Yar name’s Tom Tit Tot.
Well, when that hard her, that shruck awful, an’ awa’ that flew, into the dark, an’ she niver saw it noo more.
4
Mossycoat
Collected by T. W. Thompson from Taimie Boswell, a gipsy, at Oswaldwhistle, Northumberland, January 9, 1915. Published from the T. W. Thompson manuscript collection by permission of the Director of the University of Leeds Folk Life Survey.
This is Type 510B, The Dress of Gold, of Silver, and of Stone, a form of Cinderella. In England it is well known as “The Story of Catskin”; see the rhymed version in James Orchard Halliwell-Phillipps, The Nursery Rhymes of England (London, 1843), pp. 10–15. But there are important variations to note in the present text. In the first place, it is colored by the traveling man’s outlook. It is the technique of gipsies and tinkers to go to the front door, and try to see the mistress of the house. They have a rooted distrust of servants and underlings. In many versions of the tale, it is the young master who ill-treats the heroine, and not the servants. The unnatural love of the father is left out of this tale, and Mossycoat is courted by a peddler. In many variants, the magic powers are bestowed by the dead mother; Boswell’s text is unusual in that the mother is still alive, though she disappears from the story as soon as the magic petticoat has been given. In one variant, the heroine is dressed in a wooden gown, which becomes covered with moss. Otherwise, “Mossycoat” is unique.
Type 510B is practically world-wide in distribution, save for the Far East. English texts are printed by Andrew Lang, Folk-Lore, I (1890), “Cap o’ Rushes,” 295–99; Eveline C. Gurdon, County Folk-Lore No. 1 (London, 1893), “Folk-Lore of Suffolk,” pp. 40–43; Joseph Jacobs, More English Fairy Tales, “Catskin,” pp. 62–72, 204–10. In the United States, examples are known from the southern Appalachians and the Schoharie Hills, New York (see references in Baughman, England and North America).
A version of the related form, Type 510A, is printed in Folktales of Japan, a companion volume in this series, No. 38, “Benizara and Kakezara.” Motifs present are D1470.1, “Magic wishing object causes wishes to be fulfilled”; F821.1.5, “Dress of gold, silver, color of sun, moon, and stars”; H36.1, “Slipper test”; L162, “Lowly heroine marries prince”; N711.6, “Prince sees heroine at ball and is enamoured”; and R221, “Heroine’s three-fold flight from ball.”
DERE WAS ONCE a poor ould widder-woman as lived in a little cottage. She’d two daughters; de younger on ’em was about nineteen or twenty, and she was very beautiful. Her mother was busy ivry day, a-spinning of a coat for her.
A hawker came courting dis girl; came reg’lar he did, and kept on a-bringing of her dis thing and dat. He was in love wid her, and badly wanted her to marry him. But she wasn’t in love wid him; it didn’t fall out like dat; and she was in a puzzlement what she’d best do about him. So one day she ext her mother. “Let he come,” her mother telt her, “and git what you can out’n him, while I finish dis coat, after when you won’t have no need ’n him, nor his presents neether. So tell him, girl, as you won’t marry him, unless he gits you a dress o’ white satin with sprigs o’ goold on it as big as a man’s hand; and mind as you tells him it mus’ fit exac’ly.”
Next time de hawker cam round, and ext her to wed him, de girl telt him just dis, de wery same as her mother’d said. He took stock ’n her size and build, de hawker did; and inside of a week he was back wid de dress. It answered de describance all right, an when de girl went upstairs wid her mother, and tried it on, it fit ’n exac’ly.
“What should I do now, Mother?” she ext.
“Tell him,” her mother says, “as you won’t marry him unless he gits you a dress med o’ silk de color o’ all de birds o’ de air; and as afore, it must fit you exac’ly.”
De girl telt de hawker dis, and in two or three days he was back at de cottage, wid dis colored silk dress de girl ed exted for; and being as he knowed de size from de t’other un, in course it fit her exac’ly.
