The stories La tells....

 a Hans Christian Andersen tale (1835)

The swallows knew nothing, but the stork, after a little reflection, nodded his head, and said, “Yes, I think I do. I met several new ships when I flew from Egypt, and they had fine masts that smelt like fir. I think these must have been the trees; I assure you they were stately, very stately.”

“Oh, how I wish I were tall enough to go on the sea,” said the fir-tree. “What is the sea, and what does it look like?”

“It would take too much time to explain,” said the stork, flying quickly away.

“Rejoice in thy youth,” said the sunbeam; “rejoice in thy fresh growth, and the young life that is in thee.”

And the wind kissed the tree, and the dew watered it with tears; but the fir-tree regarded them not.

Christmas-time drew near, and many young trees were cut down, some even smaller and younger than the fir-tree who enjoyed neither rest nor peace with longing to leave its forest home. These young trees, which were chosen for their beauty, kept their branches, and were also laid on wagons and drawn by horses out of the forest.

“Where are they going?” asked the fir-tree. “They are not taller than I am: indeed, one is much less; and why are the branches not cut off? Where are they going?”

“We know, we know,” sang the sparrows; “we have looked in at the windows of the houses in the town, and we know what is done with them. They are dressed up in the most splendid manner. We have seen them standing in the middle of a warm room, and adorned with all sorts of beautiful things,—honey cakes, gilded apples, playthings, and many hundreds of wax tapers.”

“And then,” asked the fir-tree, trembling through all its branches, “and then what happens?”

“We did not see any more,” said the sparrows; “but this was enough for us.”

“I wonder whether anything so brilliant will ever happen to me,” thought the fir-tree.
“It would be much better than crossing the sea. I long for it almost with pain. Oh! when will Christmas be here? I am now as tall and well grown as those which were taken away last year. Oh! that I were now laid on the wagon, or standing in the warm room, with all that brightness and splendor around me! Something better and more beautiful is to come after, or the trees would not be so decked out. Yes, what follows will be grander and more splendid. What can it be? I am weary with longing. I scarcely know how I feel.”

“Rejoice with us,” said the air and the sunlight. “Enjoy thine own bright life in the fresh air.”

But the tree would not rejoice, though it grew taller every day; and, winter and summer, its dark-green foliage might be seen in the forest, while passers by would say, “What a beautiful tree!”

A short time before Christmas, the discontented fir-tree was the first to fall.
As the axe cut through the stem, and divided the pith, the tree fell with a groan to the earth, conscious of pain and faintness, and forgetting all its anticipations of happiness, in sorrow at leaving its home in the forest.

It knew that it should never again see its dear old companions, the trees, nor the little bushes and many-colored flowers that had grown by its side; perhaps not even the birds.

Neither was the journey at all pleasant. The tree first recovered itself while being unpacked in the courtyard of a house, with several other trees; and it heard a man say, “We only want one, and this is the prettiest.”

Then came two servants in grand livery, and carried the fir-tree into a large and beautiful apartment. On the walls hung pictures, and near the great stove stood great china vases, with lions on the lids. There were rocking chairs, silken sofas, large tables, covered with pictures, books, and playthings, worth a great deal of money,—at least, the children said so.

Then the fir-tree was placed in a large tub, full of sand; but green baize hung all around it, so that no one could see it was a tub, and it stood on a very handsome carpet. How the fir-tree trembled! “What was going to happen to him now?”

Some young ladies came, and the servants helped them to adorn the tree.

On one branch they hung little bags cut out of colored paper, and each bag was filled with sweetmeats; from other branches hung gilded apples and walnuts, as if they had grown there; and above, and all round, were hundreds of red, blue, and white tapers, which were fastened on the branches.

 Dolls, exactly like real babies, were placed under the green leaves,—the tree had never seen such things before,—and at the very top was fastened a glittering star, made of tinsel. Oh, it was very beautiful!

“This evening,” they all exclaimed, “how bright it will be!”

“Oh, that the evening were come,” thought the tree, “and the tapers lighted! then I shall know what else is going to happen. Will the trees of the forest come to see me? I wonder if the sparrows will peep in at the windows as they fly? shall I grow faster here, and keep on all these ornaments summer and winter?”

But guessing was of very little use; it made his bark ache, and this pain is as bad for a slender fir-tree, as headache is for us.

