#endangered languages

He picked up the doll and placed her directly in front of him on his horse. And the whole journey long he kept saying, “If the doll is so beautiful, imagine the maiden who owns her! If the doll is so beautiful, imagine the maiden who owns her!”

When he came to his palace, what did he do? He went right to his room and had an opening made in the wall to serve as a window-niche for the doll. Then he just gazed upon her all around the clock, twenty-four hours a day, repeating to himself, “If the doll is so beautiful, imagine the owner!”

Finally this young man lost all interest in seeing anyone but the doll. He was overcome by such a melancholy that his father had to summon a group of doctors. When the doctors came, they looked at him and said, “Your Majesty, we don’t have the faintest idea what this illness could be, but it’s evident that he’s obsessed with this doll.”

The king went to see his son, but all the young man could do was to gaze at the doll and repeat, “If the doll is so beautiful, imagine the maiden who owns her!” So the doctors came and went, and the prince, gulping painful breaths and sighs, just kept repeating, “If the doll is so beautiful, imagine the maiden who owns her!”

By now the king was really at his wits’ end. He rang the bell summoning his Grand Council, and cried out,

“Do you see what a sorry state my son is in? He has no fever, no headaches, but he is wasting away day by day, and my kingdom will be left for someone else to enjoy. I need your advice!”

“Your Majesty, why are you so worried? Don’t you remember that girl, the one who rescued the King of Spain’s daughter and then went on to cure another princess? Send for this maiden at once–and if her father won’t release her, threaten him with war.” 

So the king ordered his ambassadors to deliver this threatening message: “You must send us your daughter, otherwise there will be war.” But just as the ambassadors had conveyed the message, the princess herself entered the room, and when she saw the king at a loss, she asked him, “What’s troubling you?”

“Nothing, my child. It’s just that another envoy has arrived, and now another king wants you. It seems that I can no longer have you at my beck and call.”

“There’s no problem in sending me, your Majesty. I’ll be back before you know it.”

So the princess embarked with her entourage, came to this new kingdom, and went to see the prince. She found him swallowing sigh after sigh and repeating, “Oh! If the doll is so beautiful, imagine the maiden who owns her!”

“Well, you called me just in the nick of time,” she said to the king. “Give me one week, and have unguents and food brought to me each day, and after a week you’ll find him either alive and well, or dead and gone”

Once she was locked in with the prince, she paid close attention to what he was saying. At first she could not understand his words because he was so feeble and on the brink of death. But when she finally heard what he was murmuring and saw the doll, she burst out, “Oh, you scoundrel! You’re the one who stole my doll! I’ll see that you get what you deserve!”

When the prince heard these words, he revived and said, “Are you the doll’s mistress?”

“Yes, it is me!”

Well, you can imagine how that prince came back to life. She began feeding him broth and soon had him fully restored to life. When he was feeling better, she asked, “Now tell me how you got this doll?” and the prince told her the whole story. In less than a week the prince was himself again, and soon it was announced that he and the maiden would wed.

The king, beside himself with joy at his son’s recovery, began writing letters. The first one was to the King of Spain, telling him that the girl finally found her doll; the second was to the king who was her father, telling him that his daughter had been found; and the third was to the king whose daughter she had made well again. Then all of these monarchs came together and held festivities on a grand scale, and the prince took the princess as his wife, and they lived in blessed peace.”

“Did you enjoy this story, pretty Mamma”?

“Oh yes, very much.”

“Good. But don’t forget, you must never go with the old woman.”

After the third tale was done, the servant came and announced: “My lady, my lady, the master has returned!”

“Really?” said the lady. “Well then, listen, my parrot, I’m going to have a new cage made for you.”

The master arrived, opened all the windows, and embraced his wife. Dinner time came, and they placed the parrot in the middle of the table. At the high point of the meal, the parrot sprayed some soup right into the master’s eyes. When the master reached up and covered his burning eyes with his hands, the parrot seized him by the throat, strangled him, and flew away. 

