The Wonder Clock by Howard Pyle and Katharine Pyle
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The Wonder ClockPyle, Howard and Katharine Pyle . The Wonder Clock

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The Wonder Clock

Pyle, Howard and Katharine Pyle

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About the print version

The wonder clock; or, Four & twenty marvelous tales, being one for each hour of
the day; written & illustrated by Howard Pyle, embellished with verses by

Katharine Pyle.

Howard Pyle Verses Katharine Pyle 318 pages

Harper & Row

New York

1915

Prepared for the University of Virginia Library Electronic Text Center.

Some keywords in the header are a local Electronic Text Center scheme to aid
in establishing analytical groupings.

Published: 1887

English poetry; prose; fiction LCSH Howard Pyle Illustrations 24 bit color, 400
dpi

Revisions to the electronic version

November 1997 corrector Jennifer Easley, Electronic Text Center

Added TEI header and tags. Transcribed and added verses. Corrected error in
print source: p. 246 home?] home?”

etext@virginia.edu. Commercial use prohibited; all usage governed by our

Conditions of Use: http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/conditions.html

The WONDER CLOCK

OR four and twenty marvellous Tales, being one for each hour of the day;

written & illustrated

By

Howard Pyle.

Embellished with Verses by

Katharine Pyle.

Harper & Row Publishers

New York, Evanston, and London

Copyright, 1887, by HARPER & BROTHERS

Copyright, 1915 , by ANNE POOLE PYLE

Printed in the United States of America

BOOKS BY

HOWARD PYLE

MEN OF IRON. Illustrated. Post 8vo

A MODERN ALADDIN. Illustrated. Post 8vo

PEPPER AND SALT. Illustrated. 8vo

REJECTED OF MEN. Post 8vo

THE ROSE OF PARADISE. Illustrated. 12mo

THE RUBY OF KISHMOOR. Illustrated. 8vo

STOLEN TREASURE. Illustrated. 12mo

TWILIGHT LAND. Illustrated. Post 8vo

THE WONDER CLOCK. Illustrated. Square 8vo

-v-

PREFACE.

I PUT on my dream-cap one day and stepped into Wonderland.

Along the road I jogged and never dusted my shoes, and all the time the
pleasant sun shone and never burned my back, and the little white clouds floated
across the blue sky and never let fall a drop of rain to wet my jacket. And by
and by I came to a steep hill.

I climbed the hill, though I had more than one tumble in doing it, and there,
on the tip-top, I found a house as old as the world itself.

That was where Father Time lived; and who should sit in the sun at the door,
spinning away for dear life, but Time’s Grandmother herself; and if you would
like to know how old she is you will have to climb to the top of the church
steeple and ask the wind as he sits upon the weather-cock, humming the tune of

Over-yonder song to himself.

“Good-morning,” says Time’s Grandmother to me.

“Good-morning,” says I to her.

“And what do you seek here?” says she to me.

“I come to look for odds and ends,” says I to her.

“Very well,” says she; “just climb the stairs to the garret, and there you
will find more than ten men can think about.”

“Thank you,” says I, and up the stairs I went. There I found all manner of
queer forgotten things which had been laid away, nobody but Time and his

Grandmother could tell where.

-vi-

Over in the corner was a great, tall clock, that had stood there silently
with never a tick or a ting since men began to grow too wise for toys and
trinkets.

But I knew very well that the old clock was the

Wonder Clock;
so down I took the key and wound it — gurr! gurr! gurr!

Click! buzz! went the wheels, and then — tick-tock! tick-tock! for the

Wonder Clock is of that kind that it will never wear out, no matter how long it
may stand in Time’s garret.

Down I sat and watched it, for every time it struck it played a pretty song,
and when the song was ended — click! click! — out stepped the drollest little
puppet-figures and went through with a dance, and I saw it all (with my
dream-cap upon my head).

But the Wonder Clock had grown rusty from long standing, and though now and
then the puppet-figures danced a dance that I knew as well as I know my
bread-and-butter, at other times they jigged a step I had never seen before, and
it came into my head that maybe a dozen or more puppet-plays had become jumbled
together among the wheels back of the clock-face.

So there I sat in the dust watching the Wonder Clock, and when it had run
down and the tunes and the puppet-show had come to an end, I took off my
dream-cap, and — whisk! — there I was back home again among my books, with
nothing brought away with me from that country but a little dust which I found
sticking to my coat, and which I have never brushed away to this day.

Now if you also would like to go into Wonderland, you have only to hunt up
your dream-cap (for everybody has one somewhere about the house), and to come to
me, and I will show you the way to Time’s garret.

That is right! Pull the cap well down about your ears.

*

Here we are! And now I will wind the clock. Gurr! gurr! gurr!

Tick-tock! tick-tock!

-vii-

CONTENTS

I. Bearskin… … … … … … … … . . 1

II. The Water of Life… … … … … … … 5

III. How One Turned his Trouble to Some Account… … . . 27

IV. How Three Went out into the Wide World … … … . 39

V. The Clever Student and the Master of Black Arts … … 49

VI. The Princess Golden Hair and the Great Black Raven … . 63

VII. Cousin Greylegs, the Great Red Fox, and Grandfather Mole. 77

VIII. One Good Turn Deserves Another … … … … . 89

IX. The White Bird … … … … … … … . 105

X. How the Good Gifts were Used by Two … … … … 121

XI. How Boots Befooled the King… … … … … . 135

XII. The Stepmother … … … … … … … 149

XIII. Master Jacob … … … … … … … . 161

XIV. Peterkin and the Little Grey Hare … … … … 175

XV. Mother Hildegarde… … … … … … … 189

XVI. Which is Best … … … … … … … . 203

-viii-

XVII. The Simpleton and his Little Black Hen … … … 217

XVIII. The Swan Maiden … … … … … … . . 229

XIX. The Three Little Pigs and the Ogre… … … … 241

XX. The Staff and the Fiddle … … … … … . . 253

XXI. How the Princess’s Pride was Broken … … … . . 267

XXII. How Two Went into Partnership… … … … . . 279

XXIII. King Stork… … … … … … … . . 291

XXIV. The Best that Life has to Give … … … … . 305

-ix-

List of Illustrations.

-x-

-xi-

-xii-

-xiii-

-xiv-

-1-

Chapter 1

I

One O’clock.

One O’clock.

One of the Clock, and silence deep

Then up the Stairway, black and steep

The old House-Cat comes creepy-creep

With soft feet goes from room to room

Her green eyes shining through the gloom,

And finds all fast asleep.

-3-

Bearskin.

I.

THERE was a king travelling through the country, and he and those with him
were so far away from home that darkness caught them by the heels, and they had
to stop at a stone mill for the night, because there was no other place handy.

While they sat at supper they heard a sound in the next room, and it was a
baby crying.

The miller stood in the corner, back of the stove, with his hat in his hand.

“What is that noise?” said the king to him.

“Oh! it is nothing but another baby that the good storks have brought into
the house to-day,” said the miller.

Now there was a wise man travelling along with the king, who could read the
stars and everything that they told as easily as one can read one’s A B C’s in a
book after one knows them, and the king, for a bit of a jest, would have him
find out what the stars had to foretell of the miller’s baby. So the wise man
went out and took a peep up in the sky, and by and by he came in again.

“Well,” said the king, “and what did the stars tell you?”

“The stars tell me,” said the wise man, “that you shall have a daughter, and
that the miller’s baby, in the room yonder, shall marry her when they are old
enough to think of such things.”

-4-

“What!” said the king, “and is a miller’s baby to marry the princess that is
to come! We will see about that.” So the next day he took the miller aside and
talked and bargained, and bargained and talked, until the upshot of the matter
was that the miller was paid two hundred dollars, and the king rode off with the
baby.

As soon as he came home to the castle he called his chief forester to him.

“Here,” says he, “take this baby and do thus and so with it, and when you have
killed it bring its heart to me, that I may know that you have really done as
you have been told.”

So off marched the forester with the baby, but on his way he stopped at home,
and there was his good wife working about the house.

“Well, Henry,” said she, “what do you do with the baby?”

“Oh!” said he, “I am just taking it off to the forest to do thus and so with
it.”

“Come,” said she, “it would be a pity to harm the little innocent, and to
have its blood on your hands. Yonder hangs the rabbit that you shot this
morning, and its heart will please the king just as well as the other.”

Thus the wife talked, and the end of the business was that she and the man
smeared a basket all over with pitch and set the baby adrift in it on the river,
and the king was just as well satisfied with the rabbit’s heart as he would have
been with the baby’s.

But the basket with the baby in it drifted on and on down the river, until it
lodged at last among the high reeds that stood along the bank. By and by there
came a great she-bear to the water to drink, and there she found it.

Now the huntsmen in the forest had robbed the she-bear of her cubs, so that
her heart yearned over the little baby, and she carried it home with her to fill
the place of her own young ones. There the baby throve until he grew to a great
strong lad, and as he had fed upon nothing but bear’s milk for all that time, he
was ten times stronger than the strongest man in the land.

One day, as he was walking through the forest, he came across a woodman
chopping the trees into billets of wood, and that was the first time he had ever
seen a body like himself. Back he went to the bear as fast as he could travel,
and told her what he had seen. “That,” said the bear, “is the most wicked and
most cruel of all the beasts.”

“Yes,” says the lad, “that may be so, all the same I love beasts like that

-5-

The Baby drifts in the basket down the river to the reeds beside the bank where
the she-bear finds it.

-6-

as I love the food I eat, and I long for nothing so much as to go out into the
wide world, where I may find others of the same kind.”

At this the bear saw very well how the geese flew, and that the lad would
soon be flitting.

“See,” said she, “if you must go out into the wide world you must. But you
will be wanting help before long; for the ways of the world are not peaceful and
simple as they are here in the woods, and before you have lived there long you
will have more needs than there are flies in summer. See, here is a little
crooked horn, and when your wants grow many, just come to the forest and blow a
blast on it, and I will not be too far away to help you.”

So off went the lad away from the forest, and all the coat he had upon his
back was the skin of a bear dressed with the hair on it, and that was why folk
called him “Bearskin.”

He trudged along the high road, until he came to the king’s castle, and it
was the same king who thought he had put Bearskin safe out of the way years and
years ago.

Now, the king’s swineherd was in want of a lad, and as there was nothing
better to do in that town, Bearskin took the place and went every morning to
help drive the pigs into the forest, where they might eat the acorns and grow
fat.

One day there was a mighty stir throughout the town; folk crying, and making
a great hubbub. “What is it all about?” says Bearskin to the swineherd.

What! and did he not know what the trouble was? Where had he been for all of
his life, that he had heard nothing of what was going on in the world? Had he
never heard of the great fiery dragon with three heads that had threatened to
lay waste all of that land, unless the pretty princess were given up to him?

This was the very day that the dragon was to come for her, and she was to be
sent up on the hill back of the town; that was why all the folk were crying and
making such a stir.

“So!” says Bearskin, “and is there never a lad in the whole country that is
man enough to face the beast? Then I will go myself if nobody better is to be
found.” And off he went, though the swineherd laughed and laughed, and thought
it all a bit of a jest. By and by Bearskin came to the forest, and there he blew
a blast upon the little crooked horn that the bear had given him.

Presently came the bear through the bushes, so fast that the little twigs
flew behind her. “And what is it that you want?” said she.

-7-

“I should like,” said Bearskin, “to have a horse, a suit or gold and silver
armor that nothing can pierce, and a sword that shall cut through iron and
steel; for I would like to go up on the hill to fight the dragon and free the
pretty princess at the king’s town over yonder.”

“Very well,” said the bear, “look back of the tree yonder, and you will find
just what you want.”

Yes; sure enough, there they were back of the tree: a grand white horse that
champed his bit and pawed the ground till the gravel flew, and a suit of gold
and silver armor such as a king might wear. Bearskin put on the armor and
mounted the horse, and off he rode to the high hill back of the town.

By and by came the princess and the steward of the castle, for it was he that
was to bring her to the dragon. But the steward stayed at the bottom of the
hill, for he was afraid, and the princess had to climb it alone, though she
could hardly see the road before her for the tears that fell from her eyes. But
when she reached the top of the hill she found instead of the dragon a fine tall
fellow dressed all in gold and silver armor. And it did not take Bearskin long
to comfort the princess, I can tell you. “Come, come,” says he, “dry your eyes
and cry no more; all the cakes in the oven are not burned yet; just go back of
the bushes yonder, and leave it with me to talk the matter over with Master

Dragon.”

The princess was glad enough to do that. Back of the bushes she went and

Bearskin waited for the dragon to come. He had not long to wait either; for
presently it came flying through the air, so that the wind rattled under his
wings.

Dear, dear! if one could but have been there to see that fight between

Bearskin and the dragon, for it was well worth the seeing, and that you may
believe. The dragon spit out flames and smoke like a house afire. But he could
do no hurt to Bearskin, for the gold and silver armor sheltered him so well that
not so much as one single hair of his head was singed. So Bearskin just rattled
away the blows at the dragon — slish, slash, snip, clip — until all three
heads were off, and there was an end of it.

After that he cut out the tongues from the three heads of the dragon, and
tied them up in his pocket-handkerchief.

Then the princess came out from behind the bushes where she had lain hidden,
and begged Bearskin to go back with her to the king’s castle, for the king had
said that if any one killed the dragon he should have her for his wife. But no;

Bearskin would not go to the castle just now, for the time

-8-

was not yet ripe; but, if the princess would give them to him, he would like to
have the ring from her finger, the kerchief from her bosom, and the necklace of
golden beads from her neck.

The princess gave him what he asked for, and a sweet kiss into the bargain,
and then Bearskin mounted upon his grand white horse and rode away to the
forest. “Here are your horse and armor,” said he to the bear, “and they have
done good service to-day, I can tell you.” Then he tramped back again to the
king’s castle with the old bear’s skin over his shoulders.

“Well,” says the swineherd, “and did you kill the dragon?”

“Oh, yes,” says Bearskin, “I did that, but it was no such great thing to do
after all.”

At that the swineherd laughed and laughed, for he did not believe a word of
it.

And now listen to what happened to the princess after Bearskin had left her.

The steward came sneaking up to see how matters had turned out, and there he
found her safe and sound, and the dragon dead. “Whoever did this left his luck
behind him,” said he, and he drew his sword and told the princess that he would
kill her if she did not swear to say nothing of what had happened. Then he
gathered up the dragon’s three heads, and he and the princess went back to the
castle again.

“There!” said he, when they had come before the king, and he flung down the
three heads upon the floor, “I have killed the dragon and I have brought back
the princess, and now if anything is to be had for the labor I would like to
have it.” As for the princess, she wept and wept, but she could say nothing, and
so it was fixed that she was to marry the steward, for that was what the king
had promised.

At last came the wedding-day, and the smoke went up from the chimneys in
clouds, for there was to be a grand wedding-feast, and there was no end of good
things cooking for those who were to come.

“See now,” says Bearskin to the swineherd where they were feeding their pigs
together, out in the woods, “as I killed the dragon over yonder, I ought at
least to have some of the good things from the king’s kitchen; you shall go and
ask for some of the fine white bread and meat, such as the king and princess are
to eat to-day.”

Dear, dear, but you should have seen how the swineherd stared at this and how
he laughed, for he thought the other must have gone out of his

-9-

Beakskin slayeth the Dragon but will not go with the Princess to the castle.

-10-

Thus the Princess sits and weeps and weeps.

wits; but as for going to the castle — no, he would not go a step, and that was
the long and the short of it.

“So! well, we will see about that,” says Bearskin, and he stepped to a
thicket and cut a good stout stick, and without another word caught the
swineherd by the collar, and began dusting his jacket for him until it smoked
again.

“Stop, stop!” bawled the swineherd.

“Very well,” says Bearskin; “and now will you go over to the castle for me,
and ask for some of the same bread and meat that the king and princess are to
have for their dinner?”

-11-

Yes, yes: the swineherd would do anything that Bearskin wanted him.

“So! good,” says Bearskin; “then just take this ring and see that the
princess gets it; and say that the lad who sent it would like to have some of
the bread and meat that she is to have for her dinner.”

So the swineherd took the ring, and off he started to do as he had been told.

Rap! tap! tap! he knocked at the door. Well, and what did he want?

Oh! there was a lad over in the woods yonder who had sent him to ask for some
of the same bread and meat that the king and princess were to have for their
dinner, and he had brought this ring to the princess as a token.

But how the princess opened her eyes when she saw the ring which she had
given to Bearskin up on the hill! For she saw, as plain as the nose on her face,
that he who had saved her from the dragon was not so far away as she had
thought. Down she went into the kitchen herself to see that the very best bread
and meat were sent, and the swineherd marched off with a great basket full.

“Yes,” says Bearskin, “that is very well so far, but I am for having some of
the red and white wine that they are to drink. Just take this kerchief over to
the castle yonder, and let the princess know that the lad to whom she gave it
upon the hill back of the town would like to have a taste of the wine that she
and the king are to have at the feast to-day.”

Well, the swineherd was for saying “no” to this as he had to the other, but

Bearskin just reached his hand over toward the stout stick that he had used
before, and the other started off as though the ground was hot under his feet.

And what was the swineherd wanting this time — that was what they said over at
the castle.

“The lad with the pigs in the woods yonder,” says the swineherd, “must have
gone crazy, for he has sent this kerchief to the princess and says that he
should like to have a bottle or two of the wine that she and the king are to
drink to-day.”

When the princess saw her kerchief again her heart leaped for joy. She made
no two words about the wine, but went down into the cellar and brought it up
with her own hands, and the swineherd marched off with it tucked under his coat.

“Yes, that was all very well,” said Bearskin, “I am satisfied so far as the
wine is concerned, but now I would like to have some of the sweetmeats that they
are to eat at the castle to-day. See, here is a necklace of golden

-12-

Bearskin and the swineherd have a grand feast.

beads; just take it to the princess and ask for some of those sweetmeats, for I
will have them,” and this time he had only to look towards the stick, and the
other started off as fast as he could travel.

The swineherd had no more trouble with this asking than with the others, for
the princess went down-stairs and brought the sweetmeats from the pantry with
her own hands, and the swineherd carried them to Bearskin where he sat out in
the woods with the pigs.

Then Bearskin spread out the good things, and he and the swineherd sat down
to the feast together. and a fine one it was, I can tell you.

-13-

“And now,” says Bearskin, when they had eaten all that they could, “it is
time for me to leave you, for I must go and marry the princess.” So off he
started, and the swineherd did nothing but stand and gape after him, with his
mouth open, as though he were set to catch flies. But Bearskin went straight to
the woods, and there he blew upon his horn, and the bear was with him as quickly
this time as the last.

“Well, what do you want now,” said she.

“This time,” said Bearskin, “I want a fine suit of clothes made of gold
and-silver cloth, and a horse to ride on up to the king’s house, for I am going
to marry the princess.”

Very well; there was what he wanted back of the tree yonder; and it was a
suit of clothes fit for a great king to wear, and a splendid dapple-gray horse
with a golden saddle and bridle studded all over with precious stones. So

Bearskin put on the clothes and rode away, and a fine sight he was to see, I can
tell you.

And how the folks stared when he rode up to the king’s castle. Out came the
king along with the rest, for he thought that Bearskin was some great lord. But
the princess knew him the moment she set eyes upon him, for she was not likely
to forget him so soon as all that.

The king brought Bearskin into where they were feasting, and had a place set
for him alongside of himself.

