Poor Vasilissa went to her room. There she set supper before the little doll and asked for its advice. “Do not fear,” said the doll. “Keep me with you at all times, and you will be safe.”

So Vasilissa crossed herself, placed her trusted protector in her pocket, and set out into the dense, dark forest. Off she went into the night, trembling with fear, leaving her home far behind. Suddenly a strange and terrible horseman came racing past. He was white-faced, cloaked and clothed in white, and astride a white horse harnessed in white. Then the first signs of dawn appeared.

A second horseman came by. His face, cloak, and steed were totally red. And then the sun rose.

On went Vasilissa, on and on, until the day was done and evening approached. Only then did she come to the house of Baba Yaga. It was a frightening sight. The hut was surrounded by a fence of human bones, and on each fence post was a human skull. The door of the hut was fastened by a lock made from human teeth. Vasilissa froze in horror.

A third horseman, completely black, now passed Vasilissa and rode toward the witch’s house. Before he came to the door, he seemed to be swallowed by the earth. Then the darkness of night fell.

But the darkness did not last, for now all the terrible skulls began to cast light from their eyes and the glade around the hut was illuminated as if by day. A terrible noise rushed through the forest, and the trees parted and cracked. Baba Yaga appeared. She flew into the clearing, riding in a mortar and driving herself forward with its pestle. “Fie, Fo!” declared the dreadful crone. “I smell the blood of a Russian. Who is there?”

“It is I, grandmother,” whispered Vasilissa. “Stepmother’s daughters sent me to ask for a light.”

Baba Yaga looked at the lovely girl. “I know them,” she mused. “Very well. You must stay here and work for me. If you do well, I will give you the light  . . . but if you fail, then I will eat you for my supper.”