The Washing Bucket That Was a Wishing Well

The sun beat down on Elizabeth’s back as she plunged the paddle into the dirty clothes sitting in the wooden washing bucket. With a great heave of her shoulders, she hoisted up the kettle of hot water off the fire and carefully tipped the water into the bucket. Grabbing the paddle, she spun the laundry around, turning it over, before throwing in a few handfuls of grated soap. Her younger brother William sat in the shady shadow of an oak tree, leaning against its trunk. He hummed as he grated more soap for the washing, his bare feet scrunching up the green grass. Sweat dripped from Elizabeth’s brow as steam rose up to her face.

It was barely mid-day and already the sun had baked the air to an oppressive heat. Bending over buckets of hot washing water and tending to the fire only made it worse. At least in the summer, wash could be done outside where there was usually a breeze. Elizabeth and her brother lived in an orphanage, whose matron used the children as labor for her laundry washing business. They washed all day, six days a week.

“William,” Elizabeth called out. The lad picked up his head at the sound of his name. “Do not forget to stir the stew.” Putting down the bar of soap he had been grating, he crawled on his hands and knees over to a smaller fire lit nearer to him and gave a large soup pot a stir. His thin legs and twisted feet dragged behind him as he crawled back to the shade of the tree. He had not always been like this. William was once a healthy boy who ran, climbed, and jumped about. But he contracted a strange illness, which had left him weak and tired and caused his legs and feet to grow deformed.

Elizabeth felt a tug on her apron; it was another child at the orphanage. She did not yet know this one’s name, for she was a new arrival. Elizabeth guessed the girl could be no more than five or six years old.

“Yes, dear.”

“Matron tells me to get water, but I cannot carry. Can you go? I stir for you.”

“Of course.” Elizabeth put down the paddle and grabbed the carrying pole the little girl was holding out to her. She slung the pole over her shoulders as the two buckets on their ropes swung to her sides. She made her way down the dirt path towards the river.

Elizabeth set down the buckets on the bank. Bunching up her dress in her belt, she waded into the cool, refreshing water. She sighed as she splashed it up her arms and across her neck, chest, and face. The birds sang in the weeping willows that dipped their boughs into the clear, crisp brook. Crickets chirped in the sweet grass and frogs croaked in the cattails that lined the bank. Elizabeth could not linger too long; she had to return to her work.

Back on the bank, she was about to shoulder the carrying pole when a little brown frog hopped out of the water. Following right behind it was a snapping turtle, which aggressively lunged for the little frog. It was so close to Elizabeth’s foot that it startled her and she accidently kicked over one of the buckets in front of the turtle, which scared it back into the water. She scooped up the little frog in her hand, bringing it up to her face. Then it spoke.

“Oh, washerwoman.”

She shrieked, dropped the frog, and staggered backwards, twisting her ankle on a rock and falling over the other bucket.

“Oh, beautiful girl, do not be afraid of me.” The little frog hopped closer to Elizabeth.

“What sort of witchcraft is this that a frog should be made to speak?”

“I am no witch. I am a prince.”

“Stay away!” She scrambled up and grabbed a stick to shoo it away.

“Stop, stop! I said I am a prince. I can grant you a wish. In fact, I will grant you three.”

“You are a bewitched creature. Go away!”

She shooed the frog away and, quickly re-filling her buckets, she hurried up the path back towards the washing.

The new orphan girl was done stirring the laundry and had begun to scrub it on the washing board. Elizabeth set the buckets of water down on the ground.

“Here, let me show you.” Elizabeth knelt down next to the little girl and began to run the clothes across the board. “If you are too gentle, it will not get clean. But if you are too rough, you will tear the clothes. See, like this.” Elizabeth scrubbed while the little girl watched. “What is your name?”

“Anna.”

“Anna. A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“Elizabeth.” The matron’s words were sharp. “Mrs. Halfin is here. Her load is still on the line but it should be dry from this morning. Go fold it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Elizabeth unclipped the laundry from the rope tied between two oak trees and folded it into a basket sitting beneath it. She brought it to Mrs. Halfin who was frantically rummaging through her pockets.

“Oh, dear. I know you said one shilling and I had it earlier today but…” She trailed off as she turned out her pockets. She muttered under her breath, “Ten pence for two winter blankets and two pence for the sets of long underwear for my husband and me.” Tears began to well up in her eyes.

