Far, far away, across the seven seas, there was once a king and his three beautiful daughters. The queen says to these three daughters:
- Now, girls, go to the forest and pick strawberries, and the one who picks the most strawberries will get my skirt with the blood on it.
The girls go out, picking and picking the strawberries with great speed. When the time came towards noon, they settled down under a tree and looked to see which of them had picked more strawberries. Well, the smallest one picked just as many as the other two put together. Envy! Now the little one gets the skirt!
Says the eldest daughter:
- Come on, girls, let's get some more, we can't go home with that much anyway!
The smallest girl insisted enough that they would not be home by evening, but the two older ones were only anxious to pick more. All right. The two bigger ones went to one part of the forest and the smaller ones to the other.
But they did not pick strawberries, they agreed to kill their brother. If theirs cannot have the skirt, neither shall the youngest. They went straight to their brother, took him, and though he begged them to give them all the strawberries he had gathered, they killed him.
Just as they were about to kill him, a blind beggar came along, and they took his violin, put the little princess inside, and hid her in the hollow of the tree. The girls go home, and ask at home: where is your sister? They do not know.
They told him enough, not to wander away from them, he couldn't get along with them. Who knows, maybe he lost his way, maybe he was killed by forest thieves.
Meanwhile, a poor man goes into the forest to fetch wood, and cuts down the very tree in which the body of the princess was laid. The poor man is pensive when he sees a violin pop out of the tree.
He takes the violin in his hands, and starts to play and move it, as the gypsies do. Well, this violin not only plays the violin, it also sings. It all sings:
Pull slowly, you poor man, don't hurt my weak arm! The violin of my weak arm, the violin of Erzsi Király.
"Oh, you devilish scarecrow," the poor man sighs to himself, "this violin must be bewitched! I'll go off with it, I'll try my luck, and see if I can get paid for this wonderful tune."
So off the poor man went, covering the country and the world, and earning so much money that he had to carry the whole slaughter in a cart. One day, as he was going and coming, he came to the town of the king whose youngest daughter had been so impiously murdered.
He stops in front of the king's palace and starts to play the violin. The king hears the beautiful violin playing and sends his little servant to call the musician. The servant runs out and calls the musician, but the musician says that he won't go a step further, because he has so much money that the king has no more.
The butler goes back and reports to the king what the musician said. What should he do, he went out himself, and asked him to go into the palace and play him a few tunes. So the king asks the musician to go in, strum a tune or two on his violin, and then he begins to play.
Pull slowly, you poor man, don't hurt my weak arm! The violin of my weak arm, the violin of Erzsi Király.
The King says:
- What a wonderful song this is, hey!
The two princesses come and stare at each other, and one of them takes the violin and starts to draw it, wondering what he is singing. And this is what she sings to him:
Pull slowly, my executioner, do not hurt my weak arm!
The other girl takes it, pulls it, and sings it to her. The king takes the violin and sings to her:
Pull slowly, father, do not hurt my weak arm!
- Well, that is certainly madness!
- "I'm just trying," says the Queen.
He takes it in his hand, he starts to pull, and the violin sings:
Pull slowly, my mother, do not hurt my weak arm! The violin of Erzsi Király, the violin of my weak arm.
In that minute the violin splits and the little princess pops out of it. She was so lively, so beautiful, like a tuberose. O poor world! The two older girls were so frightened that they fainted.
The king and queen wept for joy that their weeping daughter had been so miraculously saved. The godlessness of the two elder daughters was now revealed, and the king, in his anger, had them locked up in a tower, to be imprisoned until death.
But the little princess begged her father, and he had mercy on the wicked daughters, and from that time on they lived in peace, if they had not died.
(Elek Benedek: Hungarian tale- and mythology Volume 1)
