Yes, give
me an apple.” Then it seemed to her as if she were forced to say to
him, “Come with me,” and she opened the lid of the chest and said,
“Take out an apple for thyself,” and while the little boy was stooping
inside, the Devil prompted her, and crash! she shut the lid down, and
his head flew off and fell among the red apples. Then she was
overwhelmed with terror, and thought, “If I could but make them think
that it was not done by me!” So she went upstairs to her room to her
chest of drawers, and took a white handkerchief out of the top drawer,
and set the head on the neck again, and folded the handkerchief so that
nothing could be seen, and she set him on a chair in front of the door,
and put the apple in his hand. After this Marlinchen came into the kitchen to her mother, who was
standing by the fire with a pan of hot water before her which she was
constantly stirring round. “Mother,” said Marlinchen, “brother is
sitting at the door, and he looks quite white and has an apple in his
hand. I asked him to give me the apple, but he did not answer me, and I
was quite frightened.” “Go back to him,” said her mother, “and if he
will not answer thee, give him a box on the ear.” So Marlinchen went to
him and said, “Brother, give me the apple.” But he was silent, and she
gave him a box on the ear, on which his head fell down. Marlinchen was
terrified, and began crying and screaming, and ran to her mother, and
said, “Alas, mother, I have knocked my brother’s head off!” and she
wept and wept and could not be comforted. “Marlinchen,” said the
mother, “what hast thou done? but be quiet and let no one know it; it
cannot be helped now, we will make him into black-puddings.” Then the
mother took the little boy and chopped him in pieces, put him into the
pan and made him into black puddings; but Marlinchen stood by weeping
and weeping, and all her tears fell into the pan and there was no need
of any salt. Then the father came home, and sat down to dinner and said, “But where
is my son?” And the mother served up a great dish of black-puddings,
and Marlinchen wept and could not leave off. Then the father again
said, “But where is my son?” “Ah,” said the mother, “he has gone across
the country to his mother’s great uncle; he will stay there awhile.”
“And what is he going to do there? He did not even say good-bye to me.”

“Oh, he wanted to go, and asked me if he might stay six weeks, he is
well taken care of there.” “Ah,” said the man, “I feel so unhappy lest
all should not be right. He ought to have said good-bye to me.” With
that he began to eat and said, “Marlinchen, why art thou crying? Thy
brother will certainly come back.” Then he said, “Ah, wife, how
delicious this food is, give me some more.” And the more he ate the
more he wanted to have, and he said, “Give me some more, you shall have
none of it. It seems to me as if it were all mine.” And he ate and ate
and threw all the bones under the table, until he had finished the
whole. But Marlinchen went away to her chest of drawers, and took her
best silk handkerchief out of the bottom drawer, and got all the bones
from beneath the table, and tied them up in her silk handkerchief, and
carried them outside the door, weeping tears of blood. Then the
juniper-tree began to stir itself, and the branches parted asunder, and
moved together again, just as if some one was rejoicing and clapping
his hands. At the same time a mist seemed to arise from the tree, and
in the centre of this mist it burned like a fire, and a beautiful bird
flew out of the fire singing magnificently, and he flew high up in the
air, and when he was gone, the juniper-tree was just as it had been
before, and the handkerchief with the bones was no longer there. Marlinchen, however, was as gay and happy as if her brother were still
alive. And she went merrily into the house, and sat down to dinner and
ate. But the bird flew away and lighted on a goldsmith’s house, and began to
sing,

“My mother she killed me,
My father he ate me,
My sister, little Marlinchen,
Gathered together all my bones,
Tied them in a silken handkerchief,
Laid them beneath the juniper-tree,
Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!”


The goldsmith was sitting in his workshop making a gold chain, when he
heard the bird which was sitting singing on his roof, and very
beautiful the song seemed to him. He stood up, but as he crossed the
threshold he lost one of his slippers. But he went away right up the
middle of the street with one shoe on and one sock; he had his apron
on, and in one hand he had the gold chain and in the other the pincers,
and the sun was shining brightly on the street. Then he went right on
and stood still, and said to the bird, “Bird,” said he then, “how
beautifully thou canst sing! Sing me that piece again.” “No,” said the
bird, “I’ll not sing it twice for nothing! Give me the golden chain,
and then I will sing it again for thee.” “There,” said the goldsmith,
“there is the golden chain for thee, now sing me that song again.” Then
the bird came and took the golden chain in his right claw, and went and
sat in front of the goldsmith, and sang,

“My mother she killed me,
My father he ate me,
My sister, little Marlinchen,
Gathered together all my bones,
Tied them in a silken handkerchief,
Laid them beneath the juniper-tree,
Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!”


Then the bird flew away to a shoemaker, and lighted on his roof and
sang,

“My mother she killed me,
My father he ate me,
My sister, little Marlinchen,
Gathered together all my bones,
Tied them in a silken handkerchief,
Laid them beneath the juniper-tree,
Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!”


The shoemaker heard that and ran out of doors in his shirt sleeves, and
looked up at his roof, and was forced to hold his hand before his eyes
lest the sun should blind him. “Bird,” said he, “how beautifully thou
canst sing!” Then he called in at his door, “Wife, just come outside,
there is a bird, look at that bird, he just can sing well.” Then he
called his daughter and children, and apprentices, boys and girls, and
they all came up the street and looked at the bird and saw how
beautiful he was, and what fine red and green feathers he had, and how
like real gold his neck was, and how the eyes in his head shone like
stars. “Bird,” said the shoemaker, “now sing me that song again.”
“Nay,” said the bird, “I do not sing twice for nothing; thou must give
me something.” “Wife,” said the man, “go to the garret, upon the top
shelf there stands a pair of red shoes, bring them down.” Then the wife
went and brought the shoes.