At last the tapers were lighted, and then what a glistening blaze of light the tree presented!

It trembled so with joy in all its branches, that one of the candles fell among the green leaves and burnt some of them. “Help! help!” exclaimed the young ladies, but there was no danger, for they quickly extinguished the fire.

After this, the tree tried not to tremble at all, though the fire frightened him; he was so anxious not to hurt any of the beautiful ornaments, even while their brilliancy dazzled him. And now the folding doors were thrown open, and a troop of children rushed in as if they intended to upset the tree; they were followed more silently by their elders. For a moment the little ones stood silent with astonishment, and then they shouted for joy, till the room rang, and they danced merrily round the tree, while one present after another was taken from it.

“What are they doing? What will happen next?” thought the fir. At last the candles burnt down to the branches and were put out. Then the children received permission to plunder the tree.

Oh, how they rushed upon it, till the branches cracked, and had it not been fastened with the glistening star to the ceiling, it must have been thrown down. The children then danced about with their pretty toys, and no one noticed the tree, except the children’s maid who came and peeped among the branches to see if an apple or a fig had been forgotten.

“A story, a story,” cried the children, pulling a little fat man towards the tree.

“Now we shall be in the green shade,” said the man, as he seated himself under it, “and the tree will have the pleasure of hearing also, but I shall only relate one story; what shall it be? Ivede-Avede, or Humpty Dumpty, who fell down stairs, but soon got up again, and at last married a princess.”

“Ivede-Avede,” cried some. “Humpty Dumpty,” cried others, and there was a fine shouting and crying out. But the fir-tree remained quite still, and thought to himself, “Shall I have anything to do with all this?” but he had already amused them as much as they wished.

Then the old man told them the story of Humpty Dumpty, how he fell down stairs, and was raised up again, and married a princess. And the children clapped their hands and cried, “Tell another, tell another,” for they wanted to hear the story of “Ivede-Avede;” but they only had “Humpty Dumpty.”

After this the fir-tree became quite silent and thoughtful; never had the birds in the forest told such tales as “Humpty Dumpty,” who fell down stairs, and yet married a princess.

“Ah! yes, so it happens in the world,” thought the fir-tree; he believed it all, because it was related by such a nice man. “Ah! well,” he thought, “who knows? perhaps I may fall down too, and marry a princess;” and he looked forward joyfully to the next evening, expecting to be again decked out with lights and playthings, gold and fruit.

“To-morrow I will not tremble,” thought he; “I will enjoy all my splendor, and I shall hear the story of Humpty Dumpty again, and perhaps Ivede-Avede.” And the tree remained quiet and thoughtful all night. In the morning the servants and the housemaid came in.

“Now,” thought the fir, “all my splendor is going to begin again.” But they dragged him out of the room and up stairs to the garret, and threw him on the floor, in a dark corner, where no daylight shone, and there they left him.

“What does this mean?” thought the tree, “what am I to do here? I can hear nothing in a place like this,” and he had time enough to think, for days and nights passed and no one came near him, and when at last somebody did come, it was only to put away large boxes in a corner.

So the tree was completely hidden from sight as if it had never existed. “It is winter now,” thought the tree, “the ground is hard and covered with snow, so that people cannot plant me. I shall be sheltered here, I dare say, until spring comes.

How thoughtful and kind everybody is to me! Still I wish this place were not so dark, as well as lonely, with not even a little hare to look at. How pleasant it was out in the forest while the snow lay on the ground, when the hare would run by, yes, and jump over me too, although I did not like it then. Oh! it is terrible lonely here.”

“Squeak, squeak,” said a little mouse, creeping cautiously towards the tree; then came another; and they both sniffed at the fir-tree and crept between the branches.
“Oh, it is very cold,” said the little mouse, “or else we should be so comfortable here, shouldn’t we, you old fir-tree?”
“I am not old,” said the fir-tree, “there are many who are older than I am.”
“Where do you come from? and what do you know?” asked the mice, who were full of curiosity. “Have you seen the most beautiful places in the world, and can you tell us all about them? and have you been in the storeroom, where cheeses lie on the shelf, and hams hang from the ceiling? One can run about on tallow candles there, and go in thin and come out fat.”