The steward was there along with the rest. “See,” said Bearskin to him, “I
have a question to put. One killed a dragon and saved a princess, but another
came and swore falsely that he did it. Now, what should be done to such a one?”

“Why this,” said the steward, speaking up as bold as brass, for he thought to
face the matter down, “he should be put in a cask stuck all round with nails,
and dragged behind three wild horses.”

“Very well,” said Bearskin, “you have spoken for yourself. For I killed the
dragon up on the hill behind the town, and you stole the glory of the doing.”

“That is not so,” said the steward, “for it was I who brought home the three
heads of the dragon in my own hand, and how can that be with the rest?”

Then Bearskin stepped to the wall, where hung the three heads of the dragon.

He opened the mouth of each. “And where are the tongues?” said he.

At this the steward grew as pale as death, nevertheless he still spoke up

-14-

as boldly as ever: “Dragons have no tongues,” said he. But Bearskin only
laughed; he untied his handkerchief before them all, and there were the three
tongues. He put one in each mouth, and they fitted exactly, and after that no
one could doubt that he was the hero who had really killed the dragon. So when
the wedding came it was Bearskin, and not the steward, who married the princess;
what was done to him you may guess for yourselves.

And so they had a grand wedding, but in the very midst of the feast one came
running in and said there was a great brown bear without, who would come in,
willy-nilly. Yes, and you have guessed it right, it was the great she-bear, and
if nobody else was made much of at that wedding you can depend upon it that she
was.

As for the king, he was satisfied that the princess had married a great hero.

So she had, only he was the miller’s son after all, though the king knew no more
of that than my grandfather’s little dog, and no more did anybody but the wise
man for the matter of that, and he said nothing of it, for wise folk don’t tell
all they know.

-15-

Chapter 2

II

Two O’clock.

Two O’clock.

The Black Cock crowed;

The Moon was bright;

The Red Cock answered

Through the night.

Big Gretchen, sleeping,

Turned in bed,

And tossed her arms

Above her head.

The old Hound stretched.

And, breathing deep,

He settled down

Again to sleep.

-17-

The Water of Life.

II.

ONCE upon a time there was an old king who had a faithful servant. There was
nobody in the whole world like him, and this was why: around his wrist he wore
an armlet that fitted as close as the skin. There were words on the golden band;
on one side they said:

“WHO THINKS TO WEAR ME ON HIS ARM

MUST LACK BOTH GUILE AND THOUGHT OF HARM.”

And on the other side they said:

“I AM FOR ONLY ONE AND HE

SHALL BE AS STRONG AS TEN CAN BE.

At last the old king felt that his end was near, and he called the faithful
servant to him and besought him to serve and aid the young king who was to come
as he had served and aided the old king who was to go. The faithful servant
promised that which was asked, and then the old king closed his eyes and folded
his hands and went the way that those had travelled who had gone before him.

Well, one day a stranger came to that town from over the hills and far away.

With him he brought a painted picture, but it was all covered with a curtain so
that nobody could see what it was.

He drew aside the curtain and showed the picture to the young king, and it
was a likeness of the most beautiful princess in the whole world; for

-18-

her eyes were as black as a crow’s wing, her cheeks were as red as apples, and
her skin as white as snow. Moreover, the picture was so natural that it seemed
as though it had nothing to do but to open its lips and speak.

The young king just sat and looked and looked. “Oh me!” said he, “I will
never rest content until I have such a one as that for my own.”

“Then listen!” said the stranger, “this is a likeness of the princess that
lives over beyond the three rivers. A while ago she had a wise bird on which she
doted, for it knew everything that happened in the world, so that it could tell
the princess whatever she wanted to know. But now the bird is dead, and the
princess does nothing but grieve for it day and night. She keeps the dead bird
in a glass casket, and has promised to marry whoever will bring a cup of water
from the Fountain of Life, so that the bird may be brought back to life again.”

That was the story the stranger told, and then he jogged on the way he was
going, and I, for one, do not know whither it led.

But the young king had no peace or comfort in life for thinking of the
princess who lived over beyond the three rivers. At last he called the faithful
servant to him. “And can you not,” said he, “get me a cup of the Water of Life?”

“I know not, but I will try,” said the faithful servant, for he bore in mind
what he had promised to the old king.

So out he went into the wide world, to seek for what the young king wanted,
though the way there is both rough and thorny. On he went and on, until his
shoes were dusty, and his feet were sore, and after a while he came to the end
of the earth, and there was nothing more over the hill. There he found a little
tumbled-down hut, and within the hut sat an old, old woman with a distaff,
spinning a lump of flax.

“Good-morning, mother,” said the faithful servant.

“Good-morning, son,” says the old woman, “and where are you travelling that
you have come so far?”

“Oh!” says the faithful servant, “I am hunting for the Water of Life, and
have come as far as this without finding a drop of it.”

“Hoity, toity,” says the old woman, “if that is what you are after, you have
a long way to go yet. The fountain is in the country that lies east of the Sun
and west of the Moon, and it is few that have gone there and come back again, I
can tell you. Besides that there is a great dragon that keeps watch over the
water, and you will have to get the better of him before you can touch a drop of
it. All the same, if you have made up your mind to

-19-

The young king looks upon the beautiful picture which the stranger showeth him.

-20-

go you may stay here until my sons come home, and perhaps they can put you in
the way of getting there, for I am the Mother of the Four Winds of Heaven, and
it is few places that they have not seen.”

So the faithful servant came in and sat down by the fire to wait till the

Winds came home.

The first that came was the East Wind; but he knew nothing of the Water of

Life and the land that lay east of the Sun and west of the Moon; he had heard
folks talk of them both now and then, but he had never seen them with his own
eyes.

The next that came was the South Wind, but he knew no more of it than his
brother, and neither did the West Wind for the matter of that.

Last of all came the North Wind, and dear, dear, what a hubbub he made
outside of the door, stamping the dust off of his feet before he came into the
house.

“And do you know where the Fountain of Life is, and the country that lies
east of the Sun and west of the Moon?” said the old woman.

Oh, yes, the North Wind knew where it was. He had been there once upon a
time, but it was a long, long distance away.

“So; good! then perhaps you will give this lad a lift over there tomorrow,”

said the old woman.

At this the North Wind grumbled and shook his head; but at last he said

“yes,” for he is a good-hearted fellow at bottom, is the North Wind, though his
ways are a trifle rough perhaps.

So the next morning he took the faithful servant on his back, and away he
flew till the man’s hair whistled behind him. On they went and on they went and
on they went, until at last they came to the country that lay east of the Sun
and west of the Moon; and they were none too soon getting there either, I can
tell you, for when the North Wind tumbled the faithful servant off his back he
was so weak that he could not have lifted a feather.

“Thank you,” said the faithful servant, and then he was for starting away to
find what he came for.

“Stop a bit,” says the North Wind, “you will be wanting to come away again
after a while. I cannot wait here, for I have other business to look after. But
here is a feather; when you want me, cast it into the air, and I will not be
long in coming.”

Then away he bustled, for he had caught his breath again, and time was none
too long for him.

The faithful servant walked along a great distance until by and by, he

-21-

The North Wind flies with the faithful Servant.

came to a field covered all over with sharp rocks and white bones, for he was
not the first by many who had been that way for a cup of the Water of Life.

There lay the great fiery dragon in the sun, sound asleep, and so the
faithful servant had time to look about him. Not far away was a great deep
trench like a drain in a swampy field; that was a path that the dragon had made
by going to the river for a drink of water every day. The faithful servant dug a
hole in the bottom of this trench, and there he hid

-22-

himself as snugly as a cricket in the crack in the kitchen floor. By and by the
dragon awoke and found that he was thirsty, and then started down to the river
to get a drink. The faithful servant lay as still as a mouse until the dragon
was just above where he was hidden, then he thrust his sword through its heart,
and there it lay, after a turn or two, as dead as a stone.

After that he had only to fill the cup at the fountain, for there was nobody
to say nay to him. Then he cast the feather into the air, and there was the

North Wind, as fresh and as sound as ever. The North Wind took him upon its
back, and away it flew until it came home again.

The faithful servant thanked them all around — the Four Winds and the old
woman — and as they would take nothing else, he gave them a few drops of the

Water of Life, and that is the reason that the Four Winds and their mother are
as fresh and young now as they were when the world began.

Then the faithful servant set off home again, right foot foremost, and he was
not as long in getting there as in coming.

As soon as the king saw the cup of the Water of Life he had the horses
saddled, and off he and the faithful servant rode to find the princess who lived
over beyond the three rivers. By and by they came to the town, and there was the
princess mourning and grieving over her bird just as she had done from the
first. But when she heard that the king had brought the Water of Life she
welcomed him as though he were a flower in March.

They sprinkled a few drops upon the dead bird, and up it sprang as lively and
as well as ever.

But now, before the princess would marry the king she must have a talk with
the bird, and there came the hitch, for the Wise Bird knew as well as you and I
that it was not the king who had brought the Water of Life. “Go and tell him,”

said the Wise Bird, “that you are ready to marry him as soon as he saddles and
bridles the Wild Black Horse in the forest over yonder, for if he is the hero
who found the Water of Life he can do that and more easily enough.”

The princess did as the bird told her, and so the king missed getting what he
wanted after all. But off he went to the faithful servant. “And can you not
saddle and bridle the Wild Black Horse for me?” said he.

“I do not know,” said the faithful servant, “but I will try.”

So off he went to the forest to hunt up the Wild Black Horse, the saddle over
his shoulder and the bridle over his arm. By and by came the Wild Black Horse
galloping through the woods like a thunder gust in

-23-

The young King bringeth the cup of water of life to the beautiful Queen.

-24-

summer, so that the ground shook under his feet. But the faithful servant was
ready for him; he caught him by the mane and forelock, and the Wild Black Horse
had never had such a one to catch hold of him before.

But how they did stamp and wrestle! Up and down and here and there, until the
fire flew from the stones under their feet. But the Wild Black Horse could not
stand against the strength of ten men, such as the faithful servant had, so by
and by he fell on his knees, and the faithful servant clapped the saddle on his
back and slipped the bridle over his ears.

“Listen now,” says he; “tomorrow my master, the king, will ride you up to
the princess’s house, and if you do not do just as I tell you, it will be the
worse for you; when the king mounts upon your back you must stagger and groan,
as though you carried a mountain.”

The horse promised to do as the other bade, and then the faithful servant
jumped on his back and away to the king, who had been waiting at home for all
this time.

The next day the king rode up to the princess’s castle, and the Wild Black

Horse did just as the faithful servant told him to do; he staggered and groaned,
so that everybody cried out, “Look at the great hero riding upon the Wild Black

Horse!”

And when the princess saw him she also thought that he was a great hero. But
the Wise Bird was of a different mind from her, for when the princess came to
talk to him about marrying the king he shook his head. “No, no,” said he, “there
is something wrong here, and the king has baked his cake in somebody else’s
oven. He never saddled and bridled the Wild Black Horse by himself. Listen, you
must say to him that you will marry nobody but the man who wears such and such a
golden armlet with this and that written on it.”

So the princess told the king what the Wise Bird had bidden her to say, and
the king went straightway to the faithful servant.

“You must let me have your armlet,” said he.

“Alas, master,” said the faithful servant, “that is a woful thing for me, for
the one and only way to take the armlet off of my wrist is to cut my hand from
off my body.”

“So!” says the king, “that is a great pity, but the princess will not have me
without the armlet.”

“Then you shall have it,” says the faithful servant; but the king had to cut
the hand off, for the faithful servant could not do it himself.

But, bless your heart! the armlet was ever so much too large for the

-25-

The Faithful Servant gives the young King the golden bracelet from his wrist as
the other desires.

-26-

king to wear! Nevertheless he tied it to his wrist with a bit of ribbon, and off
he marched to the princess’s castle.

“Here is the armlet of gold,” said he, “and now will you marry me!”

But the Wise Bird sat on the princess’s chair. “Hut! tut!” says he, “it does
not fit the man.”

Yes, that was so; everybody who was there could see it easily enough; and as
for marrying him, the princess would marry nobody but the man who could wear the
armlet.

What a hubbub there was then! Every one who was there was sure that the
armlet would fit him if it fitted nobody else. But no; it was far too large for
the best of them. The faithful servant was very sad, and stood back of the rest,
over by the wall, with his arm tied up in a napkin. “You shall try it too,” says
the princess; but the faithful servant only shook his head, for he could not try
it on as the rest had done, because he had no hand. But the Wise Bird was there
and knew what he was about; “See now,” says he, “maybe the Water of Life will
cure one thing as well as another.”

Yes, that was true, and one was sent to fetch the cup. They sprinkled it on
the faithful servant’s arm, and it was not twice they had to do it, for there
was another hand as good and better than the old.

Then they gave him the armlet; he slipped it over his hand, and it fitted him
like his own skin.

“This is the man for me,” says the princess, “and I will have none other;”

for she could see with half an eye that he was the hero who had been doing all
the wonderful things that had happened, because he said nothing about himself.

As for the king — why, all that was left for him to do was to pack off home
again; and I, for one, am glad of it.

And this is true; the best packages are not always wrapped up in blue paper
and tied with a gay string, and there are better men in the world than kings and
princes, fine as they seem to be.

-27-

Chapter 3

III

Three O’clock.

Three O’clock.

The Rooms were cold, the Hearth was grey:

Asleep in the ashes the Kobold lay.

The Board-Floor creaked,

The Grey-Mouse squeaked,

And the Kobold dreamed its ear he tweaked.

He wrinkled up

His Forehead and Nose,

And smiled in his sleep,

And curled his Toes.

-29-

How One turned his Trouble to some account.

III.

THERE was a soldier marching along the road — left right! left, right! He
had been to the wars for five years, so that he was very brave, and now he was
coming home again. In his knapsack were two farthings, and that was everything
that he had in the world. All the same, he had a rich brother at home, and that
was something to say.

So on he tramped until he had come to his rich brother’s house.

“Good-day, brother,” said he, “and how does the old world treat you.”

But the rich brother screwed up his face and rubbed his nose, for he was none
too glad to see the other. “What!” said he, “and is the Pewter Penny back
again?” That was the way that he welcomed the other to his house.

“Tut! tut!” says the brave soldier.” and is not this a pretty way to welcome
a brother home to be sure! All that I want is just a crust of bread and a chance
to rest the soles of my feet back of the stove a little while.

Oh, well! if that was all that he wanted, he might have his supper and a bed
for the night, but he must not ask for any more, and he must jog on in the
morning and never come that way again.

Well, as no more broth was to be had from that dish, the soldier said that he
would be satisfied with what he could get so into the house he came.

Over by the fire was a bench, and on the bench was a basket, and in the

-30-

basket were seven young ducks that waited where it was warm until the rest were
hatched. The soldier saw nothing of these; down he sat, and the little young
ducks said “peep!” and died all at once. Up jumped the soldier and over went the
beer mug that sat by the fire so that the beer ran all around and put out the
blaze.

At this the rich brother fell into a mighty rage. “See!” said he, “you never
go anywhere but you bring Trouble with you. Out of the house before I make this
broom rattle about your ears!”

And so the brave soldier had to go out under the blessed sky again. “Well!

well!” said he, “the cream is all sour over yonder for sure and certain! All the
same it will better nothing to be in the dumps, so we’ll just sing a bit of a
song to keep our spirits up.” So the soldier began to sing, and by and by he
heard that somebody was singing along with him.

“Halloa, comrade!” said he, “who is there?”

“Oh!” said a voice beside him, “it is only Trouble.”

“And what are you doing there, Trouble?” said the soldier.

Oh! Trouble was only jogging along with him. They had been friends and
comrades for this many a bright day, for when had the soldier ever gone anywhere
that Trouble had not gone along with him?

The brave soldier scratched his head. “Yes, yes,” says he; “that is all very
fine; but there must be an end of the business. See! yonder is one road and here
is another; you may go that road and I will go this, for I want no Trouble for a
comrade.”

“Oh, no!” says Trouble, “I will never leave you now; you and I have been
comrades too long for that!”

Very well! the soldier would see about that. They should go to the king, for
things had come to a pretty pass if one could not choose one’s own comrades in
this broad world, but must, willy-nilly, have Trouble always jogging at one’s
heels.

So off they went — the soldier and Trouble — and by and by they came to the
great town and there they found the king.

“Well, and what is the trouble now?” said the king.

Trouble indeed! Why, it was thus and so, here was that same Trouble tramping
around at the soldier’s heels and would go wherever he went. Now, the soldier
would like to know whether one had no right to choose one’s own comrades — that
was the business that had brought him to the king!

Well, the king thought and thought and puzzled and puzzled, but that

-31-

The Brave Soldier bringeth his Trouble to the town along with him.

-32-

nut was too hard for him to crack, so he sent off for all of his wise
councillors to see what they had to say about the matter.

So, when they had all come together the king told them that things were thus
and so, and thus and so, and now he would like to know what they all thought
about it.

Then the wise councillors began to talk and talk, and one said one thing and
another another. After a while they fell to arguing with loud voices, and then
they grew angry and began talking all at once, and last of all they came to
fisticuffs. Then you should have heard what a racket they made! for they
buffeted and cuffed one another until the hair flew as thick as dust in the
mill.

That was the kind of prank that Trouble played them.

Now the king had a daughter, and the princess was as pretty a lass as one
could find were he to hunt for seven summer days. When she heard all the hubbub
she came to see what it was about, for that is the way with all of us, and of
women folk more than any. And the king told her all about it; how the soldier
had come to that town to get rid of Trouble, and how he had done nothing but
bring it with him.

“Perhaps,” said she, “Trouble might leave him if he were married.”

At this the king fell into a mighty fume, for no man likes to have a woman
tell him to do thus and so when things are in a pickle. He should like to know
what the princess meant by coming and pouring her broth into their pot! If that
was her notion she might help the soldier herself. Married he should be, and she
should be his wife — that was what the king said.

So the soldier and the princess were married, and then the king had them both
put into a great chest and thrown into the sea — but there was room in the
chest for Trouble, and he went along with them.

Well, they floated on and on and on for a great long time, until, at last,
the chest came ashore at a place where three giants lived.

The three giants were sitting on the shore fishing. “See, brothers,” said the
first one of them, “yonder is a great chest washed up on the shore.” So they
went over to where it was, and then the second giant took it on his shoulder and
carried it home. After that they all three sat down to supper.

Just then the soldier’s nose began to itch and tickle, so that, for the life
of him, he could not help sneezing.

“At-tchew!”’ — and there it was.

-33-

Here the Brave Soldier brings his trouble before the King to find if it shall
follow him wherever he goes.

-34-

“Hark, brothers!” said the third giant, “yonder is somebody in the chest!”

So the three giants came and opened the chest, and there were the soldier and
the princess. Trouble was there too, but the giants saw nothing of him.

They bound the soldier with strong cords so that they might have him to eat
for breakfast in the morning.

And now what was to be done with the princess?

“See, brothers,” said the first giant, “I am thinking that a wife will about
fit my needs. This lass will do as well as any, and, as I found her, I will just
keep her.”

“Prut! how you talk!” said the second giant, “do you think that nobody is to
marry in the wide world but you? Who was it brought the lass to the house I
should like to know! No; I will marry her myself.”

“Stop!” said the third giant. “You are both going too fast on that road. I
thought of a wife long before either of you. Who was it found that the lass was
in the house, I should like to know!”

