contrast it with her step-sister's). She is rewarded for her kindness and courtesy. But her ride 'far and far' over the wild moorland to the well at the world's end reminds me of the Lyke Wake Dirge (hear it here): it seems her adventurous journey takes her to the edge of the Otherworld.

If you would like to read more about eerie heads floating in wells, and the stories which contain them, I’ve written about some of them here: 'Haunted By Heads'.

 

There was a king and a queen, and the king had a daughter, and the queen had a daughter. And the king’s daughter was bonnie and guid-natured and a’body liked her; and the queen’s daughter was ugly and ill-natured, and naebody liked her. And the queen didna like the king’s daughter, and she wanted her awa’. So she sent her to the well at the world’s end, to get a bottle o’ water, thinking she would never come back. 

                Weel, she took her bottle, and she gaed and she gaed till she came to a pony that was tethered, and the pony said to her, 

                “Flit me, flit me, my bonnie May

                 For I havna been flitted this seven year and a day.” 

And the king’s daughter said, “Ay will I, my bonnie pony, I’ll flit ye.” So the pony gave her a ride ower the moor of hecklepins. 

                Weel, she gaed far and far, and farther than I can tell, before she came to the well at the world’s end; and when she came to the well it was awful deep, and she couldna get her bottle dipped. And as she was lookin’ doon, thinking how to do, there looked up to her three scaud men’s heads, and they said to her,

                “Wash me, wash me, my bonnie May,

                And dry me wi’ your clean linen apron.’

And she said, “Ay will I; I’ll wash ye.” So she washed the three scaudit men’s heads, and dried them wi’ her clean linen apron; and syne [then] they took and dipped her bottle for her. 

                And the scaud men’s heads said the tane to the tither [one to the other]

                “Weird, brother, what’ll ye weird?”

And the first ane said, “I weird that if she was bonnie afore, she’ll be ten times bonnier.” And the second ane said, “I weird that ilka [each] time she speaks, there’ll be a diamond and a ruby and a pearl drop oot o’ her mouth.” And the third ane said, “I weird that ilka time she kaims her hair, she’ll get a peck o’ gold and a peck o’ siller oot o’ it.”

                Well, she came hame to the king’s court again, and if she was bonnie afore,she was ten times bonnier; and ilka time she opened her lips to speak, there was a diamond and a ruby and a pear droppit oot o’ her mouth, and ilka time she kaimed her hair, she got a peck o’ gold and a peck o’ siller oot o’ it.  And the queen was that vexed, she didna ken what to do, but she thought she would send her own daughter to see if she could fall in wi’ the same luck. So she gave her a bottle and telled her to gang awa’ to the well at the world’s end, and get a bottle o’ water. 

             Weel, the queen’s daughter gaed and gaed  till she came to the pony, an’ the pony said,

“Flit me, flit me, my bonnie May

              For I havna been flitted this seven year and a day.” 

And the queen’s daughter said, “Oh you nasty beast, do ye think I’ll flit ye? Do you ken wha ye’re speaking till? I’m a queen’s daughter!” So she wouldna flit the pony, and the pony wouldna give her a ride ower the moor of hecklepins. And she had to gang on her bare feet, and the hecklepins cutted her feet, and she could hardly gang at all.

 

                Weel, she gaed far and far, and farther than I can tell, before she came to the well at the world’s end. And the well was deep, and she couldna get her bottle dipped; and as she was looking doon, thinking how to do, there looked up to her three scaud men’s heads, and they said till her: 

“Wash me, wash me, my bonnie May,

              And dry me wi’ your clean linen apron.’

And she said,”Oh ye nasty dirty beasts, div ye think I’m gaunie wash ye? Div ye think wha ye’re speaking till? I’m a queen’s daughter.” So she wouldna wash them, and they wouldna dip her bottle for her.

And the scaud men’s heads said the tane to the tither,

           “Weird, brother, what’ll ye weird?”

And the first ane said, “I weird that if she was ugly before, she’ll be ten times uglier.” And the second said, “I weird that ilka time she speaks, there’ll be a puddock and a taid [a frog and a toad] leap oot o’ her mouth.” And the third ane said, “And I weird that ilka time she kaims her hair, she’ll get a peck o’ lice and a peck o’ fleas oot o’ it.” 