“I know nothing of that place,” said the fir-tree, “but I know the wood where the sun shines and the birds sing.” And then the tree told the little mice all about its youth. They had never heard such an account in their lives; and after they had listened to it attentively, they said, “What a number of things you have seen? you must have been very happy.”

“Happy!” exclaimed the fir-tree, and then as he reflected upon what he had been telling them, he said, “Ah, yes! after all those were happy days.” But when he went on and related all about Christmas-eve, and how he had been dressed up with cakes and lights, the mice said, “How happy you must have been, you old fir-tree.”
“I am not old at all,” replied the tree, “I only came from the forest this winter, I am now checked in my growth.”

“What splendid stories you can relate,” said the little mice. And the next night four other mice came with them to hear what the tree had to tell. The more he talked the more he remembered, and then he thought to himself, “Those were happy days, but they may come again. Humpty Dumpty fell down stairs, and yet he married the princess; perhaps I may marry a princess too.” And the fir-tree thought of the pretty little birch-tree that grew in the forest, which was to him a real beautiful princess.

“Who is Humpty Dumpty?” asked the little mice. And then the tree related the whole story; he could remember every single word, and the little mice was so delighted with it, that they were ready to jump to the top of the tree. The next night a great many more mice made their appearance, and on Sunday two rats came with them; but they said, it was not a pretty story at all, and the little mice were very sorry, for it made them also think less of it.
“Do you know only one story?” asked the rats.
“Only one,” replied the fir-tree; “I heard it on the happiest evening of my life; but I did not know I was so happy at the time.”
“We think it is a very miserable story,” said the rats. “Don’t you know any story about bacon, or tallow in the storeroom.”
“No,” replied the tree.
“Many thanks to you then,” replied the rats, and they marched off.


The little mice also kept away after this, and the tree sighed, and said, “It was very pleasant when the merry little mice sat round me and listened while I talked. Now that is all passed too. However, I shall consider myself happy when some one comes to take me out of this place.” But would this ever happen?

Yes; one morning people came to clear out the garret, the boxes were packed away, and the tree was pulled out of the corner, and thrown roughly on the garret floor; then the servant dragged it out upon the staircase where the daylight shone.

“Now life is beginning again,” said the tree, rejoicing in the sunshine and fresh air. Then it was carried down stairs and taken into the courtyard so quickly, that it forgot to think of itself, and could only look about, there was so much to be seen. The court was close to a garden, where everything looked blooming. Fresh and fragrant roses hung over the little palings. The linden-trees were in blossom; while the swallows flew here and there, crying, “Twit, twit, twit, my mate is coming,”—but it was not the fir-tree they meant. “Now I shall live,” cried the tree, joyfully spreading out its branches; but alas! they were all withered and yellow, and it lay in a corner amongst weeds and nettles.

The star of gold paper still stuck in the top of the tree and glittered in the sunshine. In the same courtyard two of the merry children were playing who had danced round the tree at Christmas, and had been so happy. The youngest saw the gilded star, and ran and pulled it off the tree.

“Look what is sticking to the ugly old fir-tree,” said the child, treading on the branches till they crackled under his boots. And the tree saw all the fresh bright flowers in the garden, and then looked at itself, and wished it had remained in the dark corner of the garret. It thought of its fresh youth in the forest, of the merry Christmas evening, and of the little mice who had listened to the story of “Humpty Dumpty.” “Past! past!” said the old tree; “Oh, had I but enjoyed myself while I could have done so! but now it is too late.”

Then a lad came and chopped the tree into small pieces, till a large bundle lay in a heap on the ground. The pieces were placed in a fire under the copper, and they quickly blazed up brightly, while the tree sighed so deeply that each sigh was like a pistol-shot.

Then the children, who were at play, came and seated themselves in front of the fire, and looked at it and cried, “Pop, pop.” But at each “pop,” which was a deep sigh, the tree was thinking of a summer day in the forest; and of Christmas evening, and of “Humpty Dumpty,” the only story it had ever heard or knew how to relate, till at last it was consumed. The boys still played in the garden, and the youngest wore the golden star on his breast, with which the tree had been adorned during the happiest evening of its existence.

Now all was past; the tree’s life was past, and the story also,—for all stories must come to an end at last.