“Now what should I do, Mother?” she ext. “Tell him,” her mother says, “as you won’t marry him unless he gits you a pair o’ silver slippers as fits you exac’ly.” De girl telt de hawker so, and in a few days he called round wid ’em. Her feet was only about three inches long, but de slippers fit her exac’ly; dey was not too tight, neether was dey too loose. Agen de girl ext her mother what she should do now. “I can finish de coat tonight,” her mother said, “so you can tell de hawker as you’ll marry him tomorrow, and he’s to be here at 10 o’clock.” So de girl telt him dis. “Think-on, my dear,” she says, “10 o’clock in de morning.” “I’ll be dere, my love,” he says, “by God, I will.”
That night her mother was at work on de coat till late, but she finished it all right. Green moss and goold thread, dat’s what it was med on; just dem two things. “Mossycoat,” she called it, and give de name to de younger daughter, as she’d med it for. It was a magic coat, she said, a wishing coat, she telt her daughter; when she’d got it on, she telt her she’d only to wish to be somewhere, and she’d be dere dat wery instant, and de same if she wanted to change hersel’ into summat else, like to be a swan or a bee.
Next morning de mother was up by it was light. She called her younger daughter, and telt her she mus’ now go into de world and seek her fortune, and a handsome fortune it was to be. She was a foreseer, de owld mother was, and know’d what was a-coming. She give her daughter mossycoat to put on, and a goold crown to tek wid her, and she telt her to tek as well de two dresses and de silver slippers she’d had off’n de hawker. But she was to go in de clo’es as she wore ivery day, her working clo’es dat is. And now she’s ready for to start, Mossycoat is. Her mother den tells her she is to wish herself a hundred miles away, and den walk on till she comes to a big hall, and dere she’s to ext for a job. “You won’t hev far to walk, my blessed,” she says—dat’s de mother. “And dey’ll be sure to find you work at dis big hall.”
Mossycoat did as her mother telt her, and soon she foun’ herself in front of a big gentleman’s house. She knocked at de front door and said as she was looking for work. Well, de long and de short of it was as de mistress hersel’ come to see her; and she liked de look ’n her, de lady did.
“What work can you do?” she ext.
“I can cook, your ladyship,” said Mossycoat. “In fact, I’m in de way o’ being a wery good cook, from what peoples ’es remarked.”
“I can’t give you a job as cook,” de lady tells her, “being as I got one already; but I’d be willing to imploy you to help de cook, if so as you’d be satisfied wid dat.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” says Mossycoat. “I s’d be real glad ’n de place.”
So it was settled as she was to be undercook. And after when de lady’d showed her up to her bedroom, she took her to de kitchen, and interdoosed her to de t’other sarvants.
“Dis is Mossycoat,” she tells ’em, “and I’ve ingaged her,” she says, “to be undercook.”
She leaves ’em den, de mistress does; and Mossycoat she goes up to her bedroom agen, to unpack her things, and hide away her goold crown and silver slippers, and her silk and satin dresses.
It goes wi’out saying as de t’other kitchen girls was fair beside theirsels wid jealousy; and it didn’t mend matters as de new girl was a dam’ sight beautifuller nor what any of dem was. Here was dis wagrant i’ rags put above dem, when all she was fit for at best was to be scullery girl. If anybody was to be undercook, it stands to sense it sud ’er been one o’ dem as really knowed about things, not dis girl i’ rags and tatters, picked up off’n de roads. But dey’d put her in her place, dey would. So dey goes on and on, like what women will, till Mossycoat come down ready to start work. Den dey sets on her. “Who de devil did she think she was, setting hersel’ above dem? She’d be undercook, would she? No dam’ fear . . . dey relow of dat. What she’d hev to do, and all she was fit for, was to scour de pans, clean de knives, do de grates and suchlike; and all she’d git was dis.” And down come de skimmer on top of her head, pop, pop, pop. “Dat’s what you deserves,” dey tell her, “and dat’s what you can expect, my lady.”
And dat’s how it was wid Mossycoat. She was put to do all de dirtiest work, and soon she was up to de ears in grease, and her face as black as soot. And ivery now and agen, first one and then another o’ de sarvants ’ld pop, pop, pop her a-top o’ de head wid de skimmer, till de poor girl’s head was dat sore, she couldn’t hardly bide it.