She was the farrier’s wife, and never once shorted them on payment. While at the market about one month ago, Elizabeth had heard that a horse had kicked Mr. Halfin, breaking a rib. He had not worked since then. The Halfins’ were getting older and Elizabeth felt sorry for her as she started to look on the ground for her lost coins.

“It is fine Mrs. Halfin. They probably fell out somewhere in the street. Look for them on your way home. How much do you have with you now?”

“Six pence.” There was a moment of silence. That was only half of what the matron expected.

“I will take it.” The old woman thanked her profusely, gave her the money, and slowly ambled away with the basket.

Elizabeth looked at the six small coins in her hand. The matron would not be happy about the loss of income. She was a strict woman who had little mercy for the less fortunate. She only ran the orphanage to use the children for work. Once they came of age, she turned them out onto the street, back where they came from, unless they were extremely useful to her. Elizabeth would be turning of age this winter. Since she was the matron’s best worker, she hoped that, perhaps, she would be allowed to stay. She feared what would happen to her crippled brother if she were to leave. Then again, William would be of age only a few years after her, so he would be forced out soon too. She pocketed the money in her apron.

“Elizabeth,” it was the matron. “What is taking so long? We still have loads to wash. Go get more water. This one says she can not lift it.” With that, the matron gave Anna a cuff on the ear.

“Yes ma’am. I will get it now.”

The frog was still sitting there, waiting on a rock when Elizabeth made it down to the river. As she filled her buckets, the frog spoke again.

“Oh, washerwoman. Listen to me. I am a prince and will grant you wishes three. Those six small coins in your pocket are not the twelve that were expected. The matron will be angry.” Elizabeth froze mid-dip on a bucket and looked up at the little frog.

“How do you know what is in my pocket?”

The ends of the frog’s mouth curled up in what was almost a smile. “I know,” it said, “and I will grant you your first wish with them.”

“And what will you grant me, little frog? If I wished for those six pence in my pocket to be six shillings to buy food at tomorrow’s market, would you grant that to me?”

“If that is what you wish.”

Elizabeth shook her head and started back up the path with her buckets, trying not to slop the water out as she walked. She ignored the frog, but it called out to her again. “Throw those six pence in your washing bucket, make the wish, and when you drain the water, they will be six shillings. But you must tell no one of this or else the wish will not be granted.”

Back up at the washing, William was done grating soap for the day and had started on mending clothes. Elizabeth had taught him to sew after he had become a cripple so that he could be of use to the matron. She found Anna kneeling with her hands in a shallower bucket on the ground. She was rinsing the clothes that had just been washed and scrubbed. She was crying as she slopped the water out of the bucket and onto herself.

“Here, let me show you. Do not cry little one.” Elizabeth took the girl’s place. She could see the red mark on the side of the Anna’s face where the matron had hit her.

As Elizabeth plunged her arms into the rinsing bucket, she thought of what the frog had said to her. He said he would turn those six pence into six shillings. Each shilling was worth twelve pence, which would give Elizabeth more than enough to cover what was lost from Mrs. Halfin. She would even have enough to buy extra at the market tomorrow morning. Elizabeth was well known by the sellers to bargain for prices. She did not haggle to be cheap, but rather to bring home more food for the children. Two shillings would buy them meat for their evening stew, and Elizabeth could put the rest away for later use.

She shook her head as she worked the laundry in the bucket. A breeze pulled a yellowing leaf from the tree and it tumbled to the ground. Despite the days still being hot and sunny, a few leaves had already begun to brown. Fall was not far away.

The day wore on and more customers came to drop off, collect, and pay for laundry. At the end of her work, Elizabeth turned over all the coins to the matron, but less than what was expected.

“Who shorted you stupid girl? Do you not know how to count?”

“I can count ma’am; read and write too. Mrs. Halfin lost some coins, so I took what she had.”

“Fine, then you will have that much less for the market. Make do or you all have less to eat.” That evening, they sat in silence around a rough-hewn table in the kitchen, their bowls filled with a thin soup that barely staved off their hunger.

As Elizabeth lay on her cot, she could not sleep. There was an empty gnawing in her stomach and her mind kept turning back to the frog on the riverbank. It had to be witchcraft, for no animal could speak. And yet, something felt different about that frog, other than the talking. But she could not put her finger on what it was. She tossed and turned but eventually drifted off.

