# Vasilisa the Beautiful

_Alexander Afanasyev_ · 17 min read · ages 7-12

Sent by her cruel stepmother to Baba Yaga for a light, Vasilisa survives the old hag’s hard work thanks to the doll her mother gave her. She carries home a skull whose eyes burn her stepmother and stepsisters to cinders, then weaves linen so fine that she sews the king’s shirts, and the king marries her.

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Once upon a time, in a certain kingdom, there lived a merchant. He had been married for twelve years, but he had only one child, a daughter called Vasilisa the Beautiful. She was eight years old when her mother died.

As she lay dying, the merchant’s wife called her little daughter to her bedside, took a doll from under the covers, and gave it to her.

“Vasilisa, dear,” she said, “listen to my last words, remember them, and do as I say. I am dying. Together with my blessing, I leave you this doll. Keep it with you always, and never show it to anyone. Whenever trouble comes to you, give the doll something to eat and ask it for advice. Once it has eaten, it will tell you how to mend your trouble.”

Then the mother kissed her child and died.

The merchant mourned his wife for as long as was proper, and then he began to think about marrying again. He was a wealthy man and could have had any young bride he pleased, but the one who caught his fancy was a widow. She was no longer young, and she had two daughters of her own, just about Vasilisa’s age. He thought she was sure to be a good housekeeper and would know how to bring up children.

So the merchant married the widow, but he was mistaken: she was no kind mother to his Vasilisa. Vasilisa was the prettiest girl in the whole village, and her stepmother and stepsisters envied her beauty. They loaded her with every kind of hard work they could think of, hoping she would grow thin from toil and turn rough and brown in the sun and wind. Her life was a misery.

Vasilisa bore it all without complaint, and every day she grew rosier and prettier. Meanwhile the stepmother and her daughters grew thin and sour from their own spite, even though they sat around all day with idle hands like fine ladies.

How could that be? It was the doll that helped Vasilisa. Without it, how could the girl ever have managed all that work? That was why Vasilisa never ate the whole of her meal but always saved the tastiest morsel for her doll. At night, when everyone was asleep, she would shut herself in the narrow little room where she slept, set the food before the doll, and say, “Now, dolly, eat, and listen to my need! I live in my father’s house, but I never know a happy day. My wicked stepmother is trying to drive me from the face of the earth. Teach me how to stay alive, and tell me what to do.”

The doll would eat, and afterward it would give her advice and comfort her in her sorrow, and the next day it did all of Vasilisa’s work for her. She had only to rest in the shade and pick flowers, and still everything was done on time: the garden beds were weeded, the buckets filled, the cabbages watered, and the stove lit. The doll even showed Vasilisa an herb that kept her from getting sunburned. So the two of them lived happily together.

Several years went by. Vasilisa grew up, and the time came for her to marry. Every young man in town who was looking for a wife sent to ask for Vasilisa’s hand, while nobody so much as glanced at the stepmother’s daughters. That made the stepmother angrier than ever.

“The younger one won’t marry before her elder sisters,” she told every suitor.

And when the suitors had been sent away, she would beat Vasilisa to vent her spite.

One day the merchant had to go away on business, and he was to be gone a long time. As soon as he left, the stepmother moved to another house. The new house stood near a dense forest. In a clearing in that forest stood a hut, and in the hut lived Baba Yaga. She let no one come near her hut, and she ate people as if they were chickens.

Once they had moved, the stepmother kept sending Vasilisa, whom she hated, into the forest on one errand or another. But the girl always came home safe and sound. The doll showed her the way and never let her go near Baba Yaga’s hut.

Autumn came. One evening the stepmother gave the three girls their work: one was to make lace, the second to knit socks, and Vasilisa to weave, and each had a set amount to finish. Then she put out all the lights in the house except a single candle where the girls were working, and went to bed.

The girls worked and worked. By and by the candle needed trimming. One of the stepsisters took the snuffers as if to trim the wick, but instead, just as her mother had told her, she snuffed the candle out and pretended it was an accident.

“What do we do now?” said the stepsisters. “There isn’t a spark of fire in the house, and our work isn’t finished. Someone has to go to Baba Yaga for a light!”

“My pins give me light enough,” said the one who was making lace. “I won’t go.”

“And I won’t go either,” said the one who was knitting socks. “My needles give me light enough.”

“Vasilisa, you’ll have to go for the light,” they both cried. “Off you go to Baba Yaga!”

And they pushed Vasilisa out of the room.

Vasilisa went into her little room, set the supper she had saved before the doll, and said, “Now, dolly, eat, and listen to my need! They’re sending me to Baba Yaga for a light. Baba Yaga will eat me!”

The doll ate, and its eyes began to glow like two candles.

“Don’t be afraid, Vasilisa dear,” it said. “Go where they send you. Only make sure you keep me with you always. As long as I’m with you, no harm will come to you at Baba Yaga’s.”

So Vasilisa got ready, put the doll in her pocket, crossed herself, and set off into the deep, dark forest.

