Folksburywoods Story Blog

Tilldee was the best washerwoman in Devon. She even removed mulberry stains from the Vicar’s Vestments.

After winning the lottery, Tilldee went on holiday in Upper Slavonia. She wandered away from the tour and got lost in the dark forest. “Cooee, is there someone out there?” hollered Tilldee.

“Dear me, I seem to have got myself lost,” mumbled Tilldee. Deeper into the wood, she ventured until she came upon a little hut on chicken legs.

“What a quaint little home. I wonder if the occupant can direct me to the village?” Tilldee asked. The washerwoman shimmied up a chicken leg, crawled on the front porch, and knocked on the front door.

The door flew open. “How did you get up here?” the bedraggled woman asked.

“Oh, I just crawled up the leg; we learned to do that on trees back in Troop 451. Might I enquirer as to a path back to the village,” replied Tilldee.

Baba Yage was shocked, as no one could enter her hut without saying the magical spell. The witch invited her in to decide what to do with her.

“Come in, deary, and have a rest. I’m sure I can find some way to help you,” said the witch with her sweet tongue.

Telldee walked into a washerwoman’s nightmare; clothes were strewn about, all needing the attention of her craft. “Excuse me, madam, but I am an excellent washerwoman, and I see your garments need a proper cleaning,” said Tilldee.

Baba Yaga thought momentarily, and then a plan popped into her head. “You don’t say. A woman of such talents would greatly help me. I tell you what, if you can wash my clothes, I shall lead you to the village myself,” said the witch, thinking that after she finished, she would roast her up in her oven.

Baba Yaga set her up with a wooden tub, scrub brush, and washing soda. “Now I must be off to gather herbs for my evening roast, so you be sure to finish before I am back,” said the old crone.

Tildee happily got to work, and in no time, the witch’s garments were soaking in warm, soapy water. As the woman brushed, she noticed the dark reddish brown stains in the clothes would not come out.

“How odd these gravy stains are behaving the same as blood stains. I wonder if there is any baking soda that will do the trick,” said Tilldee, and she searched the hut.

Tilldee discovered a cabinet full of powder and potions but no soda, so she decided to try and see if they would help remove the stains.

After ten minutes of mixing various items, the washtub began to bubble, producing multicolored fumes, first blue, then green, and finally pinkish purple.

“Oh dear me, I think I have overdone it,” exclaimed the washerwoman just as the witch returned.

“Eeeeee, you fool, what have you done? You ruined all the clothes. I can’t fly around wearing chartreuse. It is unbecoming for a demon witch,” said Baba Yaga.

The witch was so upset that she forgot about eating the woman and marched her straight to the forest edge.

“Thank you for your assistance, and if you like, I can return anytime you need my help,” Tilldee said.

“Stay away from me and never come back. Oh my word, I will be the laughing stock at Walpurgisnacht,” whimpered the witch as she returned to her hut.

Tilldee found her tour group at the local bakery having strudel and beer.

“What a lovely little town; perhaps I’ll come again next year to see that nice old lady, but I must bring my soda and brush,” said Tildee as she gobbled up another strudel.