The next morning, the children woke as they always did to a rooster crowing before the sun was even up. Elizabeth warmed up slices of stale bread and poured them half cups of milk. After their meager breakfast, many went about preparing for the washing, while Elizabeth headed off to the market with only a shilling and a half to spend for tonight’s meal. Instead of a loaf of bread, she argued with the baker for raw dough that she could bake herself, getting it for four pence. She debated the farmer to pay only six pence for milk, extremely misshapen vegetables, and a dozen small eggs. At the butcher’s she held her last eight pence in her hand.

“Do you have any neck bones for stew?”

“I do, fresh this morning. Six pence for a half-pound, will give you a pound for eleven.”

Elizabeth sighed. “What do you have that is less money?”

“I have old neck bones from previous days.”

“How fresh are they?” Elizabeth gave the butcher a skeptical look.

“How cheap do you want them?”

Elizabeth gave a little laugh. “How much for yesterday’s?”

“I will give you a pound for eight pence.”

“I can give you six.”

“Seven and I’ll take it.” Elizabeth sighed and turned over all but one pence coin.

On her first trip down to the river later that day, she came across the little frog again, sitting on the same rock as yesterday. Again, it spoke to her.

“Oh, beautiful washerwoman. You did not throw your six pence into the washing bucket.”

“No I did not.”

“And you did not receive the six shillings like I promised you would.”

“A frog cannot turn a pence into a shilling unless it is witchcraft. Go away.”

“I told you, I am a prince, one who was cursed by a sorcerer. I will grant you three wishes. Throw that one pence coin into your washing bucket and when you drain the water, it will be a shilling.”

With that the frog plopped back into the river and disappeared under the water.

Back up at the washing, Elizabeth lit a fire under a large kettle. She tipped the buckets of water into it to start the water heating. The matron was taking in another load from a customer. Elizabeth fingered the single coin in her pocket.

“What do I have to lose?” She thought to herself. “If the frog is lying, the pence will still be there once the water is drained. It will not disappear.” So with a little flick of her fingers, she tossed the last coin into the washing bucket and made her wish for it to be a shilling. It clunked on the wood bottom and Elizabeth tossed in the dirty clothes on top of it. After the water was heated, in it went too, along with the soap.

Even though it was still early in the day, it was warm under the sun. Elizabeth stirred the wash around and around and made another trip down to the river for fresh rinsing water. But the little frog was nowhere to be seen. Back up the path and she was scrubbing the clothes on the washboard and then wringing out the dirty water. She took the soapy water away to the weeds and dumped it. That is when Elizabeth saw a shilling gleaming up at her. Her heart skipped a beat as she quickly stowed away the coin in a different pocket of her apron.

She almost skipped down to the river on the next water run, but stood on the bank with disappointment. The little frog was not there and did not return for any other time she came down for water that day. As she lay awake that evening after her work, Elizabeth could not stop thinking about the frog and the shilling. She wanted to thank him and hoped he would be there tomorrow.

At the market the next day, Elizabeth used that extra coin to buy potatoes and a chunk of meat for their evening stew. She still haggled as she always did and came away with two pence left over. Elizabeth nearly ran down to the riverbank to fetch the first round of water. There was the little frog sitting on the same rock as before.

“Oh, thank you, thank you little frog! I did what you told me and the pence became a shilling. The children and I will eat well tonight! She reached down to scoop up the little frog and held it in her hand.

“Oh beautiful girl. Each morning if you are able to bring home one pence from the market, throw it into the washing bucket. Make the same wish and it will be one shilling when you dump the water. Throw only one pence coin in. Spend it at the market the next day to feed the children and do not keep the extra money for yourself. If you do not, the wish will be broken, and you will receive no more wishes.

“I understand.”

“And no one must know about the wishes or the washing bucket.”

“They will not.”

“And now, I will grant you your second wish.”

“A second wish?”

“Yes, but this wish must not be for yourself.”

Elizabeth paused before she gave her answer. “I wish that my brother would be as healthy as he once was, able to walk and run.”

“Very well,” said the little frog. “He sits under the oak tree, does he not?” Elizabeth nodded. “Then take an acorn from that tree and throw it into the washing bucket too.”

Elizabeth gave the frog a skeptical look. “And then do what?”

“Have him eat it.”

Elizabeth set the frog down on the riverbank. “But that water is dirty and has soap in it!”

“It will not harm the nut inside. But again, you must not tell anyone of these wishes or the washing bucket. And your brother must not know why he is eating the acorn.”

“I can throw it in his evening stew. He will not notice it there.”

And with that, the little frog hopped into the river and disappeared beneath the water’s surface.

