Chicken Riaba

There lived a grandfather and grandmother, and they had a hen named Ryaba. They lived in a small white hut, nestled under the cherry trees on the edge of the village. The hen was not an ordinary one - her feathers were motley, her comb was red, and her eyes were like two beads.

Grandfather and grandmother loved her like their own child. Grandma sprinkled the seeds, grandfather poured water, and the hen walked around the yard, clucking softly and loudly: "Ko-ko-ko, ko-ko-ko, grandpa and grandma, I'll bring you a gift.".

And then one morning, very early, before the sun had even risen, a hen clucked especially merrily. The old woman ran to her - her eyes widened in surprise. There was an egg in the nest, not an ordinary one, but a golden one, shining like a little sun.

Grandmother calls to grandfather: "Grandfather, little dove, run quickly, look at what a miracle we have!" Grandfather came running, his mouth hanging open. They took the golden egg in their hands, turned it over, admired it, were amazed, but it was heavy, hard, and clanging.

«"But try to break it, grandma," says grandpa, "we'll have scrambled eggs, and what else!" Grandma put the egg on the table, took a wooden spoon, beat it and beat it - it didn't break. Grandpa took a rolling pin - beat it and beat it, but it didn't break. No matter what they did, the egg was still whole.

Grandpa and Grandma put the egg on the shelf and sat down to rest, because they were very tired. They sit and think about how to crack that golden egg, how to get to the yolk. And the chicken Ryaba walks around the house and clucks: "Don't worry, Grandpa and Grandma, I'll bring you another one, simple.".

But they don't listen to her, because they are all staring at the golden egg. Then a little mouse ran out from under the stove. Gray, with a long tail, beady eyes. It ran and ran along the shelf, and caught the egg with its tail.

An egg rolled off the shelf, fell to the floor - only "day!" - and broke into small pieces. And inside - empty. Neither yolk nor white, only golden glitter scattered across the floor.

The grandfather sat down and cried, the grandmother sat down and cried. «Oh, our golden egg, oh, our unexpected wealth, you are gone forever!» And the hen walked beside them, shaking her head, and said gently: «Don’t cry, grandfather, don’t cry, grandmother, I will lay you another egg — not a golden one, but a simple, white one.».

And indeed, the next morning, the hen Ryaba laid an egg—the most ordinary, white, warm one. The old woman boiled an egg out of it, the grandfather and the old woman shared it, fed both the hen and the mouse that peeked out from under the stove. And then the old women realized that it was not gold that was the most precious thing in life, but a kind word, a kind hen, and a hut under the cherry trees. And so they lived on—they lived well, they gained good things, and they knew no misfortunes.