The Kaftan

Is it morning yet? asks Baby-Glossy.

Almost, says Saint Roley. There's time for one more story. 

My story, says Baby-Glossy.

And mine, says Terence.

You had yours, says Baby-Glossy. 

But I can listen, says Terence. 

Of course you can listen, says Saint Roley. But no interrupting.

Can I interrupt? asks Baby-Glossy.

Only if you must, says Saint Roley. 

This story is about Ivan, the son of a merchant. Ivan was hunting in the forest when a storm arose, and he heard frantic squawking. In a branch above him was a nest with four baby birds and no parents.

I won't like this story, says Baby-Glossy.

You will, says Saint Roley.

Ivan placed his kaftan over the baby birds to protect them from the storm. The storm ended. The parent birds returned and were grateful. What can we give you? they asked Ivan. Ivan answered: Teach me the the language of birds. Stay with us three days, said the parents, and we will teach you.

Ivan went back to his own parents, who had a nightingale that they kept in a cage. Now you can tell us what her beautiful song is about, said Ivan's father. Not long after, the nightingale sang.

It's a sad song, said Ivan. But what are the words? asked his father. She sings that the day will come when Ivan the merchant's son will become Ivan the prince and he will be served by his father, said Ivan.

After that his parents no longer trusted Ivan. One night they gave him a sleeping potion and set him adrift in a small boat on the sea. 

I like to end the story here, says Saint Roley.

But we don't know if he turned into a prince, says Terence.

It's better that way, says Saint Roley. What do you think, Baby Glossy?

What's a kaftan? asks Baby-Glossy.