Elizabeth did not know what to think. These instructions sounded even crazier than throwing the coin in the washing bucket. But on the next trip up, she gathered an acorn and threw it into the washing bucket. As she dished up William’s bowl of stew that evening, she peeled open the acorn and tossed the nut into his stew. The orphans ate well and slept with full bellies, for the stew was thick with meat and vegetables.

The next morning, Elizabeth woke to find William sitting on the edge of his bed, legs dangling off. She went to help him to the chamber pot she normally does each morning, but to her surprise, William had already used it. Although not completely cured, for his legs were still thin and weak and his feet twisted, he seemed to be stronger than yesterday. Elizabeth smiled and turned her face away before William could see the tears well up in her eyes.

At the river, she found the little frog again.

“My brother, he is stronger than he was yesterday. Thank you.” The last was a whisper, almost inaudible over the babbling of the water.

“Now,” the little frog said. “He must eat one acorn every day and by the time of the great fall harvest, he will be as healthy as he was before. But in order for this wish to come true you must grant me three wishes.”

“And what wishes are those little frog?”

“My first is this. Your matron has you wash clothes every day except Sundays. That will be my day. Every Sunday after you attend service, you will come to sit at the riverbank and spend time with me.”

“This I will do little frog.”

Weeks passed. Every morning, Elizabeth held back one pence coin from the market. She threw it and an acorn into the washing bucket. That pence became a shilling and William ate the acorn, getting stronger each time. And every Sunday after church, Elizabeth sat on the riverbank and talked with the little frog.

She told him of her early childhood. She was not from these lands; she grew up in the mountains, where mist rolled off the peaks and blanketed the valleys below. Up there, the air was clean and the soil fertile. Her father had been a farmer and her mother a seamstress. That was until a massive rockslide crushed the town. Many died in the landslide, including her mother and father. The remaining people left that place, for chunks of stone and boulders could not be tilled. Her and her brother moved along with them, until they settled here in this village. William had fallen ill on the journey here, barely surviving. They took to begging in the streets until the matron took them in to the orphanage. In exchange for food and bedding, they worked for her. The matron was reluctant to house a crippled boy, but being that he could sew well, she took brother and sister both.

And likewise, the little frog told Elizabeth about his life as a crown prince. His name was Nathaniel and his father was the king of these lands. He lived in a castle far up river, rode horses through the fields, and hunted in the great expanse of forest. All was well until one day a sorcerer came to invade. His father’s armies fought the sorcerer off but before the sorcerer was killed, he placed a curse on the prince, turning him into a frog. The prince was swept down the river and ended up here. He washed up towards the bank and was almost eaten by a large snapping turtle, before a beautiful young woman rescued him.

The day before the fall harvest arrived and Elizabeth met the little frog down at the riverbank.

“Oh, beautiful girl. The time has come. Tomorrow your second wish will come true, but in return, I ask for my second wish.”

“Of course little frog. What is it?”

“Take a pebble from the river and toss it into the washing bucket. Then place it under your pillow when you go to sleep tonight.”

“And what will happen to it?”

“You will see. But that is not all. Place me in your pocket and take me home with you. Give me a goodnight kiss and lay me on your pillow tonight. And in the morning, the spell that holds me captive will be broken.”

“That seems very easy.”

“It is.”

Elizabeth did as she was told and took a pebble from the river and gently tucked the frog in her pocket. She tossed the rock and the final acorn for William into the washing bucket and went about her work. The air was crisp and cool and the grass was turning brown in the field. William no longer sat crippled beneath the tree. He now walked around, helping carry water from the river and washing clothes in buckets. Though he still walked with a slight limp, he had made astounding progress from where he had been just a few months ago.

When Elizabeth dumped the dirty, soapy water in the bushes, she pocketed the final acorn and the river pebble. That evening, they sat around the kitchen table. Rich bone-broth stew thick with vegetables, meat, and barley steamed in their bowls. For the last few months, Elizabeth had been true to her promise, spending the shilling on the children. The little ones were no longer skin and bones.

That night, Elizabeth placed the river pebble under her pillow. She took the little frog out of her apron pocket and held him in her hand.

“Well little frog, this is it. William ate the last acorn in his stew tonight and I placed the pebble under my pillow.” She brought him right up close to her face. “And now I give you a kiss and place you on my pillow.” She brought her lips to the top of the little frog’s head and gently pressed them to it. His skin was cool and damp.

“Thank you sweet girl. You will see tomorrow what your promises kept have earned you.”

Elizabeth smiled and placed the frog on her pillow. She lay her head down next to him, closed her eyes, and fell fast asleep.