And so they talked and talked until they fell to quarrelling, and then to
blows. Over they rolled, cuffing and slapping, until each one killed the other
two, so that they all lay as dead as fishes. And that was an end of them.

“See, now,” said Trouble to the soldier, “who can say that I have done
nothing for you? I tell you, comrade, that I am a good friend of yours, and love
you as though you were my born brother. Listen! over yonder in the field is a
great stone under which the giants have hidden stacks and stacks of money. Go
and borrow a cart and two horses, and I will go with you and show you where it
is.”

Well, you may guess that that was a song that pleased the soldier. Off he
went and borrowed a cart and two horses. Then he and Trouble went into the field
together, and Trouble showed him where the stone was where the treasure lay.

The soldier rolled the stone over, and there, sure enough, lay bags and bags,
all full of gold and silver money.

Down he went into the pit and began bringing up the money and loading it into
the cart. After a while he had brought it all but one bag full.

“See. Trouble,” said he, “my back is nearly broken with carrying the

-35-

The three Giants fight one another like fury.

money. There is still one bag down there yet; go down like a good lad and bring
it up for me.”

Oh, yes! Trouble would do that much for the soldier, for had they not been
comrades for many and one bright, blessed days? Down he went into the pit, and
then you may believe that the soldier was not long in rolling the stone into its
place. So there was Trouble as tight as a fly in a bottle.

After that the soldier went back home again with great contentment — as I
would have done had I ridden home upon a cart full of gold and silver, all of
which belonged to me. He had left one bag of money, but then it was worth that
much to be rid of Trouble.

After that the soldier built a ship and loaded it with the money. Then he and
the princess sailed away to the king’s house, for they thought that

-36-

maybe the king would like them better now that Trouble had left them and money
had come.

When the king saw what a great boatload of gold and silver the soldier had
brought home with him he was as pleased as pleased could be. He could not make
enough of the brave soldier; he called him son, and walked about the streets
with him arm in arm, so that the folks might see how fond he was of his
son-in-law. Besides that he gave him half of the kingdom to rule over, so that
the soldier and the princess lived together as snugly as a couple of mice in the
barn when threshing is going on.

Well, one day a neighbor came to the rich brother and said, “Dear! dear! but
the world is easy with your brother, the soldier!”

At this the rich brother pricked up his ears. “How is that?” said he — “my
brother, the soldier? How comes the world to be easy with him, I should like to
know?”

Oh, the neighbor could not tell him that; all that he knew was that the
soldier was living over yonder with a princess for his wife, and more gold and
silver money than a body could count in a week.

Well, well, this would never do! The rich brother must pick up acquaintance
with the soldier again, now that he was rising in the world. So he put on his
blue Sunday coat and his best hat, and away he went to the soldier’s house.

Well, the soldier was a good-natured fellow, and bore grudges against nobody,
so he shook hands with his brother, and they sat down together by the stove.

Then the rich brother wanted to know all about everything — how came it that
the other was so well off in the world?

Oh, there was no secret about that; it happened thus and so. And then the
soldier told all about it. After that the other went home, but there was a great
buzzing in his head, I can tell you!

“Now,” says he to himself, “I will go over yonder to the giants’ house, and
will let Trouble out from under the stone. Then he will come here to my brother
and will turn things topsy-turvy, and I will get the bag of money that was left
there.”

So, off he went until he came to the place where Trouble lay under the stone.

He rolled the stone over, and — whisk! clip! — out popped Trouble from the
hole. “And so you were leaving me here to be starved, were you?” said he.

“Oh, dear friend Trouble! it was not I, it was my brother, the soldier!”

Oh, well, that was all one to Trouble; now that he was out he would

-37-

The rich man takes home money and trouble.

stay with the man who let him out, and there was an end of it. “So bring along
the bag of gold,” says he, “for it is high time that we were going home.”

So the rich brother took the bag of gold over his shoulder, and the two went
home together; and if anybody was down in the mouth, it was the rich brother.

And now everything went wrong with him, for Trouble dogged his heels wherever
he went. At last his patience could hold out no longer, and he began to cudgel
his brains to find some way to get rid of the other. So one day he says,

“Come, Trouble, we will go out into the forest this morning and cut some
wood.”

Well, that suited Trouble as well as anything else, so off they went
together, arm in arm. By and by they came to the forest, and there the man cut
down a great tree. Then he split open the stump, and drove a wedge into it. So
it came dinner-time, and then Trouble and he ate together.

-38-

“See now, Trouble,” said the man, “they tell me that you can go anywhere in
all of the world.”

“Yes,” said Trouble, “that is so.”

“And could you go into that tree that I have split yonder?”

Oh, yes; Trouble could do that well enough.

If that was so the man would like to see him do it, that he would.

Oh, Trouble would do that and more, too, for a friend’s asking. So he made
himself small and smaller, and so crept into the cleft in the log as easily as
though he had been a mouse. But, no sooner was he snugly there than the man
seized his axe and knocked out the wedge, and there was Trouble as safe as safe
could be. He might beg and beg, but no, the man was deaf in that ear. He
shouldered his axe and off he went, leaving Trouble where he was.

Dear me! that was a long time ago; or else some busybody must have let

Trouble out of that log, for I know very well that he is stumping about the
world nowadays.

-39-

Chapter 4

IV

Four O’clock.

Four O’clock.

The Air grew chill, the Sky was grey;

The Black Cock crowed, and far away

Another answered. In a dream

The Kobold drank thick clotted Cream,

And chased Roast-Goose. He woke and sighed,

And turned upon his other side.

-41-

How three went out into the Wide World.

IV.

THERE was a woman who owned a fine grey goose. “Tomorrow,” said she, “I will
pluck the goose for live feathers, so that I may take them to market and sell
them for good hard money.”

This the goose heard, and liked it not. “Why should I grow live feathers for
other folks to pluck?” said she to herself. So off she went into the wide world
with nothing upon her back but what belonged to her.

By and by she came up with a sausage.

“Whither away, friend?” said the Grey Goose.

“Out into the wide world,” said the Sausage.

“Why do you travel that road?” said the Grey Goose.

“Why should I stay at home?” said the Sausage. “They stuff me with good meat
and barley-meal over yonder, but they only do it for other folk’s feasting. That
is the way with the world.”

“Yes, that is true,” said the Grey Goose; “and I too am going out into the
world, for why should I grow live feathers for other folk’s plucking? So let us
travel together, as we are both of a mind.”

Well, that suited the Sausage well enough, so off they went, arm in arm.

By and by they came up with a cock.

“Whither away, friend?” said the Grey Goose and the Sausage.

-42-

“Out into the wide world,” said the Cock.

“Why do you travel that road?” said the Grey Goose and the Sausage.

“Why should I stay at home?” said the Cock. “Every day they feed me with
barleycorn, but it is only that I may split my throat in the mornings, calling
the lads to the fields and the maids to the milking. That is the way with the
world.”

“Yes, that is true,” said the Grey Goose; “why should I grow live feathers
for other folk’s picking?”

And —

“Yes, that is true,” said the Sausage, “why should I be stuffed with meat and
barley-meal for other folk’s feasting?”

So the three being all of a mind, they settled to travel the same road
together.

Well, they went on and on and on, until, at last, they came to a deep forest,
and, by and by, whom should they meet but a great red fox.

“Whither away, friends?” said he.

“Oh, we are going out into the wide world,” said the Grey Goose, the Sausage,
and the Cock.

“And why do you travel that road?” said the Fox.

Oh, there was nothing but tangled yarn at home: the Grey Goose grew live
feathers for other folk’s picking, the Sausage was stuffed for other folk’s
feasting, and the Cock crowed in the morn for other folk’s waking. That was the
way of the world over yonder, and so they had left it.

“Yes,” said the Fox, “that is true; so come with me into the deep forest, for
there every one can live for himself! and nobody else.

So they all went into the forest together, for the Fox’s words pleased them
very much.

“And now,” said the Fox to the Grey Goose, “you shall be my wife,” for he had
never had a sweetheart before, and even a Grey Goose is better than none.

“And what is to become of us?” said the Sausage and the Cock.

“You and I shall be dear friends,” said the Great Red Fox. Thereat the Cock
and the Sausage were content, for it took but little to satisfy them.

Well, everything was just as the Great Red Fox had said it should be: the

Goose kept her own feathers, the Sausage was stuffed for its own good, the Cock
crowed for its own ears, and everything was as smooth as rich cream. Moreover,
the Great Red Fox and the Grey Goose were husband

-43-

The Grey Goose goes out into the wide world, where she and a discontented

Sausage meet the Cock and the Fox.

-44-

and wife, and the Great Red Fox and the Sausage and the Cock were dear friends.

One morning says the Great Red Fox to the Grey Goose, “Neighbor Cock makes a
mighty hubbub with his crowing!”

“Yes, that is so,” said the Grey Goose; for she always sang the same tune as
the Great Red Fox, as a good wife should.

“Then,” said the Great Red Fox, “I will go over and have a talk with him.”

So off he packed, and by and by he came to Neighbor Cock’s house. Rap! tap!

tap! he knocked at the door, and who should look out of the window but the Cock
himself.

“See, Neighbor Cock,” said the Great Red Fox, “you make a mighty hubbub with
that crowing of yours.”

“That may be so, and that may not be so,” said the Cock; “all the same, the
hubbub is in my own house.”

“That is good,” said the Great Red Fox, “but one should not trouble one’s
neighbors, even in one’s own house; so, if it suits you, we will have no more
crowing.”

“I was made for crowing, and crow I must,” said the Cock.

“You must crow no more,” said the Great Red Fox.

“I must crow,” said the Cock.

“You must not crow,” said the Great Red Fox.

“I must crow,” said the Cock. And that was the last of it for — snip! — off
went its head, and it crowed no more. Nevertheless, he had the last word, and
that was some comfort. After that the Great Red Fox ate up the Cock, body and
bones, and then he went home again.

“Will Neighbor Cock crow again?” said the Grey Goose.

“No; he will crow no more,” said the Fox; and that was true.

By and by came hungry times, with little or nothing in the house to eat.

“Look!” said the Great Red Fox, “yonder is Neighbor Sausage, and he has plenty.”

“Yes, that is true,” said the Grey Goose.

“And one’s friend should help one when one is in need,” said the great Red

Fox.

“Yes, that is true,” said the Grey Goose again.

So off went the Great Red Fox to Neighbor Sausage’s house. Rap! tap! tap! he
knocked at the door, and it was the Sausage himself who came.

“See,” said the Fox, “there are hungry times over at our house.”

-45-

The Great Red fox goes to call on neighbour Cock at his house because he will
crow in the morn.

-46-

The Great Red Fox calls upon the Sausage.

“I am sorry for that,” said the Sausage; “but hungry times will come to the
best of us.”

“That is so,” said the Great Red Fox, “but, all the same, you must help me
through this crack. One would be in a bad pass without a friend to turn to.”

“But see,” said the Sausage, “all that I have is mine, and it is inside of me
at that.”

“Nevertheless, I must have some of it,” said the Great Red Fox.

“But you can’t have it,” said the Sausage.

“But I must have it,” said the Great Red Fox.

“But you can’t have it,” said the Sausage.

And so they talked and talked and talked, but the end came at last, for one
cannot talk forever to an empty stomach. Snip! snap! and the Sausage was down
the Great Red Fox’s throat, and there was an end of it. And now the Fox had all
that his friend had to give him, and so he went back home again.

-47-

The Great Red Fox rests softly at home.

“Did Neighbor Sausage give you anything?” said the Grey Goose.

“Oh, yes; he gave me all that he had with him,” said the Great Red Fox; and
that also was very true.

After that the world went around for a while as easily as a greased wheel.

But one day the Great Red Fox said to the Grey Goose: “See now, my bones grow
sore by lying on the hard stones.”

“That is a great pity,” said the Grey Goose; “and if the hard stones were
only soft, I, for one, would be glad.”

“Yes,” said the Great Red Fox, “that is good; but soft talking makes them
none the easier to lie upon. Could you not spare me a few of your feathers?”

“A few feathers indeed!” said the Grey Goose, “it was not for this that I
left the ways of the world over yonder. If you must have feathers you must pluck
them from your own back.”

“Prut!” said the Great Red Fox, “how you speak! A wife should do all that she
can to make the world soft for her husband.”

-48-

Then you should have heard the Grey Goose talk and talk. But it was no use;
when times are hard with one, one’s wife should help to feather the nest — that
was what the Great Red Fox said.

Snip! snap! crunch! cranch! and off went the Grey Goose’s head. After that
the Fox ate her up, body and bones, and there was an end of her. Then he lay
upon soft feathers and slept easily.

Now this is true that I tell you: when a great red fox and a grey goose
marry, and hard times come, one must make it soft for the other — mostly it is
the grey goose who does that.

Also I would have you listen to this: some folks say that it is not so, but I
tell you that the ways of the world are the ways of the world, even in the deep
forest.

-49-

Chapter 5

V

Five O’clock.

Five O’clock.

The sleepy Maid comes stumbling down

The Stairs, while buttoning her Gown,

And pokes the fire with a frown.

Up in a rage the Kobold flies.

And blows the Ashes in her eyes;

“Plague on the Fire?” poor Gretchen cries.

The Goodman turned about in Bed,

And from the Pillow raised his Head

“Wife, Wife its five o’clock!” he said.

-51-

The Clever Student and the Master of Black Arts.

V.

THE wood-chopper’s son was not content to follow in the steps of his father,
and to do nothing better than make fagots all the days of his life. So off he
went to the great school at the capital, and there he studied and studied until
he became the cleverest student in all of the world. But of this his father
thought nothing, for he had no care to know more than he could see in front of
his nose.

“I can speak sixteen languages,” said the Clever Student, “I am a master-hand
at geometry and astronomy, and I know quite as much of black art as the Great

Master himself.”

“But can you chop wood?” said the wood-chopper, “and can you bind the
fagots?”

No; the Clever Student knew nothing of that trade, but there were better eggs
in Luck’s nest than wood-chopping. He knew enough of the black art to be able to
change himself into a fine, dapple-gray nag whenever he chose, and by no more
than the turning of a word or two. That he would do, and the old wood-chopper
should take him to the town and sell him for fifty dollars.

“But there is one thing you must remember,” said the Clever Student, “you
must take the bridle from off my head when you sell me, for so long

-52-

as it is on me I must, willy-nilly, remain a horse. The Great Master of Black

Arts would like nothing better than to catch me in such a trap as that, for his
books tell him that he is to have bad luck through me, and he has been after me
for this many a day.”

The wood-chopper promised to remember all that the Clever Student told him,
and then the other went around back of the house and changed himself into a
fine, dapple-gray horse. The wood-chopper slipped a bridle over the nag’s nose
and a leg over his back, and then off he rode towards the town.

On and on they jogged till they came to where two roads crossed, and there
stood one who looked no better than he should. This was the Great Master of

Black Arts himself; but of that the wood-chopper knew nothing at all.

“How do you find yourself, friend?” said the Master of Black Arts to the
wood-chopper; “that is a fine horse that you have there, to be sure. Is he for
sale now?”

“Yes,” said the wood-chopper, “the nag is for sale, and fifty dollars will
buy him — only the bridle does not go along with the horse.”

Good! The wood-chopper might keep the bridle and welcome: but palm to palm
for a true sale, and here was the money.

So they shook hands, and then the Master of Black Arts counted out the money,
and the wood-chopper pocketed it, and he had never rubbed his fingers over so
much in all of his life before.

Then, as quick as a wink, the Master of Black Arts drew a bridle out of his
pocket. It was as thin as a wire and as light as silk, yet I tell you the truth
when I say that if he had ever slipped it over the nose of the Clever Student it
would have been an ill thing for him.

But the Student had his eyes open, and his wits about him. No sooner had his
father taken the bridle off of him than — whisk! pop! — he changed himself
into a pigeon and away he flew till the wind whistled behind him.

But the Master of Black Arts knew a trick as good as that, that he did.

Whisk! pop! — and he became a hawk, and away he flew after the pigeon, and all
that the wood-chopper could do was to stand and look after them — But he had
the fifty dollars in his pocket, and that was something and more or less.

On and on flew the two, and if the pigeon flew fast, why, the hawk flew
faster.

By and by they came to the shore of a great sea. And that was a good

-53-

A Princess walks beside the water, into whose basket leaps the ring.

-54-

thing for the Clever Student, for, just as the hawk was about to grip him, he
dropped to the water and became a little fish, and away he swam.

But the Master of Black Arts knew a trick as good as that. Down to the water
he dropped and became a pike, and after the little fish he swam till the water
boiled behind him.

On and on they swam, and if the little fish swam fast, why, the great pike
swam faster. On and on they swam till they came to a place where a beautiful
princess, as white and as red as milk and rose leaves, was walking along beside
the shore gathering pretty shells into a little basket. And that was a good
thing for the Clever Student, for just as the Master of Black Arts was about to
catch him he changed himself into a ruby ring and jumped out of the sea and into
the basket of the princess, and there he was safe and sound.

Presently the princess looked down into the basket, and there lay the ring.

“What a pretty ring!” said she. “And how came it here?”

She slipped it upon her finger, and it fitted as though it had been made for
nobody in the world but her. As for the Clever Student, he liked to be there, I
can tell you, for he thought that he had never seen such a pretty lass.

Well, by and by the princess had gathered all of the shells that she wanted,
and then she went back home again.

When she had come there and to her own little room, all of a sudden a tall,
good-looking young fellow stood before her. That was the Clever Student, who had
changed himself back into his own true shape again. At first the princess was
ever so frightened, but the Student talked to her so pleasantly that she began
after a while to think that she had never seen such a nice, clever young fellow.

So they passed the time very pleasantly together until evening drew near, and
then the Student had to go.

But the Master of Black Arts was not at the end of his tricks yet.

And the Clever Student knew that as well as he knew anything.

“See, now,” said he to the princess, “the Master will be coming after me
before long. When he comes he will ask for the ruby ring, and he must have it,
but I have a trick in my head to meet that.”

He cut off a lock of his hair and then pricked his arm till it bled. With the
blood he wet the hair, and by his arts he made of it a ruby ring so like what he
himself had been that even the princess herself could not have told the one from
the other. After that he changed himself into a necklace of carbuncles, and the
princess was just as fond of it as she had been of the ring.

-55-

The Clever Scholar remains a Ruby Ring no longer, having regained his own true
shape.

-56-

Sure enough, it happened just as the Clever Student had foretold. Before a
great while the Master of Black Arts came along and on his arm he carried a
basket. Rap! tap! tap! he knocked at the door of the king’s house. Down went one
and asked him what he wanted.

Oh! he only wanted to see the king; he had something for him here in the
basket. So he was shown up to where the king was, and then he opened the basket
and in it was a little black hen.

“Only a little black hen!” you say? Wait; you should hear all before you
speak!

The Master of Black Arts stood the little black hen on the table.

“Hickety-pickety!” said he, and before the king knew what to think of it the
little black hen had laid an egg all of pure silver. And that hen was worth the
having.

As for the king, bless me! but he was glad to have such a hen as that. If the
master wanted anything that the king could give him, he had only to ask for it
and it was as good as his.

“So; good!” says the Black Master, “then there is a little ruby ring that the
princess wears and that I have taken a fancy to; if I may have that it will be
all that I ask for.”

Oh! if that was all that he wanted he should have it and welcome, that was
what the king said. So the pretty princess was sent for, and the king asked her
if she would give the Master of Black Arts the ruby ring that she ware.

