When four weeks had gone by, and Haensel still
continued thin, she was seized with impatience and would not wait any
longer. "Hola, Grethel," she cried to the girl, "be active, and bring
some water. Let Haensel be fat or lean, tomorrow I will kill him and
cook him." Ah, how the poor little sister did lament when she had
to fetch the water, and how her tears did flow down over her cheeks!
"Dear God, do help us!" she cried. "If the wild beasts in the forest
had but devoured us, we should at any rate have died together." "Just
keep thy noise to thyself," said the old woman; "all that won't help
thee at all."
Early in the morning, Grethel had to go out and hang up the caldron
with the water, and light the fire. "We will bake first," said the old
woman; "I have already heated the oven, and kneaded the dough." She
pushed poor Grethel out to the oven from which flames of fire were
already darting. "Creep in," said the witch, "and see if it is
properly heated, so that we can shut the bread in." And when once
Grethel was inside, she intended to shut the oven and let her bake in
it, and then she would eat her, too. But Grethel saw what she had in
her mind, and said, "I do not know how I am to do it; how do you get
in?" "Silly goose," said the old woman. "The door is big enough; just
look, I can get in myself!" and she crept up and thrust her head into
the oven. Then Grethel gave her a push that drove her far into it, and
shut the iron door, and fastened the bolt.
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