Estonian folk stories: stories of precious words

there's a bum, go to the rich people and get a place.

the hostess won't let him in.

"go, go, go!" she said, "if it's good for everyone, there's nothing for you." the vagrants moved on again, and in the village they saw one of the most broken houses.

he knocks.

the hostess opened the door.

"come in," she said.

"the place is so narrow that one more person will not be too crowded." the homeless went in and looked at it.

"what's the matter, hostess," the homeless asked, "not even a child of my own?" "i'm a widow, how can i afford such a large group of children to wear?" the hostess said, "in all these clothes, one child is washed out." it's dinner time.

the hostess greets the homeless.

"sit down," the lady said to him, "seize with us." the homeless looked at the food, and the potatoes in the pot were barely enough for the kids, and he said, "oh, my lady, i'm tired of walking and not eating." he fell asleep on the bench.

the next morning, when he got up, he bowed to the widow and said, "thank you for your kindness.

listen, i'll give you a precious word when i say goodbye: 'what you do in the morning, you keep doing it at night.

"oh, good man," the hostess laughs, "it's that without you, i get up at dawn, and i'm busy, and i've been up and down all night." the hostess looked at the children, and she thought, "well, the passers-by said that their clothes were all broken.

ah, that's terrible! they're not orphans, they're with their mothers.

i'm still a little numb, and i need to measure it, and maybe i can make a shirt for a big boy.

she ran to a rich family and borrowed the lady's feet and started measuring.

she opened up the linen, tried to measure a shirt and just picked up the ruler from the cloth.

she picked it up again, and she grew a foot.

the widow can't stop counting.

she wrapped the cloth a hundred times, and the cloth was still missing, piled up on the table, piled up on the floor ...

and so the widow counted until night.

that's when the rich lady came knocking.

she's not feeling well all day, and she's always wondering, "what's this poor neighbor doing? what's she got to measure? the widow sits on the table and is covered in white cloth, like snow.

can't even walk in.

"where did you get this property?" the rich lady asks.

"i don't even understand myself," the widow answered, "i had a little piece of sack, too small, well, i started to measure it, but from morning to night, i didn't.

trueThis homeless man, who is no ordinary man, is a magician, who says, "What kind of homeless man?" The rich lady called, "What did she say to you?" The widow told the rich neighbor.

The broad woman knew it all at once.

The homeless man was the one who went to her house first! That means she missed her own good fortune! She's upset! She's running home.

"Put the horse in!" she said to a worker, "Recover the homeless, huh? Be careful, if you can't catch up, don't come back." The workers left and caught up with the homeless at dawn.

"The hostess ordered me to come back to you.

If you don't go back, she'll kill me!" The worker said to the homeless.

"Well, if so, let's go." The homeless answered.

He got on the wagon and went back.

The rich hostess keeps cooking.

She eats vagrants pies and chickens, and at night he sleeps on soft feathers。