The next morning, she awoke to an empty pillow. The little frog had gone. She pushed her hand under her pillow and felt a hard lump. She pulled it out from beneath her head and turned it over in her palm. It was the river pebble, unchanged from when she had put it there the night before. She rolled out of bed, feet hitting the cold floor. Elizabeth shivered and pulled on socks and a shawl to make her way down to the kitchen.

She was the first one up; the rooster was not even crowing yet. At the market the day before, she had procured a large rope of sausage from the butcher for nearly nothing. She had seen him drop it on the ground, right into the mud. He was about to throw it to the pigs, but she asked for it, and offered two pence. The mud was no matter; the sausage was in its casing and she simply brought it home, rinsed it, and cut off the ends. She lit a fire in the stove to cook the eggs and chunks of sausage. She warmed and sliced a loaf of bread and poured milk into cups. With a few crows of the rooster, the rest of the children were stirring in the house. William came bounding into the kitchen, no limp at all. The frog’s promise had come true. Elizabeth quickly looked away to hide her tears. The children gathered around the table and begin to eat. It was a hearty breakfast. There was a knock on the door; William got up to open it.

“Can I help you?”

“I am here to see Elizabeth.” Her heart skipped a beat. She knew that voice. She almost fell over her chair trying to get up from it so fast.

In the doorway, under the overhang, stood a young man. Thick curled locks of jet-black hair framed a handsome face with high cheekbones. Deep soft brown eyes gazed back at her. He was dressed in a dazzling white shirt with gold buttons and tan riding pants. A regal purple half cape fluttered over his shoulders, and on his head, sat a thin golden crown. He looked every bit the prince he had told her he was.

“Nathaniel?”

He smiled at Elizabeth. “May I come in?”

William gave his sister a puzzled look and then motioned the young man though the door.

“Do you still have the pebble?”

“Yes.”

“Go get it and bring it to me, please.”

While she was fetching the pebble, the prince looked around the kitchen, his gaze falling on each child’s face.

“You must be the orphans Elizabeth has told me about.” Many of them nodded in reply.

When Elizabeth returned with the pebble, she held it out to Nathanial, and tipped it into his palm as he closed his fist around it.

“It did not change. It is still a pebble.”

“Is it?” He opened his hand and where there was once an unassuming gray rock, there was now a golden ring. He turned to her brother.

“You must be William. Since you are the only family member Elizabeth has left, I will address you. I am the crown prince of these lands who was cursed by a sorcerer and turned into a frog. Your sister rescued me from being eaten by a snapping turtle and with her kindness, broke the curse that bound me. I have fallen in love with her. She will soon be of age and I ask for her hand in marriage.”

William stood there stunned, staring at the young man. There was a very long pause. “I am her younger brother. She tells me what to do and does what she wants.”

“Very well then.” The prince turned to Elizabeth and dropped down on one knee. “Sweet Elizabeth. In all our Sunday talks on the riverbank, I have fallen in love with you. I ask for my third wish. Will you marry me?”

A smile spread across Elizabeth’s face.

“Of course I will marry you.” He slid the ring onto her finger and stood up.

“When you rescued me from the snapping turtle, I told you I would grant you three wishes. The first you used to turn a pence coin into a shilling every day so you could afford extra to feed these children. The second you used to heal your brother. That leaves you one wish still left to grant.”

Elizabeth paused, looking at the ring now on her finger.

“You plan to return home to the castle, for the kingdom will be yours someday?”

“Yes.”

“And when you go, I will, as your princess will be expected to go with you and one day be your queen?”

“Yes.”

“Then my third wish is that they all come with me, given a home at the castle, and be cared until they come of age.” She motioned to the children at the table. “They are my family.”

The prince smiled. “Of course.”

With that there was a blast of trumpets outside the door, heralding the arrival of a line of carriages and horse carts. Into the kitchen, stepped soldiers and servants, which the prince addressed.

“Help these children pack what they wish to take. Everyone comes with me.”

The children ran about, packing what little they had. Soon everyone was loaded and ready to go, with Nathaniel and Elizabeth in the lead carriage. The matron had come down to see what all the fuss was about.

“What is the meaning of this? Where are you taking them?”

“Away,” said the prince. “From now on, orphans will be raised at the castle, not worked in orphanages.”

The prince gave the reins a gentle flick, starting the horses off down the road. The prince leaned over and gave Elizabeth a kiss as they drove away. And they lived happily ever after for the rest of their days.