There was once an old witch living in the Gobelins neighbourhood in Paris; she was a dreadfully old and ugly witch, but she really did want to be the most beautiful girl in the world!

One sunny day, while reading the Witches’ Times, she came across the following advertisement:

MADAME

You who are OLD and UGLY

You shall become YOUNG and PRETTY!

To achieve this:

EAT A LITTLE GIRL

In tomato sauce!

Underneath, in small letters, it said:

Now, a little girl whose name was Nadia happened to be living in the very same neighbourhood as the witch. She was the eldest daughter of Papa Sayeed (perhaps you know him?), who kept the cafe-grocer’s on rue Broca.

“I shall have to eat Nadia,” the witch decided.

One fine day, Nadia had gone out to get some bread from the bakery when an old lady stopped and spoke to her:

“Good morning, young Nadia!”

“Good morning, madame!”

“Would you like to do me a good turn?”

“What is it?”

“Would you go and fetch a tin of tomato sauce from your daddy’s shop for me? It would save me going, and I’m so tired today!”

Nadia agreed right away; she was a good-hearted girl. As soon as she had gone, the witch—for it was she—began to laugh and rub her hands together:

“Oh, I am so cunning!” she said. “Young Nadia is going to bring me the very sauce that I shall eat her with!”

As soon as she had come back home with the bread, Nadia took a tin of tomato sauce from the shelves, and she was just getting ready to go out again when her father stopped her:

“And where are you off to, with that?”

“I am taking this tin of tomato sauce to an old lady who asked me for it.”

“You stay here,” said Papa Sayeed. “If your old lady wants something, she has only to come here herself.”

Nadia, being also a very obedient girl, did not argue. But the next day, while out shopping, she was stopped by the old lady once again:

“Well, Nadia? What about my tomato sauce?”

“Sorry,” said Nadia, blushing from head to foot, “but my daddy didn’t want me to bring it. He said you should come to the shop yourself.”

“Very well,” said the old lady, “I’ll come, then.”

Indeed, she walked into the shop that very same day:

“Good morning, Monsieur Sayeed.”

“Good morning, madame. What can I get you?”

“I would like Nadia.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, forgive me! I meant to say: a tin of tomato sauce, please.”

“Of course! A small one or a large one?”

“A large one, it’s for Nadia…”

“What?”

“No, no! I meant to say: it’s to have with some spaghetti…”

“I see! Talking of which, we also have spaghetti…”

“Oh, there’s no need, I’ll have Nadia…”

“What?”

“Do forgive me! I meant to say: the spaghetti, I already have some at home…”

“If you’re sure… Here is your tomato sauce.”

The old lady took the tin and paid for it, but then, instead of leaving, she began to look doubtful:

“Hm! Perhaps it is a little heavy… Do you think you might perhaps…”

“Might what?”

“Let Nadia carry it home for me?”

But Papa Sayeed had his suspicions.

“No, madame, we don’t deliver. Besides, Nadia has other things to be getting on with. If this tin is too heavy for you, well, too bad: you’ll just have to leave it behind!”

“Never mind,” said the witch, “I’ll take it. Goodbye, Monsieur Sayeed!”

“Goodbye, madame!”

And the witch went away, with her tin of tomato sauce. As soon as she was home, she said to herself:

“Here’s an idea: tomorrow morning, I shall disguise myself as a butcher, then go to rue Mouffetard and sell some meat in the market. When Nadia comes out to do the shopping for her parents, I’ll nab her.”

The following day, the witch appeared on rue Mouffetard disguised as a market butcher, when Nadia happened to go by.

“Hello, little girl. Would you like some meat?”

“Oh no, madame, I’ve just bought a chicken.”

“Shoot!” thought the witch.

Next day, back in the market, she had disguised herself as a poultry butcher.

“Hello, dear. Will you buy one of my chickens?”

“Oh no, madame. Today I’m looking for some red meat.”

“Blast!” thought the witch.

On the third day, in a fresh disguise, she was selling both red meat and poultry.

