Once upon a time, in the days when dwarves forged steel in their forges beneath Krak's Mound and gnome inventions could still be purchased at a few stalls in Krakow's Cloth Hall, in the best of cities, there lived a little girl.
She wasn't the smallest girl you'd find in a city ruled by the benevolent Wawel Dragon. But she wasn't the largest either. Truth be told, she was an ordinary girl, but Tale has its Laws, and we must call her little. The girl named herself Rozalia and lived peacefully in a small, red-tiled house. She lived there with her parents and a sweet dog, charmingly named Og.
One day, her mother whispered the great news in Rozalia's ear. The Wawel Dragon, mayor of the city and ruler of the surrounding lands, had decided that to celebrate the birthday of his son, Drahan the Wawel Dragon, a grand festival would be held on Krakow's Błonia meadows. The dragon prince's shearing was to be an occasion for a lavish celebration, circus performers and jugglers, a grand feast, and above all, a fireworks display prepared by dwarven sappers. Rozalia's mother forbade her
from leaving the house—after all, so many strangers had suddenly appeared in the city. Rozalia's mother knew that the bands of Gypsies, in the employ of the Iron Woman, a cruel witch living in the forests near Kraków, would not miss this opportunity and would try to kidnap several children for dinner for the nasty Old Woman!
As soon as the girl's parents left the house, little Rozalia immediately dressed and slipped out the back door. She took with her two pretzels—so she would have something to eat along the way—and her sweet dog, Og, because with him, she was safe, and she couldn't miss all the wonders her mother had spoken of. She passed small, crooked houses and quickly headed straight for the market square! As she walked, a withered, wrinkled old woman blocked her path. She looked very hungry, so the girl pressed a pretzel into her hand and ran on.
Krakow's Market Square was filled to the brim with vendors, conjurers, circus performers, jugglers, tightrope walkers, athletes leading tame bears, giant elephants, sellers of baked fish and roasted nuts, singers, goliards, students, monks,
harlequins, polichinelles and other masqueraders, philistines and babbits, barbers, barbers and barbers, ladies' men and housekeepers. You couldn't even get a pin in, it was so crowded. But a little girl is no pin, and there's room for her everywhere. Rozalia grabbed her sweet dog, Og, and headed off into the crowd.
Before long, Rozalia was lost. She walked forward and cried. She was a little girl and didn't know the city at all. She passed tenement houses and market stalls that grew smaller and grayer. The houses grew lower and lower, and the people around her became fewer and fewer.
The girl walked and walked, and the sun slowly set. Her sweet dog, Og, fell asleep in her arms, and she was lost in sad thoughts. She didn't even notice when the street beneath her feet turned into a narrow path, and then a forest trail. She walked and walked until it finally became so dark that she couldn't see the path ahead. Branches obscured the sky; it was pitch black. Rozalia lay down in the roots of a large oak tree, hugged her sweet dog, Og, and fell asleep, crying
softly.
It's always so that the terrors of the night disappear before the morning sun. Rozalia woke up, looked up, and among the tangled branches of the great trees, she saw blue sky and a small, white cloud. She laughed and ran into the forest to look for berries and nuts for breakfast. Everything was so easy during the day! A handful of berries and two nuts later, the girl was walking ahead, and the cute dog, Og, was jumping happily beside her.
Suddenly, she heard the clatter of horses' hooves and the creaking of axles behind her. She turned and saw a strange sight – a colorful, beautiful cart, drawn by a skinny horse. On the box sat a tall man, dressed in a colorful vest and blue trousers. He twirled his bushy mustache, flashed the girl a black eye and a white smile. The girl smiled shyly and asked the driver if he was going to Krakow. He looked at her intently and extended his hand to
help her onto the box. Rozalia didn't hesitate for a moment. She grabbed the cute dog, Og, under her arm and climbed into the seat next to the driver. He cracked his whip loudly, and the skinny horse moved forward, pulling the colorful cart. The girl looked around and admired the view. Before long, the wagon stopped at the walls of a gloomy castle.
"You said you'd take me to Krakow!" she exclaimed, terrified.
"I didn't say anything like that," the Gypsy said in a booming voice. "He he he! You'll be dinner for
the Iron Witch!"
The girl was terrified and began to cry. The Gypsy grabbed her, threw her over his shoulder, and jumped down from the wagon. He grabbed the horse by the bridle and led her through the gate. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the sky became covered with black clouds. The girl sobbed softly. The Gypsy threw her onto the straw lying near the stable.
"Ha ha ha! Now you're in the Crone's power!" he laughed cruelly, "and today you'll be in her stomach!"
The great doors of the gloomy castle creaked open. The Gypsy fell to his knees. The door swung wide. A withered, wrinkled old woman stood there.
"Rozalia! You gave me a delicious pretzel at the market square! But your parents told you not to leave the house alone, right? Your mommy is crying her eyes out for you!"
Rozalia was speechless. This was the old woman with whom she shared her food. She rose from her seat and approached the withered old woman.
"I'm a good retired sorceress, don't be afraid of me, dear child. I bewitched you and conjured up this castle and the gypsy so you'd remember not to leave the house alone."
The old woman smacked Rozalia on the head with her wand, and the girl found herself in the middle of the living room of her cottage. Her astonished mother swept her into her arms and hugged her tightly.
And two piercings in her nostrils, and that was it.
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