[Source: McNeill] Long, long ago in Lithuania there stood a beautiful forest - that is, it was beautiful to strangers beholding it for the first time. But for people who lived nearby it was fearsome, for it was said that many strange things took place among the tangled shrubs and majestic oaks. Travelers told of getting lost in its depths and of seeing ruined houses filled with tiny ragged people. Parents told their children of little sooty elves who snatched at your clothes if you ventured inside.

Near the forest there was an old village, and the people in it were poorer than anywhere else in the country. Among them dwelt a peasant who had lost his first wife and had married again. His second wife was very hard to please. There was no end to her scolding and wrangling, so the poor man spent very little time at home. He had a daughter aged seven years called Elspeth who had been a baby when her mother died. The stepmother made her life miserable. In spite of this, Elspeth remained a bright, sunny child, who was very thoughtful and much prettier than her stepmother would admit.

One sunny afternoon, while out gathering strawberries with the other village children, Elspeth ventured to the edge of the haunted forest. Oblivious to dangers, as children often are, her playmates followed, traveling farther and farther into the forest, for the berries were bigger and thicker there than anywhere else. Suddenly one of the older children noticed where they were cried out in terror: "Fly, fly! We're in the haunted forest!" To the children the words were more terrible than thunder and lightning, and they fled from the forest, not stopping till they had reached the safety of their homes.

But Elspeth stayed. She could see no danger in a place where the berries lay red in the soft green grass, where garlands of flowers hid the gnarled trunks of the trees, and where birds sang sweetly in the branches overhead. "It cannot be worse than home," she thought to herself.

Presently a little black dog came barking toward her with a silver bell tinkling on its neck. Just as she was about to flee from the dog, a little girl about her own age came running after it.

"I'm so glad to see you," the girl replied. "It was brave of you not to run away with the other children. Please stay here and play with me." She held out her hand as she came forward, and the dog began to wag his tail in friendly greeting.

"Come," said the little girl, "I'll take you to my mother. She'll be as glad as I am to see you, for on one has come here for many a long year."

Hand in hand the two children ran through the forest, with the little dog barking happily at their heels. Presently they came to a beautiful garden with the rarest and most exotic flowers growing in it. In the trees were birds of many hues that stopped their singing and tamely fluttered to the ground. In the very center of the garden stood a crystal house built of glass and precious stones.

"Mother, mother!" cried the little girl happily. "Look who has come to play with me. Can she stay?"

A beautiful tall lady who had been sitting on a bench in the garden came toward them holding out her hand in welcome, and Elspeth knew she had never seen anyone like her nor ever heard a voice so sweet- it all at once like the falling of water, the singing of birds, the sighing of the wind. What guest do you bring here, my child?" she asked kissing her daughter. "I found her alone in the forest and brought her home to be my friend."

The kind lady asked Elspeth many questions, and when the little girl told her of her unhappy life, and that her real mother had long rested beneath the grass, the woman's eyes glistened in sympathy. "We shall see what can be done," she said comfortingly. And while she thought about how she could let the little guest stay with them, the children went out to play.

Elspeth's companion brought out a small black ebony box, holding it tight in her hand.

"Have you ever seen the sea?" she asked.

"No," Elspeth replied in wonderment. "What is it?"

"Very well, you shall see it, and at once." She lifted the cover from the small box, and inside lay a leaf of alchemilla, a mussel shell, and two fish bones. On the alchemilla leaf lay two drops of water glittering like dew drops.

The child shook the dewdrops on to the grass, and whatever had been there before disappeared as though the earth had swallowed them, and it is place, as far as the eye could see, only water was visible except for the dry place where the children stood. Then the little girl placed the mussel shell on the water. Instantly it changed into a boat, and the fish bones into oars! They clambered into the boat, and while Elspeth stared in astonishment her friend rowed the boat over the water. As she rowed, other boats began to gather about them, some with colorful sails puffed out in the gentle breeze. And on the breeze came the sound of singing-the voices of hundreds of children who sang a carefree, lilting son.

"We must answer their song," the little hostess cried.

Elspeth could not understand what they were singing for she had never heard any other tongue but her own. One word of the song was repeated over and over again: "Kiisike, Kiisike, Kiisike."

"What does that word mean? she asked her companion.

"That is my name," the little girl laughed.

After a time Kiisike's mother's voice was heard across the water, and it was time to row for home.

When they had brought the boat back to the dry spot, Kiisike took the alchemilla leaf from the box and dipped it carefully into the water, shaking it so that only two drops remained on it. Immediately the water disappeared, and all was as before. The oars became fish bones and the boat a mussel shell, which she carefully put back in the box.

The children ran gaily up the path to the house, and the servants came to meet them and show them to the table. And what a table! A servant brought in thirteen golden dishes. When each one was opened, it contained better food than the one before it. And when they were all opened but the thirteenth one, they began to eat. In her whole life Elspeth had never seen so much food at once, and all of it so delicious.

After the meal the good lady turned to one of her ladies in waiting and whispered something to her. She left the room and presently came back, followed by a very old man with a beard the length of himself. He bowed very low before Kiisike's mother.

"Look at that peasant maiden," commanded the woman, pointing to Elspeth. "I wish to adopt her. Form an imitation of her for me to send into the village tomorrow to take her place."

Although Elspeth did not understand what the woman was saying, she was sure that it would bring her no ill, and was very happy. "If you are a good girl, all will go well with you," the woman told her kindly, "and you may stay with us as long as you wish."

After a short time, the old man came back into the room. He was carrying a bucket of clay in one hand and in the other a wicker basket. He fashioned the clay into the shape of a doll's body, only he left it hollow. From the basket he took a long black snake and thrust it into the hollow body. Then he fashioned the head, and when it was finished and placed on the doll, it was truly Elspeth in miniature.