Other Winter Holiday Stories:

The Legend of the Silver Pinecones

The Legend of La Befana

The Legend of the Christmas Spider

I just love all of the different versions of traditional stories that are available. But sometimes it's fun to go back to one of the original stories.
Continuing my bear theme (you do remember my Smokey the Bear blog, right? if not go down two blogs), I thought I would present you with one of the orignal "written" versions of the Three Bears and then show you some of the newer versions.

You'll notice in this version of the Three Bears, published in 1894 by Joseph Jacobs, there is no Goldilocks.
Apparently she was added much later.

Scrapefoot
Once upon a time, there were three Bears who lived in a castle in a
great wood.
One of them was a great big Bear, and one was a middling Bear, and one was a little Bear.
And in the same wood there was a Fox who lived all alone, his name was Scrapefoot.
Scrapefoot was very much afraid of the Bears, but for all that he wanted very much to know all about them.

And one day as he went through the wood he found himself near the Bears' Castle, and he wondered whether he could get into the castle.
He looked all about him everywhere, and he could not see anyone.
So he came up very quietly, till at last he came up to the door of the castle, and he tried whether he could open it.
Yes! the door was not locked, and he opened it just a little way, and put his nose in and looked, and he could not see any one.
So then he opened it a little way farther, and put one paw in, and then another paw, and another and another, and then he was all in the Bears' Castle.
He found he was in a great hall with three chairs in it--one big, one middling, and one little chair; and he thought he would like to sit down and rest and look about him; so he sat down on the big chair.
But he found it so hard and uncomfortable that it made his bones ache, and he jumped down at once and got into the middling chair, and he turned round and round in it, but he couldn't make himself comfortable.
So then he went to the little chair and sat down in it, and it was so soft and warm and comfortable that Scrapefoot was quite happy; but all at once it broke to pieces under him and he couldn't put it together again!

So he got up and began to look about him again, and on one table he saw three saucers, of which one was very big, one was middling, one was quite a little saucer.
Scrapefoot was very thirsty, and he began to drink out of the big saucer. But he only just tasted the milk in the big saucer, which was so sour and so nasty that he would not taste another drop of it.
Then he tried the middling saucer, and he drank a little of that.
He tried two or three mouthfuls, but it was not nice, and then he left it and went to the little saucer, and the milk in the little saucer was so sweet and so nice that he went on drinking it till it was all gone.

Then Scrapefoot thought he would like to go upstairs; and he listened and he could not hear any one.
So upstairs he went, and he found a great room with three beds in it; one was a big bed, and one was a middling bed, and one was a little white bed.
And he climbed up into the big bed, but it was so hard and lumpy and uncomfortable that he jumped down again at once, and tried the middling bed.
That was rather better, but he could not get comfortably in it, so after turning about a little while he got up and went to the little bed; and that was so soft and so warm and so nice that he fell fast asleep at once.

And after a time the Bears came home, and when they got into the hall the big Bear went to his chair and said, "WHO'S BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR?"
And the middling Bear said, "WHO'S BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR?"
And the little Bear said, "Who's been sitting in my chair and has broken it all to pieces?"

And then they went to have their milk, and the big Bear said, "WHO'S BEEN DRINKING MY MILK?"
And the middling Bear said, "WHO'S BEEN DRINKING MY MILK?"
And the little Bear said, "Who's been drinking my milk and has drunk it all up?"

Then they went upstairs and into the bedroom, and the big Bear said, "WHO'S BEEN SLEEPING IN MY BED?"
And the middling Bear said, "WHO'S BEEN SLEEPING IN MY BED?"
And the little Bear said, "Who's been sleeping in my bed?--and see here he is!"

So then the Bears came and wondered what they should do with him; and the big Bear said, "Let's hang him!" and then the middling Bear said, "Let's drown him!" and then the little Bear said, "Let's throw him out of the window."
And then the Bears took him to the window, and the big Bear took two legs on one side and the middling Bear took two legs on the other side, and they swung him backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, and out of the window.
Poor Scrapefoot was so frightened, and he thought every bone in his body must be broken.
But he got up and first shook one leg--no, that was not broken; and then another, and that was not broken; and another and another, and then he wagged his tail and found there were no bones broken.
So then he galloped off home as fast as he could go, and never went near the Bears' Castle again.
From More English Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs

Great story, huh?? I am sure you noticed that Jacobs story is a wee bit more violent at the end than the present day versions. Most folktales and fairy tales seem to have had much harsher consequences than the versions we read now.
Wonder why? More realistic? The better to get a point across??
Apparently we aren't worried about that these days.
Our endings are usually tame and happy.
Personally, I prefer happy endings even if they are a bit unrealistic.