Once the bird reached a valley, it landed on the ground and said, “Parrot I am, and man I shall become!” All at once the bird turned back into the notary her was, all neatly combed and dressed, and went walking along the Corso, where he met the gentle man, who had made the bet with him. 

“Did you hear the news?” the gentleman asked. “That poor lady’s husband is dead. A parrot strangled him!”

“Really? Poor, poor thing!” said the notary, and they went their separate ways with no mention of their wager. 

The notary learned that the lady had a mother, and so he went to her and asked for her daughter’s hand in marriage. There was maybe yes and maybe no, and some hemming and hawing, but in the end the mother said yes. So the notary and the woman were married. 

That night, the notary asked the lady, “Now tell me, who killed your husband?”

“A parrot”

“And what about this parrot? Tell me the whole story.”

And so the woman told him the whole story up to the point where the parrot sprayed hot soup into the master’s eyes and flew away. 

“That’s exactly right!” said the notary. “Because that parrot was none other than myself!”

“You? I can’t believe it!”

“Yes it was me, and it was all for your sake that I had myself turned into a parrot!”

The next morning the notary went to visit the gentleman and collected his four hundred gold pieces, and he enjoyed them together with his wife.

–Told by Agatuzza Messia at Palermo

Si pigghia sta pupa e si la metti avanti cavallu. « È beḍḍa sta pupa! – dicia stṛata stṛata – cunsiddirati la patṛuna! » e caminava dicennu:  « È beḍḍa sta pupa! cunsiddirati la patṛuna! » Junci a palzzu, e chi fa? va nnâ sò cammara; cci fa fari un ‘ngastu ‘ntô muru, ‘na vitṛina, e si metti a talialla vintiquattr’uri lu jornu diccenu semprii: « È beḍḍa la pupa! cunsiddirati la patṛuna! » 

Janu ca stu picciottu ‘un vosi vidiri cchiù a nuḍḍu, e si pigghiau di tanta malancunia ca sò patṛi appi a chiamari Giunta di medici. Vennu li medici, l’osservanu: – « Maistà, nnà tṛi ‘un nni sapemu nenti di sta malatia; viditi chi havi cu ssa pupa. »

 Lu Re java nni lu figghiu: lu figghiu jisava l’occhi nni la pupa: – « Ih! È beḍḍa la pupa! cunsiddirati la patṛuna! » Vinevanu li medici, e comu vinevanu si nni javanu. Stu picciottu assittatu a taliari e diri sempri: – « Ih! È beḍḍa la pupa! cunsiddirati la patṛuna! » E sempri si sucava, e suspirava. Lu Re quannu si vitti persu, tuccò campana di Cunsigghiu. – « Viditi mè figghiu com’è ridduttu Iḍḍu ‘un havi frevi, iḍḍu ‘un havi botta ‘n testa, ma iḍḍu mi stà squagghiannu, e la mè Riami si l'havi a guariri àutru!… Datini cunsigghiu! » 

– « Maistà, vi cunfunnìstivu? ‘Un cc’è sta picciotta ch’ ha fattu tṛuvari â figghia dû Re di Spagna, e ha gualutu a n’àutra Riggineḍḍa? Mannati a pigghiari a chissa. Si sò patri ‘un vi la duna, ‘ntimàticci la guerra. »

Lu re manna li ‘Mmasciaturi: o chi cci mannava sta figghia cû bonu, o cû reu. Mentṛi cc’eranu li ‘Mmasciaturi davanti lu Re di Spagna, tṛasi la figghia, chiḍḍa ch’avia fattu ḍḍi spirtizzi; e lu tṛova cunfusu. – « Chi aviti, Maistà? » 

– « Nenti, figghia mia; vinni ‘n’àutṛa cuguintura; ti vole n’àutṛu re. Voli diri ca io ‘un pozzu essiri cchiù patṛuni di tia! » 

– « Nenti, Maistà; lassatimi jiri, ca ‘nta pocu tempu tornu. »

