Vasilisa the Beautiful

The Little Doll

Far away in old Russia, a merchant and his wife had one beloved daughter named Vasilisa. She was gentle and good, and so lovely that everyone called her Vasilisa the Beautiful.

When Vasilisa was still young, her mother fell ill. Before she died, she called her daughter to her bedside and gave her a small wooden doll.

"Keep this doll always with you," her mother whispered. "Tell no one about it. Whenever you are in trouble, give the doll a little food and a little drink, and ask it for help. It will guide you." Then she kissed her daughter and was gone.

Vasilisa grieved deeply, but she kept the little doll hidden in her pocket, just as her mother had asked.

A Cruel New Family

After a time, Vasilisa's father married again. The new stepmother had two daughters of her own, and all three were jealous of Vasilisa's beauty and kindness. While her father was away on business, they treated her cruelly, giving her the hardest, dirtiest chores and the least food, hoping the work and the sun would spoil her looks.

But Vasilisa bore it all without complaint. Each night, when the house was quiet, she would feed her little doll a crust of bread and tell it her troubles. And the doll would comfort her, saying, "Do not worry, Vasilisa. Lie down and sleep. The morning is wiser than the evening." By morning, somehow, all her impossible chores would be done — the doll did them while she slept. And so, no matter how the stepmother tried, Vasilisa stayed healthy and good and beautiful.

Into the Dark Forest

One winter evening, the stepmother gave each girl a task by candlelight — one to make lace, one to knit, and Vasilisa to spin. Then, secretly, she let every fire and candle in the house go out, until only one tiny flame remained. At last that, too, was snuffed.

"We cannot work in the dark," the stepmother declared, "and there is no fire left in the house. Someone must go and fetch some." She turned to Vasilisa. "You shall go — to the hut of Baba Yaga in the forest. She has fire. Off you go!"

Now everyone knew that Baba Yaga was a fearsome witch who lived deep in the woods and ate those who displeased her. The stepmother and stepsisters were sure they had seen the last of Vasilisa. But the girl had no choice. With her doll hidden in her pocket, she set out into the dark, cold forest.

The Witch's House

She walked all through the night and the next day. Strange riders galloped past her — a white rider at dawn, a red rider at sunrise, and a black rider as night fell. At last she came to a clearing, and there stood Baba Yaga's hut. It was the strangest house she had ever seen: it stood upon two great chicken legs, and its fence was made of bones, topped with skulls whose eyes glowed in the dark.

With a terrible whirring sound, Baba Yaga herself came flying through the trees in a great mortar, steering with a pestle and sweeping away her tracks with a broom. She landed before Vasilisa and sniffed the air.

"I smell a Russian girl," she croaked. "What do you want?"

"I have come for fire, grandmother," said Vasilisa, bowing politely and keeping her voice steady, "for our house is dark."

Baba Yaga's eyes glinted. "I know your stepmother. Very well — you may have fire. But first you must work for me. If you do everything I ask, you shall have your light. If you fail…" she grinned a dreadful grin, "…I shall have you."

The Impossible Tasks

Vasilisa was given supper, then sent to bed. In the morning, Baba Yaga flew off and left a great heap of tasks: Vasilisa must cook a huge dinner, clean the entire hut and yard, and — hardest of all — sort a giant pile of wheat from black grains mixed all through it, every single piece, by nightfall.

When the witch was gone, Vasilisa sat down and wept. But then she remembered her doll. She took it out, gave it a little bread, and whispered her troubles.

"Do not fear, Vasilisa," said the doll softly. "Eat your supper, say your prayers, and sleep. The morning is wiser than the evening."

When Vasilisa woke, every task was done — the dinner cooked, the hut spotless, and the wheat sorted into perfect, clean heaps. Baba Yaga came home and could find nothing to scold. The next day she set even harder tasks, and again the little doll finished them all while Vasilisa slept.

A Question and a Gift

On the third evening, Baba Yaga, puzzled, said, "How is it that you can do everything I ask, girl?"

Vasilisa, remembering her mother's warning never to speak of the doll, answered carefully, "I am helped by my mother's blessing."

At the word blessing, Baba Yaga jumped up. "A blessing? I want no blessed ones in my house! Out you go!" She seized one of the glowing skulls from her fence, set it on a stick, and thrust it into Vasilisa's hands. "Here is your fire. Now take it and go!"

Vasilisa hurried home through the forest, the skull's eyes lighting her way like a lantern.

Home at Last

When she reached the house, her stepmother and stepsisters came to the door. They had not been able to make any fire at all while she was gone, and they had shivered in cold and darkness the whole time.

But the moment Vasilisa carried the glowing skull inside, its fiery eyes turned upon the cruel stepmother and stepsisters — and by morning, their unkindness had at last caught up with them, while gentle Vasilisa was left unharmed.

Vasilisa, now free of them, went to live in the town. There her goodness, her cleverness, and her beauty became known far and wide, and in time she married a kind man and lived happily for the rest of her days. And always, all her life, she kept her mother's little doll safe in her pocket — and fed it, and thanked it, just as she had promised.

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The moral: Even in the darkest forest, a kind heart and a calm spirit will light your way. Face your fears with courage and good manners, and the help you need will find you.

Want more world folktales? Try The Firebird and Prince Ivan or The Enormous Turnip next.