His work completed, the old man raised his head and said, "Nothing is wanting but a drop of this little girl's blood."

Seeing the terror in Elspeth's face, the good woman comforted her and said, "Fear not, for it is essential for your future happiness." And taking a gold needle, she pricked Elspeth's arm so gently that the girl felt nothing when the needle was withdrawn with a drop of blood on the point. The old man took the needle and thrust it into the doll's heart. Then he laid the image into the basket to grow, promising to return the next day.

That night Elspeth lay in the largest and softest bed she had ever been in, and fell promptly to sleep. She was awakened by the bright sunlight streaming in the window and the sound of birds in the trees outside. Instead of her old garments, she found a wardrobe awaiting her that a princess would dare not ask for. It included her first pair of shoes.

Kiisike came to help her dress and took her to the dining hall for breakfast. To Elspeth's surprise and horror, there sat a girl in her complete likeness, and wearing the clothes she herself had been wearing the day before.

"Do not fear, Elspeth," said Kiisike, "The clay doll can do you no harm. We shall send it to your stepmother in your stead. She may beat it as much as she likes, for this stonyhearted doll can feel no pain, and the day will come when your substitute will award her the punishment she deserves."

Many were the happy days which followed. They were so full of gladness for Elspeth, and there were so many things to do, that she scarcely noticed their passing. But every day she took time off from play to learn her lessons from the servants and to take instruction in etiquette and courtly manners.

As she grew in size and in wisdom, she grew also in beauty, but her playmate Kiisike never grew at all. Indeed, she was no bigger and no different after several years than she was on the day Elspeth met her in the woods.

One time when Elspeth was reading by herself in the garden, she learned the secret of the crystal house and how they remained so happy, with no one else in the world knowing of their existence. Seeing the old man approach a large square block of granite in the garden, she watched him tap it three times with a little silver wand. Immediately a large golden rooster sprang forth from it and, lighting up, crowed loudly three times. In a second the rock opened and a table covered with a cloth issued forth, followed by a chair for each member of the household and a plate for each to eat from. Next followed thirteen covered dishes of food such as the table always bore when Elspeth sat down to eat.

The girl was very curious about this, and when she had a chance to speak tot he good lady alone she asked her about it.

"The old gray-bearded man is a magician," she was told, "and has been very kind to us for more than two hundred years. Everything the heart could wish for has supplied us from out of the granite rock. But there has always been one condition: that never change and that Kiisike never grow up, but remain a little girl forever."

Then Elspeth asked her about the thirteenth dish and why it was at every meal and why it was never uncovered.

"That," she explained," contains the hidden blessings of life, and if we opened it we would know all and our happy life would cease. We must not try to snatch all gifts at once, else we would lose those we already have."

Nine more years passed, and by this time Elspeth was a comely a maiden as ever a man set eyes upon, only no man had ever come to see her, for the forest was still a fearful place to those outside. One day the kind lady called her and said, "Dearest child, the time has come when we must part."

"Dearest mother, that can never be till death comes to claim one of us. Having once so kindly received me, why do you now thrust me from you?"

"Peace, my child. You do not understand. You are grown up now and great happiness awaits you in the world. You are a mortal girl. Your years in time will come to an end. As you see, we never grow old here and can never leave the forest."

As Elspeth's tears flowed down her cheeks, the good lady took a golden comb from her pocket and gently combed her long and lovely curls. Then she bade her go and rest, for she would begin her journey on the morrow.

In all these years the stepmother had tormented the doll, but the clay creature whose body felt no pain minded it not and this made the wicked woman more cruel than ever. One day she fell into a terrible rage and threatened to beat the girl more severely than every, and as she was about to hit her with a whip, the black snake so long concealed in the hollow body darted out and bit her on the tongue. It was only a few days before the woman died and no one knew what became of her daughter, for no one ever discovered that she was not a real child but a doll.

As for Elspeth, she wept all the night through, for she couldn't bear to leave her friends behind her. In the morning the kind lady gave her a signet right for her finger and hung a small gold locket about her neck. Then she summoned the gray-bearded man and bade her farewell with tears in her eyes. The old man struck Elspeth gently on the head three times with the silver wand he always carried. She felt herself changing. Her arms became wings, her feet became the claws of an eagle, and instead of her fine clothes she was covered with feathers. She soared high into the air over the green forest and soon the crystal house and her friends were far behind, but still she was unable to control her flying. The air currents bore her southwards for many days until she came to a huge forest quite unlike the one that had been her home for so long. She was very tired and ceased to flap her great wings and fell lower and lower.

Suddenly a sharp arrow pierced her feathers and she began to fall, fall, until she thought she was asleep and having a nightmare that would end when she hit the ground. When she came out of the swoon she found herself lying in a thicket - not as an eagle any more, but back in her own lovely form. Everything lay behind her like a dream and she wanted so much to fall asleep again to recapture it. Suddenly she felt someone near her, comforting her and trying to raise her to her feet. When she turned she saw a tall, handsome youth with flashing eyes and a happy face bending over her. He began to speak:

"It was a happy hour when I rode forth this morning, dearest maiden. I have been dreaming every night for half a year that I would find you in this forest. But though I have looked everywhere and have passed this way a hundred times, my longing and my hope have never been rewarded. But today I aimed an arrow at a passing eagle, and while seeking the place where it fell I found you, and I shall never let you leave my sight. Suddenly a flock of pigeons flew over them, each carrying a present for Elspeth's dowry. One brought her a message from the enchanted forest, "Marry the Prince who has found you, and the great happiness I foretold will be yours."

And so it was.