Si ‘mmarca câ sò Sirvitù, e si nni va pû sò bon viaggiu. Comu chista tṛasi e vidi ô Riuzzu chi s’agghiuttia dicennu sempri: – « Ih! È beḍḍa la pupa! cunsiddirati la patṛuna! »,  dici: – «All’urtimu mi chiamastivu! Ma puru, datimi  ottu jorna di tempu: facìtimi tṛàsiri ‘nguenti, manciari; e all’ottu jorna, o vivu e bonu, o mortu. » 

Si ‘nchiuj e attenta pi sèntiri chi dicia lu Riuszzu, ca già ‘un si sintia cchiù zoccu dicia: avia Parma ‘mpinta ê labbra. Comu lu senti parpagghiari:: « Ih! è be…ḍḍa la pu.. pa;  cun…siddi… » e vidi la pupa. – « Ah! sciliratu! » dici iḍḍa, « vui l’aviti la papa mia! Lassàti fari a mia, ca ora v’aggiustu io. »

Comu iḍḍa cci senti diri sti palori, accussì iḍḍu arrivinni. – « Vui siti la paturna? »

 – « Io sugnu! » 

Figurativi: turnò ê vivi. Iḍḍa accuminzò a dàricci vrodu ‘nsina ca lu fici risturari. Quannu fu risturatu: 

– « Ora cuntàtimi comu aviti sta pupa? » cci dici la picciotta; e lu Riuzzu cci cuntò tutti cosi. P’accurzari, all’ottu jorna iḍḍu, lu Riuzzu, era bonu. Basta: si dichiararu ca iḍḍu avia a essiri sò maritu e iḍḍa sò mugghieri. Lu Re nisciutu fora dî panni ca sò figghiu avia statu bonu, ha scrittu ‘na pocu di littṛi: una ô Re patṛi d’iḍḍa pi diricci ca s’avia truvatu a sò figghia, ‘n’àutra ô Re ca cci avia fattu stari bona la figghia. Ddocu si junceru tutti sti Rignanti e ficiru li gran festi, e lu Riuzzu si maritò câ Riggineḍḍa; e si guderu la santa paci.

– « V’ha piaciutu, mamma beḍḍa, stu cuntu? » 

– « Sì, figghiu mio »

 – « Ma câ vecchia nun cci aviti a jiri, sapiti! » 

Comu finiu lu cuntu, veni lu cammareri: – « Signura, Signura, lu patṛuni vinni! » 

– « Veru! » dici la signura. Ora senti, pappagaḍḍu: « ora io ti fazzu fari ‘na gàggia nova. » 

 Junci lu patṛuni: grapi tutti li finistṛuna; s’abbrazza câ mogghi. A ura di manciari, lu pappagaḍḍu lu misiru ‘ntô menzu dâ tavula. ‘Ntô megghiu, jetta lu pappagaḍḍu ‘na sbrizziata di vrodu ‘nta l’occhi dû patṛuni. Lu patṛuni, ca si ‘ntisi abbruciari l’occhi, cci detti di manu. Lu pappagaḍḍu l’afferra pî cannarozza, l’affuca e vola.

Vola, e va ‘ntô chianu: – « Pappagaḍḍu sugnu, e omu addiventu! » e si nni turnò beḍḍu asciuttu e pittinatu, omu, ‘ntô Càssaru. 

Scontṛa lu Cavaleri: – « Sapiti! » cci dici lu Cavaleri, « â povira signura cci muriu lu maritu: un pappagaḍḍu l’affucau! » 

– « Veru? mischina! mischina! » dici lu nutaru: se si parteru senza parrari cchiù di scummissa. 

Lu Nutaru appurò ca la signura avai la matṛi e cci iju a ‘ḍḍunnari pi matṛimoniu câ figghia. Si maritaru. La sira cci dissi lu Nutaru â signura: – « Ora, dimmi, cu’ l’ammazzò a tò maritu? » 

– « Un pappagaḍḍu. » 

– « E comu va l’affari di stu pappagaḍḍu? Cuntamilu. » 

La signura cci cuntau tuttu sina ca lu pappagaḍḍu sbrizziau lu vrodu all’ochchi â patṛuni, e poi si nni vulau.

