A Vendedora de Cebolas Era uma vez uma rapariga que foi mandada feira pela madrasta para vender

r um cesto de cebolas e uma giga de ovos. Saiu de casa com o cesto cabea e os socos a derraparam nas pedras escorregadias da geada. Salvou-a da queda o bom equilbrio que sempre teve. Deixasse cair o cesto e era certa a tareia da madrasta. Quanto mais cedo se chegasse, melhor negcio se fazia. Passou ao lado da tenda do mercador de caldeires e corou quando o viu a falar com uma velha que apontava para um caldeiro. Ele era to bonito, que a rapariga gostava de passar ali s para o ver. O jovem mercador nem para ela olhava. E como poderia ele olhar para uma rapariga to feia e to miseravelmente vestida? Mas ela no se importava. A lembrana dele nos dias duros de trabalho e nas noites frias aquecia-lhe o peito e isso bastava-lhe. Poisou o cesto ningum ali volta se oferecera para a ajudar a desc-lo da cabea, sentiu-se derreada. No dia anterior, a madrasta tinha-a mandado retirar o estrume do curral, trabalho que lhe ocupou grande parte do dia. J na cozinha, quando tinha mais vontade de comer e ir para a cama do que fazer o que quer que fosse, a madrasta ainda a obrigou a fazer a ceia e a preparar o cesto para a feira. Enquanto picava uma cebola para o refogado, chorou e o pai, que acabava de chegar de uma lavrada, perguntou-lhe: Por que choras, minha filha? E ela disse-lhe que por causa da cebola. O pai acreditou e sentou-se junto lareira a tirar as botas antes de pr os ps ao fogo. Foi muito tarde que a rapariga se foi deitar no quarto das traseiras, depois de ter lavado a loia, preparar o avental, a saia e a blusa que no dia seguinte vestiria para a feira. Mesmo assim, aos olhos de quem passava, no parecia mais do que uma mendiga, to remendada estava a saia, to gasto o avental e to puda a blusa. Apesar de todas as desgraas, o negcio corria-lhe bem e no final da manh tinha vendido quase todos os ovos e boa parte das cebolas. Estava com tanta fome que se atreveu a pegar numa cebola, das mais pequenas. Tirou-lhe as vrias camadas de casca e comeou a com-la com um pedacito de po duro que guardara no bolso do avental. Estava ela de boca cheia, sentindo a acidez da cebola a picar-lhe a lngua, quando se aproximou a velha que ela tinha visto a conversar com o jovem mercador. Trazia um caldeiro na mo, parou junto ao cesto e perguntou-lhe pelo preo das cebolas. A rapariga disse-lhe que, como eram as ltimas, lhas dava por metade do preo. A velha apalpou uma e comentou: No me parece que durem todo o Inverno. Tm a casca mole. Piscou o olho direito e acrescentou: Se mas deres por metade do preo dessa metade que dizes, talvez as leve. No posso, tiazinha respondeu a rapariga. A minha madrasta recomendou-me que no descesse o preo mais do que o justo. Se no lhe entregar o dinheiro certo, ela castiga-me.

 E como sabe ela qual o dinheiro certo antes de a feira acabar? perguntou a velha piscando desta vez o olho esquerdo. por acaso bruxa? Talvez sugeriu a velha ela no saiba, mas diz que sabe para tu ficares com medo e no te deixares enganar pelos clientes ou no gastares o dinheiro mal gasto. E ps-se a matutar. Bem que as cebolas valiam o dinheiro que a rapariga pedia. Mas ela no tinha moedas suficientes. Foi ento que lhe surgiu uma ideia: Ds-me as cebolas pelo meu preo e no precisars mais de te preocupar com a tua madrasta, que deve ser uma mulher bem mais malvada do que eu. A rapariga l deu as cebolas velha que as meteu no caldeiro e foi-se embora muito satisfeita depois de ter dito como despedida:

Eu te fado bem fadada Para que sejas bem casada.