                So she gaed awa’ hame again, an if she was ugly afore, she was ten times uglier, and ilka time she opened her lips to speak, there was a puddock and a taid droppit oot o’ her mouth, and ilka time she kaimed her hair she got a peck o’ lice and a peck o’ fleas oot o’ it. So they had to send her awa’ frae the king’s court. And there was a bonnie young prince came and married the king’s daughter; and the queen’s daughter had to put up wi’ an auld cobbler. 

Picture credit:

'The Three Heads in the Well' by Arthur Rackham

Strong Fairy Tale Heroines #15: TATTERHOOD

Art by Yoshi Yoshitani http://www.yoshiyoshitani.com/

This wonderfully vigorous story from Norway was collected in 'Norske Folkeeventyr', by Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe, and translated into English by Sir George W Dasent in ‘Popular Tales from the North’ (1859). It has echoes of the  Scottish tale 'Kate Crackernuts', in which sisters stick together after a witch has given one of them a sheep’s head, and of the Norwegian tale 'Prince Lindworm' in which a queen eats two flowers and gives birth to a poisonous lindworm, the northern dragon. While Dasent’s translation is in many ways delightful, his mid-19^th century style  now feels rather too formal to do the story justice, so I’ve loosened it up to make it more colloquial. Do check the 'Picture Credits' at the bottom of the post for links to the artists and to see more of their beautiful work.

As so many fairy tales do, it begins with a queen who longs for a child. To satisfy her longing, the king and queen adopt ‘a stranger lassie’, no kin to them, and bring her up as their own. One day the child strikes up a friendship with a little beggar-girl. The queen scolds her for making an acquaintance unsuited to her adoptive rank, and the beggar-girl, piqued, boasts that her old mother has the power to help the queen get a child of her own. The old woman does this: and that’s the last we hear of the adopted daughter or the beggar-girl, though to me it feels as if by some fairy tale alchemy or karma the pair reappear – are reborn – as the queen’s own children! For the queen disobeys the old woman’s instructions. Told to eat just one of the two flowers that spring up under her bed, she eats both – first the pretty one and then the ugly one – and in due course gives birth to twins, one lovely and cherished, the other ugly and neglected. This child is the marvellous Tatterhood - and surely in some way the avatar of the unsuitable beggar-girl?

Ugliness in fairy tales often signifies wickedness, but this is never so if the ugly person is the main character. His or her ugliness conceals real worth, and puts other characters in the story to the test. (Will they recognise it?) Initially despised or rejected, the ugly protagonist - often like Tatterhood an ebullient, self confident character - sets off on a series of successful adventures and finally persuades someone to marry them. If the betrothed person keeps their promise, no matter how reluctantly, the protagonist’s ugliness changes to beauty. 

That is how the the story of the Frog-King works: the princess doesn’t want the ugly frog to share her plate and sleep in her bed. She is constrained to do so, not by her own but by her father’s sense of honour:“You must do what you have promised,” he says. She even hurls the poor frog at the wall! But so long as the contract is kept to the letter, the spirit doesn’t matter: the transformation will occur. Breaking a promise, in a fairy tale, is one of the worst things you can do. In the Grimms’ tale 'Hans My Hedgehog', a peasant rashly exclaims, “I’ll have a child even it’s a hedgehog,” and the babe is born half-hedgehog, covered in spikes from the waist up. (His poor mother!) Like Tatterhood with her goat and wooden spoon, Hans rides away on his cockerel, merrily playing the bagpipes. He assists a couple of kings and obtains promises from each of them to marry him to their respective daughters. One father-daughter pair renege on the promise and are disgraced: the other pair honour it and are rewarded by the usual transformation of the apparent monster into a handsome young man.

So these stories say something about the importance of keeping faith: also about not judging by appearances. In 'Tatterhood', though the prince is unflatteringly miserable about his approaching nuptials, he intends to keep his word. It's not about how you feel, it's what you do that counts. And I love the way Tatterhood makes the prince talk to her – question her, take an interest in her – and it's this process of questioning, this dialogue, which reveals her and allows him to see her as she really is.

