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...So Grandfather Lev went out to the turnip.
He put his big hands on the leaves that marked the turnip's home in the earth, and tried to pull it up. In his long life, he had pulled up enough turnips for every Russian, but no matter
how hard he tried, this one wouldn't budge.
We all know how men like to open jars and do anything that requires a little muscle, so you can imagine how hard he tried, and how reluctant he was to return to his old foe empty-handed. There was nothing to do but ask Grandmother Olga if she would help in the pulling. "It seems this is the biggest turnip in the world," he told her, "one that even Samson couldn't pull up without help."
"I'm not at all surprised," Grandmother Olga replied, giving him a triumphant smile. "It is my experience year after year that men are all talk and boast." She marched out to the garden with him, sure of victory. In fact she was someone of real might, but even pulling together, their strength wasn't enough. The stubborn turnip stayed locked in the ground. "Surely this is the biggest and best-rooted turnip since the Volga River was first wet," Grandmother Olga said.
Grandfather Lev nodded his head.
"We had better ask Katya for help," he said. He found her searching through his tool box looking for nails. She was reluctant to help, as she was busy building a secret house. Also Katya loved the word "No." But she could also imagine the
taste of the turnip, cooked and mashed and with butter on top -- so she said, "Yes."
But even the three of them were powerless against this mountainous turnip.
"Misha can help," Katya said. She ran off without waiting for adult objections.
Misha was a dog who generally kept a safe distance from children, as they hid his bones and sometimes tried to ride him as if he were a pony. But Misha, like all dogs, was full of forgiveness and proved eager to help. The four of them pulled together...
etc.