Well, it got on, and it got on, and still Mossycoat was at her pans, and knives, and grates; and still de sarvants was pop, pop, popping her on de head wid de skimmer. Now dere was a big dance coming on, as was to last three nights, wid hunting and other sports in de daytime. All de headmost people for miles round was to be dere; and de master, and mistress, and de young master—dey’d niver had but one child—in course dey was a-going. It was all de talk among de sarvants, dis dance was. One was wishing she could be dere; another ’d like to dance wid some ’n de young lords; a third ’ld like to see de ladies’ dresses, and so dey went on, all excepting Mossycoat. If only dey’d de clo’es, dey’d be al right, dey thought, as dey considered deirselves as good as high-titled ladies any day. “And you, Mossycoat, you’d like to go, wouldn’t you now?” dey says. “A fit person you’d be to be dere in all your rags and dirt,” dey says, and down comes de skimmer on her head, pop, pop, pop. Den dey laughs at her; which goes to show what a low class o’ people dey was.
Now Mossycoat, as I’ve said afore, was wery handsome, and rags and dirt couldn’t hide dat. De t’other sarvants might think as it did, but de young master’d hed his eyes on her, and de master and mistress, dey’d al’ays taken partic’lar notice o’ her, on account of her good looks. When de big dance was coming on, dey thought as it’d be nice to ex her to go to it; so dey sent for her to see if she’d like to. “No, thank you,” she says, “I’d niver think o’ such a thing. I knows my place better’n dat,” she says. “Besides, I’d greasy all de one side o’ de coach,” she tells ’em, “and anybody’s clo’es as I comed up agen.” Dey make light on dat, and presses her to go, de master and mistress does. It’s wery kind on ’em, Mossycoat says, but she’s not for going, she says. And she sticks to dat. When she gets back into de kitchen, you may depend on it, de t’other sarvants wants to know why she’d bin sent for. Had she got notice, or what was it? So she telt ’em de master and mistress ’ed ext her would she like to go to the dance wid ’em. “What? You?” dey says, “it’s unbelievable. If it had been one o’ we, now, dat’d be different. But you! Why, you’d niver be relowed in, as you’d greasy all the gentlemen’s clo’es, if dere were any as ’ed dance wid a scullery girl; and de ladies, dey’d be forced to howld dere noses w’en dey passed by you, to be sure dey would.” No, dey couldn’t believe, dey said, as de master and mistress had iver ext her to go to de ball wid ’em. She must be lying, dey said, and down come de skimmer a-top of her head, pop, pop, pop.
Next night, de master and de mistress and dere son, dis time, ext her to go to de dance. It was a grand affair de night before, dey said, and she sud ev bin dere. It was going to be still grander tonight, dey said, and dey begged of her to come wid ’em, especially de young master. But no, she says, on account of her rags and her grease, and dirt, she couldn’t, and she wouldn’t; and even de young master couldn’t persuade her, though it wasn’t for de want o’ trying. The t’other sarvants just didn’t believe her when she telt ’em about her being invited agen to de dance, and about de young master being wery pressing.
“Hark to her!” they says, “What’ll de upstart say next? And all dam’ lies,” dey says. Den one o’ dem, wid a mouth like a pig-trough, and legs like a cart horse, catches hold o’ de skimmer, and down it comes, pop, pop, pop, on Mossycoat’s head.
Dat night, Mossycoat decided as she’d go to de dance, in right proper style, all on her own, and wi’out nobody knowing it. De first thing she does is to put all de t’other sarvants into a trance; she just touches each on ’em, unnoticed, as she moves about, and dey all falls asleep under a spell as soon as she does, and can’t wake up agen on deir own; de spell has to be broke by somebody wid de power, same as she has through her magic coat, or has got it some other way. Next Mossycoat has a real good wash: she’d niver been relowed to afore, sin’ she’d bin at de hall as the other sarvants was retermined to mek and to keep her as greasy and dirty as dey could. Den she goes upstairs to her bedroom, throws off her working clo’es and shoes, and puts on her white satin dress wid de gowld sprigs, her silver slippers, and her gowld crown. In course, she had mossy coat on underneath. So as soon as she was ready, she jus’ wished hersel’ at de dance, and dere she was, wery near as soon as de wish was spoke. She did jus’ feel hersel’ rising up and flying through de elements but only for a moment. Den she was in de ballroom.
