"Tell me, please, whatls going on here?" I said.
The kid kept quiet, looking at me with an ugly look.
"Look what Ilm giving you," I said, trying to apease him, and took out of my shirt a beautiful enameled c’ay bird, went to the river, filled it with water and started whistling and giggling with it. It was more than he could stand. He took the c’ay bird from me and said: "These cows you are grazing today are girls punished by the villagers because they didn't want to go with those that have chosen the mash they made."
"And they are not making mamaliga?" I asked.
"They do, but they prepare it in the evening, and next day itls cold and as it happens only very few choose this mash, because everyone chooses the hot mash that's steaming. This way they are left unmarried, this is their punishment."
So this was also possible! We returned in the evening, the cows followed us obediently, even though they were looking hatefuly while the boy was whistling filling the valley with music. We arrived and sat down at the table, the boy was cheerful while I was thoughtful thinking about the tale of the unmarried cows.
The next day, all the marriage-ready village girls got up very early and started to make the marriage mamaliga mas, as it was called in those places.
I went out and washed at the well, taking care this time not to fall in the cowls mud. It seemed as though the animal was not there, but looking carefully I noticed the horn tips s’ightly piercing the surface.
