That evening, Radmilla remembered the cat’s promise and sat to knit a small cabled square. The moment she cut off the yarn, it seemed to transform. The large center cable stretched out to form a mouth, and to her astonishment it spoke. “3 cables to 4 inches and 12 rows to 3, what is it you want to make from me?” “Well, winter is coming,” Radmilla stammered. “It might be nice to have a hat.” No sooner had she finished saying it than the small swatch began to give her instructions for her hat. It told her how many stitches to cast on, how long she needed to work even, when to start the decreases, and where to place them. By the time the sun rose the next morning, Radmilla had a perfectly fitting cabled hat.
It was chilly that day, so Radmilla wore her hat when she went into the village to look for work. As she was passing down a street, the butcher’s wife stepped out of her house. “Why that’s a lovely hat!” she called out. Radmilla blushed, and said, “Thank you. I only finished making it last night.” “You made that? Can you make stockings? I purchased some lovely blue wool the other day, and I want a pair of lacy stockings. If you make them for me, I’ll pay you handsomely.”
Radmilla went home with the blue wool and sat and made a small lacy swatch. No sooner had she ended off, then one of the eyelets opened to form a slim set of lips and began to talk. She followed its instructions for the stockings. When Radmilla appeared at the doorstep of the butcher’s house the next day she was quite nervous, but the moment the butcher’s wife saw the stockings she exclaimed how lovely they were and hurried to hand Radmilla a handful of silver coins.
Others saw the stockings Radmilla had made, and soon she was besieged with requests to make things. The baker’s wife needed a shawl, and the miller’s wife wanted a vest. Soon Radmilla was making a good living from her work. She was knitting sweaters for the duke, gloves for the countess, and she was even commissioned to make a capelet for the princess’ birthday.
She was working on away on the capelet one evening, when there was a knock on the door.