De young master sees her standing dere, and once he catched sight on her he can’t tek his eyes off her; he’d niver seen anybody as han’some afore, or as beautifully dressed. “Who is she?” he exes his mother; but she doesn’t know, she tells him.
“Can’t you find out, Mother?” he says, “Can’t you go and talk to her?” His mother sees as he’ll niver rest till she does, so she goes and interdooses hersel’ to de young lady, and exes her who she is, where she comes from, and such as dat; but all she could git out ’n her was as she come from a place where dey hit her on de head wid de skimmer. Den presently, de young master he goes over and interdooses hissel’, but she doesn’t tell him her name nor nothing; and when he exes her to hev a dance wid him, she says no, she’d rather not. He stops aside of her though, and keeps exing her time and agen, and at de finish she says as she will, and links up wid him. Dey dances once, up and down de room; den she says she must go. He presses her to stop, but it’s a waste o’ breath; she’s retermined to go, dere and den.
“All right,” he says—dere was nothing else he could say—“I’ll come and see you off.” But she jus’ wished she was at home, and dere she was. No seeing of her off for de young master, dere warn’t, she jus’ went from his side in de twinkle of an eye, leaving him standing dere gaping wid wonderment. Thinking she might be in de hall, or de porch, a-waiting of her carriage, he goes to see, but dere’s no sign on her anywheres inside or out, and nobody as he exed seen her go. He went back to de ballroom, but he can’t think of nothing or nobody but her and all de time he’s a-wanting to go home.
When Mossycoat gets back home, she meks sure as all de t’other sarvants is still in a trance. Den she goes up and changes into her working get-up; and after when she’d done dat, she come down into de kitchen agen, and touches each ’n de sarvants. Dat wakens ’em, as you might say; anyway, dey starts up, wondering whatever time o’ day it is, and how long dey bin asleep. Mossycoat tells ’em, and drops a hint as she may have to let de mistress know. Dey begs on her not to let on about ’em, and most’n ’em thinks to give her things if she won’t. Owld things, dey was, but wid a bit o’ wear in ’em still—a skirt, a pair o’ shoes, stockings, stays, and what not. So Mossycoat promises as she won’t tell on ’em. An’ dat night, dey don’t hit her on de head wid de skimmer.
All next day de young master is unrestful. He can’t settle his mind to nothing but de young lady as he’d fell in love wid last night at de wery first sight ’n her. He was wondering all de time would she be dere agen tonight, and would she vanish de same as she done last night; and thinking how he could stop her, or catch up wid her if she was for doing dis a second time. He must find out where she lives, he thinks, else how’s he to go on after when de dance is over. He’d die, he tells his mother, if he can’t git her for his wife; he’s dat madly in love wid her. “Well,” says his mother, “I thought as she was a nice modest girl, but she wouldn’t say who or what she was, or where she come from, except it was a place where dey hit her on de head wid de skimmer.”
“She’s a bit of a mystery, I know,” says de young master, “but dat don’t signify as I want her any de less. I must hev her, Mother,” he says, “whoiver and whativer she is; and dat’s de dear God’s truth, Mother, strike me dead if it ain’t.”
Women sarvants ’es long ears, and big mouths, and you may be sure as it wasn’t long afore de young master and dis wonderful han’some lady he’d fell in love wid was all de talk in de kitchen.
“And fancy you, Mossycoat, thinking as he specially wanted you to go to de dance,” dey says, and starts in on her proper, meking all manner o’ nasty sarcastical remarks, and hitting her on de head wid de skimmer, pop, pop, pop, for lying to ’em (as dey said). It was de same agen later on, after when de master and mistress hed sent for her, and exed her once more to go to de dance wid ’em, and once more she’d defused. It was her last chance, dey said—dat was de sarvants—an’ a lot more besides, as ain’t worth repeating. And down came de skimmer a-top of her head, pop, pop, pop. Den she put de whole devil’s breed ’n ’em into a trance like she done de night afore, and got hersel’ ready to go to de dance, de only difference being as dis time she put her t’other dress on, de one med o’ silk de color of all de birds o’ de air.