A rapariga guardou as moedas no bolso do avental, acabou de comer a cebola e o po, ajeitou o cesto na cabea, agora bem mais leve e preparou-se para abandonar a feira. Passou na tenda do mercador dos caldeires e, como sempre fazia, olhou para l de relance. Estava estranhamente abandonada. Ali perto havia um charco e ela ouviu um coaxar. Junto gua estava um enorme sapo, to grande como ela nunca vira. A maneira como o bicho coaxava parecia dizer: Beija-me, beija-me, mas dito pelo nariz. Ela ps-lhe a mo e sentiu-lhe o dorso viscoso. Se fosse outra, sentiria nojo e fugiria dali a cuspir. Mas a rapariga estava habituada a coisas bem mais nojentas que a madrasta a obrigava a fazer. Ests aqui sozinho? Coitadinho! disse ela. E o sapo coaxava: Beija-me, beija-me. Ela pegou nele em ambas as mos, como se pegasse numa flor, passou-lhe os lbios pela cabecita sem pescoo e, sem que ela percebesse como, viu-se ao colo do jovem mercador de caldeires. Ele sorriu e retribuiulhe o beijo. Depois disse: s a rapariga mais bela deste reino. E porque me salvaste, farei de ti a rainha dos caldeires.

The onions seller Once upon a time there was a girl who was sent to the fair by her stepmother to sell a basket of onions and a gig of eggs. She left home with the basket on her head and trips on the slippery rocks from the frost. She was saved from the fall because she always had good balance. If she had drpped the basket, the stepmother would have beaten her. The earlier she arrived, the better business was made. She passed by the stall of the cauldrons merchant and blushed when she saw him talking to an old woman pointing to a cauldron. He was so cute, the girl liked to go there just to see him. The young merchant never noticed her. And how could he look at a girl so ugly and so miserably dressed? But she did not care. The memory of him in the days of hard work and on cold nights warmed her chest and that was enough for her. She put the basket down- nobody around had volunteered to help her and she was so tired. The day before, the stepmother had a warrant to remove the manure from the corral, work that occupied much of her day. In the kitchen, when she most wanted to eat and go to bed was when the stepmother forced her to make supper and prepare the basket for the fair. While one chopped onion to the saut, cried and her father, who had just arrived from afield, asked her: - Why do you weep, my daughter? And she told him that it was because of the onion. The father believed her and sat by the fireplace to take off his boots before putting his feet to the fire. It was much later that the girl was lying up in the back room, after having washed the dishes, preparing the apron, skirt and blouse to wear for the day of the fair. Even so, in the eyes of the others, she seemed no more than a beggar, as it was patched skirt, a worn threadbare apron and blouse. Despite all the woes, the business ran well and by late morning she had sold almost all the eggs and most of the onions. She was so hungry that she dared to take an onion, the smallest one. She took the several layers off and began to eat it with crusty bread from her apron pocket. She had a mouthful, feeling the onion acidity poking her tongue, as the old woman approached, the one she had seen talking to the young merchant. She carried a pot in her hand, stood beside the basket and asked the price of the onions. The girl told her that, as they were the last, she would give her them for half the price. The old woman commented: - I do not think that they will last all winter. They have a soft shell. She winked and added: - If you give me them but for half the price of that half you say, maybe I'll take them. - I cannot - replied the girl. - My stepmother advised me not to lower the price more than fair. If you do not give me the right money, she will punish me. - And how does she know what the right money is? - Asked the old woman winking her left eye this time. - Is she by chance a witch?

- Maybe - suggested the old woman - she does not know but says she knows so you will be scared and not let you be fooled by customers or not let you spend the money. And she began to brood. Well those onions were worth the money the girl asked. But she did not have enough coins. It was then that she came up with an idea: - Give me the onions for my price and I will not need more to worry about your stepmother, who must be a woman far more evil than me. The girl gave her the onions and the old woman put them in the old pot and went away very happily after saying farewell as:

I wish you a very good marriage! The girl kept the coins in her apron pocket, just ate onion and bread, placed the basket on her head, now much lighter and prepared to leave the fair. She went into the tent of the merchant and cauldrons, as usual, looked beyond and strangely no one was there. Near by was a pond and she heard a croak. On the water was a huge frog, as great as she had never seen. The way the animal croaked seemed to say: Kiss me, kiss me, through its nose. She extended her hand and felt its slimy back. If it were another, she would have felt disgust and would have fled away to spit. But the girl was accustomed to things far more disgusting that the stepmother forced her to do. - Are you here alone? Poor thing! - She said. And the frog croaked: Kiss me, kiss me. She took it in both hands, as if holding a flower, put her lips on it and without her noticing how, found herself at the neck of the young merchant of potholes. He smiled and returned her kiss. Then he said: - You're the most beautiful girl in this kingdom. And because you saved me, I will make you the queen of potholes.