“Hello Nadia, hello my dear! What would you like? You see, today I have something for everyone: beef, mutton, chicken, rabbit…”

“Yes, but we’re having fish today!”

“Drat!”

Back at home, the witch thought and thought. Then she had a new idea:

“Well, if this is how things are, I will use some stronger magic. Tomorrow morning I shall turn myself into EVERY SINGLE ONE of the food-sellers on rue Mouffetard AT THE SAME TIME!”

And indeed, the following day, the witch had turned into every single one of the food-sellers on rue Mouffetard (there were exactly 267 of them), in disguise.

Nadia came along as usual and, quite unsuspecting, went up to a vegetable stall—to buy some green beans, this time—and was about to pay when the shopkeeper caught her by the wrist, snatched her away and ker-CHING! shut her up in the till.

Luckily, Nadia had a little brother whose name was Bashir. Noticing that his big sister had not come home, Bashir said to himself:

“That witch must have taken her. I have to go and save her.”

He picked up his guitar and headed off to rue Mouffetard. Seeing him approach, the 267 food-sellers (remember: every single one of them was actually the witch) began to call out:

“Where are you off to like that, Bashir?”

Bashir closed his eyes tight and answered:

“I am a poor blind musician; all I want is to sing a little song and earn myself a few pennies.”

“What song?” the food-sellers asked.

“I want to sing a song called: Nadia, Where Are You?”

“No, not that one! Sing another!”

“But I don’t know another song!”

“Then sing it really softly!”

“All right! I’ll sing it really softly.”

And Bashir began to sing as loudly as he could:

“Softer! Softer!” cried the 267 food-sellers. “You’re hurting our ears!”

But Bashir went on singing:

When suddenly a little voice replied:

At these words, Bashir opened his eyes and all of the 267 food-sellers leapt upon him, screeching:

“He’s faking! He’s faking! He can see!”

But Bashir, who was a brave boy, swung his small guitar and knocked over the nearest stallholder with a single blow. She fell flat on the ground, and the other 266 fell over all at once too, stunned just like their colleague.

Now Bashir went into all the shops on the street, one after the other, singing:

Once more, the little voice replied:

This time there was no doubt: the voice was coming from the grocer’s shop. Bashir raced inside, leaping over the vegetable display, just as, coming round from her faint, the witch-grocer opened her eyes. And, just as she came to, the other 266 food-sellers also opened their eyes. Luckily, Bashir saw her in time and, with a well-aimed blow from his guitar, he knocked them all out again for a few minutes longer.

Then, he tried to open the till, while Nadia continued to sing:

But the drawer was too tightly closed; it wouldn’t move an inch. Nadia was singing and Bashir was struggling, and all the while the 267 witch-food-sellers were waking up again. But this time, they took good care not to start opening their eyes! Instead, they kept their eyes closed and began to crawl towards the grocer’s where Bashir was working away, so as to surround him.

Just then, when exhausted Bashir couldn’t think which way to turn next, he saw a tall sailor go past, a well-built young man, walking down the street.

“Hello, sailor. Would you mind helping me out?”

“What can I do?”

“Could you carry this shop’s till all the way to our house? My sister is stuck inside it.”

“And what will my reward be?”

“You shall have the money and I’ll have my sister.”

“It’s a deal!”

Bashir lifted the till and was just about to pass it over to the sailor when the witch-grocer, who had crept up quietly as a mouse, caught him by the foot and began to squeal:

“Ah, you thief, I have you now!”

Bashir lost his balance and dropped the till. Being very heavy indeed, when the till fell straight onto the witch-grocer’s head, the single blow cracked open the heads of all 267 witch-food-sellers and knocked their brains out. This time the witch was dead, well and truly dead.

And that’s not all: with the force of the impact, the till drawer flew open—ker-CHING! And Nadia stepped out.

She hugged and thanked her little brother, and the pair of them went home to their parents, while the sailor gathered up all the witch’s blood-spattered money.