Catskin

Once there was a rich man who had a wife as fair as a May morning. Before she died, she made him promise he’d never marry again unless the woman could wear her golden wedding ring.

Years went by, and his daughter grew up the very likeness of her mother. One day she tried on the old ring for play, and it slid right down her finger. When her father saw that, his heart twisted strange, and he said, “You’re the only one fit to be my wife.”

The girl wept and begged him not to speak so. But he’d given his word to his dying wife, and pride made him blind. So she went to the old cook woman for counsel, and the old one said, “Ask him for gifts he’ll never be able to bring. Then you run.”

The girl went to her father and said, “If you’re set on marrying me, I’ll need three dresses: one the color of the sky, one the color of the moon, and one the color of the sun. And I’ll need your flying box, the one that carries your treasure.”

He thought that’d stop her, but his pride was stronger than sense. He sent servants far and wide, and soon enough the three dresses shimmered before her eyes. The box—made of dark wood inlaid with silver—stood ready too.

That night, while everyone slept, the girl took her three dresses, wrapped them in a bundle, and put on a coat she’d sewn herself from catskins, tails and all. She climbed into the flying box, shut the lid, and whispered, “Fly away from here.” The box lifted into the night like a hawk, sailing past the moon till it came down in a far country.

She hid the box under a flat rock and went to a grand house, asking only for work. The cook took pity and said she could scrub pots for her keep. They called her Catskin on account of that ragged coat.

Now the master’s son at that house was to hold three grand balls. When the first came, Catskin slipped away, fetched out her dress the color of the sky, washed her face, and walked in shining like morning. The young master danced with her all night, but before the candles burned low, she darted out and was gone, back to her coat and her pots.

The second ball, she wore her moon-colored dress, pale and glimmering. The young master swore he’d not lose her this time, but she slipped through the door like a shadow.

The third time, she came in her sun-colored gown, bright as fire. He caught a bit of her sleeve as she fled, but she tore free and vanished.

The next day, he took sick from pining. Catskin made him a broth and dropped her gold ring into it. When he found the ring at the bottom of his bowl, he sent for the girl who cooked it.

She came, still in her catskin coat. He asked where she found the ring. Catskin smiled, went to the rock outside, brought in her flying box, and from it drew the three radiant dresses. Then she slipped off her catskin coat, and the light of her sun-colored gown filled the room.

The young master knew her at once as the lady from the balls. He jumped up, well again, and said, “You’re the one I’ve been looking for all my days.”

So they were married before the week was out. And as for the flying box, they kept it close, riding in it above the mountains.

This specific version closely mirrors the story of "Little Catskin", an American variant collected by folklorist Marie Campbell in her 1958 book Tales from the Cloud Walking Country. She recorded it from oral storytellers in the Appalachian Mountains of Kentucky, who had preserved and adapted the older British versions.