The Tsarévich bade farewell to Bába Yagá, went to the spot she named on the seashore, and he hid himself behind the bushes. Then twelve spoonbills flew along, struck the grey earth, and turned into fair maidens, who began bathing. The Tsarévich stole the maiden’s shirt, sat behind the bush, and never stirred. The maidens came out of the sea and went on shore: eleven of them struck the earth, turned into birds and flew home: one was left alone, the eldest⁠—Vasilísa the Wise. And when she saw that her sisters flew away she said, “Do not seek me, my dear sisters, but fly home. I am myself to blame; it is all my own fault; I did not look, and I must pay the cost.” So the sisters, the fair maidens, struck the grey earth and turned into spoonbills, spread their wings, and flew far away. Vasilísa the Wise was left by herself, and she looked round and said: “Whoever he be who now has my shirt, let him come here: if he be an old man, he shall be as my own father; if he be a middle-aged man, he shall be as my beloved brother; if he be of my age, he shall be my lover.”