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EDMUND DULAC'S

FAIRY BOOK




SNEGOROTCHKA
The daintiest, prettiest little maiden they had ever seen.



[See page 2



EDMVND DVLAC'S

OOK



FAIRY TALES

OF THE
ALLI ED
NATIONS



-Mew YORK-
GEORGE H.ttGRAN COMPANY



EDMUND DULAC'S FAIRY BOOK
* c ,* ', -j-uu;-^ ij
PKIOTED IN THE . ^ITEi):S!T;ATES OF AMERICA



CONTENTS



SNEGOROTCHKA:

A RUSSIAN FAIRY TALE .



CHILDREN'S ROOK

NY PUBLIC L BHARY THE BRANCH LIBRARIES



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PAGE



THE BURIED MOON:

AN ENGLISH FAIRY TALE .

WHITE CAROLINE AND BLACK CAROLINE:
A FLEMISH FAIRY TALE .



THE SEVEN CONQUERORS OF THE QUEEN OF THE
MISSISSIPPI :

A BELGIAN FAIRY TALE .



THE SERPENT PRINCE:

AN ITALIAN FAIRY TALE .



THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT
TMKV4U HtUNLU, 222 EAST ?9th



CONTENTS

PAGE

THE HIND OF THE WOOD:

A FRENCH FAIRY TALE ..... 45

IVAN AND THE CHESTNUT HORSE:

A RUSSIAN FAIRY TALE ..... 63



THE QUEEN OF THE MANY -COLOURED BED-
CHAMBER:

AN IRISH FAIRY TALE . . 73



THE BLUE BIRD:

A FRENCH FAIRY TALE . . . . 81



BASHTCHELIK (OR, REAL STEEL):

A SERBIAN FAIRY TALE ... 95

THE FRIAR AND THE BOY:

AN ENGLISH FAIRY TALE . . . .119



CONTENTS
THE GREEN SERPENT:

A FRENCH FAIRY TALE . . . . .129



URASHIMA TARO:

A JAPANESE FAIRY TALE ...



A CHINESE FAIRY TALE . .



..



THE FIRE BIRD:

A RUSSIAN FAIRY TALE . . . . .159



THE STORY OF THE BIRD FENG:

171



ILLUSTRATIONS

SNEGOROTCHKA

A RUSSIAN FAIRY TALE

The daintiest, prettiest little maiden they had ever seen . Frontispiece

THE BURIED MOON

AN ENGLISH FAIRY TALE

PAGE

In her frantic struggles the hood of her cloak fell back from her
dazzling golden hair, and immediately the whole place was
flooded with light ....... 8

WHITE CAROLINE AND BLACK CAROLINE

A FLEMISH FAIRY TALE

And, when he saw White Caroline, he started to play on his organ the
most beautiful airs that it was possible to hear, and the three
little dogs commenced to dance together 16

THE SEVEN CONQUERORS OF THE QUEEN
OF THE MISSISSIPPI

A BELGIAN FAIRY TALE

'Hi! friend! Take the whole castle, with the Queen and all that it

contains, on your shoulders ! ' . . . .24



ILLUSTRATIONS
THE SERPENT PRINCE

AN ITALIAN FAIRY TALE

TAGK

When Grannmia saw her strange lover, she alone remained calm and

courageous ........ 32

THE HIND OF THE WOOD

A FRENCH FAIRY TALE

Giroflee thanked the fairy and went ... far into the wood ; and there,

sure enough, she saw a hut and an old woman sitting outside , 56

IVAN AND THE CHESTNUT HORSE

A RUSSIAN FAIRY TALE

The chestnut horse seemed to linger in the air at the top of its leap

while that kiss endured ...... 64

THE BLUE BIRD

A FRENCH FAIRY TALE

The Prince took a carriage drawn by three great frogs with great big

wings. . . . Truitonne came out mysteriously by a little door . 88

BASHTCHELIK (OR, REAL STEEL)

