"Head in air and tail in sea,
Fish, fish, listen to me."

Instantly there was a ripple in the water, and the golden fish was
looking at him with its wise eyes.

"Well?" says the fish.

"My old woman is so pleased with the trough that she wants a new hut
to keep it in, because ours, if you could only see it, is really
falling to pieces, and the rain comes in and ----."

"Go home," says the fish.

The old fisherman went home, but he could not find his old hut at all.
At first he thought he had lost his way. But then he saw his wife. And
she was walking about, first one way and then the other, looking at
the finest hut that God ever gave a poor moujik to keep him from the
rain and the cold, and the too great heat of the sun. It was built of
sound logs, neatly finished at the ends and carved. And the
overhanging of the roof was cut in patterns, so neat, so pretty, you
could never think how they had been done. The old woman looked at it
from all sides. And the old man stood, wondering. Then they went in
together. And everything within the hut was new and clean. There were
a fine big stove, and strong wooden benches, and a good table, and a
fire lit in the stove, and logs ready to put in, and a samovar already
on the boil--a fine new samovar of glittering brass.

You would have thought the old woman would have been satisfied with