This is post #20 of my penance after I have been blacklisted by Hivewatchers for plagiarizing.
No need to upvote this post, as the payout has been declined.
But comments are welcome. I will continue to upvote all meaningful comments.
THE TURKEY SITTER
The same evening, after supper, he dressed in new clothes, mounted his horse, and left again for the ball. So what did the turkey sitter do? During the wake, she said she was ill and pretended to go to bed. But she secretly went down to the stable, saddled and bridled a horse, and gave him a double peck of oats. Then she went back to her room and opened the bag containing the clothes she had brought from her father's house. This done, she combed her hair with a gold comb, put on white stockings, and little red shoes made of Flanders leather, put on a dress the color of the sun, went back down to the stable, jumped on her horse, and set off galloping for the castle where the king's son had gone to dance.
When she entered the ball, the hurdy-gurdy and violin players stopped playing, the dancers stopped dancing, and all the guests said:
“Who is this beautiful young lady?”
Finally, the hurdy-gurdy and violin players began their music again, and the king's son took the young girl by the hand to lead her to the dance. But, at the stroke of midnight, she left her dancer stranded, jumped on her horse, and galloped off again. While escaping, she lost the little red shoe on her right foot at the ball.
Since the first day the young girl appeared at the ball, the king's son had become so enamored with her, so in love, that he had lost his ability to eat and drink. He picked up the little red shoe and had the young ladies at the ball try it on. But all of them had feet too big to fit them. So he put the little red shoe in his pocket and returned to his father's castle.
“Father, I fell in love with a young girl who lost this little red shoe at the ball. If you do not give her to me in marriage, you will be the cause of great misfortune. I will go far, far away, to become a monk, to a country from which I will never, ever return."
"My son, I don’t want you to become a monk. Tell me where this young girl lives, and we will both ride on horseback and ask her father to marry her."
"Father, I don't know where she lives."
"Well, go get me the community drum."
The young man obeys.
“Drum, here are a hundred pistoles. Go and shout everywhere that the young lady who can fit this little red shoe will be my son's wife."
The drummer started, and shouted everywhere, as he had received the order. For three days, the king's castle was full of young ladies who came to try on the little red shoe. But none could fit it. The turkey sitter watched them and laughed heartily.
“It’s your turn, turkey sitter,” said the king’s son.
“You are kidding, sir. I am just a poor little peasant girl. How do you expect me to do what all these beautiful young ladies couldn't do?
"Let's go! Let's go!" cried the young ladies. "Bring in this insolent girl who was making fun of us earlier. If she cannot fit the little red shoe, let her be whipped until she bleeds."
The turkey sitter approached, pretending to be afraid and crying. On the first try, she put on the little red shoe.
“And now,” she said, “everybody waits for me."
She went to lock herself in her room, and returned a moment later, wearing red on both feet, dressed in her sun-colored dress.
“Girl,” said the king, “you must marry my son."
"King, I will marry him when he has my father’s consent. In the meantime, I still want to keep your turkeys."
Then the king and his son found themselves very embarrassed.
Source: La Gardeuse de dindons, from the French book Contes populaires de la Gascogne, tome 1, published in 1886.
Hello, my name is Vincent Celier.
I am writing translations of folk tales that I found in public domain French books, so that people who do not understand French may enjoy them too.
We can see here that this tale is one of the numerous versions of Cinderella-like tales.
As explained in Wikipedia: "The protagonist is a young girl living in forsaken circumstances that are suddenly changed to remarkable fortune, with her ascension to the throne via marriage."
This folk tale has "thousands of variants that are told throughout the world".
In this variant, I like that the princess tells her future husband and father-in-law: I will continue to be your turkey sitter until you get my father's consent, as they have no idea who her father is.
In the living room of the Abbey, we have framed pictures of my grandparents.
These are the parents of my father. I never knew this grandmother, as she died before my parents' wedding. My grandfather died when I was 14 years old, in 1963.
These are the parents of my mother, whom I have known for a long time. Unfortunately, I could not be present at their funerals.
Both my grandfathers have an article on Wikipedia:
My paternal grandfather Léonce Celier in the French Wikipedia. He was an archivist, librarian, and historian.
My paternal grandfather Henri Dyèvre in the Breton Wikipedia because he was an expert in Breton location names.
There are also pictures of my parents and my late sister, Brigitte.
My father, Paul, died in 1998, and my mother, Marie, died twenty years later, at the age of 97. In the framed photos, they seemed to be looking at each other. We did that on purpose.
My sister Brigitte died in 1996 from cancer, at the age of 43.
-- Vincent Celier