Then Yagá threw him down an apple: he stretched out his hand, and she clutched it and leapt over hills, and valleys, and dark forests, so fast that it seemed like a twinkling of an eye, got him into her home, washed him, went out and put him into the bunk.

In the morning she made ready to go out, and ordered her daughter, “Listen! heat the oven well, very hot, and roast me Chufíl-Fílyushka for supper.” And she went out to seek further booty.

The daughter went and got the oven thoroughly hot, took out and bound Fílyushka, and put him on the shovel, and was just going to shove him into the oven, when he went and knocked his forehead with his feet.

“That’s not the way, Fílyushka,” said the daughter of the Yagá-Búra.

“How then?” he answered. “I don’t understand.”

“Look here, just let go; I’ll show you.” She went and lay down on the shovel in the right fashion.