 – « Veru! Veru! » dici lu Nutaru, « ‘Unca lu pappagaḍḍu ‘un era io? »

 – « Vui eravu!… Io restu alluccuta » 

– « Io! E mi fici pappagaḍḍu pi tia! »

Lu ‘nnumani lu Nutaru iju nni lu Cavaleri e si iju a pigghiari li quattṛucent’unzi di scummissa’ e si li guariu cu sò mugghieri.

Iḍḍi arristaru filici e cuntenti,

E nui semu ccà e nni munnamu li denti.

– Agatuzza Messia, Palermo

A short time passed and she was overcome by a terrible illness. The doctors could offer no explanation. She had convulsions, and her body became twisted like a coil. Her eyes rolled almost to the back of her head, and no one could diagnose her malady. Her poor, confused father summoned his council. 

“My councilors,” he said, “my poor daughter is losing ground every day. What advice can you give me?”

“Your Majesty,” the wise men replied, “have you heard about the maiden who rescued the King of Spain’s lost daughter? If you can find her, she can tell you what your daughter needs.”

“Excellent!” he said. “This is perfect advice.”

So the king ordered ships to go and bring this maiden to him. “And if the King of Spain doesn’t want to release her, give him this iron gauntlet as a declaration of war!”

The king’s vessels left, and one fine morning they arrived in Spain. They fired a great salvo, and when the ambassador disembarked, he met the king and handed him a sealed letter. The king opened it, read it, and began to weep.

“Since I refuse to give up my daughter, I have no choice but to go to war.”

Just at this moment his daughter happened to enter the room. 

“What’s wrong, your Majesty?” she asked, and once she read the letter, she said, “Why are you so scared? Let me go and visit this king.”

“What? How can you leave me, daughter?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll just go and see what’s wrong with this maiden, and soon I’ll be back.”

Then she went to say good-bye to her sister and departed. When she arrived in the other country, the king came to meet her. 

“Young lady, if you can cure this sick daughter of mine, I’ll give you my crown.”

“Here’s another king offering me a crown!” she thought to herself. But what she said aloud was, “My Lord, I already have a crown of my own. Let us address the problem at hand and not speak of crowns.”

When they showed her the princess, and she saw how wasted and wan she looked, she said to the king, “Your Majesty, I will need to have all kinds of broth and hearty dishes brought here.”

Once they arrived, she said, “Now I’m going to lock myself in with your daughter, and there will be no need for you to open because, after three days, either I’ll give her back to you alive, or you’ll find her dead. And you must heed these words of mine: even if I knock for you,  you are not to open.” Everything was prepared, and she locked herself in with iron bars and chains. But what did she forget? She forgot tinder for lighting the night candle! So. That night she had a problem because she knew she couldn’t knock to ask for anything. As she looked out of the room’s large window, she saw a light far away. So she took a silken ladder and climbed down with a candle, thinking she could get it lit. When she reached the light, she discovered a giant cauldron set on large stones with a kiln underneath and a Turk, who was stirring with a metal rod.

“What are you doing, Turk?”

“My king, he want daughter of king. She not want him. Do enchantment.” 

“Oh, my poor little Turkie, you must be so tired by now. Why don’t you just take a short rest, and leave the stirring to me?”

“Yes, by Mohammed.”

So he got down and she got up and began stirring with the rod. “Am I doing it right this way?”

“By Mohammed, yes!”

“All right then, you sleep, and I’ll do the stirring.”

After he was asleep, she climbed down, grabbed him, and dumped him in the boiling cauldron. Poor fellow, he was done for! When she saw he was dead, she lit the candle, returned to the palace, and entered the room. She found the sick girl on the floor, lost to the world. But when she gave her scented water, the girl  regained consciousness. After three days she was completely recovered. Then she knocked for the king, and he was astonished to find his daughter well again.

“Ah young lady,” he said to the princess, “how can I ever repay you?  Won’t you stay here with me?”