A SERBIAN FAIRY TALE

The Prince, looking out, saw him snatch up the Princess . . . and

soar rapidly away . . . . . . .104

The Palace of the Dragon King . . . . .112



ILLUSTRATIONS
THE FRIAR AND THE BOY

AN ENGLISH FAIRY TALE

PAGB

The Friar, bound fast to the post, squirmed and wriggled, showing

plainly that he would foot it if he could . . . .128



THE GREEN SERPENT

A FRENCH FAIRY TALE

Laideronnette kissed and embraced the good Fairy Protectress . 144

URASHIMA TARO

A JAPANESE FAIRY TALE

Urashima was so enchanted that he could not speak a word . . 152

THE FIRE BIRD

A RUSSIAN FAIRY TALE

There he found the Princess asleep, and saw that her face was the face

he had seen in the portrait . 160

With a scream the Princess rushed forward, and, before her wicked

sister could prevent her, she had upset the cauldron with a crash . 168

THE STORY OF THE BIRD FENG

A CHINESE FAIRY TALE

The wonderful bird, like a fire of many colours come down from heaven,

alighted before the Princess, dropping at her feet the portrait . 172




SNEGOROTCHKA



PROPERTY OF THE
CITY OF NEW YORK

SNEGOROTCHKA

A RUSSIAN FAIRY TALE

THE old wife sang merrily as she sat in the inglenook stirring the
soup, for she had never felt so sad. Many, many years had come
and gone, leaving the weight of their winters on her shoulders and
the touch of snow on her hair without ever bringing her a little
child. This made her and her dear old husband very sad, for there
were many children outside, playing in the snow. It seemed hard
that not even one among them was their very own. But alas !
there was no hope for such a blessing now. Never would they
see a little fur cap hanging on the corner of the mantelpiece, nor
two little shoes drying by the fire.

The old husband brought in a bundle of wood and set it down.
Then, as he heard the children laughing and clapping their hands
outside, he looked out at the window. There they were, dancing
with glee round a snow man they had made. He smiled as he saw
that it was evidently meant to look like the Mayor of the village,
it was so fat and pompous.

' Look, Marusha ! ' he cried to the old wile. ' Come and see
the snow man they've made.'

As they stood together at the window, they laughed to see what
fun the children got out of it. Suddenly the old man turned to her
with a bright idea.

' Let 's go out and see if we can't make a little snow man.'

But Marusha laughed at him. ' What would the neighbours
say? They would poke fun at us; it 'd be the joke of the village.
Besides, we're too old to play like children.'

' But only a little one, Marusha ; only a teeny-weeny little snow
man, and I '11 manage it that nobody sees us.'



SNEGOROTCHKA

'Well, well,' she said, laughing; 'have your own way, as you
always did, Youshko.'

With this she took the pot from the fire, put on her bonnet, and
they went out together. As they passed the children, they stopped
to play with them a while, for they now felt almost like children
themselves. Then they trudged on through the snow till they came
to a clump of trees, and, behind this, where the snow was nice and
white, and nobody could see them, they set to work to make their
little man.

The old husband insisted that it must be very small, and the
old wife agreed that it should be almost as small as a new-born
babe. Kneeling down in the snow, they fashioned the little body in
next to no time. Now there remained only the head to finish.
Two fat handfuls of snow for the cheeks and face, and a big one
on top for the head. Then they put on a wee dab for the nose and
poked two holes, one on each side, for the eyes.

It was soon done, and they were already standing back looking
at it, and laughing and clapping their hands like children. Then
suddenly they stopped. What had happened ? A very strange
thing indeed ! Out of the two holes they saw looking at them two
wistful blue eyes. Then the face of the little snow man was no
longer white. The cheeks became rounded and smooth and radiant,
and two rosy lips began to smile up at them. A breath of wind
brushed the snow from the head, and it all fell down round the
shoulders in flaxen ringlets escaping from a white fur cap. At the
same time some snow, loosened from the little body, fell down and
took the shape of a pretty white garment. Then, suddenly, before
they could open and shut their mouths, their snow mannikin was
gone, and in his place stood the daintiest, prettiest little maiden
they had ever seen.

They gave each other a look out of the corners of their eyes, and
scratched their heads in wonderment. But it was as true as true.
There stood the little girl, all pink and white before them. She
was really alive, for she ran to them ; and, when they stooped down



SNEGOROTCHKA

to lift her up, she put one arm round the old wife's neck and the
other round the old man's, and gave them each a hug and a
kiss.

They laughed and cried for joy ; then, suddenly remembering
how real some dreams can seem, they pinched each other in turn.
Still they were not sure, for the pinches might have been a part of
the dream. So, in fear lest they might wake and spoil the whole
thing, they wrapped the little girl up quickly and hastened back
home.

On the way they met the children, still playing round their
snow man ; and the snowballs with which they pelted them in the
back were very real ; but there again, the snowballs might have
belonged to the dream. But when they were inside the house, and
saw the inglenook, with the soup in the pot by the fire and the
bundle of wood near by, and everything just as they had left it, they
looked at each other with tears in their eyes and no longer feared
that it was all a dream. In another minute there was a little white
fur cap hanging on the corner of the mantelpiece and two little shoes
drying by the fire, while the old wife took the little girl on her lap
and crooned a lullaby over her.

