The Hundred Cherries
A long time ago, in Romania, there lived a man named Stan Bolovan and his wife. Although they were poor, they were pleased, except for one thing: they had no children. Every time his wife thought about it, she wept bitterly. Finally, Stan said, “Do not worry about it anymore. I will go and consult the Wise Man.”
The Wise Man listened to Stan’s problem. “Pick a cherry from the tree outside my door and eat it on your way home,” he said. Then he went into his house and shut the door.
Stan thought this was a strange idea of a joke, but the cherries looked so delicious that he picked one and ate it. Then he ate another, filling his pockets with cherries and eating them on the way home. When he reached the gate, he had eaten exactly one hundred cherries.
As he went up the path, Stan heard the strangest sounds coming from the house: laughing, crying, dancing, singing, shouting, and quarreling. When he opened the door, there stood his wife, surrounded by children.
“How many children do we have?” Stan asked in amazement.
“Exactly one hundred,” she beamed.
Stan remembered the Wise Man’s words and the hundred cherries he had eaten. He was very humble, but he hardly had time to stop and think, for all the children began clamoring for food. It seemed to Stan that they were always hungry and never satisfied, so he decided he must find work and earn more money. One evening, he went to his wife and said, “I have provided food for one hundred hungry children for as long as I can. Now it is time I rested.”
His wife agreed. She gave him some bread and cheese and a jug of water, and he set off across the land. Stan came across a goatherd, and he asked if he needed help. The goatherd replied that he would be glad of some company, for every night a great dragon appeared and milked his goats. Hardly had the goatherd spoken when there came the sound of beating wings, and a huge, fierce dragon flew down. The goatherd hid, but Stan did not move.
Stan Bolovan drew himself up to his full height, although he was quaking with fear.
“Dragon, why do you come each night to milk the goats?” he bellowed.
“Because my grandmother likes to bathe in milk,” replied the dragon, roaring. “And who are you, little man?”
“I am Stan Bolovan, who eats rocks for dinner and drinks a vat of milk in one mouthful,” replied Stan. The dragon looked at him in surprise, then took out a small packet and squeezed something into his hand. “If you can squeeze a stone until you squeeze out milk, then I will give up coming here,” said the dragon.
Stan tried, but could not squeeze the stone. When he was about to give up, he saw a piece of white cheese. He put it into his hand and squeezed it until the milk came out. “Well,” said the dragon, somewhat amazed. “Come with me, for only my grandmother can find work for you, and she will pay you well.”
“Well, I can’t back out now,” thought Stan, so he agreed to go, and the dragon picked him up and flew to where his grandmother waited. She was twice as big and fierce as her grandson, and Stan shook with fear.
“Here is a man who can squeeze water out of stones and eat the remains,” said the dragon.
“Then I have plenty of tasks he can perform,” replied the grandmother. “If he does not, he shall be our slave forever.” Then she picked up a club bound with iron and studded with spikes. “We will see which breaks first, his bones or this club.”
Stan grew more terrified than ever as the grandmother hurled the heavy club, for he could not move his legs. But he wanted to live, and at last cried out, “Throw me a stone and let me begin.” The grandmother went to the fire and returned with a red-hot cinder. Stan saw it and blew upon it so fiercely that it burnt to ashes.
Then she said to him, “Do not let my grandson’s club be burnt to a cinder,” she said. “I will give you two sacks of gold if you agree not to throw it.”
Stan pretended to be very reluctant, but finally, he agreed. When the grandmother heard this, she said, “Then I will set another task, which he will not be able to do.” She gave him a shovel and a pail and told the two of them to go to the river and fill them with water, for that was her bath.
The dragon went to the river laden with water bags, but Stan took none, and when the dragon asked why, he replied, “I am too busy seeing how much water there is in the river to bring any back.” The dragon filled his water bags and staggered home, and when he went back to the river, Stan was busy digging a large hole.
“What is that for?” he asked.
“You asked for water,” replied Stan, “so I shall see that you get plenty. I am digging this channel to your front door so that the river will flow through your house.”
“Stop, stop,” cried the dragon hastily. “I will give you three sacks of gold to leave the river where it is.”
Stan agreed, and when the dragon told his grandmother what he had been doing, she turned quite pale. “We will beat him yet,” she growled, and she told them to go into the forest and see who could collect the most wood for the fire.
Stan watched while the dragon pulled up six oak trees. Then he climbed up the biggest oak tree of all and looked around. “What are you doing up there?” called the dragon.
“I am tying this creeper to all the trees in the forest so that when I pull the first one, all the rest will come too,” said Stan.
“But then there will be no forest left, and we will have no more wood,” cried the dragon. “If you will promise to leave the forest where it is, I will give you ten sacks of gold.”
Grumbling loudly, Stan agreed, and when they returned to the dragon’s home, he told the grandmother what he had agreed to. “You are quite right,” she said, “but that means we owe him fifteen sacks of gold altogether. That is too much. Tonight, we must get rid of this tenant.”
Stan overheard this, and that night, he put a log inside the bed, while he himself hid underneath it. At midnight, the dragon entered the bedroom carrying a huge club. He dealt three great blows to the bed, and the third blow shattered the club.
The next morning, Stan walked jauntily into the room where the dragon and his grandmother were having breakfast. They turned pale when they saw him.
“What a comfortable bed,” said Stan. “I slept like a log. In fact, I like it here so much that I was thinking of staying for good.”
“No, no,” cried the grandmother in great alarm, “take another five sacks of gold to go away.”
Stan pretended to be reluctant to go, but finally, he said, “I will go if that is what you want, but I am ashamed to return home with so little. If you will bring the sacks of gold home for me, it will save me much embarrassment.”
Glad to get rid of Stan, the dragon picked up the twenty sacks of gold and set off. When they reached Stan’s home, they heard the singing and shouting, the crying and quarreling, the dancing and laughing of one hundred children, and the dragon asked what the noise was.
“That is my family,” said Stan.
“Are they all like you?” asked the dragon, and Stan told him they were. At that, the dragon dropped the sacks of gold outside the door and fled in terror.
Stan went into the house to be welcomed by his wife and children and to tell them that they need want for nothing for the rest of their lives.