
Long ago in Korea, under a plum tree, lived a girl named Kongjwi, who was kind to every living thing.
One day her father brought home a new wife and her daughter, Patjwi. The new stepmother looked at Kongjwi… and did not smile.
"Weed the stony field with this wooden hoe," said the stepmother. But at the very first stone — CRACK! — the hoe broke in two.

Then out of the mountain mist stepped a great black ox. "You are kind, Kongjwi. Rest," it said — and it plowed the whole field for her.
"Fill the big jar before dark," said the stepmother. But the jar had a hole, and the water ran out as fast as Kongjwi poured it in.
"Never fear, Kongjwi!" croaked a friendly voice. A fat old toad sat down on the hole inside the jar — and up rose the water, right to the top!
One morning, drums sounded — the great festival! "Peel every grain of this rice first," said the stepmother. And off she went with Patjwi.

Then the sky rustled — sparrows! Hundreds she had fed all winter swooped down and peeled every grain with their quick little beaks.
And down a sunbeam came a sky maiden, smiling. "Kindness comes back, Kongjwi." She held out a beautiful hanbok — and two little flower shoes.
Off to the festival ran Kongjwi, quick as a swallow. But hopping across the stream — oh! — one little flower shoe slipped off and floated away.
Down the road came the magistrate, the village chief, with his grand parade. On the water glowed one little flower shoe. "Whose shoe is this?"
At the festival, every girl tried the shoe. Patjwi pushed and pulled and hopped on one foot — but the little shoe would not fit her, not even a bit.
Then Kongjwi stepped quietly forward — and the flower shoe slipped onto her foot like a blossom coming home. And from her sleeve, she drew its twin.
So Kongjwi was loved through all the land — and at her feast she filled every bowl herself, even Patjwi's. For kindness, shared, only grows.