there was once on a time a girl who was young and beautiful, but she had lost her mother when
she was quite a child, and her step-mother did all she could to make the girl's life wretched.
whenever this woman gave her anything to do, she worked at it indefatigably, and did everything
that lay in her power.  still she could not touch the heart of the wicked woman by that; she was
never satisfied; it was never enough.  the harder the girl worked, the more work was put upon
her, and all that the woman thought of was how to weigh her down with still heavier burdens,
and make her life still more miserable.

one day she said to her, "here are twelve pounds of feathers which thou must pick, and if they
are not done this evening, thou mayst expect a good beating.  dost thou imagine thou art to idle
away the whole day?"  the poor girl sat down to the work, but tears ran down her cheeks as she
did so, for she saw plainly enough that it was quite impossible to finish the work in one day.
whenever she had a little heap of feathers lying before her, and she sighed or smote her hands
together in her anguish, they flew away, and she had to pick them out again, and begin her work
anew.  then she put her elbows on the table, laid her face in her two hands, and cried, "is there
no one, then, on god's earth to have pity on me?"  then she heard a low voice which said, "be
comforted, my child, i have come to help thee."  the maiden looked up, and an old woman was
by her side.  she took the girl kindly by the hand, and said, "only tell me what is troubling thee."
as she spoke so kindly, the girl told her of her miserable life, and how one burden after another
was laid upon her, and she never could get to the end of the work which was given to her.  "if i
have not done these feathers by this evening, my step-mother will beat me; she has threatened she
will, and i know she keeps her word."  her tears began to flow again, but the good old woman
said, "do not be afraid, my child; rest a while, and in the meantime i will look to thy work."  the
girl lay down on her bed, and soon fell asleep.  the old woman seated herself at the table with the
feathers, and how they did fly off the quills, which she scarcely touched with her withered hands!
the twelve pounds were soon finished, and when the girl awoke, great snow-white heaps were
lying, piled up, and everything in the room was neatly cleared away, but the old woman had
vanished.  the maiden thanked god, and sat still till evening came, when the step-mother came
in and marvelled to see the work completed.  "just look, you awkward creature," said she, "what
can be done when people are industrious; and why couldst thou not set about something else?
there thou sittest with thy hands crossed."  when she went out she said,  "the creature is worth
more than her salt.  i must give her some work that is still harder."

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