“Oh, yes!” says the princess, “he shall have that and welcome, for I have
grown tired of it long ago.” So she gave it to him, and off he went on the same
path that he had come.

As soon as he had reached home, he put the ring into a mortar and ground it
up until it was as fine as flour in the mill.

“There!” said he to himself, “that is an end of the Clever Student at any
rate.”

After that he went back to his books again and began to read them, and then
he soon found how he had been tricked by the Clever Student.

The princess and the Clever Student were sitting together. “See, now,” said
the Student, “the Master of Black Arts will be coming this way again in a little
while. He will be wanting the necklace of carbuncles, and you will have to let
him have it. But I have a trick for his trick yet, so that perhaps we will get
the better of him in the end.”

So the Clever Student did as he had done before; he pricked his arm

-57-

The Master of Black Arts bringeth a curious little Black Hen to the King.

-58-

till it bled, and with the blood he wet a lock of his hair. Then by his arts he
changed the lock of hair into just such a necklace of carbuncles as he himself
had been. After that he changed himself into a pearl ear-drop, and the princess
hung him in her ear, and there he dangled.

Sure enough; by and by came along the Master of Black Arts with another
basket. And you may believe that they did not let him cool his toes by long
standing outside the door. He opened his basket, and in it was a white drake.

“Only a white drake!” you say? Yes, yes; but just wait for a little!

The Master of Black Arts stood the drake on the table and said, “Spickety
lickety!”

“Quack! quack!” said the drake, and every time it said “quack” a gold piece
dropped from its mouth.

Hui! if the king was pleased with the little black hen, you can guess how
glad he was to have such a drake as that! All that the Master of Black Arts had
to do was to ask for what he wanted, and he might have it if the king had it to
give.

“Good!” says the Master of Black Arts; “then the princess has a necklace of
carbuncles that I have taken a fancy to; if I may have that I will be
satisfied.”

So the princess was sent for without waiting any longer, and would she let
the Master have the necklace of carbuncles that she wore around her neck?

“Yes, indeed!” says the princess, “that I will! I have grown sick and tired
of it long ago.” So she took it off, of her neck and gave it to the Master of

Black Arts, and off he went with it.

When he came home he put the necklace into the mortar, just as he had done
the ring, and ground it up and ground it up until it was as fine as the dust on
the shelf. There! he thought, that is an end of the Clever Student at any rate.

Then he went back to his books, and it was not long before he found that he
had been tricked again.

“I can make no more changes,” said the Student, “for I am nearly at the end
of my arts. The Black Master will be wanting your ear-drop when he comes, but,
instead of giving it to him, throw it against the wall as hard as you can. After
that we shall have to trust to good Mother Luck.”

It was not long before the Master of Black Arts came with his basket on

-59-

his arm, just as he had done twice before; he opened the basket, and there was a
grey goose.

“Only a grey goose!” you say? Wait a moment, and you shall see that it was
not like any grey goose in our town!

The Master of Black Arts stood the grey goose on the table; “Flickety
whickety!” said he.

“Cackle! cackle!” said the grey goose, and every time it said “cackle” a
bright diamond dropped on the table.

When the king saw that he rubbed his hands and rubbed his hands, and could
not say enough of thanks to the Master of Black Arts. And what would the Master
have now? He had only to ask and it was his.

“Oh!” says the Master of Black Arts, “the princess has a pearl ear-drop that

I have taken a liking to, if I may have that I will be quite satisfied.”

So the princess was sent for, and this time she was not so willing to let the

Master have what he wanted. She wept and begged, and begged and wept; but it was
all to no purpose; the Master of Black Arts wanted the pearl ear-drop, and the

Master of Black Arts must have it — that was what the king said. So at last the
princess took the pearl ear-drop out of her ear, but, instead of giving it to
the Master, she threw it against the wall as hard as she was able, just as the

Clever Student had told her to do.

And then what do you think happened? Why, the Student turned himself into a
ripe melon, so that when it struck the wall it burst open and the seeds that
were inside were scattered all over the floor.

But the Master of Black Arts knew a trick as good as that. He changed himself
into a great red cock, and began pecking away at the seeds, gobbling them up as
fast as he could. By and by he looked around, and not another seed could he see,
whereupon he hopped up on a chair and, shutting his eyes and flapping his wings,
he crowed “cock-a-doodle-do!”

But listen! One melon-seed had rolled into a crack in the floor, and the cock
had not seen it. That was a bad thing for him, for while his eyes were shut and
he was crowing “cock-a-doodle-do!” the Clever Student changed himself from the
melon-seed into a great fox. Up he jumped — snip! snap! — and off flew the
cock’s head, and there was an end of it and of the Master of Black Arts.

After that the Student turned himself into his own true shape again. Then he
and the princess told the king all about the business, and when the king heard
how fond the princess was of the lad, he said that there was only one thing to
be done. and that was to call in the minister.

-60-

What happened to the Master of Black Arts after all his tricks.

-61-

So the Student was married to his dear princess, and that is what comes of
book-learning.

After the wedding was all over, and the fiddlers had gone home, the Clever

Student set out for his father’s house in a fine coach drawn by six beautiful
horses. There was the old man, making fagots in the forest back of the house,
just as he had always done. At first he would not believe that the great lord in
the coach was his own son. “No, no,” says he; “and is it becoming in a fine
spark from the great town to come here and make sport of a poor old
wood-chopper. I know very well that my son is nothing but a poor student.” But
at last he got the whole matter through his head, and then he was so glad that
he kissed his son on both cheeks, and asked him whether he had not always said
that it was better for his boy to study books than to make fagots. For this is
true: everything happens for the best when Luck strokes one the right way.

So the fagot-maker went back with his son to the fine house that the lad
lived in, now that he had married a princess.

There everything was made easy for him, and he always had a warm corner to
sit in back of the stove.

And that is the end of this story.

-62-

-63-

Chapter 6

VI

Six O’clock.

Six O’clock.

The Door is open,

The Dew is bright;

Forgotten now

Is the lonesome Night,

And the Starling whistles,

“All is right.”

The House-wife moves

With her briskest tread

The Chairs are set,

And the Table spread

With Honey and Eggs

And Cream and Bread.

-65-

The Princess Golden-Hair and the Great Black Raven.

VI.

ONCE upon a time there was a king who had three daughters, the two elder were
handsome enough but the youngest, whose name was Golden-Hair, was the prettiest
maiden to be found within the four ends of the earth.

One day the king went out hunting with all his people. Towards evening he
found himself in the forest at a place where he had never been before, and where
he was not able to tell the north from the south, nor the east from the west,
for he was lost. He wandered up and down and here and there, but the farther he
went the less able he was to find the road home again. As he wandered thus he
came to a place where a great raven, as black as the soot in the chimney, and
with eyes that glowed like two coals of fire, sat in the middle of the path in
front of him.

“Whither away, king?” said the Great Black Raven.

“That I cannot tell,” said the king, “for I am lost.”

“See now,” said the Raven, “I will show you the way out of the forest, if you
will give me your youngest daughter to be my wife.”

“Oh, no,” said the king, “I can never do such a thing as that, for my
daughter is as dear to me as the apple of my eye.”

“Very well, then,” said the Raven, “off I go, and then there will be no
getting out of the forest for you, but here you will have to stay as long as you
live.”

-66-

Now one will do much before one will stay in a dark forest forever, and
though it was a bad piece of business to be sure, the king promised at last that
if the Raven would show him the way home again, it should have the Princess

Golden-Hair for its wife, though it was a pity for the girl, and that was the
truth. So the Raven flapped on ahead of the king, and showed him the way out of
the forest.

“Tomorrow,” it said, “I will come for my bride.”

Sure enough, when the next morning came, there was the Great Black Raven
sitting outside of the castle gateway waiting for the Princess Golden-Hair to be
sent to him.

But it was not the princess whom he got after all; for the king had bade them
dress the swineherd’s daughter in the princess’s dress, and it was she who went
to the Great Black Raven. “A Great Black Raven,” said the king to himself, “will
never be able to tell a swineherd’s daughter from a real princess.”

Well, the Raven took the swineherd’s daughter on its back and away it flew
over woods and meadows, hills and valleys, until by and by it came to a rude
little hut that stood on the tip top of a great bleak hill. And not a living
soul was there, only a great number of birds of different kinds.

In the hut was a table, and on the table stood a golden goblet of red wine, a
silver cup of white wine, and an earthenware jug full of bitter beer.

“This is our home,” said the Raven; “and now will my dear one drink
refreshment after her long journey?”

Yes, indeed; the swineherd’s daughter would do that, for she was weary after
her ride through the air. So she went to the table and took a good drink of the
beer, “for,” said she to herself, “the golden goblet and the silver cup are too
fine for the likes of me.”

Then the Raven knew that she was no true princess to be contented with bitter
beer out of an earthenware jug when she could have good red wine from a golden
goblet. “Come,” said he, “home we go again, for you are not the bride I seek!”

Therewith he took her upon his back once more, and away they flew over hill and
valley till they had come back to the king’s castle again.

“See,” said the Raven, “this is not the one I want. Let me have my true bride
or you will suffer for it.”

At this the king was frightened. “Very well,” said he, “come tomorrow and
you shall have your true bride.”

Well, when the next morning came, there was the Raven waiting outside

-67-

The King being lost in the Forest meets with the Great Black Raven.

-68-

of the castle gateway. But, after all, it was not the princess that he got, for
the king had ordered that the steward’s daughter should be dressed in the
princess’s dress, “for surely,” said he to himself, “she is a good enough bride
for a Great Black Raven.”

So the Raven took her on his back and away he flew till he had come to the
little hut on top of the bleak hill. There stood the golden goblet, the silver
cup, and the earthenware jug just as they had done before. And now would not the
dear maiden drink a drop after her long journey?

Yes, indeed, that she would; so she took a good, hearty drink of the white
wine in the silver cup, “for,” said she to herself, “silver is none too good for
a steward’s daughter.”

But the Raven saw very well that she was no true princess, or she would never
have been contented with the silver cup. “Come,” said he, “home we go again, for
you are not the bride I seek.” So he took her on his back once more and away he
flew to the king’s castle. “See how you treat me,” said he to the king, “you
promise me one bride and give me another. Tomorrow morning I will come for the
true one again, and if I do not get her this time you will suffer for it, for I
will pick out your eyes and tear down your castle about your ears!” And away he
flew.

And now the king was terribly frightened, and saw that there must be no
trickery this time. So the next morning when the Raven came it was the Princess

Golden-Hair herself whom he got and none other. Up he took her on his back and
away he flew with her. As for the princess, she did nothing but weep and weep,
so that when they came to the little hut on top of the bleak hill, she was glad
enough to drink a drop for refreshment’s sake. She never looked at the earthen
jug or the silver cup, but going straight to the golden goblet she wet her lips
with the good red wine.

And then what do you think happened? Why, the hut grew and grew until it
changed into a splendid castle all built of pure silver and gold, and all of the
many birds outside changed into men and women servants. As for the Great Black

Raven, it was a Raven no longer, but the handsomest prince in all of the world,
and the only thing black about him was the long curling locks of his hair. He
kissed the Princess Golden-Hair and said “Now, indeed, have I found my true
bride and none other. You have freed me and my castle and all of my people from
enchantment, which no one but a real princess could do. For my wicked stepmother
laid spells upon us which could only be broken when a real princess drank out of
the golden goblet.”

-69-

Princess Golden Hair, being a true princess, drinketh from the golden cup and
touches neither the silver nor the clay.

-70-

Then they were married, and a fine wedding they had of it, I can tell you.

Well, a year passed by, and the princess was as happy as the days were long;
but at the end of the twelve months she began to long to see her father and her
sisters again. So she spoke of her longing to the Raven prince, but he only
shook his head. No; he would not hear of her going, for he felt that nothing but
misfortune would come of it.

But the princess begged and begged so prettily that at last the prince said
she might go if she would be contented to stay only three days. Then he gave her
a napkin of the finest linen, and told her that whenever she wanted anything,
she had only to spread the napkin and wish and it would be there. But there was
one thing she must not wish for, and that was for him himself, for of that
misfortune would come for sure and certain.

So off the princess went to her father’s house, and a fine sight she made of
it, I can tell you; for she rode in a golden coach drawn by four milk-white
horses, so that every one she passed stopped and looked after her, and the
little boys cried “Hi!” and ran along beside.

Her father and her sisters wondered what fine lady it was that was coming to
the castle, and when the coach stopped they came out to look. Dear, dear, but
the king was glad to see her; as for her two sisters, they grew as green as
grass with envy, for when they heard where she dwelt, and what a fine castle it
was, all built of pure gold and silver, and what a handsome prince it was that
she had for a husband, they were ready to burst with spite, for each felt that
she might have had all this for herself if the Raven prince had only chosen her
instead of Golden-Hair. So when the princess had told them all about what had
happened, they only nodded and winked at one another as though they did not
believe a word of it.

“Yes, yes,” said they, “it is all very well to talk about your handsome
prince; but why did he not come along with you, we should like to know?”

The princess could not tell them that; but she could bring him quickly enough
whenever she chose, for all that she had to do was to spread her napkin and wish
and he would be there. She would show them that what she had said was true, had
her prince not forbidden her.

But the envious sisters only jeered and laughed as though all that the
princess said was the best jest in the world.

Now one can bear anything better than laughter. So the end of the matter was
that the princess spread the linen napkin on the floor and wished that the Raven
prince might be with them.

-71-

Princess Golden Hair cometh to Death’s door where sits Death’s aged Grandmother
spinning flax within.

-72-

No sooner had she wished it than there he stood; but he looked at no one but
her. “Did I not tell you that misfortune would come of it if you wished for me?”

said he. “Now, I must leave you and go where you are not likely ever to see me
again.”

Then the princess would have spoken, but he gave her no time for that. He
snatched up the napkin, and, becoming a Raven once more, he flew through the
open window and across the tree-tops and was gone. At the same time her golden
coach vanished, and, the coachman and footmen became so many birds and flew
away, so that not one of her fine things was left.

The poor princess wept and cried for a whole day and a whole night. But at
the end of that time she dried her eyes, and, tucking up her skirts started off
into the wide world to find her dear prince again.

Well, she travelled on and on and on for more days than she could count, and
till she had been over nearly all of the world, but in all that time she could
learn no news of the prince nor of whither he had gone. At last one day, about
nightfall, she came to a little hut in a deep forest, and in the hut sat an old
woman with hair as white as snow.

“What do you want, child?” said the old woman; “do you not know that this is

Death’s house, and that if he returns and finds you here he will kill you? I
tell you that he spares neither the young nor the old, the plain nor the
handsome. As for me, I am his grandmother.”

But all this was one to the princess, and went in at one ear and out of the
other; she could no longer drag one foot after the other; so there she must stay
even if Death should find her when he came home.

Then she told Death’s grandmother all that had happened to her, and Death’s
grandmother took pity on her because she was so pretty and so tired. She gave
the princess something to eat and then hid her in the tall clock that stood in
the corner, so that Death might not find her when he came home.

By and by in came Death and hung up his great scythe behind the door.

“Hu-u-u-u!” cried he, “I smell Christian blood in the house for sure.”

“Christian blood, indeed!” said his grandmother, “as though a Christian would
come to this house if he had anywhere else to go! But now I think of it, a crow
flew overhead to-day, and dropped a bone down the chimney. I threw it out as
soon as I could, but perhaps that is what you smell.”

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So Death said nothing more, but sat down to supper and ate heartily, for he
had had a long journey that day.

“See,” said his grandmother, “I had a dream to-day. A princess is out in the
world hunting for her Raven sweetheart, and cannot tell where to find him.”

“That is easy enough to tell,” said Death; “he lives in a great castle that
stands at the end of the earth on a high hill of smooth glass.”

“That is good,” said Death’s grandmother, “but I dreamed that after she found
where he lived, she was too weary to journey thither.”

“That is easy enough, too,” said Death; “out in the forest yonder stands my
pale horse tied to an oak-tree. If she could only find the horse and loose the
bridle and mount his back he would take her there quickly enough, for he can
travel more rapidly than the north wind.”

“Yes, yes, that is all very well,” said Death’s grandmother, “but I had a
third dream; I thought that when she came to the smooth hill of glass she did
not know how to climb to the top; what is the answer to that?”

“Prut!” said Death, “that is easy to tell. Over by the glass hill are seven
birds fighting in the tree-top for an old hat. If she will throw a stone in the
midst of them they will drop the hat and fly away. It is Wish’s own hat, and if
she will put it on her head and wish herself at the top of the hill, she will be
there quickly enough, I can tell you.”

After that Death put on his cloak and took up his scythe and was off like a
whirlwind, for he has little time to spare for talking, folks say. Then Death’s
grandmother opened the clock, and the princess came out and thanked her and went
her way.

She hunted here and there through the forest until, sure enough, she found

Death’s great pale horse tied to an oak-tree. She loosened the bridle and
mounted upon his back, and away they went till the chips and the stones flew
behind them. So they soon came to the high hill of smooth glass that stood at
the end of the earth, and there, on top of it, was the castle of the prince.

The princess dismounted from the pale horse, and away he galloped home again.

Then the princess hunted for the birds that Death said fought for Wish’s hat,
and presently she heard them making a great hubbub, and, looking up, saw them in
the tree-top above her, fighting for the old hat, just as Death said they would
be doing. She picked up a stone and threw it in the midst of them, and they
dropped the hat and flew away screaming.

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Then she put on the hat and wished herself at the top of the hill, and there she
was as quick as a wink.

Now, her shoes were worn into holes by long journeying, and her clothes were
torn to threads and tatters by the brambles through which she had passed, and
hung fluttering all about her, and she looked for all the world like nothing
else than a common beggar-maid, except for her golden hair. So it was that when
she knocked at the door of the prince’s castle, and the porter came and opened
it and heard that she wanted to see the prince, he snapped his fingers and
laughed. All the same he told her that the cook wanted a serving wench in the
kitchen, and that she might have the place if she liked; if that did not suit
her she might be jogging the way that she had come.

Well, there was nothing for it but for the princess to serve in the kitchen
or to go away again. So she bound up her hair in a tattered kerchief so that the
beautiful golden tresses might not be seen, and down she went to serve the cook.

The prince’s dinner was cooking at the fire, and the princess was to watch it
so that it might not be burned. So she watched it, and as she watched it she
wept.

“Why do you weep, hussy?” said the cook.

“Ah me!” said the princess, “once I ate with my love and drank with my love
and lived by his side. If he did but know to what I have come how his heart
would ache!”

After that the dinner was served, but, while nobody was looking, the princess
plucked a strand of her golden hair and laid it upon a white napkin and the
napkin upon an empty plate. Over all she placed a silver cover, and when the

Raven prince lifted it there lay the strand of golden hair. “Where did this come
from?” said he. But nobody could tell him that.

The next day the same thing happened; the princess watched the dinner, and as
she watched she wept.

“Why do you weep, hussy?” said the cook. And thereto the princess answered as
she had done before: “Ah me! once I ate with my love and drank with my love and
lived by his side. If he did but know to what I have come, how his heart would
ache!”

Then, while nobody was looking, she plucked another strand of golden hair and
the prince found it as he had done the other, and no one could tell him whence
it came.

The third day the same thing happened as had happened twice before:

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The Princess finds her Prince.

