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Updated: May 2, 2025
"I know nothing about it," says the shepherd, and he tells them about the mound and the reed and the flowers, and how he cut the reed and made the whistle-pipe, and how the whistle-pipe does its playing by itself.
"Take me at once to the mound, where you say you cut the reed." The shepherd led the way, and the old man walked beside him, crying, while the whistle-pipe in his hand went on singing and reciting its little song over and over again.
But it was no stranger than the flowers, for there were flowers round it, some red as the sun at dawn and others blue as the summer sky. Well, the shepherd looks at the reed, and he looks at those flowers, and he thinks, "I've never seen anything like that before. I'll make a whistle-pipe of that reed, and keep it for a memory till I grow old." So he did.
They came to the mound under the birch tree, and there were the flowers, shining red and blue, and there in the middle of the mound was the Stump of the reed which the shepherd had cut. The whistle-pipe sang on and on. Well, there and then they dug up the mound, and there was the little girl lying under the dark earth as if she were asleep.
As soon as he came to the door of the hut, the old woman, who was sitting inside counting the gold pieces, jumped up and started her scolding. "What have the children tricked you with this time?" she screamed at him. "They gave me a whistle-pipe," says the old man, "and they are not going to steal the turnips any more." "A whistle-pipe!" she screamed. "What's the good of that?
The dictionary is well stocked with expressions standing ready, like missiles, to be discharged upon the locusts "troop of shamefaced ones," "you draw in your head like a tern," "you make your voice small like a whistle-pipe," "you beg like one delirious"; and the verb pongitai, "to look cross," is equipped with the pregnant rider, "as at the sight of beggars."
"O God of mine," says the old merchant, "this is my daughter, my little pretty one, whom we called Little Stupid." He began to weep loudly and wring his hands; but the whistle-pipe, playing and reciting, changed its song. This is what it sang: "My sisters took me into the forest to look for the red berries.
"Never again!" shouted the children. "I'm glad to hear that," says the old man. "And we'll pay for the turnips." "Thank you kindly," says the old man. He hadn't the heart to be angry with those little queer children. Three or four of them ran into the hut and came out again with a wooden whistle, a regular whistle-pipe, such as shepherds use. They gave it to the old man.
But that he never knew, for before his lips touched it the whistle-pipe began playing by itself and reciting in a girl's sweet voice. This is what it sang: "Play, play, whistle-pipe. Bring happiness to my dear father and to my little mother. I was killed yes, my life was taken from me in the deep forest for the sake of a silver saucer, for the sake of a transparent apple."
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