When four weeks had passed, and Hansel still kept quite lean,
she lost all her patience, and would not wait any longer. "Grethel," she
called out in a passion, "get some water quickly; be Hansel fat or lean,
this morning I will kill and cook him." Oh, how the poor little sister
grieved, as she was forced to fetch the water, and fast the tears ran
down her cheeks! "Dear good God, help us now!" she exclaimed. "Had we
only been eaten by the wild beasts in the wood, then we should have died
together." But the old witch called out, "Leave off that noise; it will
not help you a bit."
So early in the morning Grethel was forced to go out and fill the
kettle, and make a fire. "First, we will bake, however," said the old
woman; "I have already heated the oven and kneaded the dough"; and so
saying, she pushed poor Grethel up to the oven, out of which the flames
were burning fiercely. "Creep in," said the witch, "and see if it is hot
enough, and then we will put in the bread"; but she intended when
Grethel got in to shut up the oven and let her bake, so that she might
eat her as well as Hansel. Grethel perceived what her thoughts were, and
said, "I do not know how to do it; how shall I get in?" "You stupid
goose," said she, "the opening is big enough. See, I could even get in
myself!" and she got up, and put her head into the oven.
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