“I’m sorry, but that’s impossible. You threatened my father with war if he didn’t allow me to come. Now my father will threaten you with the same if you don’t send me back to him.”

So she stayed for some two weeks, and when she finally departed, the king showered with riches and jewels. And that’s how she returned to the palace of the King of Spain. 

And so the tale is done.

“How did you like this story, pretty Mamma?” asked the parrot. 

“Oh it was perfectly lovely.”

“But you must remember never to go with that old woman because she is nothing but a deceiver.”

Well, a week went by and–whoosh! Can you believe it?!–there was the old woman again with her baskets of fruit.

“Daughter of mine, today I must insist on this favor! You must come with me to hear holy mass.”

“All right, I’ll come.”

When the parrot heard this, he began crying and tearing out his feathers.

“No, pretty Mamma, don’t go with the old woman! If you stay, I’ll tell you another story.”

“Granny of mine,” she said, “It’s time you stopped coming here. I’m not willing to lose this parrot just because of you.” 

So she turned the wheel and shut the window, and the old woman went off muttering and cursing. Meanwhile, the lady sat down next to the parrot, and the parrot told her the following tale.

 Dicinu li Savii:  – « Maistà, spaiti ca cc’è ‘na picciotta, chi cci fici attṛuvari la figghia ô Re di Spagna; circàti di chissa, ca chissa vi dici chi cci voli pi vosta figghia. » 

– « Evviva! lu cunsigghiu mi risurtò purpiziu! » 

Ordini di stu re ca partissiru vascelli pi jiri a pigghiari a sta picciotta; « e si lu re di Spagna ‘un vi la voli dari, lassàticci stu ‘nguantuni di ferru, e dichiarati la guerra! » Si parteru li vascelli e ‘na matina si tṛuvaru a Spagna. Ficiru ‘na gran sarviata; scinni lu ‘Mmasciaturi; s’pprisenta ô Re, e cci duna ‘na littṛa siggillata. Lu Re grapiu; liggennu liggennu si misi a chianciri: – « Io mi cuntentu la guerra, e no dari sta figghia…» 

‘Nta mentṛi tṛasi la figghia: – « Chi aviti, Maistà? (e vidi la littṛa) E chi paura aviti! Ora cci vaju nni stu re. » 

– « Comu! figghia mia, ‘unca accussì mi lassi? » 

– « E tornu a arreri. Vaju a viju chi havi sta picciotta, e sugnu arreri ccà. » 

Va nni la surastṛa; si licenzia, e parti. Comu junci, lu Re cci iju ô ‘ncontṛu: – « Figghia mia, si mi libbirati a sta figghia malata, io vi dugnu la mè curuna! »

 – E su’ dui chî curuni – dissi ‘ntṛa iḍḍa.

 – « Io la curuna l’haju, Maistà. Videmu chi cc’è, e lassamu li curuni. » Va e vidi a sta picciotta tutta sminnittiata. Si vôta cû re:  – « Maistà , facitimi pigghiari vrodi e cosi di sustanza. » Subbitu fôru pronti.  – « Io mi ‘nchiuju cu vostṛa figghia; e ‘un aviti a gràpiri, pirchì ‘n termini tṛi jorna, o vi la dugnu viva, o morta. E sintiti chi vi dicu: ca si puru vi tuppuliu, mancu m’aviti a gràpiri. » Tutti cosi fôru pronti; si ‘nchiuju e misi ferri e catinazzi. Chi si va a scorda? Fisca p’aḍḍumani la cannila la notti! La sira cci vinni ‘na gran cunfusioni. ‘Un vulennu tuppuliari, affaccia dû finistṛuni dâ cammara, e vidi un lumi luntanu; pigghia ‘na scaletta di sita e scinni cu ‘na cannila pi jilla a ‘ḍḍumari. Comu ‘ncugna nna ḍḍu lumi, vidi ‘na gran quadara pusata supra li pitṛuna, e ‘na carcàra di sutta; e un turcu cu ‘na ferra chi arriminava. – « Chi fai, turcu? » 

 – « Lu mè Re vuliri figghia dû Re; iḍḍa ‘un lu vuliri; fari

magaria. » 

– « Mischinu, lu mè turchiceḍḍu! Tu si’ stancu, è veru? sai ch’ha’ a fari? stanca tantìcchia ca arrimìnu io. »

 – « Sì, pi Maumettu! » Iḍḍu scinniu; iḍḍa acchianò, e misi a ‘rriminari câ ferra.

