Hansel and Gretel

At the edge of a great dark forest lived a poor woodcutter with his two children: a boy called Hansel and a girl called Gretel. Their mother had died long ago, and a stepmother ran the house. And now a hungry year had come: the pantry was empty, and the bowl held nothing but crumbs.

One night the father could not sleep. He tossed and turned and sighed.

“What are we to do?” he whispered. “How can I feed the children when we have nothing to eat ourselves?”

“I’ll tell you what,” said the stepmother. “Tomorrow we’ll take them into the deepest thicket, light a little fire, give them a bit of bread each, and go away. They’ll never find the way back.”

“No,” said the father, shaking his head. “How can I leave my own children alone in the forest?”

But the stepmother grumbled and grumbled until he gave in, worn out and sad.

The children were too hungry to sleep, and they heard everything. Gretel began to cry quietly.

“Don’t cry, little sister,” whispered Hansel. “I’ll think of something.”

When the house had gone quiet, he threw on his jacket, opened the door — creak! — and slipped outside. The moon was shining brightly, and the white pebbles by the house gleamed like silver coins. Hansel filled his pockets with them and tiptoed back to his sister.

“Sleep well,” he said. “Everything will be all right.”

At first light the stepmother woke the children.

“Get up, you lazybones! We’re going to the forest for firewood. Here’s a slice of bread each for your lunch, and don’t eat it all at once.”

Off they went. And Hansel kept looking back at the house.

“What are you staring at?” snapped the stepmother.

“Oh, that’s my white kitten sitting on the roof, saying goodbye to me.”

“Nonsense! That’s the sun shining on the chimney.”

But really, every time Hansel looked back, he dropped a white pebble on the path.

In the middle of the forest the father lit a fire.

“Sit here, children, while we go and chop wood,” said the stepmother. “When we’re done, we’ll come back for you.”

The children sat by the fire, chewing their bread and listening: knock-knock, knock-knock. It sounded as if their father was chopping wood close by. But it was only a dry branch that he had tied to a tree. The wind swung it, and it knocked against the trunk. So the children dozed off, and when they woke it was the dead of night.

“How will we ever get out of the forest?” sobbed Gretel.

“Wait until the moon rises.”

And when the full moon rose, the pebbles on the path began to shine, as if someone had scattered silver over the grass. Hansel took his sister by the hand, and they walked from pebble to pebble all night long, and at dawn they knocked at the door of their own house.

“Oh, you naughty children!” cried the stepmother, throwing up her hands. “Why did you sleep so long in the forest? We thought you weren’t coming back.”

The father was so glad that he could not say a word. It had weighed heavily on his heart that he had left the children behind.

But soon hunger came to the house again, and again at night the children heard the stepmother whispering. Hansel quietly got up to gather pebbles, but the door was bolted! What now?

In the morning each of them was given a slice of bread, even smaller than the last time. And on the way Hansel crumbled his piece in his pocket and dropped the crumbs along the path.

This time they were led even deeper into the forest, to a place they had never been. In the evening nobody came. And when the moon rose, the children could not find a single crumb: the birds had pecked them all up, and there are thousands of birds in a forest.

“Never mind,” said Hansel bravely. “We’ll find the way anyway.”

But they didn’t. They walked all night and a whole day more, eating only berries, and the forest grew thicker and thicker. On the third day they saw a snow-white bird on a branch. It sang so sweetly that the children stopped to listen. Then the bird fluttered ahead, and they followed. It flew and flew, and then settled on the roof of a tiny house.

The children came closer and gaped. The walls of the house were made of bread, the roof of gingerbread, and the windows of clear sugar!

“What a dinner!” said Hansel happily, and broke off a piece of the roof.

Gretel carefully nibbled at a window. Crunch! How sweet!

Just then a thin little voice came from inside the house.

“Nibble, nibble, crunch, crunch, who is gnawing at my house?”

“The wind, the wind, the heavenly child,” answered the children, and went on eating.

Suddenly the door opened, and out came a very old woman, leaning on a stick. The children were so frightened that they dropped everything. But the old woman only nodded her head.

“Oh, my dears, who brought you here? Come in, you’ll be well looked after.”

She fed them pancakes with honey, apples and nuts, and then she made up two little white beds. The children lay down and thought they had come to paradise.

But the old woman was only pretending to be kind. In truth she was a wicked witch, and she had built the gingerbread house to lure children in. Her eyes were red and weak, but her sense of smell was as sharp as an animal’s.

In the morning she seized Hansel with a bony hand, shut him in a wooden cage and slid the bolt. Then she woke Gretel.

“Get up, you lazy girl! Fetch water and cook food for your brother. Let him get fat, and when he’s fat, I’ll eat him!”

Gretel wept bitterly, but she had to obey. From then on the very best dishes were cooked for Hansel, while his sister got nothing but crab shells.

Every morning the witch hobbled over to the cage.

“Hansel, stick out your finger, so I can feel whether you’re fat yet.”

And Hansel held out a little bone. The half-blind witch felt it and wondered: why was the boy so thin?

Four weeks went by, and the witch lost her patience.

“I’ve waited long enough!” she shouted. “Gretel, fetch water! Thin or fat, I’ll eat him tomorrow. But first we’ll bake bread. I’ve already heated the oven and kneaded the dough.”

She pushed Gretel toward the oven, which was blazing hot.

“Climb inside and see if it’s hot enough.”

But Gretel guessed that the witch was up to no good.

“I don’t know how to get in there,” she said, spreading her hands. “How is it done?”

“What a silly girl!” said the witch crossly. “The opening is wide enough, look, even I can fit through!”

And she poked her own head into the oven. Gretel gave her a shove — bang! — and shut the iron door and slid the bolt. The witch roared inside, and then fell silent. Nobody ever heard of her again.

Gretel ran to the cage.

“Hansel, we’re free! The witch is gone!”

Hansel sprang out like a bird from an open cage. The children hugged, laughed and danced in the middle of the house. There was nobody left to fear, so they looked into every corner, and there were chests full of pearls and precious stones!

“This is better than pebbles,” laughed Hansel, stuffing his pockets.

“And I’ll take some home,” said Gretel, and she filled her apron to the brim.

They walked for several hours until they came to a wide stretch of water.

“No plank, no bridge,” sighed Hansel. “How will we get across?”

“And no boat,” said Gretel. “But look, there’s a white duck swimming. I’ll ask her.”

And she called out.

“Little duck, little duck, here stand Hansel and Gretel. No plank, no bridge, carry us on your white back!”

The duck swam up. Hansel climbed on and wanted to set his sister beside him.

“No,” said Gretel. “We’d be too heavy for her. Let her carry us one at a time.”

And so they did. On the other shore the forest looked more and more familiar, and at last they saw their own house. The children ran, burst into the room and threw their arms around their father’s neck.

Since the day he had left the children in the forest, he had not had a single happy hour. And the stepmother was gone: she had left the house and never came back. The father wept and laughed at once, and could not let the children out of his arms.

“Forgive me,” he whispered. “I will never leave you again, do you hear, never.”

Gretel shook out her apron, and the pearls rolled over the floor, while Hansel took handful after handful of precious stones out of his pockets. From then on hunger never looked in at their door, and the three of them lived in joy and harmony.

And that is the end of the tale, but here comes a little mouse. Whoever catches her can sew a great big fur cap out of her.