In a small Bohemian village nestled between rolling hills and dense forests, there once lived a widower with two daughters. One was his own child, gentle and hardworking; the other was his wife’s daughter from a former marriage, sharp-tongued and proud. After the man’s death, the household fell entirely under the rule of the stepmother, whose favor rested firmly on her own child.
From dawn until nightfall, the kind girl was given every burden. She swept floors worn thin by years of use, carried water through snow and rain, and prepared meals she was rarely allowed to taste. Her stepsister, meanwhile, sat warm by the fire, mocking her industry and adding fresh tasks whenever boredom struck.
Winter came early that year. Snow lay deep across the land, and the forest stood silent beneath its white covering. One evening, as frost crept along the windows, the stepsister declared she desired violets, fresh violets, blooming as if it were spring.
The stepmother seized upon the demand at once. Turning to the kind girl, she ordered her to go into the forest and return with the flowers. The girl protested softly, explaining that violets could not bloom in winter. Her words earned her nothing but anger.
“Go,” the stepmother said, “and do not return without them.”
Wrapped in a thin shawl, the girl stepped into the night. Snow swallowed the path behind her as she entered the forest, where wind whispered through bare branches and darkness pressed close. She walked until her feet numbed and her hands trembled with cold.
At last, atop a high hill, she saw a strange sight: a bright fire burning in the snow, surrounded by twelve men seated on stones. Each was different in age and bearing, some young and light-footed, others stern and gray, but all shared an air of quiet authority.
Gathering her courage, the girl approached and bowed.
“Good evening,” she said politely.
The eldest of the men, whose beard shone white as frost, asked her what brought her so far into the forest.
She told them the truth, of the violets, the command, and her fear of returning empty-handed. She did not complain, nor did she curse her fate. She spoke simply, as one who had long endured hardship without bitterness.
The men exchanged glances. These were the Twelve Months, guardians of time and seasons. Moved by her humility, the eldest called for March to step forward.
At his signal, the snow melted, the earth softened, and spring stirred. Violets bloomed at the girl’s feet, filling the air with gentle fragrance.
She gathered them carefully, thanked the Months with a deep bow, and hurried home.
When she presented the violets, the stepmother and stepsister were astonished, but not softened. Instead, greed took hold. The next day, the stepsister demanded strawberries, red and ripe as midsummer.
Again, the girl was sent into the forest.
Once more, she found the Twelve Months. Once more, she spoke with humility. This time, June was called, and strawberries ripened beneath the sun’s sudden warmth. The girl gathered only what she was asked to bring and returned.
Still, cruelty was not satisfied.
On the third day, the stepsister demanded apples, fresh and golden, despite the winter cold. The stepmother sent the girl away yet again, certain that no miracle could repeat itself endlessly.
But kindness, when met with justice, does not fail.
For the third time, the Twelve Months listened. September stepped forward, and apples bent the branches low. The girl gathered them and thanked the brothers, who warned her gently to remember what she had seen.
At home, greed burned brighter than ever. Unable to restrain herself, the stepsister wrapped herself in fine clothes and went into the forest, demanding strawberries for herself. She spoke rudely to the Twelve Months, neither greeting them nor bowing.
Angered by her arrogance, the brothers called forth the full power of winter. Snow fell thick and fast. Cold closed in. The stepsister was driven away and perished in the storm. The stepmother followed soon after, meeting the same fate.
The kind girl remained alone, but free. With time, she found peace and prosperity, living in harmony with the natural order she had once encountered in silence and snow.
Moral Lesson
The Twelve Months teaches that humility and respect for nature bring reward, while greed and cruelty disrupt balance and invite punishment. True justice flows not from force, but from harmony with the world’s natural order.
Knowledge Check
1. Who helps the kind girl in the forest?
The Twelve Months, personifications of the seasons.
2. What impossible tasks is the girl given?
To gather violets, strawberries, and apples in winter.
3. Why do the Months help her?
Because of her humility, honesty, and respectful behavior.
4. What happens to the cruel stepsister?
She is punished by winter’s power and perishes.
5. What do the Twelve Months represent symbolically?
The balance and authority of the natural order.
6. What is the central message of the folktale?
Kindness and respect are rewarded; cruelty brings its own justice.
Source & Cultural Origin
Source: Božena Němcová, Národní báchorky a pověsti (1857)
Cultural Origin: Czech (Bohemian) folklore
