for the morning is wiser than the evening. Everything shall be done, Vasilísushka."
Next morning Bába Yagá got up and stood at the window, and then went into the courtyard and whistled; and the mortar, the besom, and the pestle appeared at once, and the red horseman came by: and the sun rose. Bába Yagá sat in the mortar and went off, sweeping away her traces as before.
Vasilísa got everything ready with the help of her doll. Then the old woman came back, looked over everything, and said: "Ho, my faithful servants, friends of my heart! Make me some poppy-oil." Then three pairs of hands came, laid hold of the poppies and carried them off.
Bába Yagá sat down to supper, and Vasilísa sat silently in front of her. "Why do you not speak; why do you stay there as if you were dumb?" Bába Yagá asked.
"I did not venture to say anything; but if I might, I should like to ask some questions."
"Ask, but not every question turns out well: too knowing is too old."
"Still, I should like to ask you of some things I saw. On my way to you I met a white horseman, in a white cloak, on a white horse: who was he?"
"The bright day."
"Then a red horseman, on a red horse, in a red cloak, overtook me: who was he?"
"The red sun."
"What is the meaning of the black horseman who overtook me as I reached your door, grandmother?"
"That was the dark night. Those are my faithful servants."
Vasilísa then thought of the three pairs of hands and said nothing.
"Why don't you ask any further?" Bába Yagá asked.
"I know enough, for you say yourself 'too knowing is too old.'"
