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But the old father did not forget what he had promised the Tzar. He set the little pretty one, who had been so good that her wicked sisters had called her Stupid, to sit beside him on the cart. And he brought something from the house in a coffer of wood, and kept it under his coat. And they brought out the two sisters, the bad ones, from their dark prison, and set them in the cart. And the Little Stupid kissed them and cried over them, and wanted to loose their hands, but the old merchant would not let her. And they all drove together till they came to the palace of the Tzar. The shepherd boy could not take his eyes from the little pretty one, and he ran all the way behind the cart.

Well, they came to the palace, and waited on the steps; and the Tzar came out to take the morning air, and he saw the old merchant, and the two sisters with their hands tied, and the little pretty, one, as lovely as a spring day. And the Tzar saw her, and could not take his eyes from her. He did not see the shepherd boy, who hid away among the crowd.

Says the great Tzar to his soldiers, pointing to the bad sisters, “These two are to be put to death at sunset. When the sun goes down their heads must come off, for they are not fit to see another day.”

Then he turns to the little pretty one, and he says: “Little sweet pigeon, where is your silver saucer, and where is your transparent apple?”

The old merchant took the wooden box from under his coat, and opened it with a key at his belt, and gave it to the little one, and she took out the silver saucer and the transparent apple and gave them to the Tzar.

“O lord Tzar,” says she, “O little father, spin the apple in the saucer, and you will see whatever you wish to see–your soldiers, your high hills, your forests, your plains, your rivers, and Everything in all Russia.”

And the Tzar, the little father, spun the apple in the saucer till it seemed a little whirlpool of white mist, and there he saw glittering towns, and regiments of soldiers marching to war, and ships, and day and night, and the clear stars above the trees. He looked at these things and thought much of them.

Then the little good one threw herself on her knees before him, weeping.

“O little father, Tzar,” she says, “take my transparent apple and my silver saucer; only forgive my sisters. Do not kill them because of me. If their heads are cut off when the sun goes down, it would have been better for me to lie under the blanket of black earth in the shade of the birch tree in the forest.”

The Tzar was pleased with the kind heart of the little pretty one, and he forgave the bad ones, and their hands were untied, and the little pretty one kissed them, and they kissed her again and said they were sorry.

The old merchant looked up at the sun, and saw how the time was going.

“Well, well,” says he, “it’s time we were getting ready to go home.”

They all fell on their knees before the Tzar and thanked him. But the Tzar could not take his eyes from the little pretty one, and would not let her go.

“Little sweet pigeon,” says he, “will you be my Tzaritza, and a kind mother to Holy Russia?”

And the little good one did not know what to say. She blushed and answered, very rightly, “As my father orders, and as my little mother wishes, so shall it be.”

The Tzar was pleased with her answer, and he sent a messenger on a galloping horse to ask leave from the little pretty one’s old mother. And of course the old mother said that she was more than willing. So that was all right. Then there was a wedding–such a wedding!–and every city in Russia sent a silver plate of bread, and a golden salt-cellar, with their good wishes to the Tzar and Tzaritza.