The old man put his hand on his wife's shoulder and she
looked up.

'Marusha!'

' Youshko I '

'At last we have a little girl ! We made her out of the snow,
so we will call her Snegorotchka.'

The old wife nodded her head, and then they kissed each other.
When they had all had supper, they went to bed, the old husband
and wife feeling sure that they would wake early in the morning to
find the child still with them. And they were not disappointed.
There she was, sitting up between them, prattling and laughing.
But she had grown bigger, and her hair was now twice as long as at
first. When she called them 'Little Father' and 'Little Mother'
they were so delighted that they felt like dancing as nimbly as they

3



SNEGOROTCHKA

had in their young days. But, instead of dancing, they just kissed
each other, and wept for joy.

That day they held a big feast. The old wife was busy all
the morning cooking all kinds of dainties, while the old man went
round the village and collected the fiddlers. All the boys and girls
of the village were invited, and they ate and sang and danced and
had a merry time till daybreak. As they went home, the girls all
talked at once about how much they had enjoyed themselves, but
the boys were very silent; they were thinking of the beautiful
Snegorotchka with the blue eyes and the golden hair.

Every day after that Snegorotchka played with the other
children, and taught them how to make castles and palaces of snow,
with marble halls and thrones and beautiful fountains. The snow
seemed to let her do whatever she liked with it, and to build itself
up under her tiny fingers as if it knew exactly what shape it was
to take. They were all greatly delighted with the wonderful things
she made ; but when she showed them how to dance as the snow-
flakes do, first in a brisk whirl, and then softly and lightly, they
could think of nothing else but Snegorotchka. She was the little
fairy queen of the children, the delight of the older people, and the
very breath of life to old Marusha and Youshko.

And now the winter months moved on. With slow and steady
stride they went from mountain top to mountain top, around the
circle of the sky-line. The earth began to clothe itself in green.
The great trees, holding out their naked arms like huge babies
waiting to be dressed, were getting greener and greener, and last
year's birds sat in their branches singing this year's songs. The
early flowers shed their perfume on the breeze, and now and then a
waft of warm air, straying from its summer haunts, caressed the
cheek and breathed a glowing promise in the ear. The forests and
the fields were stirring. A beautiful spirit brooded over the face
of nature; spring was trembling on the leash and tugging to be
free.

One afternoon Marusha was sitting in the inglenook stirring

4



SNEGOROTCHKA

the soup and singing a mournful song, because she had never felt so
full of joy. The old man Youshko had just brought in a bundle of
wood and laid it on the hearth. It seemed just the same as on that
winter's afternoon when they saw the children dancing round their
snow man ; but what made all the difference was Snegorotchka, the
apple of their eye, who now sat by the window, gazing out at the
green grass and the budding trees.

Youshko had been looking at her ; he had noticed that her face
was pale and her eyes a shade less blue than usual. He grew
anxious about her.

'Are you not feeling well, Snegorotchka?' he asked.

' No, Little Father,' she replied sadly. ' I miss the white snow,
oh ! so much ; the green grass is not half as beautiful. I wish the
snow would come again.'

' Oh ! yes ; the snow will come again,' replied the old man.
'But don't you like the leaves on the trees and the blossoms and
the flowers, my darling?'

'They are not so beautiful as the pure, white snow.' And
Snegorotchka shuddered.

The next day she looked so pale and sad that they were alarmed,
and glanced at one another anxiously.

'What ails the child?' said Marusha.

Youshko shook his head and looked from Snegorotchka to the
fire, and then back again.

' My child,' he said at last, ' why don't you go out and play with
the others ? They are all enjoying themselves among the flowers in
the forest ; but I Ve noticed you never play with them now. Why
is it, my darling?'

' I don't know, Little Father, but my heart seems to turn to
water when the soft warm wind brings the scent of the blossoms.'

' But we will come with you, my child,' said the old man. ' I
will put my arm about you and shield you from the wind. Come,
we will show you all the pretty flowers in the grass, and tell you
their names, and you will just love them, all of them.'