Art by Lisa Hunt

Once upon a time there was a king and queen who had no children, which made the queen very unhappy. How dull and lonely the palace was! “If we only had children, there’d be plenty of life!” she said, for as she travelled around the kingdom she saw children everywhere, and saw their mothers scolding them and cuddling them. Oh how she wished she could do the same!

            At last the king and queen took a young stranger lassie into their palace to bring up as their own, and one day this little lassie ran down into the palace yard and began playing with a golden apple. Just then an old beggar woman came by with a little girl, and in no time at all the little lassie and the beggar’s child were playing together like best friends, playing catch and tossing the golden apple between them. 

            When the queen noticed, she tapped on the window for her foster-daughter to come up. She obeyed at once, but the beggar-girl came too, and they went into the queen’s bower holding hands. Then the queen scolded her foster-daughter: “You’re a little lady! You shouldn’t be chasing about with a tattered beggar’s brat!” And she tried to drive the beggar-girl downstairs. 

            “If the queen knew my mother’s power, she wouldn’t drive me out,” said the little beggar-girl, and when the queen asked what she meant, she told her that her mother could help her get children of her own. The queen wouldn’t believe it, but the beggar-lassie stood her ground and insisted every word was true. So the queen sent her downstairs to fetch her mother.  

            Well, the old woman came up. “Your daughter says you can get me children,” says the queen.

            “Queens shouldn’t listen to silly tales from beggar-girls,” says the old wife, and she turned around and marched out of the room. Then the queen was angry, but the beggar-girl swore it was all true. “Give her a drop to drink and get her merry, then she’ll soon find a way to help you!” 

            The queen wanted a child so very much, she decided to try it, so the beggar wife was fetched up again and treated with as much wine and mead as she wanted. Her tongue began to wag, and she told the queen what to do. 

            “Wash yourself this evening in two pails of water, and throw the water under the bed. Look under the bed next morning and two flowers will be growing there, one pretty and one ugly. Eat the pretty one, but leave the ugly one alone. And mind you don’t forget it!” That’s what the beggar woman said. 

            So the queen had water brought up in two pails, washed herself and emptied them under the bed. Next morning, two flowers stood there. One was ugly with black, prickly leaves, but the other was so bright she’d never seen anything lovelier. She gobbled it up at once. It tasted so sweet, she couldn’t resist eating the other one too, for – she thought – “It’s not going to help or harm me either way, I’m sure.”         

            But time went by, and the queen gave birth to twins. The first to pop out was a girl. She was gripping a wooden spoon in her hand and riding on a goat; she was dreadfully ugly, and she came into the world bawling, “Mamma!”

            “I must have done something terribly wrong to be your mamma,” said the queen. “God help me mend my ways!”  

            “No need to be sorry,” said the girl who rode on the goat. “The next one will be much better looking!” and sure enough, a short while later the queen gave birth to a second girl, the loveliest child imaginable – and with this one at least, she was well pleased. 

            The two girls grew up together. They called the eldest twin ‘Tatterhood’ because she was so ugly and ragged, and wore a hood that hung about her ears in tatters. Her mother could hardly bear to look at her, and the nurses tried to keep her out of sight, but it didn’t work. For the sisters loved each other dearly, and wherever one was, the other would always be there too. 

            Well! One Christmas Eve when they were half grown up, a dreadful banging and clattering and burst out in the gallery beyond the queen’s bower. Tatterhood asked what it was it that was dashing and crashing about so?

            “Oh,” said the queen, “nothing worth asking about.” 

            But Tatterhood wouldn’t take that for an answer! She wouldn’t give up until at last the queen told her that a pack of trolls and witches had invaded the palace and meant to spend the whole of Christmas there, partying and misbehaving and doing as they liked.

            “I’ll get rid of them!” said Tatterhood. The queen feared it would only make things worse and begged her not to, but Tatterhood was determined to drive the trolls and witches out. She warned the queen to keep every door closed tight, and to make sure no one opened them by even so much as a crack. Then out she rushed brandishing her wooden spoon and began hunting the trolls and harrying the hags and driving them up and down, and it made so much noise out there in the gallery that it sounded as if the floorboards were splitting and the roofbeams breaking. 

