It was already the third morning since they’d left their father’s house. They began walking again, but they went ever deeper into the woods, and if help did not reach them soon they were done for. At noon they spotted a lovely little snow-white bird perched on a branch, which sang so sweetly they stopped and listened. And when it was done singing, it flapped its wings and fluttered before them, and they followed it until they came to a little cottage on the roof of which the bird landed, and when the children approached they saw that the cottage was built out of bread and covered with cake, but the windows were made of clear sugar crystal.
“Let’s dig in,” said Hansel, “and make a blessed meal of it. I’ll eat a piece of the roof, and you, Gretel, can sup on the window, which ought to taste sweet.” Hansel reached out and broke off a little bit of the roof to see how it tasted, and Gretel walked up to the windowpane and nibbled at it. Whereupon a soft voice called out from within:
“Nibble, nibble, like a mouse,
Who is nibbling at my house?”
To which the children replied:
“The wind blows wild,
The heavenly child,”
and kept right on eating without batting a lash.
Hansel, to whom the roof tasted delicious, tore off a great big hunk of it, and Gretel pried off a whole round windowpane, sat herself down, and promptly ate it up. Then all of a sudden the door flew open and an old crone came hobbling out on a crutch. Hansel and Gretel were so petrified they dropped what they had in their hands. But the old woman just shook her head and said, “Oh my dear little children, who brought you here? Come in, come in, and make yourselves at home, no harm will come to you here.” Then she took both of them by the hand and led them into her little house. She fetched all kinds of good things to eat, milk and pancakes with sugar, apples and nuts. And afterward, she made up two little beds with fresh white linen, and Hansel and Gretel lay themselves down and thought they were in heaven.
But the old woman only pretended to be nice. She was an evil witch who lay in wait for children and had only built the house of bread to lure them into a trap. Whenever she got her hands on a fresh young thing, she cooked it up and made a feast of it. Witches have red eyes and can’t see very far, but they have a keen sense of smell, like animals, and know when people are approaching. When Hansel and Gretel came up close to her house, she snickered and sneered to herself, “I’ve got them in the bag, they won’t get away.”
Early the next morning, before the children batted a lash and still lay lost in their sweet slumber, she got up to peer at their round, rosy cheeks, and muttered to herself, “They’ll make a tasty morsel.” Whereupon she grabbed Hansel with her bony-fingered hand, dragged him out to a little pen, and locked him behind a wire gate. Cry as he might, it did him no good. Then she went over to Gretel, shook her awake, and yelled, “Get up, you lazybones, fetch me water from the well and cook your brother something good to eat. He’s out there in the pen and I mean to fatten him up. And when he’s good and plump, I’ll eat him.” Gretel started crying bitterly, but it did her no good, she had to do what the evil witch wanted.
So the finest food was cooked up for poor Hansel, yet Gretel got nothing but crayfish shells. Every morning the old crone slipped off to the pen and cried, “Hansel, stick your finger out so I can feel if you’re fat enough.” But Hansel poked a little bone out of the pen, and the old crone, whose eyes were weak and couldn’t see it, took it for Hansel’s finger, surprised that he had failed to fatten up. Once four weeks had gone by and Hansel still stayed skinny, she was gripped by impatience and couldn’t wait any longer. “Get a move on, Gretel!” she cried to the girl. “Be quick and fetch me water – Hansel may be fat or lean, but tomorrow I’ll slaughter and cook him.”
Oh how the poor little sister wailed as she carried the water, and oh what a flood of tears ran down her cheeks! “God help us!” she cried out. “If only the wild animals in the woods had eaten us, as least we would have died together.”
“Save your whimpering,” said the old crone, “it won’t do you any good.”
Early the next morning Gretel had to go out to light a fire and put the kettle to boil. “First we’ll bake,” said the hag. “I already lit the oven and kneaded the dough.” She prodded the poor girl over to the oven, from which flames shot out. “Crawl in,” said the witch, “and see if it’s hot enough to bake the bread.” Once Gretel had poked her head in the witch intended to slam the oven door shut, to roast her and eat her.