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the princess watched and wept, and when nobody was looking plucked a third
strand of golden hair and sent it to the prince as she had the others.

Then the prince sent for the cook. “Who has been serving this and that with
my dinner?” said he.

The cook shook his head, for he knew nothing, but perhaps the new serving
wench could tell, for she wept and said things that none of them understood.

When the prince heard this he sent for her, and the princess came and stood
before him. He looked at her and knew her, for her golden hair shone through a
hole in the ugly head-dress that she wore. Then he reached out his hand and
snatched it off of her head, and her golden hair fell down all about her
shoulders until it reached the floor. Then he took her in his arms and kissed
her, and that was the end of all of her troubles.

After that they had a grand time at the castle; every one who came had all
that he could eat, and wine and beer flowed like water. I, too, was there, but I
brought nothing away with me in my pockets.

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Chapter 7

VII

Seven O’clock.

Seven O’clock

Around about,

Around about,

The Kobold played and in and out;

He peeped in every Pot and Pail,

And grinned, and pulled the Pussy’s tail.

Big clumsy Gretchen, washing up

The Breakfast-dishes, dropped a Cup;

It fell upon the Kobold’s Toe,

And made him hop it hurt him so.

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Cousin Greylegs, the Great Red Fox and Grandfather Mole.

VII.

IN those days the Great Red Fox and Cousin Greylegs, the wolf, were great
cronies, and whenever you would see one you might be sure the other was not far
away. The Great Red Fox was a master-hand at roguery, and Cousin Greylegs, the
wolf, came close behind him. That was how they made their living.

By and by they fell out, so that they were never good friends again, and this
was how it happened.

There was to be a great fair, and the world and his wife and the little dog
behind the stove were to be there.

“We will go too,” says the pair of scamps; so off they went.

By and by they came to an inn where the windows were red with the good things
cooking in the kitchen — green geese and ducks and chickens, and sausages, and
cabbage, and onions, and all the nice things you can think of. But the two
rogues had no money, and one cannot buy something with nothing out in the wide
world. But they found a ladder against the side of the wall, and climbed up into
the loft above and lay in the hay.

Dear, dear, how nice the good things did smell down in the kitchen! “My
goodness!” says Cousin Greylegs, “but I would like to have a taste of them.”

As for the Great Red Fox, he had been nursing his wits all the time, and now
he had a trick hatched. So down he climbed from the loft the

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same way he had climbed up; and nobody saw him, for he took good care of that.

Over he went to the stables where the horses stood munching away at the corn in
the mangers. He loosened a bridle here and a bridle there until not one of the
nags was fastened where he belonged; then he slipped back into the loft once
more. By and by began the kicking and the squealing over at the stable; out ran
the landlord and all the other folks with him, and not a soul was left in the
kitchen. Then brother Greylegs and the Great Red Fox came down and helped
themselves, and while they were about it the Great Red Fox stuffed a fistful of
hazel-nuts into his pocket.

After a while the landlord and the rest of them came from the stable; but
nothing was left for them of the good things but the leavings.

As for Cousin Greylegs and the Great Red Fox, why, they lay up in the loft
among the straw, and ate and ate until they could eat no more.

By and by there came along somebody else on his way to the fair, and it was a
rich corn-factor who made his money by buying corn cheap, and selling it dear to
poor folks, so that he was as great a rogue as the two scamps up yonder in the
loft. With him he brought a whole bag of money; but it bought him no supper that
night, for all the good things had been stolen, and the corn-factor had to be
contented with what pickings he could get. As for the bag of money, he put that
in a great chest in the corner, and there he left it for safe-keeping.

Now up in the loft where the two rogues lay was a cowhide, which the landlord
used for making straps and thongs and such like things. What does the Great Red

Fox do but whip out his needle and thread and sew the cowhide fast to Cousin

Greylegs’ Jacket, though Cousin Greylegs knew no more of that than a mouse in a
barrel. Then by and by the Great Red Fox was up to another of his tricks. “See,”

says he, “here I have a pocketful of hazel-nuts, and I am for cracking one.”

“Tut, tut, brother,” says Cousin Greylegs, “you must crack no nuts here.”

“But I must crack a nut,” says the Great Red Fox.

“But you must not,” says Cousin Greylegs.

“But I must,” says the Great Red Fox, and so he did.

“Hark!” says the landlord; “yonder is somebody up in the loft cracking the
nuts that we were to have had for supper; it is a good beating he shall have for
the trick he has been playing upon us.”

When Cousin Greylegs heard this he did not stop to tarry or to think;

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Cousin Greylegs and the Great Red Fox go together to the fair.

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down he jumped from the loft, and away he scampered as fast as he could lay foot
to the ground; but with him went the cowhide which the Great Red Fox had sewed
fast to his jacket.

“Hi!” bawled the landlord, “there is the thief who stole our supper, and he
is taking my cowhide into the bargain.”

Off they all scampered after Cousin Greylegs and the cowhide. The corn-factor
first of all.

As for Cousin Greylegs, why, he laid down to the running as though he had
never been born for anything else. But it is hard work running with a cowhide
flapping about one’s legs, so they caught him just over the hill, and then,
dear, dear, what a drubbing they gave him.

But as soon as everybody was safe away after Cousin Greylegs and the cowhide,
the Great Red Fox came down from the loft, and marched off with the
corn-factor’s money without anybody being about to say “No” to him.

Off he went as happy as a cricket, until he came to the cross-roads over the
hill and back of the woods, and who should he see sitting there but Cousin

Greylegs rubbing the places that smarted the most.

“Hi!” says the Great Red Fox, “and is that you, Cousin Greylegs? Why, I have
been looking up and down, over hill and over hollow for you. Here is a whole bag
of money that I found at the inn over yonder, and if it wasn’t for the trick
that I played you, there was never a penny of it that would have come into our
pockets.”

“So!” says Cousin Greylegs. “Well, that was a different matter;” and he
swallowed the drubbing he had had, for it was to be share and share alike with
the money, and that was a salve for sore bones. So off they went together arm in
arm.

By and by they came to another inn. “We’ll stop here,” says Cousin Greylegs,

“and have another bite to eat before we go any farther.” And that suited the

Great Red Fox well enough, so in they went, and gave the bag of money into the
landlord’s keeping, and Cousin Greylegs ordered a supper fit for a lord.

But the Great Red Fox had his wits about him all this time, for he was not
one to be caught napping when the sun was up. “Yes, yes,” says he to himself,

“Cousin Greylegs is up to some of his tricks, sure enough; we’ll put a stopper
in the bottle before the luck has dribbled out.” So while Cousin Greylegs was
pottering about in the kitchen down-stairs, seeing that the cooking was done to
his mind, the Great Red Fox took a bag like the

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Cousin Greylegs steals away from the inn, carrying off a bag full of this and
that with him.

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one they brought with them, and filled it full of old rusty nails and bits of
iron. Off he marched with it to the landlord. “See,” says he, “Cousin Greylegs
will come asking for a bag by and by; here it is, give it to him and he will be
satisfied.”

Sure enough, when the supper was over and the Great Red Fox was snoring in
front of the fire, for all the world as though he were sound asleep, off packed

Cousin Greylegs to the landlord. “Look,” says he, “that bag that the Great Red

Fox left here, just hand it over to me, will you? for I must be jogging. As for
the Great Red Fox, you may let him have his sleep out.”

Yes, that was all right, and the landlord knew nothing about the tricks of
the two rogues, so he handed over the bag of rusty nails and bits of iron. And

Cousin Greylegs never once thought of looking to see, for the bits of iron
jingled, and the sound was enough for him, for that is the way with folks out in
the world.

As for the Great Red Fox, he waited until Cousin Greylegs was well away on
his own business, then off he stepped along the road that led the other way, and
it was the bag of gold and silver money he carried with him.

But that is not all of the story; for listen: There was a poor old blind mole
who lived in the ground because he had nowhere else to go, and that was his
home. But the Great Red Fox thought nothing of him. On he came — tramp! tramp!

tramp! — and would have trodden right on the roof of the mole’s house. “Brother

Fox,” cried Grandfather Mole, “look where you are treading, or you will have the
roof down about my ears.”

“Pooh!” says the Great Red Fox, “when one has been sharp enough to trick such
a keen blade as Cousin Greylegs, one is not going to step out of one’s way for a
little gray mole as blind as charity:” and so he was for going straight ahead.

But up jumped Grandfather Mole and caught hold of him, and then he felt the
bag of gold and silver money the Great Red Fox carried. “Hi!” says he, “and here
is a new card in the game.” So he held on to the Great Red Fox and began to bawl
with all his might and main, “Help, good folks! help! here is the Great Red Fox
stealing my bag of gold and silver money!”

“Hush! hush!” said the Great Red Fox, for he was for having as little

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The Great Red Fox meets the old, blind Mole.

said about the bag of money as need be, “let me go and I will promise to tread
on nobody’s house.” But no, it was easier to get into that hole than it was to
get out again, for Grandfather Mole held on and bawled for help louder than
ever. “Help! help! here is one robbing a poor blind mole of all he has in the
world!” That was the way he kept up the song, and he made such a hubbub that the
folks came running and hauled them both up before the Master Judge to see what
he had to say about the business.

“The bag of money is mine,” said the Great Red Fox.

“Yes, good! but where did you get it?” says the judge, and that was a
question easier asked than answered.

“See now,” says Grandfather Mole, “it is easy enough to talk, for breath is
cheap in this town, but the thing is to put it to trial and find

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out who is telling the truth. We’ll build a fire and try who can stand it the
longest, and that will show the right in this matter as clear as a morning in
hay-season.”

Well, that suited the fox well enough, “for,” says he to himself, “it is a
pretty business if I can’t stand a scorching as long as an old blind mole;” and
so that business was settled.

Out they all went, and it was Grandfather Mole who was to try the burning
first of all. So they fetched sticks and twigs and covered him all over with
them, and then set fire to them.

Dear, dear, but it was a fine blaze that went up, but the mole had his wits
about him; for as soon as he felt the heat of the fire he began digging down
into the ground with all his might and main, so that not a spark touched him.

“Do you burn, Grandfather Mole?” says the Great Red Fox.

“No!” bawled Grandfather Mole. So they just threw on another armful of twigs.

By and by the Great Red Fox says again: “Do you burn, Grandfather Mole?” for
he thought by this time that the mole must be as scorched as an old shoe under
the stove.

But Grandfather Mole was ready for him. “No!!” he bawled, louder than ever.

Dear, dear, but here was a strange happening; all the same, the Great Red Fox
threw on wood and threw on wood, until the blaze went up like a chimney afire.

“And now do you burn, Grandfather Mole?” says he.

“NO!!!” bawled Grandfather Mole until you might have thought his throat would
have split with the noise he made.

So they let the fire go out, and up came Grandfather Mole out of the ground
looking as fresh and as sharp as a green gooseberry.

And now it was the Great Red Fox’s turn; and they heaped the sticks and twigs
over him as they had done over Grandfather Mole, and then set fire to them.

“Do you burn?” says Grandfather Mole after a bit.

“NO!!!” bawled the Great Red Fox, as though his throat was made of leather.

So they threw on more sticks and twigs, but the Great Red Fox just shut his
teeth and grinned, for he was bound that he would stand as much of a burning as
an old blind mole.

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The Great Red Fox beareth all that he can.

“Do you burn now?” says Grandfather Mole.

“No,” says the Great Red Fox, but his voice was as small as peas in March. So
they threw on another armful of wood, and the fire grew hotter and hotter.

“And do you burn now?” says Grandfather Mole.

“Thunder and lightning, yes!” bawled the Great Red Fox, and out he jumped and
away he scampered, smoking like a charcoal kiln.

So all he gained by his roguery was a burnt skin and nothing to show for it;
and that has happened more than once to rogues whose wits are so sharp that they
cut their own fingers with them.

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Now in our town we do not make puddings without plums, or tell a story
without rhyme or reason, but if you wish to find any meaning in these words, you
must put on your spectacles and look for it for yourself, even though the tale
stands all legs and no head, as the man-in-the-moon said about his grandmother’s
tongs.

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Chapter 8

VIII

Eight O’clock.

Eight O’clock.

The Sun in the Sky

Is not yet high,

And the Grasses are wet by the Pool.

With hop and jump,

By Hedge and Stump,

The Children are going to School.

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One Good Turn Deserves Another.

VIII.

ONCE upon a time there was a lad who was a fisherman, and every morning he
shouldered his net, and went down to the river to catch fish to sell in the
town.

One morning as he walked beside the edge of the water, he came upon a great
tall stork caught in a trap that had been set for the water-rats.

It was a tender heart that the young fisherman had under his jacket, so when
he saw Father Longlegs in such a pickle he waded out into the water, among the
reeds and arrowheads to where the other was, and loosened the noose from about
his leg.

The storks bring good-luck to folks some people say, and that was what
happened to the young fisherman.

“One good turn deserves another,” says Father Longlegs; “cross your heart
three times, cast your net into the water yonder, and see what you catch.” So
the lad did as he was told, and when he drew his net to the shore, there was
just one fish in it.

Yes; just one fish, but that was worth the catching, I can tell you, for the
scales were all of pure silver and gold, so that it glistened like the moon on
smooth ice, and it was most wonderful to see.

“There,” says the stork: “and now if you have your wits about you, it is your
fortune that you have caught out of the water. Take the fish up to the king’s
castle and show it to nobody but the king. When he sees it

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he will want to have it for his own and will be for buying it, but there is only
one price you must ask for it, and that is to have the princess for your wife.”

That was what the stork said, and then he spread his wings and flew away over
the house-tops.

So the lad wrapped the fish up in a clean white napkin and laid it in a
wicker basket, and then off he marched to the king’s castle to try his luck
there, as the stork had said.

Rap! tap! tap! he knocked at the door.

Well, and what did he want?

Oh, he had brought a fish that he had caught over at the river yonder, but he
would show it to nobody but the king himself.

No, it did no good for them to ask and to question and to talk; what he had
said he had said. So at last they had to take him up-stairs, and there was the
king sitting upon a golden throne with a golden crown upon his head and a golden
sceptre in his hand.

“Well, and why do you wish to see me?” That was what the king said.

It was no word that the lad spoke with his tongue, but he just unfolded the
napkin, and showed the king what he had brought in the wicker basket.

When the king saw the gold-and-silver fish, he thought he had never seen
anything so wonderful in all of his life before. Then it was just as the stork
had said. He must and would have the fish, no matter what it cost; and what
would the lad take for it?

Why, the body over at the river yonder, who had put the lad up to catching
the fish, had told him that there was only one price to be asked for it. Now, if
the king would let him have the princess for his wife, he might have the fish
and welcome; for that was the price, and the long and the short of it.

Well, the king hemmed and hawed, but he did not speak the little word “no;”

and after a while he said he would send for the princess, and see what she had
to say about it. So the princess came, and she was a beauty I can tell you, for
the very sight of her was enough to make one’s heart melt inside of one, like a
lump of butter in the oven. And as for the wits of her, why, she was just as
smart as she was pretty (which is saying much and a little over), and that is
why the king had sent for her, for he wanted to get the gold-and-silver fish
without paying the price for it.

“Yes,” says the princess when the king had told her all. “I am ready enough
to marry the lad, only he must promise to do one thing first.”

Dear, dear, how the lad’s heart jumped inside of him at that. He was

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Father Longlegs, the Stork, puts the Fisher Lad in the way of catching a strange
fish in his nets.

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willing enough to promise whatever was asked, for he would do anything to marry
the princess, now that he had seen how pretty she was.

“Very well, then,” said the princess, “just bring me the key of wish-house
and I will marry you.”

“There,” said the king, “that is a bargain; go and bring the key of
wish-house and you shall marry the princess; and you may just leave the fish
here until you come back again. And don’t show your face about here without the
key, if you wish to keep your head upon your shoulders.”

So off went the lad from the king’s castle, with nothing at all in his pocket
and ill-luck astride of his back. Down he went to the river as straight as he
could walk, and there stood Father Stork gazing down into the water and looking
as wise as our minister on Sunday. See now, thus and so and thus and so had
happened, and the stork had gotten him into a pretty scrape over at the castle
by putting him up to asking such a price for his herring; that was what the lad
said.

“Prut!” says the stork, “break no bones over that furrow; ill luck always
comes before good-luck, and rain before the little flowers, what is worth having
is worth working for. Just get upon my back and I will carry you to where the
queen of the birds lives; if anybody can put you in the way of finding the key
of wish-house she will be the one.” So the stork bent his red legs and up the
lad got upon his back. Then Father Longlegs spread his wings and away he flew,
and on and on, over field and fallow, over valley and mountain, over forest and
over stream.

After they had gone so far that the lad thought the end of the world could
not be a great way off, they came to a grand house, all built of red brick, that
stood on a high hill, and that was where the queen of the birds lived. The stork
flew straight to the house, and there was the queen of the birds walking in the
garden.

The stork told everything from first to last, and that now what they wanted
to know was, whether the queen of the birds could tell them where the key of
wish-house was to be found.

No, the queen did not know that herself, but she would call all of the birds
of the heavens and of the earth, and perhaps there would be some one among them
that could tell.

A little silver whistle hung about her neck; she put it to her lips and blew
upon it so shrilly that it made a body’s ear ring to listen to it, and the birds
of the heavens and of the earth came flying from far and near until the air was
as full of them as a sunbeam is full of motes on sweeping-day.

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The queen of the birds asked them one and all, from tom-tit to the wild swan,
if they could tell where the key of wish-house was to be found; but not a single
one of them knew.

After all the rest had spoken there came flying an old eagle, so old that he
was as grey as the ashes upon the hearth, and he was six times as big as any of
the rest. He had come from the other end of nowhere, and that is a long way off,
as even simple Jack can tell you; that was what had kept him such a time in the
coming.

And was it the key of wish-house that they were talking about? Oh, yes; the
old eagle knew where the key of wish-house was as well as he knew his
bread-and-butter, for the old Grey Master that lives on the iron mountain had it
hanging back of the kitchen door, and the eagle had seen it there more than
once.

“Very well,” says the queen of the birds; “then here is a lad who has come
out into the world hunting for that key, a good-hearted fellow who helped Father

Stork out of a tight place over at the river yonder, where he had been caught in
a trap set for the water-rats. Now can you not help him to find what he wants?”

Well, the old eagle did not say no, for one good turn deserves another; so he
took the lad on his back at the root of his wings and away he flew.

One would have thought that the red-legged stork had flown far, but it was
nothing at all to the journey that the eagle took. On and on he flew for such a
long way that I, for one, could never find words to tell you how far away it
was.

All the same, every journey must have an ending. And at last they came to a
great iron mountain the sides of which were as smooth as the face of a looking
glass; so it was a good thing for the lad that he had a great grey eagle to
carry him up to the top, and that is the truth.

There on the top of the mountain lay a green meadow, so wide that the eye
could not see to the other end of it. And in the middle of the meadow stood a
tall castle; that was where the Grey Master lived who kept the key of wish-house
back of the kitchen door.

“This is all the farther I can carry you just now,” says the eagle; “but here
is a feather, when you are ready to come away just throw it up into the air, and

I will not be long in coming.”

The lad thanked the eagle for the help he had had, and then he put the
feather in the lining of his hat.

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After that the eagle went one way and the lad went the other, and that was
towards the castle where the Grey Master lived.