5



SNEGOROTCHKA

So Marusha took the pot off the fire and then they all went out
together, Youshko with his arm round Snegorotchka to shield her
from the wind. But they had not gone far when the warm perfume
of the flowers was wafted to them on the breeze, and the child
trembled like a leaf. They both comforted her and kissed her. and
then they went on towards the spot where the flowers grew thickly
in the grass. But, as they passed a clump of big trees, a bright ray
of sunlight struck through like a dart and Snegorotchka put her
hand over her eyes and gave a cry of pain.

They stood still and looked at her. For a moment, as she
drooped upon the old man's arm, her eyes met theirs ; and on her
upturned face were swiftly running tears which sparkled in the
sunlight as they fell. Then, as they watched her, she grew smaller
and smaller, until, at last, all that was left of Snegorotchka was a
little patch of dew shining on the grass. One tear-drop had fallen
into the cup of a flower. Youshko gathered that flower very gently
and handed it to Marusha without a word.

They both understood now. Their darling was just a little girl
made of snow, and she had melted away in the warmth of the
sunlight.




THE BURIED MOON



THE BURIED MOON

AN ENGLISH FAIRY TALE

IN my old Granny's days, long, long oh, so long ago, Garland was
just a collection of bogs. Pools of black water lay in the hollows,
and little green rivulets scurried away here and there like long
lizards trying to escape from their tails, while every tuft that
you trod upon would squirt up at you like anything. Oh ! it was a
nice place to be in on a dark night, I give you my word.

Now, I Ve heard my Granny say that a long time before her day
the Moon got trapped and buried in the bog. I '11 tell you the tale
as she used to tell it to me.

On some nights the beautiful Moon rose up in the sky and
shone brighter and brighter, and the people blessed her because by
her wonderful light they could find their way home at night through
the treacherous bogs. But on other nights she did not come, and
then it was so dark that the traveller could not find his way ; and,
besides, the Evil Things that feared the light toads and creepy,
crawly things, to say nothing of Bogles and Little Bad People
came out in the darkness to do all the harm they could, for they
hated the people and were always trying to lead them astray. Many
a poor man going home in the dark had been enticed by these
malevolent things into quicksands and mud pools. When the Moon
was away and the night was black, these vile creatures had their
will.

When the Moon learned about this, she was very grieved, for
she is a sweet, kind body, who spends nights without sleep, so as to
show a light for people going home. She was troubled about it all,
and said to herself, ' I '11 just go down and see how matters stand.'

7



THE BURIED MOON

So, when the dark end of the month came round, she stepped
down out of the sky, wrapped from head to foot in her black
travelling cloak with the hood drawn over her bright golden hair.
For a moment she stood at the edge of the marshes, looking this
way and that. Everywhere, as far as she could see, was the dismal
bog, with pools of black water, and gnarled, fantastic-looking snags
sticking up here and there amid the dank growth of weeds and
grasses. There was no light save the feeble glimmer of the stars
reflected in the gloomy pools ; but, upon the grass where she stood, a
bright ring of moonlight shone from her feet beneath her cloak.

She saw this and drew her garments closer about her. It was
cold, and she was trembling. She feared that vast expanse of bog
and its evil creatures, but she was determined to face the matter out
and see exactly how the thing stood.

Guided by the light that streamed from her feet, she advanced
into the bog. As the summer wind stirs one tussock after another,
so she stepped onward between the slimy ponds and deadly quag-
mires. Now she reached a jet-black pool, and all too late she saw
the stars shining in its depths. Her foot tripped and all she could
do was to snatch at an overhanging branch of a snag as she fell
forward. To this she clung, but, fast as she gripped it, faster still
some tendrils from the bough whipped round her wrists like
manacles and held her there a prisoner. She struggled and
wrenched and tugged with all her might and main, but the tendrils
only tightened and cut into her wrists like steel bands.

As she stood there shivering in the dark and wondering how to
free herself, she heard far away in the bog a voice calling through the
night. It was a wailing cry, dying away in despair. She listened
and listened, and the repeated cry came nearer ; then she heard
footsteps halting, stumbling and slipping. At last, by the dim
light of the stars, she saw a haggard, despairing face with fearful
eyes ; and then she knew it was a poor man who had lost his way
and was floundering on to his death. Now he caught sight of a
gleam of light from the captive Moon, and made his uncertain way

8




THE BURIED MOON

In her frantic struggles the hood of her cloak fell back
from her dazzling golden hair, and immediately the
whole place was flooded with light.



[See page 9



THE BURIED MOON

towards it, thinking it meant help. As he came nearer and nearer
the pool, the Moon saw that her light was luring him to his death,
and she felt so very sorry for him, and so angry with herself that she
struggled fiercely at the cords that held her. It was all in vain, but,
in her frantic struggles, the hood of her cloak fell back from her
dazzling golden hair, and immediately the whole place was flooded
with light, which fell on muddy pools and quicks and quags,
glinting on the twisted roots and making the whole place as clear
as day.