She walked along, trembling. Suddenly a horseman galloped past her. He was white, and dressed in white, and he rode a white horse with white harness, and day began to dawn.

She went a little farther, and a second horseman galloped past. He was red, dressed in red, and rode a red horse, and the sun came up.

Vasilisa walked all night and all the next day, and it was only toward evening that she came to the clearing where Baba Yaga’s hut stood. The fence around it was made of dead men’s bones, and on top of the fence were human skulls with eyes in them. Instead of gateposts there were men’s legs, instead of bolts there were arms, and instead of a lock there was a mouth full of sharp teeth.

Vasilisa was frightened out of her wits and stood rooted to the spot.

All at once another horseman rode past. He was black, dressed all in black, on a black horse. He galloped up to Baba Yaga’s gate and vanished as if the ground had swallowed him, and night fell. But the darkness did not last long. The eyes of all the skulls on the fence began to shine, and the whole clearing grew as bright as noon. Vasilisa shook with fear, but she stayed where she was, because she did not know which way to run.

Soon a terrible noise came from the forest. The trees creaked, the dry leaves rustled, and out of the forest came Baba Yaga. She rode in a mortar, pushing it along with a pestle and sweeping away her trail with a broom. She drove up to the gate, stopped, sniffed the air all around, and cried, “Phoo! Phoo! I smell Russian flesh! Who’s there?”

Shaking with fright, Vasilisa went up to the old hag and bowed low. “It’s me, Granny,” she said. “My stepsisters sent me to you for a light.”

“Very well,” said Baba Yaga. “I know them. If you stay with me a while first and work for me, I’ll give you a light. But if you won’t, I’ll eat you!”

Then she turned to the gates and called out to them.

Strong fence of mine, stand apart!  
Wide gates of mine, fly open!

The gates opened, and Baba Yaga drove in, whistling as she went. Vasilisa followed her, and everything closed fast behind them. When they came into the main room, Baba Yaga stretched herself out full length and said to Vasilisa, “Bring me what’s in the oven. I’m hungry.”

Vasilisa lit a splinter of wood from one of the skulls on the fence and began carrying food from the oven to set before Baba Yaga, and there was enough meat for a dozen people. Then she brought kvass, mead, beer, and wine up from the cellar. The old hag ate everything and drank everything. All she left for Vasilisa were a few scraps: a crust of bread and a bit of roast suckling pig. After that, Baba Yaga lay down to sleep.

“When I go out tomorrow morning,” she said, “see that you clean the yard, sweep the house, cook the dinner, and wash the linen. Then go to the grain bin, take out four big measures of wheat, and pick every weed seed out of it. Every bit of it had better be done. If it isn’t, I’ll eat you!”

As soon as she had given her orders, Baba Yaga began to snore. Vasilisa set what was left of the hag’s supper before her doll, burst into tears, and said, “Now, dolly, eat, and listen to my need! Baba Yaga has given me hard work to do, and she says she’ll eat me if I don’t finish it all. Please help me!”

The doll answered, “Don’t be afraid, Vasilisa the Beautiful! Eat your supper, say your prayers, and go to bed. The morning is wiser than the evening.”

Vasilisa woke very early, but Baba Yaga was up before her. From the window the girl watched the light in the skulls’ eyes go out. All at once the white horseman rode by, and it was day. Baba Yaga went out into the yard and whistled, and a mortar, a pestle, and a broom appeared before her. The red horseman came, and the sun rose. Baba Yaga sat down in the mortar and drove out of the yard, pushing herself along with the pestle and sweeping away her trail with the broom.

Left alone, Vasilisa looked all through Baba Yaga’s house and marveled at how much there was of everything. She stood wondering which job to do first. When she looked up, all the work was already done. The doll had picked the wheat clean, down to the very last weed seed.

“Oh, you’ve saved me!” cried Vasilisa. “You’ve kept me from harm!”

“All you have left to do is cook the dinner,” said the doll, slipping into Vasilisa’s pocket. “Cook it, with God’s blessing, and then get some rest. It will do you good.”

Toward evening Vasilisa set the table and waited for Baba Yaga. Dusk began to fall. The black horseman flashed past the gate, and everything went dark. Only the eyes of the skulls gave any light. The trees began to creak, the leaves began to rustle, and up drove Baba Yaga. Vasilisa went out to meet her.

“Is everything done?” asked Baba Yaga.

“See for yourself, Granny,” said Vasilisa.

Baba Yaga looked everything over. It annoyed her that she could find nothing to scold about, and she said, “Well, well. Very good.” Then she called out, “My trusty servants, faithful friends, grind my wheat!”

Three pairs of hands appeared, gathered up the wheat, and carried it away out of sight. Baba Yaga ate her supper, and before she went to bed, she gave Vasilisa her orders once again.

“Tomorrow do just the same as today. But besides that, take the poppy seed out of the bin and clean the earth off it, seed by seed. Somebody mixed a lot of earth into it out of spite, you see.”

With that the old hag turned to the wall and began to snore, and Vasilisa fed her doll. The doll ate, and then it told her the same thing it had told her the night before.