Off he stepped right foot foremost, and by and by he came to a little stream
of water that ran along through the meadow. But just in the middle of the brook
lay a great stone, that choked the stream so that it could hardly crawl around
it.

“Here is a body in trouble as well as myself,” said the lad, and he stooped
and rolled away the great round stone so that the brook might flow smoothly and
freely.

“One good turn deserves another,” said the brook. “Look in the place where
the great round stone lay and you will find a little red pebble; so long as you
keep that pebble in your mouth you will be as strong as ten common men.”

Well, the lad hunted until he found the pebble, and then he thanked the brook
and jogged along the way he was going.

By and by he came to an apple-tree, and it was so loaded down with apples
that the branches were bent to the very ground.

“Here is another body weighed down by the cares of the world,” said the lad.

So he shook some of the apples off and cut props to put under the branches, that
they might not be broken by the load.

“One good turn deserves another,” said the apple-tree. “Look under my roots
and you will find a golden apple; while you keep that in your bosom neither fire
nor water can harm you, for it is an apple from the tree of life.”

Well, the lad found the apple under the roots of the tree, and then he said

“thank you,” and went on his way.

By and by he came to a place where he heard a great hubbub over the hedge; he
looked and there he saw that it was a black cock and a red cock fighting for
dear life, and the red cock was having the worst of it, for it was nearly dead
already.

“Here is another who is having the worst of the fight,” said the lad, and he
jumped over the hedge, and drove away the black cock with the staff he held in
his hand.

“One good turn deserves another,” said the red cock. “I know what you have
come hither to find, and I will give you a bit of advice that will be worth the
having. When the Grey Master asks you what you want, tell him it is to watch his
black cattle for one night. If you do that he must give you whatsoever you ask
for. And listen; this is what

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The Fisher Lad cometh to the Grey Master’s house.

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you must do to watch the cattle. When you open the stable door there will come
out three-and-twenty black cows, and after them a black bull breathing fire and
smoke. Him you must catch by the horns and must hold him fast until the cock
crows in the morning. But you must have the strength of ten men to do that.”

Well, the lad thanked the cock for the advice he had given, and then he went
on his way and up to the castle where the Grey Master lived.

He knocked at the door, and it was the Grey Master himself who came and
opened it. He was a head and shoulders taller than other men, was the Grey

Master, and he had but one eye, which gleamed and glistened like the dog-star in

January. Beside him flew two black ravens with eyes as red as coals of fire.

“And what is it that you want?” said the Grey Master.

“Oh!” said the lad, “I have come from over in the brown world yonder, and I
want to watch your black cattle for one night, that is all I am after.”

When the Grey Master heard what the lad said, he frowned until his one eye
shone like lightning. “Very well,” said he, “you shall have a chance and a try
at what you want, but if you fail your head shall be cut off and hung up over
the gate yonder.”

“That is not so pleasant to think of,” said the lad; “all the same, I will
have a try and see what I can do.” So in he came, and he and the Grey Master sat
down to supper together.

By and by, when the lad had eaten all that he wanted the Grey Master told him
it was time to go about the business he had come for. So off went the lad to the
stable where the four-and-twenty black cattle stood all in a row. He opened the
door, and out they ran helter-skelter and as fast as they could push, and —
whisk! pop! — soon as they came out of the door each cow changed into a black
crow and flew around and around the lad’s head as though it would beat his eyes
out. Last of all came the black bull, and the lad was ready and waiting for him.

He clapped the red pebble into his mouth, and then he was as strong as ten
common men. He caught the bull by the horns, and it might puff out fire and
smoke, as it chose, for it could do him no harm because of the apple of life
which he carried in his bosom.

How the bull did pitch and toss, and bellow and roar, to be sure, but it was
all for no use, the lad held on like hunger, until by and by the bull stopped
struggling and stood as quiet as a lamb. But the lad held fast to

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the bull’s horns, and all the time the black crows flew about his head, but
never once so much as touched him.

At last a cock crew, and then they all changed again into cows, and the lad
drove them back into the stable once more, and there they were.

By and by came the Grey Master. “Well,” said he, “and did you watch the black
cattle?’

Oh, yes, the lad had watched them, and it was no such hard task to do: there
they were in the stable yonder, safe and sound.

Then you should have seen what a sour face the Master pulled over the
business! All the same, he had to pay the lad; so what did he want for his
wages?

“Oh!” said the lad, “it is little that I want. If you will let me have the
key that hangs back of the kitchen door I will be satisfied.” So the Grey Master
had to go and get it for him, though he would rather have given him one of his
eye-teeth.

Off marched the lad with what he had come for, and that is more than most of
us get. But the Grey Master was not for letting him off so easy as all that, I
can tell you, for the more he thought over the business the less he liked to
give up the key of wish-house.

So after a while he took down the Sword of Sharpness which hung against the
wall, slipped his feet into the Shoes of Speed that stood in the corner, took a
peep into the Book of Knowledge which lay upon the shelf, to see which way the
lad had gone, and then set off after him hot-foot, to get back what he had given
away.

Just as the lad got to where the apple-tree stood he looked over his
shoulder, and there he saw the Grey Master coming over the hills.

“And where shall I go now,” says he.

“One good turn deserves another,” said the apple-tree; “just come under my
branches.”

The lad did as he was told, and the apple-tree drooped its branches about
him, until one could see neither hide nor hair of him.

By and by up came the Grey Master puffing and blowing. “Apple-tree,” says he,

“did you see the fisher-lad come by this way?”

No, the apple-tree had seen nobody go past that place. So back went the

Master home again to have another look into his Book of Knowledge. There he saw
as clear as day what sort of trick had been played upon him. Off he started
again after the lad at such a rate that the ground smoked under his feet.

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But the lad had lost no time either, so that when he looked over his shoulder
and saw the Grey Master coming across the hills behind him, he had gone as far
as the brook.

“One good turn deserves another,” said the brook, and it made itself small
and smaller, so that the lad stepped over without wetting so much as the sole of
his foot. Then it spread itself out again three times as broad as before.

Presently up came the Master, fuming like a pot on the fire.

“Brook,” says he, “did you see the fisher lad go by this way?”

“Yes,” said the brook; “there he is just on the other side.” And there he was
sure enough.

The Grey Master never stopped to take off his shoes and stockings, but into
the water he splashed as fast as he could go. Just as he reached the middle of
the stream the brook began to swell, and grew large and larger until it carried
away the Grey Master like a cork in the gutter, and there was an end of him.

After that the lad went on without hurrying any more than he chose, until he
came to the side of the mountain. He took the eagle’s feather from out his cap
and threw it up in the air, and there was the eagle before he had time to grow
tired of waiting.

He sat him upon the eagle’s back, and away they flew, and on and on without
stopping until they came to the house where the queen of the birds lived. There
was Father Longlegs (the stork) waiting for them. He took his turn of carrying
the lad, and when they stopped it was just over beyond the king’s castle.

But the lad had been out into the world, and had learned a thing or two.

“See now.” says he, “it was hasty cooking that burned the broth;” and so he
would not go up to the castle with his key of wish-house without first trying
what door he could unlock with it himself. He took it out of his pocket and
struck it a rap or two upon the ground.

“I should like,” says he, “to have golden clothes upon my back, and to have a
golden horse and a golden greyhound that shall chase a golden hare.” That was
what he said, and he did not have to say it twice; for before he could wink
there they were standing beside him just as he wanted. He leaped upon his horse
and away he rode after the greyhound and the golden hare.

How the people in the castle did stare when they saw him riding past! The
princess herself ran to the window to see the fine sight, and as for the

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The Grey Master is caught in the stream and is swept away, but the Fisher Lad
crosses it dry-shod.

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king, he sent six of his knights posting after the fisher-lad, for he thought
that it was some great lord who had come into those parts.

By and by the lad came to a thicket, and there he jumped off of his horse and
rapped upon the ground with his key.

“I wish to be as I was before,” says he, and then he was the poor fisher-lad
and nothing else. As for the golden clothes, the golden horse, the golden
greyhound, and the golden hare, they went back to Nomansland whither they had
come; and when the king’s people came riding up there was nobody but a lad in
rags and tatters whistling into a key.

They hunted up and they hunted down, but they could find neither sign nor
trace of the golden rider and the golden horse. So after a while they had to
ride back to the castle without them.

“You should have brought the lad who blew upon the key,” said the princess.

The next day the lad rapped upon the ground with his key again.

“I should like to have,” says he, “a golden coach drawn by six milk-white
horses, with coachman and footman and out-riders dressed in clothes of gold and
silver.”

That was what he said; and there they were just as he wanted. Into the coach
he got, and off he rode down by the king’s castle.

Dear, dear, how the folks did stare, to be sure! This time the king sent
twelve knights after the golden coach, for he thought it must be a king or a
prince for certain who rode by in such style.

Pretty soon the lad came to a woods, and there he jumped out of the coach and
rapped upon the ground with his key.

“I want to be just as I was before,” says he; and, sure enough, he was.

Up clattered the twelve knights on their horses, and there sat the lad in
rags and tatters whistling upon his key.

The twelve knights hunted high and hunted low, and not another soul could
they find, and so they had to ride back to the castle again.

“See now,” said the princess, “did I not say that you should have brought the
lad who blew upon the key?”

The next day the lad went out and rapped upon the ground for the third time.

“I should like,” said he, “to have a splendid castle all built of silver and
gold, such as nobody ever saw before.”

That was what he said, and before the words had left his tongue just such a
great castle grew up out of nothing like a soap-bubble.

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The Princess finds the Fisher Lad with the key of Luck’s house.

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The king chanced to look out of the window just then, and there was the great
splendid gold-and-silver castle. He took off his spectacles and rubbed them and
rubbed them, but there was the castle just the same as ever.

He bade them saddle the horses, and he and the princess, and all of the court
besides, rode away to find out who it was that had built such a fine castle all
in one night.

But the lad saw them coming, and rapped upon the ground with his key. “I
should like,” said he, “for things to be just as they were before;” and puff!

away went the castle like the light of a candle when one blows it out.

Up came the king and the princess and all the court, and not a speck of the
grand castle could they find, but only a lad in rags and tatters who sat upon a
great round stone and whistled upon a key.

But the princess was a lass who could see through a millstone with a hole in
it. So soon as she set eyes upon him she knew the whole business from beginning
to end. Up she marched to him, before them all, and took him by the hand. “Now I
will marry you,” said she, “for I see that you have brought the key of
wish-house with you;” and there she was as wise as ever. For there be many kings
and princes in the world, but I have never yet heard of any one except the
fisher-lad who had the key of wish-house. Have you?

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Chapter 9

IX

Nine O’clock.

Nine O’clock.

The School-bell rings;

The Children all

Must answer to

The Master’s call.

The Master has

A crooked Nose;

He whips the Boys,

And puffs, and blows;

He makes them stand

And walk by Rule,

And bow before

They leave the School.

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The White Bird.

IX.

ONCE there was a king, who, as time went on, found himself waxing old in
years and feeble in body, so he began to think of giving up the cares of
government and of taking his ease for as much of life as was left him. But here
was the trouble: there were three princes, and each one of them was just as
clever as the other two, so that the old king could not tell which to choose as
the right one to sit in his place. He thought and thought and thought, until at
last he plucked an apple off of his thinking-tree, as folks say. All three of
the princes should go out into the world, and whichever of them should fetch
back an apple from the Tree of Happiness should rule over all of the kingdom.

And I speak the truth when I say that the apple was cheap enough even at that
price.

So off went the three to seek for what they wanted. They travelled along
without let or stay until towards evening they came to a place where two houses
stood, the one on the one side of the road and the other on the other.

One of them was as fine a house as a body ever saw. Every window was lit up
by the warm fires and the bright lights within, and even out on the high-road
one could hear the merry times the folks were having; laughing and singing and
clinking their glasses together. As for the good things cooking in the kitchen,
why it was enough to make one hungry just to

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smell the steam of them. Over the door was a sign, and on the sign was written,

“WHO ENTERS HERE SHALL HAVE WHAT

HE LIKES AND PAY NOTHING FOR IT.

The other house was a poor, mean, little, tumbledown hut, as silent as
death, and with never a spark of light or fire shining at the windows. There was
also a sign over the door, and on the sign was written,

“WHO ENTERS HERE SHALL HAVE WHAT HE

NEEDS AND PAY WHAT HE CAN.”

“Yonder is the place for us,” said the older brothers, and they pointed with
their thumbs to the grand house, where there was good company with plenty to eat
and drink and nothing to pay.

“Yes,” says the youngest of the three, “that is all very well, but I would
rather pay for what I need than get what I like for nothing.”

Dear, dear, how the two did laugh at the one to be sure! but all the same,
the one held to what he had said, and so at last the two flew into a huff. “Go
your way,” said they, “and we will go ours.” And into the grand house they went.

There they gave themselves up to ease and comfort, and it was a merry time they
had of it, I can tell you.

But the youngest brother went over to the little dark house and knocked upon
the door, and it was opened by a poor old man whose head and beard were as white
as the snow, and whose clothes hung about him all in tags and tatters.

“Come in and welcome,” said he, “for you are the first who has been here for
twenty-seven ages;” and that is a long time, as anybody knows without the
telling.

But in the little house there was no wood to make a fire, and there was no
water to boil in the pot. So the prince took the axe and went out and chopped an
armful of wood, and then he took the pot and filled it at the well.

Out in the stable stood a white cow with silver horns; but there was never a
straw for it to lie upon, and never a bit of hay for it to eat. So the prince
shook down a bed for it, and then he filled the rack with hay and left it
munching away for dear life.

Out in the yard was a red cock and a white hen, but though they scratched and
scratched it was never a grain that they found. So the prince threw them a
handful of barley and left them pecking away at it, as though they had not seen
the like for a week of Sundays.

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The Prince knocks at the door of the poor, mean, little house and not the great,
rich one.

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After he had done all these things, he and the old man sat down to supper
together, and, if it was not of the finest, why the prince had a good appetite,
and one can have no better sauce to a crust than that.

The prince stayed all night, and the next morning he was for jogging on his
way. But before he went he offered the old man what money he had, because
anybody could read the sign over the door.

But the old man shook his head. “No, no,” said he, “you have paid your score.

You have given what you can, and you shall have what you need. Here is a little
book, and in it you may read whatever you wish to know. Go out into the stable
and you will find a barley straw back of the white cow’s ear. Take that with
you, for you will need it. Look in the manger and you will find an egg that the
white hen has laid; take it with you also, for it is worth the having.”

Then he said good-bye and shut the door, and that was the last the prince saw
of him.

The prince went to the stable, and there he found the barley straw and the
egg, just as the old man had said, and off he marched with them.

He went to the grand house over the way and called his brothers, but they
only came to the windows and laughed and jeered at him. “No, no,” said they, “we
are going no farther along the road, for we know very well when the world is
smooth with us. The Fruit of Happiness can bring us nothing better than what we
have at hand.”

And so the young prince had to trudge away by himself. But what to do with
the straw and the egg he knew no more than my grandmother’s cat. So he opened
his little book, and this was what it said between the leaves:

“Mount the straw and ride it whither it takes you.”

“So,” said the prince; “that would be a strange thing to do for sure and
certain. All the same, an easy task is worth the trying;” so he just flung his
leg over the straw and — whisk! pop! — there he was, astride of a great
splendid horse with smooth hair as yellow as gold.

That straw was a straw worth having!

And the best part of the matter was that the prince had no need to draw the
bridle-rein either to the right or to the left; for the yellow horse took the
bit in his teeth and away he pounded so that the ground smoked under his hoofs,
and the wind whistled back of the prince’s ears. By and by they came to a great
sandy desert-place where not a twig or a leaf was to be seen, but only white
bones scattered here and there. for the prince was

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The Prince finds the three giants sleeping under the tree of life and snoring
away like everything.

-112-

not the first by many who had tried to cross that desert to the Tree of

Happiness.

But he had better luck than the others, for the yellow horse carried him
along like the wind, and on and on until at last he came within sight of the

Tree of Happiness. There sat three terrible giants, an old giant and his two
sons, and alongside of each lay a great iron club with sharp spikes in the end
of it. But all three sat with their eyes shut, sleeping away as though they
would never awaken. And that was a good thing for the prince, for he had never
seen such terrible, wicked-looking creatures as the old giant and his two sons.

He leaped from off the back of the yellow horse, and there it was, nothing but a
barley straw. He put it in his pocket and took out his Book of Knowledge and
opened it. This was what it said:

“Fear not the giants, for they will not awake; but touch neither the golden
fruit nor the silver fruit, for they are not for you.”

When the prince read what the Book of Knowledge said, he knew that it was so.

Up he marched to the Tree of Happiness as bold as bold could be, and the giants
snored away so that the leaves shook.

There hung three apples; the first was of gleaming gold, the second was of
shining silver, and the third was just a poor, weazened, shrivelled thing, that
looked as though there were not three drops of juice in it.

“Prut!” says the prince, “it can never be that I have travelled all this way
for nothing in the world but a dead apple. After all, it must be the golden
fruit that I am to take, in spite of what the Book of Knowledge said; for if
happiness is to be found in anything, it is to be found in such as it.”

So he reached up his hand and plucked the golden apple, and then — hi, what
a hubbub, for the Tree of Happiness began to clamor and call as though every
leaf on it had become a tongue to speak with.

“Help! help!” it cried. “Here is one coming to rob us of our golden fruit”’

Up jumped the three giants, and each one snatched up his iron club and came
at the prince as though to put an end to him without any more talk over the
business. But the prince begged and prayed and prayed and begged that they would
spare his life.

“Listen,” said the old giant; “if you will promise to bring us the Sword of

Brightness that shines in the darkness and cuts whatsoever the edge is turned
against, we will not only spare your life, but give you the Fruit of Happiness
into the bargain.” That was what the old giant said, and the

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others agreed to it; for if they could once lay hand upon such a sword as that
they would be masters of all the world.

Well, the prince promised that he would get them the Sword of Brightness, for
one will promise much before one will be knocked on the head with an iron club;
and then the giant let him go, and glad enough he was to get away.

Off he went back of the hill. He drew out his barley straw and threw his leg
over it, and there he sat astride of his yellow horse again.

“I should like,” said he, “to be carried to where I can find the Sword of

Brightness that shines in the darkness and cuts whatever its edge is turned
against.” That was all that he had to say, and away clattered the yellow horse
over stock and stone so that the ground smoked beneath his hoofs. On they went
and on they went for a great long while, until at last they came to a tall
castle as black as your hat, and there was where the Sword of Brightness was to
be found. In front of the castle gate lay two great fiery dragons, with smoke
coming up out of their nostrils instead of the breath of life, and all over
their bodies were brazen scales that shone like gold in the sunlight. But both
dragons were sound asleep.

Inside of the courtyard were many and one fierce soldiers armed in shining
armor and each with a battle-axe or a sword or an iron club lying beside him;
but they too were as sound asleep as the dragon.

Down jumped the prince from the great yellow horse, and there was the barley
straw again. He took out the Book of Knowledge from his pocket, and this was
what it said:

“Fear not the dragons nor the fierce soldiers, for they will not awaken; but
take only the old leathern scabbard with the sword.”

So up walked the prince as bold as brass, and the soldiers and the dragons
said never a word, but just snored away so that the windows rattled. Into the
castle he walked, and nobody said “No” to him. There sat an old man, as wicked
as sin and as grey as the ashes in the hearth. He never moved a hair, only his
little red eyes turned here and there, and were never still for a wink. A great
keen sword lay on the table in front of him, and the light on the blade was like
the bright flash of lightning. The prince took the sword up from the table, and
the little old man looked at him, but said never a word, good or bad.

