When the Wolf stopped in front of the house made of yellow and orange stones, Curdfritter coldly said, “Our-r scamp has a finger-r in ever-ry pie.”
“No, Curdfritter, the Wolf has helped us! A friend in need is a friend indeed.” Cheese-eater defended the Wolf.
“I can see that you have come with your-r hands empty. You haven’t found my dear-r Cheese Fair-ry,” said Curdfritter sadly.
“She will come back soon,” assured him Cheese-eater. “And Vova will return home.”
“Then why are we still standing her-re? Come in, come in, dear-r guests, we’ve got to tr-reat our saviour-r with the best. If you are not seated, you can’t be tr-reated. And we’ll make some cheese together with Vovochka. Come on, dear-r fr-riend, have some of our br-read,” said Curdfritter. The Wolf became wordless at the sight of such hospitality, carefully holding very thin sheep in his strong paws. For the first time in his life he felt like an invited guest.
In the kitchen the fire in the stove was burning again and there was something cooking in a pot.
“Now tell me, my fr-riend Vova, would you like to make cheese with me?”
“But may I?” Vovka was surprised. “This cheese is special, it’s magic!”
“It is special, but you are special, too,” purred Curdfritter.
Cheese-eater ran to the shed to see the rest of the cows and sheep and tell them the good news. The Wolf and the Villain sat down at some distance from the stove: the Wolf did not like fire and the Villain somehow guessed that Curdfritter would not allow him to walk around in his dirty clothes. Also, they were talking about the magic cheese and it was great honour to cook it – one had to be good to earn such honour. Vovka didn’t take his eyes from Curdfritter, yet he could not say where he was had got different pots and jars from. It seemed to him all these spices bottles were appearing from the air in Curdfritter’s paw.
“Well, well, well…” Curdfritter muttered, reading the labels. ”For-rest where mushr-rooms gr-row – two pinches; r-ripe watermelon ar-roma – one pinch; milk fr-resh fr-rom the cow that you have befor-re going to bed – one drop; hot summer midday on the r-river – one teaspoon; waiting for Chr-rismas mir-racles – one third of a glass. Slides, Chr-ristmas car-rols, r-ripe apples on tr-ree br-ranches – equal parts; the smell of Chr-ristmas tr-ree and wild flowers – accor-rding to your taste.”
Vovka was enchanted with the iron pot where something was bubbling and boiling; he knew he would never see such things cooking anywhere else in the world.