“Pray to God and go to sleep. The morning is wiser than the evening. Everything will be done, Vasilisa dear.”

The next morning Baba Yaga drove out of the yard in her mortar again, and Vasilisa and the doll did all the work at once. When the old hag came back, she looked everything over and called out, “My trusty servants, faithful friends, press the oil from my poppy seed!”

Three pairs of hands appeared, gathered up the poppy seed, and carried it away out of sight. Baba Yaga sat down to her dinner. She ate, and Vasilisa stood by without a word.

“Why don’t you talk to me?” said Baba Yaga. “You stand there as if you’d lost your tongue.”

“I didn’t dare,” answered Vasilisa. “But if you’ll let me, I’d like to ask you something.”

“Ask away. But not every question leads to anything good. As they say, ‘Learn too much and you’ll soon grow old.’”

“I only want to ask you about something I saw, Granny. On my way here, a man on a white horse rode past me. He was white himself, and dressed in white. Who was he?”

“That was my bright Day,” answered Baba Yaga.

“Then another rider passed me, on a red horse. He was red himself, and dressed all in red. Who was he?”

“That was my red Sun,” answered Baba Yaga.

“And who is the black rider, Granny, who passed me right at your gate?”

“That was my dark Night. They are all my trusty servants.”

Vasilisa thought about the three pairs of hands, but she held her tongue.

“Why don’t you ask anything more?” said Baba Yaga.

“That’s enough for me, Granny. You said yourself, ‘Learn too much and you’ll soon grow old.’”

“It’s just as well,” said Baba Yaga, “that you asked only about what you saw outside, and not about what goes on inside! I don’t like anyone carrying tales out of my house, and as for people who are too curious, well, I eat them. Now I’ll ask you something. How is it that you manage to do all the work I give you?”

“My mother’s blessing helps me,” said Vasilisa.

“Oh-ho! So that’s it! Get out of my house, you blessed daughter! I don’t want any blessed people here.”

Baba Yaga dragged Vasilisa out of the room and pushed her out through the gate. Then she took one of the skulls with blazing eyes from the fence, stuck it on a stick, and handed it to the girl. “Here, take this,” the old hag said. “It’s a light for your stepsisters. That’s what they sent you for, isn’t it?”

Vasilisa ran home by the light of the skull, which went out only when dawn came. At last, on the evening of the second day, she reached her house. When she came to the gate, she was about to throw the skull away. “Surely they don’t need a light at home anymore,” she thought.

Just then a hollow voice came out of the skull. “Don’t throw me away. Take me to your stepmother!”

Vasilisa looked at the house and saw no light in a single window, so she decided to carry the skull inside. For the first time in her life her stepmother and stepsisters gave her a warm welcome. They told her that from the moment she left, they hadn’t had a spark of fire in the house. They couldn’t strike a light themselves no matter how they tried, and whenever they brought one in from a neighbor’s, it went out as soon as it came into the room.

“Maybe your light will stay lit,” said the stepmother.

They carried the skull into the main room. Its eyes glared at the stepmother and her daughters and shot flames at them. The three of them tried to hide, but wherever they ran, the eyes followed. By morning they were burned to cinders. Only Vasilisa was unharmed.

That morning Vasilisa buried the skull in the ground, locked up the house, and went to live in a nearby town, where she lodged with an old woman. After a while she took up her work again. The doll made her a wonderful loom, and by the end of the winter she had woven a great deal of linen, so fine that you could pass it through the eye of a needle like thread.

In the spring, when the linen had been bleached, Vasilisa gave it as a present to the old woman she lodged with. The old woman took it to the king, and the king ordered shirts to be made from it. But no seamstress could sew such fine cloth, so the king asked who had woven it. The old woman said her lodger had, and that only she could sew it, and the linen was given to Vasilisa.

When a dozen shirts were ready, Vasilisa sent them off to the king. As soon as they were on their way, she washed, combed her hair, dressed, and sat down at the window. Before long a messenger came, saying she must come to court at once. And when she stood before the king, he fell head over heels in love with her.

“My beauty,” he said, “I will never let you go. You shall be my wife.”

So the king married her. By and by her father came home, and he went to live with her. Vasilisa took the old woman into her household, and as for the doll, she carried it in her pocket to the end of her days.

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- Read online: https://talerie.com/en/tales/vasilisa-the-beautiful-original
- Wikidata: https://www.wikidata.org/wiki/Q2618351
- Source: Russian Fairy Tales: A Choice Collection of Muscovite Folk-lore, translated by W. R. S. Ralston (New York: Hurst & Co., first published London 1873 as Russian Folk-Tales; Project Gutenberg #22373) (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22373)
- Public-domain basis: Talerie contemporary retelling (CC0 2026), based on: Russian Fairy Tales: A Choice Collection of Muscovite Folk-lore, translated by W. R. S. Ralston (New York: Hurst & Co., first published London 1873 as Russian Folk-Tales; Project Gutenberg #22373) — translation: author died 1871 (+70 passed); translator W. R. S. Ralston died 1889 (+70 passed)
- License: CC0-1.0 (https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/)