On the wall hung three scabbards; one was of gold studded all over with
precious stones; another of silver that gleamed like the light of the moon in
frosty weather; and the third was of nothing but old, shabby.

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worm-eaten leather that looked as though they had just fetched it down from the
dusty garret.

“It would be a pity,” said the prince, “to put such a fine sword into such a
poor scabbard. I’ll not choose the gold because of what happened to me over at
the Tree of Happiness yonder, but surely silver is none too good for the Sword
of Brightness.”

So he took down the silver scabbard and thrust the sword into it, and
therewith dipped his spoon into the wrong pot again; for, no sooner had he
sheathed the sword in the silver scabbard than the old gray man began to thump
on the table in front of him and to bawl at the top of his voice, “Help! help!

here is one come to steal our Sword of Brightness.”

At this the soldiers outside woke up and began to clash and rattle with their
battle-axes and swords and iron clubs, and the dragons began to roar and send up
clouds of smoke like a chimney afire.

In ran the soldiers, and were for putting an end to the prince without
another word being said, but he begged and prayed and prayed and begged that his
life might be spared, just as he had done with the giants over yonder at the

Tree of Happiness.

“Listen,” says the old grey man at last; “if you will promise to bring me the

White Bird from the black mountain, I will not only spare your life, but will
give you the Sword of Brightness into the bargain.”

Yes, the prince would get the White Bird if anybody in the world could get
it. And thereupon they let him go, and glad enough he was to get away.

Back of the hedge he threw his leg over the barley straw.

“I would like,” said he, “to be taken to where I can find the White Bird that
lives on the black mountain;” and away thundered the yellow horse, like a storm
in June.

If it was far that they travelled before, it was farther that they travelled
this time. But at last they came to the black mountain, and the prince jumped
off the nag and thrust the straw into his pocket.

There was not a blade of grass nor a bit of green to be seen on the hill, but
only a great lot of round, black stones scattered from top to bottom. That was
all that was left of the lads who had come that way before to find the White

Bird.

On the top of the mountain sat an old witch with golden hair, and in her hand
was the White Bird. The prince opened his Book of Knowledge, and there he read
that if one would gain the White Bird one would have

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The Prince finds the sword of brightness where sits an old man.

-116-

to catch the witch by her golden hair, for then she would be compelled to grant
whatever was asked of her; only he would have to be very careful in his doings,
for if the witch caught sight of him upon the black hill she would change him
into a stone just as she had all the rest who had come that way.

But how was he to climb the hill without the witch seeing him? That was what
the prince would like to know. So he turned over another leaf of the Book of

Knowledge, and there it was all in plain black and white. This was what it said:

“Crack the egg of the white hen and put on the cap.”

The prince cracked the egg, and, sure enough, inside of it was a little cap
of feathers. He put on the feather cap and — whisk! — as quick as a wink he
was changed into a titmouse, which is the least of all the birds in that land.

He spread his wings and flew and flew and flew, until he was close behind the
witch where she sat on the black mountain. He took off his cap and there he was
in his own shape again. He caught the old witch by her golden hair and held her
fast. And you should have heard how she screamed and scolded, and you should
have seen how she twisted and turned!

But the prince just held fast, and she could make nothing of it for all her
trying.

“And what do you want, that you come here to torment me?” said she at last.

“I want the White Bird,” said the prince; “and I will be satisfied with
nothing else.” It was all to no purpose that the old witch stormed and scolded,
for what he had said he had said, and he would be satisfied with nothing else.

So at last, willy-nilly, she had to give him what he asked for.

The prince took it in his hands, and it was a white bird no longer, but the
prettiest lass that ever a body’s eyes looked upon, with cheeks as red as roses
and a skin as white as snow.

But still the prince held tight to the old witch’s hair, and now what else
was it he was wanting.

Why, before he would let her go, she must change all the round stones back
again into the lads of flesh and blood they had been before.

So the old witch had to do that also, and there stood so many good stout lads
in the place of the hard, round stones.

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But still the prince held fast to her golden hair. And what else was it he
was wanting?

Why, this! The old witch must promise to do no harm to him or to anybody else
who should come that way. The old witch had to promise. And then he let go of
her hair, and you can guess what a rage she was in.

But the prince cared nothing for that, for he had found what he came for.

He took the barley straw out of his pocket and threw his leg over it. Then he
took the princess up behind him on the great yellow horse, and away he
clattered, leaving the witch scolding behind him.

After a while he came to the black castle; there he took out his Book of

Knowledge, for now that he had the White Bird he could not bear to think of
giving her up; and this was what the book said:

“Take the White Bird to the old grey man and he will give you the Sword of

Brightness, turn the edge against him and against the fierce soldiers and
against the two dragons, and then ride away with your White Bird.”

So up he rode to the black castle, and the fiery dragons let him pass when
they saw that the White Bird rode behind him. The old grey man gave the lad the

Sword of Brightness quickly enough, for the White Bird was worth that and a
great deal more, I can tell you.

As soon as the prince had hold of the Sword of Brightness, he turned the keen
edge of the blade against the wicked old man and the soldiers and the dragons;
off flew their heads, and there they lay as dead as red herrings in a box.

Then he thrust the Sword of Brightness into the leathern scabbard, for he had
learned a grain or two of wisdom by this time, and away he rode with the White

Bird sitting behind him.

On they rode and on they rode until they came to the desert place and the

Tree of Happiness. And then the prince took out his Book of Wisdom and turned
over the leaves, for he was of no mind to give up the Sword of Brightness if he
could help doing so.

“Turn the edge of the blade against the three giants.”

Thus said the book, and the lad did so, and there they lay all three of them
as dead as stocks.

I know that this is true which I tell, because since then there have been no
cruel giants to keep a body from getting a taste of the Fruit of Happiness now
and then, if a body chooses to travel that far to find it. But that is neither
here nor there, and what I have to tell is this:

The young prince rode away towards home with the White Bird sitting

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behind him, the Sword of Brightness hanging by his side, and the Fruit of

Happiness in his pocket.

By and by he came to the place where the two houses stood, the one on the one
side of the road, and the one on the other, and there he took out his Book of

Knowledge to have a peep at it, and this was what it said:

“Buy no black sheep.”

“Prut!” says the prince, “what should I want with black sheep I should like
to know?”

By and by he met a great crowd, and in the midst of all the rest were his two
brothers with their hands tied behind them with stout ropes.

And what were they going to do with the two? That was what the prince would
like to know.

“Why,” said those who held them, “they have spent all their money at the
great house over yonder, and have run up a score for good things besides, and
now they are packing off to prison because they cannot pay what they owe.”

“Come, come,” says the prince, “let them go and I will pay their reckoning;”

and so he did, and that was what the Book of Wisdom meant by buying black sheep.

After that they all stepped away homeward, right foot foremost; for since the
young prince had brought the Fruit of Happiness along with him, there was no
need of the other brothers going to look for it.

By and by they felt weary and sat down by the roadside to rest, and as they
sat there the youngest prince fell asleep. While he slept the elder brothers
stole away the Sword of Brightness and the Fruit of Happiness. Then they wakened
him and made him strip off his fine clothes, and gave him a parcel of rags and
tatters fit for no one but a beggar, and he had to put them on or go without.

As for the White Bird, they made her vow and swear that she would say nothing
of all this. Then off they marched with her and with the Sword of Brightness,
and left the prince with never a stitch or a thread that was worth the having.

“See,” said they, as soon as they came home, “not only have we brought the

Fruit of Happiness, but the Sword of Brightness and the White Bird into the
bargain.”

As for the youngest brother, they told the king that he had stopped over at
the tavern yonder, and had spent all his money in eating and drinking, just as
they themselves had really done.

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The Prince sits down beside the garden gate and only one knoweth him.

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But the White Bird did nothing but weep and weep, and neither this brother
nor that could draw the Sword of Brightness from its leathern scabbard. And when
the king came to taste the Fruit of Happiness, it was as bitter as gall. So,
after all, the two gained nothing by what they had done.

But the young prince was not for giving up all that he had lost, without
trying to get what he could back again. Off he marched in his rags and tatters
until he came to the castle where the king, his father, lived. Up he stepped to
the door and knocked, but nobody would let him in because he looked like nothing
but a beggar. So down he sat beside the gate of the castle garden, since he
could not come into the house.

After a while the folks came out, one by one and two by two, to walk in the
garden and take the air, and all the time the prince sat there and nobody knew
him.

Last of all came the old king, and with him walked the White Bird. The king
was for passing the lad by as all the rest had done. But as soon as the White

Bird saw him, she knew who he was and ran to him and threw, her arms around his
neck and kissed him.

“Here is my own sweetheart,” said she, “and he has come back to me again.”

The prince told the king all that had happened from beginning to end, and how
it really was he who had found the White Bird, the Sword of Brightness, and the

Fruit of Happiness.

“Yes, yes,” says the king, “that is all very well, but it is just the tale
that your brothers tell; now can you draw the Sword of Brightness from the
leathern scabbard?”

“Oh, yes,” said the prince, “I can do that easily enough.” So the sword was
brought and — whisk! — he whipped the blade out of the scabbard so that the
light of it dazzled the eyes of everybody that looked upon it.

Then the king saw what had happened as plain as the nose on his face, and was
for punishing the elder brothers as they deserved, but nobody could find them,
for as soon as they heard that the youngest prince had come home again they
packed off without waiting to learn more news.

And why do I call this the story of the White Bird? Listen: any Tom or Jake
or Harry might have found the Sword of Brightness or the Fruit of Happiness; but
you may depend upon it that nobody but a real prince could ever have found the

White Bird.

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Chapter 10

X

Ten O’clock.

Ten O’clock.

The Children drone

In sing-song tone,

The Master’s shoes creak on the Floor.

They’re baking Pies

At Home, and Flies

Buzz in and out the open Door.

The Beds are made;

The Pans are laid

Out in the pleasant Sun to dry.

Good Gretchen takes

Some Dough, and makes,

For litte John, a Saucer Pie.

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How the Good Gifts were used by Two.

X.

THIS is the way that this story begins:

Once upon a time there was a rich brother and a poor brother, and the one
lived across the street from the other.

The rich brother had all of the world’s gear that was good for him and more
besides; as for the poor brother, why, he had hardly enough to keep soul and
body together, yet he was contented with his lot, and contentment did not sit
back of the stove in the rich brother’s house; wherefore in this the rich
brother had less than the poor brother.

Now these things happened in the good old times when the saints used to be
going hither and thither in the world upon this business and upon that. So one
day, who should come travelling to the town where the rich brother and the poor
brother lived, but Saint Nicholas himself.

Just beside the town gate stood the great house of the rich brother; thither
went the saint and knocked at the door, and it was the rich brother himself who
came and opened it to him.

Now, Saint Nicholas had had a long walk of it that day, so that he was

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quite covered with dust, and looked no better than he should. Therefore he
seemed to be only a common beggar; and when the rich brother heard him ask for a
night’s lodging at his fine, great house, he gaped like a toad in a rain-storm.

What! Did the traveller think that he kept a free lodging house for beggars? If
he did he was bringing his grist to the wrong mill; there was no place for the
likes of him in the house, and that was the truth. But yonder was a poor man’s
house across the street, if he went over there perhaps he could get a night’s
lodging and a crust of bread. That was what the rich brother said, and after he
had said it he banged to the door, and left Saint Nicholas standing on the
outside under the blessed sky.

So now there was nothing for good Saint Nicholas to do but to go across the
street to the poor brother’s house, as the other had told him to do. Rap! tap!

tap! he knocked at the door, and it was the poor brother who came and opened it
for him.

“Come in, come in!” says he, “come in and welcome!”

So in came Saint Nicholas, and sat himself down behind the stove where it was
good and warm, while the poor man’s wife spread before him all that they had in
the house — a loaf of brown bread and a crock of cold water from the town
fountain.

“And is that all that you have to eat?” said Saint Nicholas.

Yes; that was all that they had.

“Then, maybe, I can help you to better,” said Saint Nicholas. “So bring me
hither a bowl and a crock.”

You may guess that the poor man’s wife was not long in fetching what he
wanted. When they were brought the saint blessed the one and passed his hand
over the other.

Then he said, “Bowl be filled!” and straightway the bowl began to boil up
with a good rich meat pottage until it was full to the brim. Then the saint
said, “Bowl be stilled!” and it stopped making the broth, and there stood as
good a feast as man could wish for.

Then Saint Nicholas said, “Crock be filled!” and the crock began to bubble up
with the best of beer. Then he said, “Crock be stilled!” and there stood as good
drink as man ever poured down his throat.

Down they all sat, the saint and the poor man and the poor man’s wife, and
ate and drank till they could eat and drink no more, and whenever the bowl and
the crock grew empty, the one and the other became filled at the bidding.

The next morning the saint trudged off the way he was going, but he

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Saint Nicholas knocks at the rich man’s door but finds only a chill welcome and
cold faring.

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left behind him the bowl and the crock, so that there was no danger of hunger
and thirst coming to that house.

Well, the world jogged along for a while, maybe a month or two, and life was
as easy for the poor man and his wife as an old shoe. One day the rich brother
said to his wife. “See now, Luck seems to be stroking our brother over yonder
the right way; I’ll just go and see what it all means.”

So over the street he went, and found the poor man at home. Down he sat back
of the stove and began to chatter and talk and talk and chatter, and the upshot
of the matter was that, bit by bit, he dragged out the whole story from the poor
man. Then nothing would do but he must see the bowl and the crock at work. So
the bowl and the crock were brought and set to work and — Hui! — how the rich
brother opened his eyes when he saw them making good broth and beer of
themselves.

And now he must and would have that bowl and crock. At first the poor brother
said “No,” but the other bargained and bargained until, at last, the poor man
consented to let him have the two for a hundred dollars. So the rich brother
paid down his hundred dollars, and off he marched with what he wanted.

When the next day had come, the rich brother said to his wife, “Never you
mind about the dinner to-day. Go you into the harvest-field, and I will see to
the dinner.” So off went the wife with the harvesters, and the husband stayed at
home and smoked his pipe all the morning, for he knew that dinner would be ready
at the bidding. So when noontide had come he took out the bowl and the crock,
and, placing them on the table, said, “Bowl be filled! crock be filled!” and
straightway they began making broth and beer as fast as they could.

In a little while the bowl and the crock were filled, and then they could
hold no more, so that the broth and beer ran down all over the table and the
floor. Then the rich brother was in a pretty pickle, for he did not know how to
bid the bowl and the crock to stop from making what they were making. Out he ran
and across the street to the poor man’s house, and meanwhile the broth and beer
filled the whole room until it could hold no more, and then ran out into the
gutters so that all the pigs and dogs in the town had a feast that day.

“Oh, dear brother!” cried the rich man to the poor man, “do tell me what to
do or the whole town will soon be smothered in broth and beer.”

But, no; the poor brother was not to be stirred in such haste; they would
have to strike a bit of a bargain first. So the upshot of the matter

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Saint Nicholas blesses the poor man’s crock and bowl with food and drink.

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was that the rich brother had to pay the poor brother another hundred dollars to
take the crock and the bowl back again.

See, now, what comes of being covetous!

As for the poor man, he was well off in the world, for he had all that he
could eat and drink, and a stockingful of money back of the stove besides.

Well, time went along as time does, and now it was Saint Christopher who was
thinking about taking a little journey below. “See, brother,” says Saint

Nicholas to him, “if you chance to be jogging by yonder town, stop at the poor
man’s house, for there you will have a warm welcome and plenty to eat.”

But when Saint Christopher came to the town, the rich man’s house seemed so
much larger and finer than the poor man’s house, that he thought that he would
ask for lodging there.

But it fared the same with him that it had with Saint Nicholas. Prut! Did he
think that the rich man kept free lodgings for beggars? And — bang! — the door
was slammed in his face, and off packed the saint with a flea in his ear.

Over he went to the poor man’s house, and there was a warm welcome for him,
and good broth and beer from the bowl and the crock that Saint Nicholas had
blessed. After he had supped he went to bed, where he slept as snug and warm as
a mouse in the nest.

Then the good wife said to the husband, “See, now, the poor fellow’s shirt is
none too good for him to be wearing. I’ll just make him another while he is
sleeping, so that he’ll have a decent bit of linen to wear in the morning.”

So she brought her best roll of linen out of the closet, and set to work
stitching and sewing, and never stopped till she had made the new shirt to the
last button. The next morning, when the saint awoke, there lay the nice, new,
clean shirt, and he put it on and gave thanks for it.

Before he left the house the poor man took him aside, and emptied the
stockingful of silver money on the table, and bade the saint take what he
wanted, “for,” says he, “a penny or two is never amiss in the great world.”

After that it was time for the traveller to be jogging; but before he went he
said, “See, now, because you have been so kind and so good to a poor wayfarer, I
will give you a blessing; whatever you begin doing this morning, you shall
continue doing till sunset.” So saying, he took up his staff and went his way.

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The Poor man welcomes Saint Christopher to his house.

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After Saint Christopher had gone the poor man and his wife began talking
together as to what would be best for them to be doing all of the day, and one
said one thing and the other said the other, but every plug was too small for
the hole, as we say in our town, for nothing seemed to fit the case.

“Come, come,” said the good woman, “here we are losing time that can never be
handled again. While we are talking the matter over I will be folding the linen
that is left from making the shirt.”

“And I,” said the good man, “will be putting the money away that the holy man
left behind him.”

So the wife began folding the linen into a bundle again, and the man began
putting away the money that he had offered in charity. Thus they began doing,
and thus they kept on doing; so that by the time that the evening had come the
whole house was full of fine linen, and every tub and bucket and mug and jug
about the place was brimming with silver money. As for the good couple, their
fortune was made, and that is the heart of the whole matter in four words.

That night who should come over from across the street but the rich brother,
with his pipe in his mouth and his hands in his pockets. But when he saw how
very rich the poor man had become all of a sudden, and what a store of fine
linen and silver money he had, he was so wonder-struck that he did not know
whither to look and what to think.

Dear heart’s sake alive! Where did all these fine things come from? That was
what he should like to know.

Oh! there was nothing to hide in the matter, and the poor man told all about
what had happened.

As for the rich brother, when he found how he had shut his door in the face
of good-fortune, he rapped his head with his knuckles because he was so angry at
his own foolishness. However, crying never mended a torn jacket, so he made the
poor brother promise that if either of the saints came that way again, they
should be sent over to his house for a night’s lodging, for it was only fair and
just that he should have a share of the same cake his brother had eaten.

So the poor brother promised to do what the other wanted, and after that the
rich brother went back home again.

Well, a year and a day passed, and then, sure enough, who should come along
that way but both the saints together, arm in arm. Rap! tap! tap! they knocked
at the poor man’s door, for they thought that where they had

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The rich man spreads a feast for the Saints.

had good lodging before they could get it again. And so they could and welcome,
only the poor brother told them that his rich brother across the street had
asked that they should come and lodge at the fine house when they came that way
again.

The saints were willing enough to go to the rich brother’s house, though they
would rather have stayed with the other. So over they went, and when the rich
brother saw them coming he ran out to meet them, and shook each of them by the
hand, and bade them to come in and sit down back of the stove where it was warm.