            How it happened I just don’t know, but somehow a door was opened a chink, and Tatterhood’s sister peeped through to see how her twin was doing, and as soon as she put her head just a tiny bit out – POP! – up came an old witch and whipped her head off, and stuck a calf’s head on her shoulders instead. And the princess jumped back into the room and ran around it on all fours, mooing. 

Art by Lauren Mills

            When Tatterhood saw what had happened she was furious with everyone, including the Queen. Why hadn’t done what they were told, and kept her sister safe? “See what your carelessness has done!” she scolded. “Look at the poor child, turned into a calf! Still, I’ll see what I can do to save her.”

            She told the King to get her a ship all ready to sail and fitted with plenty of stores. She didn’t want any captain or sailors, oh no! She was going to sail away with her sister, just the two of them alone. Of course the King argued, but there was no stopping Tatterhood. And she got her way! 

            Off she sailed and steered her ship to the land where the witches lived. When she came to the landing place she told her sister to stay quietly on board, while she herself rode her goat straight up to the witches’ castle. There she saw that one of the windows in the gallery was open, and her sister’s head was hanging by the window frame. Tatterhood leaped her goat right through the window, snatched up the head and galloped off with it. The pack of witches rushed after her, thick as a swarm of bees: but the goat snorted and puffed and butted them with his horns, and Tatterhood banged and bashed them with her wooden spoon until the witches gave way and fled. 

            So Tatterhood got back to her ship. She took the calf’s head off her sister’s shoulders and put her own back in its place, and she was a girl again, as pretty as before. Then Tatterhood sailed the ship a long, long way across the sea to the shores of another country. 

            The king of this land was a widower with just one son, and when he saw the strange sail approaching he sent messengers down to the strand to discover where it had come from and who owned it. But when the king’s men arrived they could see no soul on board but Tatterhood, riding round and round the deck on her goat at top speed, till her elf-locks streamed in the wind. The folk from the palace were astonished. “Who are you? Is no one else on board?” they called. 

            “Oh yes!” said Tatterhood, pulling the goat up. “My sister is with me.”

            “Let us see her!”

            “No one shall see her, unless the king himself comes!” she cried, and set to galloping about on her goat again till the deck boomed and thundered.

            When the servants got back to the palace and told him what they’d witnessed down at the ship, the king wanted to set out at once to see for himself. As soon as he got there, Tatterhood led out her sister who was so gentle and pretty that the king fell head over heels in love with her on the spot. He invited them back to the palace with him, and wanted to have the sister for his queen. But Tatterhood said, “No! You shall not have her in any way – unless your son the prince pledges to marry me as well.” And this set the cat among the pigeons, for the prince thought Tatterhood the ugliest girl he’d ever seen. He wouldn’t have her! He didn’t like her! But the king and the others in the palace talked at him and persuaded him, and at last he gave in and promised to take Tatterhood for his wife and princess; but it went very much against the grain, and he was a doleful man.

            So there was brewing and baking and much making ready for the wedding, and when it was done they all set off for the church. In front went the king in his carriage with his bride at his side, and she was so lovely and so grand that people all along the road stopped whatever they were doing to stare, and gazed after her until she was out of sight. 

            Then came the prince, riding on horseback with Tatterhood at his side, trotting along on her goat with the wooden spoon in her fist. But to look at him, you’d think the prince was going to a burial rather than a wedding – and his own burial at that, he was so doleful and he had nothing to say for himself. 

            “Why don’t you talk to me?” asked Tatterhood, when they had ridden for a bit.

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

            “Well you might at least ask 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 most splendid horse any bride ever rode on,” answered Tatterhood, and in the blink of an eye the goat became a horse, the finest ever seen.

            Then they rode on again, but the prince was 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 that 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 your ride with that ugly spoon?” asked the prince. 

            “Is it an ugly spoon? Why, it’s the loveliest silver wand any bride ever carried,” said Tatterhood; and in a trice it became a silver wand, flashing brightly in the sun. 

            Well they rode on another bit, but the prince was still sorrowful and never said a word. In a little while, Tatterhood asked him again why he didn’t talk. This time she told him to ask why she wore that ugly grey hood upon her head. 

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

            “Is it an ugly grey hood? Why, it’s the brightest golden crown a bride ever wore,” answered Tatterhood, and it became a crown upon the spot.           

