And you let the old man bury the moujik and think it was you?

With rich booty did the fisherman return to Novgorod, where he met the moujik with the blue caftan, and gave him the petition.

A moment later the moujik rushed out of the hut to his wife, who stood and shivered without in the cold rain which was half snow.

When the moujik comes to the place where the pea-stalk had been, “he looks around—no pea-stalk is there.”