Moving along, below you will find just a small sampling of the many versions of the Three Bears avialable today.

Alaska's Three Bears by Shelley Gill, illustrated by Shannon Cartwright.2003.
This book, written for elementary school kids, teaches about bear ecology while telling the story of a black bear, a grizzly bear and a polar bear and their search for homes in the Alaskan wilderness.

Beware of the Bears by Alan MacDonald, illustrated by Gwyneth Williamson. 1998.
Angry at what Goldilocks has done to their house, the three bears decide to get back at her by messing up her house, but they make an unfortunate mistake.

A Chair for Baby Bear by Kaye Umansky and Chris Fisher. 1998.
This sequel to "Goldilocks and the Three Bears" follows Papa Bear, Mama Bear, and Baby Bear as they go shopping to replace the chair broken by Goldilocks.




Dusty Locks and the Three Bears by Susan Lowell, illustrated by Randy Cecil. 2001.
Way out West live three bears who like to keep their cabin neat and tidy. But one day while they're out for a walk, a dirty little girl named Dusty Locks barges in and helps herself to their supper of beans. The big bear's beans are so full of chile peppers that she burns her mouth. The middle bear's beans don't even have any salt. But the baby cub's beans are just right, so Dusty Locks gobbles them all up. When the bears come home to find their nice, neat house looking like it's been hit by a whirlwind, they get riled -- and Dusty runs home so fast the dust doesn't settle for a week.

Goldie and the Three Bears by Diane Stanley. 2003.
In this story, loosely based on that of Goldilocks, Goldie, who has yet to find a friend to "love with all her heart," makes an unplanned visit to the house of some bears.

Goldilocks and the Three Bears by Caralyn Buehner & Mark Buehner. 2007.
In this variation on the classic folktale, a rhyming, rope-skipping, little girl rudely helps herself to the belongings of a genteel family of bears.

Goldilocks and the Three Bears: A Split-Page Surprise Book by Harriet Ziefert. 1995.
Will the three bears discover the girl who's been eating their porridge, sitting in their chairs, and sleeping in their beds? Turn the top, then the bottom of each ingeniously split page to find out!

Leola and the Honey Bears: An African-American Retelling of Goldilocks and the Three Bears by Melodye Benson Rosales. 1998.
With a large helping of rural southern flavor, this African-American retelling of the tale follows the adventures of Leola as she wanders away from her Grandmama's cottage. Secretly followed by a kindly blackbird, Leola encounters frightening Ol' Mister Weasel, surprised the gentle Honeybear family, and learns an important lesson about strangers.

Goldilocks and the Three Hares by Heidi Petach. 1995.
When Mama burns the oatmeal, the Hare family heads out to eat. Then along comes Goldilocks and the puns and fun begin, commented upon by the zany mice who live downstairs and who carry on their own hilarious story at the same time.

Goldilocks and the Three Martians by Stu Smith, illustrated by Michael Garland. 2004.
Goldilocks is fed up with chores and homework. Can't a girl have any fun? So she builds a spaceship and blasts off for the adventure of her life. After touring all the planets (and finding something wrong with each of them), she finally lands on Mars and is soon ringing the doorbell of a Martian house. You guessed it, no one's home, but some tasty alien stew is cooling on the table. After a little nap and a narrow escape from the returned occupants, Goldilocks heads for Earth, which suddenly feels . . . just right after all.
With a terrific rhyming text that's great fun for out-loud reading, this picture book offers a wacky twist on an old favorite.

Goldilocks Returns by Lisa Campbell Ernst. 2000.
Fifty years after Goldilocks first met the three bears, she returns to fix up their cottage and soothe her guilty conscience.






Jolie Blonde and the Three Heberts: A Cajun Twist to an Old Tale by Sheila Hebert Collins, illustrated by Patrick Soper. 1999.
In this version of the story, Goldilocks is called Jolie Blonde (pretty blonde), and the Three Bears are actually three humans the Heberts (pronounced AY-bair)who live on the bayou. Mama Hebert makes gumbo that is left to cool while the family goes for a pirogue (boat) ride, with the predictable results. The text is sprinkled with Cajun expressions that are explained at the bottom of each page. The appended gumbo recipe is easy enough for any jolie blonde. This book will work well as a one-on-one lesson on Cajun-French words or as a group read-aloud sharing of a unique bit of culture.