 – « Cci vaju bona accussì? » 

– « Sì, pi Maumettu! » 

– « E allura, tu dormi cà arriminu io. » Comu iḍḍu pigghiò sonnu, iḍḍa scinni, l’afferra e lu sdivàca 'ntâ quadàra vugghienti. Mischinu, chiḍḍu attisò! Quannu lu vitti attisari, s’ḍḍuma lu lumi e torna ô palazzu. Tṛasi 'ntâ cammmara; la malata era ‘n terra abbannunata. Cci duna acqua d’oduri; arrivinni; ‘nta tṛi jorna stetti bona. Tuppulia; lu Re allucchiu ca so figghia era bona.  – « Ah! figghia mia, cci dici â piccotta, quantu obbrigazioni! Ma vui aviti a ristari ccà cu mia! » 

– « Mai, ‘un pò essiri. Vui vuliavu ‘ntimari la guerra a mè patṛi si nun mi facia vèniri: ora mè patṛi vi la ‘ntrima a vui si vui ‘un mi faciti turnari nn’iḍḍu. » Stetti ‘na quinnicina di jorna’; poi partìu; e lu Re a dàricci ricchizzi e gioj ‘n quantitati. E turnò ô palazzu dû Re di Spagna. Accussì finisci lu cuntu. 

– « Comu v’ha parsu stu cuntu, mamà beḍḍa? » dissi lu pappagaḍḍu.  

– « Bellu, bellu! » 

– « Ma vui câ vecchia ‘un cci aviti a jiri pirchì cc’è tradiumentu. »

S’accustanvu l’ottu jorna’ ttùffiti la  vecchia chî panareḍḍa. – « Figghia, mia, cci tu oggi m’ha’ a fari stu piaciri, t’ha’ a vèniri a sèntiri la santa Missa. » 

– « Sì, ca vegnu. » 

Comu lu pappagaḍḍu lu ‘ntisi, si misi a chianciri e a pilàrisi. – « No, mamà mia beḍḍa, câ vecchia nun cci jiti! Si vui nun cci jiti, io vi cuntu n’àutṛu cuntu. » 

– « Nanna mia, » dici iḍḍa, « ‘un cci viniti chiù. Io pi vui nun vogghiu perdiri lu pappagaḍḍu. » Vôta la rota, e chinj lu purteḍḍu; e la vecchia si nni iju manciannu primuni e mannannu sintenzii. La signurea si iju a ‘ssittari vicinu lu pappagaḍḍu , e lu pappagaḍḍu cci cuntò stu cuntu.

Finally she came to a royal palace and asked who the king was. 

“The King of Spain,” they said.

So she asked for lodging and was admitted. The king, who was childless, treated her as if she was his daughter. Once the princess felt at home in the palace, she began acting like the mistress of the place. Indeed, the king had given her the freedom to act as she pleased and even gave her twelve royal damsels to wait on her.

Now it’s a well known saying that “there is always envy among equals,” and these damsels began to talk against her.

“Look at this girl,” they said, “we don’t even know who she is, and yet she’s become our princess! It’s time we put an end to this!”

So the next day they said to her, “Would you like to come with us?”

“Not without papa’s permission,” she answered.

“Well, here’s how to get his permission. Just say, ‘By the soul of your daughter allow me to go!’ The second he hears these words, he’ll allow you to go.”

So the princess did just this. But when the king heard her say, “By the soul of your daughter,” he cried, “Ah you wicked thing, you! Throw her down the trap-door!”