How glad the wayfarer was to see the light ! How pleased he
was to see all the Evil Things of the dark scurrying back into their
holes! He could now find his way, and he made for the edge of the
treacherous marsh with such haste that he had not time to wonder
at the strange thing that had happened. He did not know that the
blessed light that showed him his path to safety shone from the
radiant hair of the Moon, bound fast to a snag and half buried in
the bog. And the Moon herself was so glad he was safe, that she
forgot her own danger and need. But, as she watched him making
good his escape from the terrible dangers of the marshes, she was
overcome by a great longing to follow him. This made her tug and
strain again like a demented creature, until she sank exhausted, but
not free, in the mud at the foot of the snag. As she did so, her head
fell forward on her breast, and the hood of her cloak again covered
her shining hair.

At that moment, just as suddenly as the light had shone out
before, the darkness came down with a swish, and all the vile things
that loved it came out of their hiding-places with a kind of
whispering screech which grew louder and louder as they swarmed
abroad on the marshes. Now they gathered round the poor Moon,
snarling and scratching at her and screaming hateful mockeries at
her. At last they had her in their power their old foe whose light
they could not endure ; the Bright One whose smile of light sent
them scurrying away into their crevices and defeated their fell
designs.

B 9



THE BURIED MOON

' Hell roast thee ! ' cried an ugly old witch-thing ; ' thou 'rt the
meddlesome body that spoils all our brews.'

' Out on thee ! ' shrieked the bogle-bodies ; ' if 'twere not for
thee we 'd have the marsh to ourselves.'

And there was a great clamour as out-of-tune as out-of-tune
could be. All the things of darkness raised their harsh and cracked
voices against the Bright One of the sky. ' Ha, ha ! ' and ' Ho, ho 1 '
and ' He, he ! ' mingled with chuckles of fiendish glee, until it
seemed as if the very trickles and gurgles of the bog were joining
in the orgy of hate.

' Burn her with corpse-lights ! ' yelled the witch.

' Ha, ha ! He, he ! ' came the chorus of evil creatures.

' Truss her up and stifle her ! ' screamed the creeping things.
'Spin webs round her ! ' And the spiders of the night swarmed all
over her.

' Sting her to death ! ' said the Scorpion King at the head of his
brood.

'Ho, ho! He, he!' And, as each vile thing had something
to say about it, a horrible, screeching dispute arose, while the
captive Moon crouched shuddering at the foot of the snag and gave
herself up as lost.

The dim grey light of the early dawn found them still hissing
and clawing and screeching at one another as to the best way to
dispose of the captive. Then, when the first rosy ray shot up from
the Sun, they grew afraid. Some scuttled away, but those who
remained hastened to do something anything that would smother
the light of the Moon. The only thing they could think of now was
to bury her in the mud, bury her deep. They were all agreed on
this as the quickest way.

So they clutched her with skinny fingers and pushed her down
into the black mud beneath the water at the foot of the snag.
When they had all stamped upon her, the bogle-bodies ran quickly
and fetched a big black stone which they hurled on top of her to
keep her down. Then the old witch called two will-o'-the-wisps from

10



THE BURIED MOON

the darkest part of the marshes, and, when they came dancing and
glancing above the pools and quicks, she bade them keep watch by
the grave of the Moon, and, if she tried to get out, to sound an
alarm.

Then the horrid things crept away from the morning light,
chuckling to themselves over the funeral of the Moon, and only
wishing they could bury the Sun in the same way; but that was
a little too much to hope for, and besides, all respectable Horrors
of the Bog ought to be asleep in bed during the Sun's journey
across the sky.

The poor Moon was now buried deep in the black mud, with
a heavy stone on top of her. Surely she could never again thwart
their plans of evil, hatched and nurtured in the foul darkness of the
quags. She was buried deep ; they had left no sign ; who would
know where to look for her ?

Day after day passed by until the time of the New Moon was
eagerly looked for by the good folk who dwelt around the marshes,
for they knew they had no friend like the Moon, whose light enabled
them to find the pathways through the bog-land, and drove away
all the vile things into their dark holes and corners. So they put
lucky pennies in their pouches and straws in their hats, and searched
for the crescent Moon in the sky. But evening twilight brought
no Moon, which was not strange, for she was buried deep in the


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