Santa and the Three Bears by Dominic Catalano. 2000.
Three bears have a lot of explaining to do when they are caught sleeping in Santa's house.

Somebody and the Three Blairs by Marilyn Tolhurst, illustrated by Simone Abel. 1990.
In a reversal of the Goldilocks story, a bear explores the home of the three Blairs while they are out.

The Three Bears' Christmas by Kathy Duval, illustrated by Paul Meisel.2005.
After taking a walk on Christmas Eve while their freshly baked gingerbread cools, Papa, Mama, and Baby Bear arrive home to encounter another "trespasser," who does not have golden hair but wears a red suit and leaves presents.

The Three Bears' Halloween by Kathy Duval, illustrated by Paul Meisel.2007.
Is it a witch or a blonde little girl hiding in the bushes of the spooky house when the three bears go trick or treating?




The Three Snow Bears by Jan Brett. 2007.
Retells the story of Goldilocks, set in an Inuit village and featuring a family of polar bears.





Yours Truly, Goldilocks by Alma Flor Ada, illustrated byLeslie Tryon. 1998.
This lovely book tells its story through an exchange of letters between familiar characters such as Goldilocks, the Three Little Pigs, Peter Rabbit, Little Red Riding Hood, Baby Bear and, of course, the Big Bad Wolf (aka Fer O'Cious). The author chronicles the attempt of the three little pigs to plan a housewarming party. Meanwhile the villains from the previous title (Dear Peter Rabbit) are still up to no good, spying on the residents of the forest and planning an attack on the homeward-bound guests. Fortunately, the surprise is on them because the wolves haven't counted on Baby Bear's mother and her swift reflexes and the two wolves lose both their pride and their fur. This is fairy-tale fun at its best. Following these well-loved characters on a new adventure tickles the imagination with fanciful "what ifs."

Who's Been Eating My Porridge? by M. Christina Butler, illustrated by Daniel Howarth. 2004.
When Little Bear refuses to eat his porridge in the morning, his parents tell him they will leave it in the woods for the mysterious Old Scary Bear.

Hello and Merry Christmas!!
I thought since this was the Christmas season, I would start my stories with a Christmas Legend.
Enjoy!!!

The Legend of La Befana

A Christmas tale from Italian Folklore retold by La

La Befana was an old woman who lived in a small village in Italy. She was known throughout the village for her wonderful baking and the cleanliness of her kitchen. She was often seen sweeping the area in front of her home. And many had heard her say that she was so busy baking and cleaning that she rarely had time to do anything else.

One winter day, while La Befana was sweeping in front of her home, three travelers stopped to ask her for a drink of water. They told La Befana that they were astrologers (they were often called the three wise men) who were following a star to the birth place of the Christ child. She kindly gave them water and then invited them to dinner.

After dinner the astrologers prepared to continue their journey and asked her if she would like to come with them to see the Christ child. La Befana shook her head saying that she could not possibly take the time needed for such a journey. She was secretly itching to get back to her cleaning and cooking. She stood at her door and watched them leave.

La Befana went back to her sweeping. But hours later she began to feel that she had made a mistake. Maybe she should have gone with the 3 astrologers to see the Christ child. La Befana decided to follow them.

She quickly grabbed a basket and filled it with baked goods of all kinds. She then put on her shawl and with her basket and broom hurried off into the night practically running to catch up with the wise men.

La Befana traveled through the night but never caught up with the wise men. It is said that she ran and ran until she and her broom were lifted up into the air!

Ever since that night, La Befana is believed to fly through the night or run over the roofs in Italy on Epiphany eve. She stops at the home of every child, leaving them treats in their stockings if they are good and a lump of coal if they are bad.

She hopes that one of the children she visits will be the christ child.

Copyright LLL, Storyteller/Storysinger

The name Befana is said to be a mispronunciation of the Italian word epifania which stands for epiphany. La Befana still visits the children of Italy on the eve of January 6, Epiphany. She fills their stockings with candy or a lump of coal. It is also believed that she sweeps the floor before she leaves. Many households leave her a small glass of wine and a small plate of goodies.