            Now they rode on for a long time, and still the prince was sad, and sat on his horse without sound or speech as before. So again Tatterhood asked him again why he didn’t talk, and she told him to ask her now, why her face was so ugly and ashen-grey.

            “Ah!” said the prince, “why is your face so ugly and ashen-grey?”

            “I, ugly?” said Tatterhood. “You think my sister is pretty, but I am ten times prettier,” and when the prince looked at her she was so lovely, he thought there could never have been a lovelier woman in all the world. And with that he found his tongue at last, and no longer rode along with his head hanging.

            So they drank the bridal cup both long and deep, and then the king and the prince set out with their two brides to Tatterhood’s father’s palace, where they had another bridal feast and even more to drink, and if you run to the palace – quick, be quick! – you might even get there before they drink it all.

Picture credits:

'Tatterhood as the Knight of Wands' is by Yoshi Yoshitani, whose website is http://www.yoshiyoshitani.com/ and whose delightful fairytale Tarot series can be viewed on tumblr: https://yoshiyoshitani.tumblr.com/ 

(Tatterhood seems to lend herself to the energy and disruption of the Tarot:)

Tatterhood as Princess of Wands' by Lisa Hunt, from 'The Fairytale Tarot' - whose fascinating website can be viewed here: http://lisahuntgallery.com/
https://www.thefairytaletarot.com/index.html

'Tatterhood scolding the household' is from 'Tatterhood and the Hobgoblins', gorgeously illustrated and retold by Lauren Mills. I love the sister's shocked calf-head peeping out at the bottom right. The link to her website seems broken, but here's a profile, with more of her lovely art: https://kathytemean.wordpress.com/2016/02/06/illustrator-saturday-lauren-mills/

Strong Fairy Tale Heroines #14: MR FOX

MR FOX

This is one of my top ten favourite fairy tales. It is old – perhaps the oldest known version of the ‘Bluebeard’ story, though as I wrote in my book of essays on fairy tales, ‘Seven Miles of Steel Thistles’, I think it’s a great deal better than ‘Bluebeard’. When courageous Lady Mary discovers the reason why her fiancé, the suave Mr Fox, seems unwilling to let her visit his castle, this very self-possessed and steely heroine turns the tables on him. 

Shakespeare knew and quoted from the story, and Edmund Spencer also quotes from and references it in Book 3 of ‘The Faerie Queen’. Then it disappeared from view, until Joseph Jacobs, looking for stories for his ‘English Fairy Tales’ (1898) rediscovered it in an addendum to Edmond Malone’s 1790 edition of the complete works of Shakespeare. A Mr Blakeway contributed a note to explain the line in Act I, Sc 1, of ‘Much Ado About Nothing’, where Benedick says to Claudio: ‘Like the old tale, my lord: it is not so, nor ‘twas not so; but, indeed, God forbid it should be so.’ (To find out more, you can read my post on the history of the story by clicking on this sentence.) In his note, Mr Blakeway recounts the story in an abbreviated form, explaining that his great-aunt had told it to him in his childhood. He concludes: 

Such is the old tale to which Shakspeare evidently alludes, and which has often ‘froze my young blood’ when I was a child. I will not apologize for repeating it, since it is manifest that such old wives’ tales often prove the best elucidation of this writer’s meaning.

This accidental survival of such a very strong fairy tale makes me wonder, with something of a sigh, how many other English fairy tales we may have lost?

'Mr Fox' is literally a ‘twice-told tale’. During the first telling, Lady Mary is a witness to frightening events. Then she seizes control of the narrative and wields it: and the person who owns the story owns the power. The many children to whom I‘ve told this tale have easily intuited this, and they have all loved its sinister power, rising suspense and easy-to-remember mantras. 

Lady Mary was young, and Lady Mary was fair. She had two brothers, and more lovers than she could count. But of them all, the bravest and most gallant was a Mr Fox, whom she met when she was down at her father’s country house. No one knew who Mr Fox was; but he was certainly brave, and surely rich, and of all her lovers, Lady Mary cared for him alone. At last it was agreed upon between them that they should be married. Lady Mary asked Mr Fox where they should live, and he described to her his castle, and where it was; but, strange to say, did not ask her or her brothers, to come and see it.