When the princess was thrown down the trap-door, she found a doorway, then another and another, always groping her way. At a certain point, feeling her way like a blind person, she found tinder and matches. Using the tinder to light a candle that she had discovered there, she saw a beautiful young girl with a padlock over her mouth that kept her from speaking. But she managed to indicate with gestures that the key to open the padlock was under the pillow of the bed. The princess found it and unlocked the padlock. As soon as the girl could talk, she told her that she was the king’s daughter, but a wizard had kidnapped her. At midnight every day the wizard brought her food, but then he locked up her mouth, and she had to wait until the next day to have it opened again.

“Tell me, isn’t there any way to free you?” asked the princess.

“I have no idea. But I can try asking the wizard when he comes to open my mouth. Why don’t you hide under the bed and listen, and then we might figure something out.”

“Good! Good!”

So the princess locked up her mouth again, put the key back under the pillow and hid under the bed. When midnight came, there was a great commotion: the earth shook, there were lightning flashes, smoke, the stench of sulfur—and the wizard appeared, wrapped in a sorcerer’s cloak. He was accompanied by a giant with a platter of food and two servants with torches to light up his way. After the wizard sent the servants away, he locked the door. took the key, and opened the mouth of the king’s daughter. While they were eating, she said to him “Wizard, I’ve been thinking and have become curious—what would it take for me to get out of here?”

“You want to know a great deal, my girl.”

“Never mind. I don’t really need to know.”

“Oh no, I don’t mind telling you. It would require, first, laying a mine all around the palace. Then on the dot of midnight, just as I’m about to enter, someone would have to ignite it. There would be a terrific explosion, and I would go flying through the air. All at once you would find yourself back with your father.”

“You certainly can trust me with your secret,” said the king’s daughter.

After the wizard put on his cloak and departed, the princess waited a little while before she came out from under the bed. Then she said goodbye to her little sister—she was already calling her that—and off she went. She continued walking underground until she came to the trap-door where she stopped and called for help. The king heard her and had a rope lowered for her to climb up. Once in the king’s presence, she told him everything. He was amazed and immediately ordered his men to lay down the fine and fill it with gunpowder, cannonballs, and grapeshot. When it was packed as full as could be, the princess took a cloak and went back to find the girl.

“We’re in this together, dead or alive!” she told her.

Then she took the little padlock off her mouth, and after they made their plans, she got under the bed again without leaving a trace behind her. The hour came, the wizard arrived. and the king was waiting with a watch in his hands. At the stroke of midnight he ignited the mine and Boom!—there was a tremendous blast. The wizard was blown to smithereens, and the two girls were in each other’s arms, both free.

When the king saw them, he cried out, “Oh my children! My daughter, your misfortune was your good fortune! And you,” he said to the girl he had adopted, “you will have my crown.”

“No need, my lord. I have my own crown, because I, too, am the daughter of a king”

News of this event spread the whole world over. As the people in different kingdoms heard about it, everyone had nothing but praise for the great courage and goodness of the princess who freed the other princess from the wizard. And they remained happy and enjoyed blessed peace for ever after.

“Well, pretty Mamma, what did you think of my story?”

“It was beautiful,” said the lady to the parrot.  A week passed after the parrot had told the story, and the old woman came back again to visit her “granddaughter,”

carrying two more baskets of fruit. 

“Oh-oh!” said the parrot. “You’d better watch yourself, pretty Mamma, because that old woman is here again.”

The old woman asked again, “Will you come with me to mass?”

“Yes, Granny,” said the lady, and she began dressing.

When the parrot saw this, he made a big ruckus, tearing off his feathers and weeping.

“No, pretty Mama, don’t go to mass, that old woman will be the ruin of you! Stay here with me, and I’ll tell you another story.”

“You’d better leave,” said the lady to the old woman. “I can’t let my dear little parrot die just for a mass!”

“Oh you wicked woman! For the sake of a mere bird, you’re ready to lose your soul!”

But the old woman had to leave. Meanwhile, the lady stayed with the parrot, and he told her the following tale.