                So one day, near the wedding day, when her brothers were out and Mr Fox was away for a day or two on business (as he said), Lady Mary set out for Mr Fox’s castle. And after many searchings she came at last to it, and a fine strong house it was, with high walls and a deep moat. And when she came up to the gateway she saw written on it:

Be bold, be bold.

And as the gate was open, she went through it, and found no one there. So she went up to the doorway, and over it she found written:

Be bold, be bold, but not too bold.

Still she went on, till she came into the hall, and went up the broad stairs till she came to a door in a gallery, over which was written:

Be bold, be bold, but not too bold

Lest that your heart’s blood should run cold.

But Lady Mary was a brave one, she was, and she opened the door, and what do you think she saw? Why, bodies and skeletons of beautiful young ladies all stained with blood! So Lady Mary thought it was high time to get out of that horrid place, and she closed the door, went through the gallery, and was just going down the stairs and out of the hall, when who should she see through the window but Mr Fox, dragging a beautiful young lady along from the gateway to the door. Lady Mary rushed downstairs, and hid herself behind a chest, just in time, as Mr Fox came in with the poor young lady who seemed to have fainted. Just as he got near Lady Mary, Mr Fox saw a diamond ring glittering on the finger of the young lady he was dragging, and he tried to pull it off. But it was tightly fixed and would not come off, so Mr Fox cursed and swore and drew his sword, raised it, and brought it down upon the hand of the poor lady. The sword cut off the hand, which jumped into the air, and fell of all places in the world into Lady Mary’s lap. Mr Fox looked about a bit, but he did not think of looking behind the chest, so at last he went on dragging the young lady up the stairs into the Bloody Chamber. 

                As soon as she heard him pass through the gallery, Lady Mary crept  out of the door, down through the gateway, and ran home as fast as she could. 

                Now it happened that the very next day the marriage contract of Lady Mary and Mr Fox was to be signed, and there was a splendid breakfast before that. And when Mr Fox was seated at the tables opposite Lady Mary, he looked at her. “How pale you are this morning, my dear.” “Yes,” said she, “I had a bad night’s rest last night. I had horrible dreams.” “Dreams go by contraries,” said Mr Fox, “but tell us your dream and your sweet voice will make the time pass till the happy hour comes.”

                “I dreamed,” said Lady Mary, “that I went yesterday to your castle, and I found it in the woods, with high walls, and a deep moat, and over the gateway was written:

                                                Be bold, be bold.

                “It is not so, nor it was not so,” said Mr Fox.

                “And when I came to the doorway over it was written: 

                                                Be bold, be bold, but not too bold.

                 “It is not so, nor it was not so,” said Mr Fox.

                “And then I went upstairs, and came to a gallery, at the end of which was a door, on which was written: 

Be bold, be bold, but not too bold

Lest that your heart’s blood should run cold.

                “It is not so, nor it was not so,” said Mr Fox.

                “And then – and then I opened the door, and the room was filled with bodies and skeletons of poor dead women, all stained with their blood.”

                “It is not so, nor it was not so. And God forbid it should be so,” said Mr Fox. 

                “Then I dreamed that I rushed down the gallery, and just as I was going down the stairs I saw you, Mr Fox, coming up to the hall door, dragging after you a poor young lady, rich and beautiful.”

                “It is not so, nor it was not so. And God forbid it should be so,” said Mr Fox. 

                “I rushed downstairs, just in time to hide myself behind a chest, when you, Mr Fox, came in dragging the young lady by the arm. And, as you passed me, Mr Fox, I thought I saw you try and pull off her diamond ring, and when you could not, Mr Fox, it seemed to me in my dream that you pulled out your sword and hacked the poor lady’s hand off to get the ring.”

                “It is not so, nor it was not so. And God forbid it should be so,” said Mr Fox, and he was going to say something else as he rose from his seat, when Lady Mary jumped up, crying, “But it is so, and it was so. Here’s hand and ring I have to show,” and she pulled out the lady’s hand from her dress and pointed it straight at Mr Fox.

And with that, her brothers and her friends drew their swords and cut Mr Fox into a thousand pieces!

More on fairy tales and folklore in my book "Seven Miles of Steel Thistles" available  here and here.

    Illustration by HJ Ford