But you should have seen the feast that was set for the two saints at the
rich brother’s house! I can only say that I never saw the like, and I only wish
that I had been there with my legs under the table. After supper they were shown
to a grand room, where each saint had a bed all to

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his very own self, and before they were fairly asleep the rich man’s wife came
and took away their old shirts, and laid a shirt of fine cambric linen in the
place of each. When the next morning came and the saints were about to take
their leave, the rich brother brought out a great bag of golden money, and bade
them to stuff what they would of it into their pockets.

Well, all this was as it should be, and before the two went on their way they
said that they would give the same blessing to him and his wife that they had
given to the other couple — that whatsoever they should begin doing that
morning, that they should continue doing until sunset.

After that they put on their hats and took up their staffs, and off they
plodded.

Now the rich brother was a very envious man, and was not contented to do only
as well as his brother had done, no indeed! He would do something that would
make him even richer than counting out money for himself all day. So down he sat
back of the stove and began turning the matter over in his mind, and rubbing up
his wits to make them the brighter.

In the meantime the wife said to herself, “See, now, I shall be folding fine
cambric linen all day, and the pigs will have to go with nothing to eat. I have
no time to waste in feeding them, but I’ll just run out and fill their troughs
with water at any rate.”

So out she went with a bucketful of water which she began pouring into the
troughs for the pigs. That was the first thing she did, and after that there was
no leaving off, but pour water she must until sunset.

All this while the man sat back of the stove, warming his wits and saying to
himself, “Shall I do this? shall I do that?” and answering “No” to himself every
time. At last he began wondering what his wife was doing, so out he went to find
her. Find her he did, for there she was pouring out water to the pigs. Then if
anybody was angry it was the rich man. “What!” cried he, “and is this the way
that you waste the gifts of the blessed saints?”

So saying, he looked around, and there lay a bit of a switch on the ground
near by. He picked up the bit of a switch and struck the woman across the
shoulders with it, and that was the first thing that he began doing. After that
he had to keep on doing the same.

So the woman poured water and poured water, and the man stood by and beat her
with the little switch until there was nothing left of it, and that was what
they did all day.

And what is more, they made such a hubbub that the neighbors came

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to see what was going forward. They looked and laughed and went away again, and
others came, and there stood the two — the woman pouring water and the man
beating her with the bit of a switch.

When the evening came, and they left off their work, they were so weary that
they could hardly stand; and nothing was to show for it but a broken switch and
a wet sty, for even the blessed saints cannot give wisdom to those who will have
none of it, and that is the truth.

And such is the end of this story, with only this to tell: Tommy Pfouce tells
me that there are folks, even in these wise times, who, if they did all day what
they began in the morning, would find themselves at sunset doing no better work
than pouring pure water to pigs.

That is the small kernel to this great nut.

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Chapter 11

XI

Eleven O’clock.

Eleven O’clock.

The Cook undoes the Oven Door;

The Kobold smells the baking Pies;

Licking his Lips, with glistening Eyes,

He hops across the Floor.

Our fat, old Betty sweats and blows;

She does not see how near he stands,

And when she bangs the Door, Good Lands!

It ‘most cuts off his Nose.

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How Boots befooled the King.

XI.

ONCE upon a time there was a king who was the wisest in all of the world. So
wise was he that no one had ever befooled him, which is a rare thing, I can tell
you. Now, this king had a daughter who was as pretty as a ripe apple, so that
there was no end to the number of the lads who came asking to marry her. Every
day there were two or three of them dawdling around the house, so that at last
the old king grew tired of having them always about.

So he sent word far and near that whoever should befool him might have the
princess and half of the kingdom to boot, for he thought that it would be a wise
man indeed who could trick him. But the king also said, that whoever should try
to befool him and should fail, should have a good whipping. This was to keep all
foolish fellows away.

The princess was so pretty that there was no lack of lads who came to have a
try for her and half of the kingdom, but every one of these went away with a
sore back and no luck.

Now, there was a man who was well off in the world, and who had three sons;
the first was named Peter, and the second was named Paul. Peter and Paul thought
themselves as wise as anybody in all of the world, and their father thought as
they did.

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As for the youngest son, he was named Boots. Nobody thought anything of him
except that he was silly, for he did nothing but sit poking in the warm ashes
all of the day.

One morning Peter spoke up and said that he was going to the town to have a
try at befooling the king, for it would be a fine thing to have a princess in
the family. His father did not say no, for if anybody was wise enough to befool
the king, Peter was the lad.

So, after Peter had eaten a good breakfast, off he set for the town, right
foot foremost. After a while he came to the king’s house and — rap! tap! tap!

— he knocked at the door.

Well; what did he want?

Oh! he would only like to have a try at befooling the king.

Very good; he should have his try. He was not the first one who had been
there that morning, early as it was.

So Peter was shown in to the king.

“Oh, look!” said he, “yonder are three black geese out in the courtyard!”

But no, the king was not to be fooled so easily as all that. “One goose is
enough to look at at a time,” said he; “take him away and give him a whipping!”

And so they did, and Peter went home bleating like a sheep.

One day Paul spoke up. “I should like to go and have a try for the princess,
too,” said he.

Well, his father did not say no, for, after all, Paul was the more clever of
the two.

So off Paul went as merrily as a duck in the rain. By and by he came to the
castle, and then he too was brought before the king just as Peter had been.

“Oh, look!” said he, “yonder is a crow sitting in the tree with three white
stripes on his back!”

But the king was not so silly as to be fooled in that way. “Here is a Jack,”

said he, “who will soon have more stripes on his back than he will like. Take
him away and give him his whipping!”

Then it was done as the king had said, and Paul went away home bawling like a
calf.

One day up spoke Boots. “I should like to go and have a try for the pretty
princess, too,” said he.

At this they all stared and sniggered. What! he go where his clever

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Peter goes to the castle to befool the King, dressed in his finest clothes.

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brothers had failed, and had nothing to show for the trying but a good beating?

What had come over the lout! Here was a pretty business, to be sure! That was
what they all said.

But all of this rolled away from Boots like water from a duck’s back. No
matter, he would like to go and have a try like the others. So he begged and
begged until his father was glad to let him go to be rid of his teasing, if
nothing else.

Then Boots asked if he might have the old tattered hat that hung back of the
chimney.

Oh, yes, he might have that if he wanted it, for nobody with good wits was
likely to wear such a thing.

So Boots took the hat, and after he had brushed the ashes from his shoes set
off for the town, whistling as he went.

The first body whom he met was an old woman with a great load of earthenware
pots and crocks on her shoulders.

“Good-day, mother,” said Boots.

“Good-day, son,” said she.

“What will you take for all of your pots and crocks?” said Boots.

“Three shillings,” said she.

“I will give you five shillings if you will come and stand in front of the
king’s house, and do thus and so when I say this and that,” said Boots.

Oh, yes! she would do that willingly enough.

So Boots and the old woman went on together, and presently came to the king’s
house. When they had come there, Boots sat down in front of the door and began
bawling as loud as he could — “No, I will not! I will not do it, I say! No, I
will not do it!”

So he kept on, bawling louder and louder until he made such a noise that, at
last, the king himself came out to see what all of the hubbub was about. But
when Boots saw him he only bawled out louder than ever. “No, I will not! I will
not do it, I say!”

“Stop! stop!” cried the king, “what is all this about?”

“Why,” said Boots, “everybody wants to buy my cap, but I will not sell it! I
will not do it, I say!”

“But, why should anybody want to buy such a cap as that?” said the king.

“Because,” said Boots, “it is a fooling cap and the only one in all of the
world.”

“A fooling cap!” said the king. For he did not like to hear of such

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Paul comes home again from the king’s castle with no luck.

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a cap as that coming into the town. “Hum-m-m-m! I should like to see you fool
somebody with it. Could you fool that old body yonder with the pots and the
crocks?”

“Oh, yes! that is easily enough done,” said Boots, and without more ado he
took off his tattered cap and blew into it. Then he put it on his head again and
bawled out, “Break pots! break pots!”

No sooner had he spoken these words than the old woman jumped up and began
breaking and smashing her pots and crocks as though she had gone crazy. That was
what Boots had paid her five shillings for doing, but of it the king knew
nothing. “Hui!” said he to himself, “I must buy that hat from the fellow or he
will fool the princess away from me for sure and certain.” Then he began talking
to Boots as sweetly as though he had honey in his mouth. Perhaps Boots would
sell the hat to him?

Oh, no! Boots could not think of such a thing as selling his fooling cap.

Come, come; the king wanted that hat, and sooner than miss buying it he would
give a whole bag of gold money for it.

At this Boots looked up and looked down, scratching his head. Well, he
supposed he would have to sell the hat some time, and the king might as well
have it as anybody else. But for all that he did not like parting with it.

So the king gave Boots the bag of gold, and Boots gave the king the old
tattered hat, and then he went his way.

After Boots had gone the king blew into the hat and blew into the hat, but
though he blew enough breath into it to sail a big ship, he did not befool so
much as a single titmouse. Then, at last, he began to see that the fooling cap
was good on nobody else’s head but Boots’s; and he was none too pleased at that,
you may be sure.

As for Boots, with his bag of gold he bought the finest clothes that were to
be had in the town, and when the next morning had come he started away bright
and early for the king’s house. “I have come,” said he, “to marry the princess,
if you please.”

At this the king hemmed and hawed and scratched his head. Yes; Boots had
befooled him sure enough, but, after all, he could not give up the princess for
such a thing as that. Still, he would give Boots another chance. Now, there was
the high-councillor, who was the wisest man in all of the world. Did Boots think
that he could fool him also?

Oh, yes! Boots thought that it might be done.

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The old woman smashes pots and things at Boots’ bidding.

-144-

Very well; if he could befool the high-councillor so as to bring him to the
castle the next morning against his will, Boots should have the princess and the
half of the kingdom; if he did not do so he should have his beating.

Then Boots went away, and the king thought that he was rid of him now for
good and all.

As for the high councillor, he was not pleased with the matter at all, for he
did not like the thought of being fooled by a clever rogue, and taken here and
there against his will. So when he had come home, he armed all of his servants
with blunderbusses, and then waited to give Boots a welcome when he should come.

But Boots was not going to fall into any such trap as that! No indeed! not
he! The next morning he went quietly and bought a fine large meal-sack. Then he
put a black wig over his beautiful red hair, so that no one might know him.

After that he went to the place where the high-councillor lived, and when he had
come there he crawled inside of the sack, and lay just beside the door of the
house.

By and by came one of the maid servants to the door, and there lay the great
meal-sack with somebody in it.

“Ach!” cried she, “who is there?”

But Boots only said, “Sh-h-h-h-h!”

Then the serving maid went back into the house, and told the high-councillor
that one lay outside in a great meal-sack, and that all that he said was,

“Sh-h-h-h-h!”

So the councillor went himself to see what it was all about. “What do you
want here?” said he.

“Sh-h-h-h-h!” said Boots, “I am not to be talked to now. This is a
wisdom-sack, and I am learning wisdom as fast as a drake can eat peas.”

“And what wisdom have you learned?” said the councillor.

Oh! Boots had learned wisdom about everything in the world. He had learned
that the clever scamp who had fooled the king yesterday was coming with
seventeen tall men to take the high-councillor, willy-nilly, to the castle that
morning.

When the high-councillor heard this he fell to trembling till his teeth
rattled in his head. “And have you learned how I can get the better of this
clever scamp?” said he.

Oh, yes! Boots had learned that easily enough.

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The Councilor finds one in the Sack who teaches him wisdom.

-146-

So, good! then if the wise man in the sack would tell the high-councillor how
to escape the clever rogue, the high-councillor would give the wise man twenty
dollars.

But no, that was not to be done; wisdom was not bought so cheaply as the
high-councillor seemed to think.

Well, the councillor would give him a hundred dollars then.

That was good! A hundred dollars were a hundred dollars. If the councillor
would give him that much he might get into the sack himself, and then he could
learn all the wisdom that he wanted, and more besides.

So Boots crawled out of the sack, and the councillor paid his hundred dollars
and crawled in.

As soon as he was in all snug and safe, Boots drew the mouth of the sack
together and tied it tightly. Then he flung sack, councillor, and all over his
shoulder, and started away to the king’s house, and anybody who met them could
see with half an eye that the councillor was going against his will.

When Boots came to the king’s castle he laid the councillor down in the
goose-house, and then he went to the king.

When the king saw Boots again, he bit his lips with vexation. “Well,” said
he, “have you fooled the councillor?”

“Oh, yes!” says Boots, “I have done that.”

And where was the councillor now?

Oh, Boots had just left him down in the goose-house. He was tied up safe and
sound in a sack, waiting till the king should send for him.

So the councillor was sent for, and when he came the king saw at once that he
had been brought against his will.

“And now may I marry the princess?” said Boots.

But the king was not willing for him to marry the princess yet; no! no! Boots
must not go so fast. There was more to be done yet. If he would come tomorrow
morning he might have the princess and welcome, but he would have to pick her
out from among fourscore other maids just like her; did he think that he could
do that?

Oh, yes! Boots thought that that might be easy enough to do.

So, good! then come tomorrow; but he must understand that if he failed he
should have a good whipping, and be sent packing from the town.

So off went Boots, and the king thought that he was rid of him now, for he
had never seen the princess, and how could he pick her out from among eighty
others?

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But Boots was not going to give up so easily as all that! No, not he! He made
a little box, and then he hunted up and down until he had caught a live mouse to
put into it.

When the next morning came he started away to the king’s house, taking his
mouse along with him in the box.

There was the king, standing in the doorway, looking out into the street.

When he saw Boots coming towards him he made a wry face. “What!” said he, “are
you back again?”

Oh, yes! Boots was back again. And now if the princess was ready he would
like to go and find her, for lost time was not to be gathered again like fallen
apples.

So off they marched to a great room, and there stood eighty-and-one maidens,
all as much alike as peas in the same dish.

Boots looked here and there, but, even if he had known the princess, he could
not have told her from the others. But he was ready for all that. Before any one
knew what he was about, he opened the box, and out ran the little mouse among
them all. Then what a screaming and a hubbub there was. Many looked as though
they would have liked to swoon, but only one of them did so. As soon as the
others saw what had happened, they forgot all about the mouse, and ran to her
and fell to fanning her and slapping her hands and chafing her temples.

“This is the princess,” said Boots.

And so it was.

After that the king could think of nothing more to set Boots to do, so he let
him marry the princess as he had promised, and have half of the kingdom to boot.

That is all of this story.

Only this: It is not always the silliest one that sits kicking his feet in
the ashes at home.

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Chapter 12

XII

Twelve O’clock

Twelve O’clock.

The Dial marks the hour of Noon;

The Men will come to Dinner soon,

And Gretchen takes the Beer-Mugs down

Into the Cellar, cool and brown.

The Bread is cut, the Soup is hot,

The Cabbage simmers in the Pot;

The Mistress scolds a clumsy Maid,

And Towzer dozes in the Shade.

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The Stepmother.

XII.

ONCE upon a time there was a man who was well off in the world so far as good
things were concerned; but all the flesh and blood that belonged to him was a
daughter, for his wife was dead, and he lived alone. One day he went away from
home and was gone for a long, long time, and when he came back again he brought
a new wife with him, for that was the business that he had been about. As for
the woman, she was as wicked as she was handsome, and as handsome as she was
wicked, and whichever of the two one said of her one spoke the truth; for,
though she was the most beautiful woman in all of the land, she was as great a
witch as ever turned over the leaves of the black book with the red letters in
it.

At first things went as smoothly in the rich man’s house as butter and eggs,
for the Stepmother was forever petting and caressing the man’s daughter, and
could not make enough of her. But that was only for a while, for as the maid
grew in years she grew prettier and prettier, until there was none like her in
all of that land.

One day the Stepmother and the step-daughter walked together in the fields;
for it was in the spring-time, the weather was pleasant, and the grass was fresh
and green. Two crows sat on a flowering thorn.

“Look,” says one crow, “yonder go two beauties.”

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“Yes,” says the other, “but when you talk of good looks, the old one is to
the young one as a cabbage is to a rose.”

Then, “Caw! caw!” they both cried, and flapped their wings and flew away.

That was what the two crows said; and though the maiden knew nothing, the

Stepmother could tell what passed between them as well as could be, for she had
eaten a bite of the white snake, and knew all that the birds and the beasts said
to one another. So her heart grew bitter with hatred and envy, and she began to
cudgel her brains for some means to put the girl out of the way. That night she
made a ball of hollow gold and wrote this and that upon it, which nobody but
herself could read. The next day she and the girl walked in the fields again,
and when nobody was near the wicked Stepmother took the golden ball out of her
pocket.

“See,” said she, “here is a new plaything for you.” She threw it upon the
ground, and it rolled and rolled and rolled, and, whether she liked it or not,
the maiden had to follow wherever it went. On and on rolled the ball, for no
matter how fast the girl ran she could not catch it. By and by she came to a
dark, lonesome place, where was a great, deep pit. Into the pit rolled the
golden ball, and the poor girl had to follow. So into the pit she fell, and
there she lay, for the sides were as smooth as glass, and one would have to have
feet like a fly to climb from the bottom to the top.

As for the witch Stepmother, she was well content with what she had done,
for the two crows sat on the thorn-tree. And —

“Look,” said the first, “yonder goes the beauty.”

“It is the truth that you speak,” said the second. “For the other followed
the golden ball and fell into the deep pit!” And then they clapped their wings
and away they flew.

But the poor girl lay in the deep pit all alone, and cried and cried.

Suddenly a little door opened — click! clack! — and there was a little grey
man no higher than a body’s knee, but with a long white beard that touched the
ground.

“Hi!” says he to the step-daughter, “and how came you here in the pit?”

The girl told him all from beginning to end, and the little man listened to
every word.

“See, now,” said he, when she had ended her story. “Since you are here in the
deep pit and cannot get out, you shall be the queen of all the

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The Step-daughter follows the golden ball in spite of herself.

-154-

little men like myself, and we shall serve you, for you are the most beautiful
maiden that ever my eyes looked upon.”

So there the maiden lived for many a long day, and the little man and others
like him brought her rich food and wine, and covered all the inside of the pit
with jewels and with gold, so that it was most splendid to see. And every day
the maiden grew more and more beautiful.

One day the young king of that country went a-hunting, and all of his court
with him, and four-and-twenty hounds besides. They came riding by the pit where
the maiden sat, and there the hounds stopped and began to whimper and to howl,
for they knew very well that human flesh and blood was down below.

“Listen to the hounds,” says the king; “there is somebody fallen into the
pit; now who will go down and bring the unfortunate up again?”

At this everybody looked at his neighbor, but nobody said, “I will go.”

“Very well,” said the king, “then I myself will go down into the pit, if no
one else dares to venture.”

So the others lowered the king into the pit, and when he reached the bottom
you can guess how he stared and how he wondered; but he had no eyes for the
jewels and gold that covered the walls; he had often seen the like of them, but
never in all of his days had he beheld such a beauty as the maiden he found
there.

Then the people above hauled them up together, and the king set her upon a
milk-white horse, and then they all rode away to the palace, for that was where
he was to take her. There they dressed her in splendid clothes and put a golden
crown upon her head, and then she and the king were married. Around her neck he
hung a golden chain and a locket, and in the locket was a picture of himself; on
her finger he slipped a ring, and within were secret words which nobody but he
and she knew.

One day the wicked Stepmother was walking in the fields, and the two crows
sat on the thorn-tree.

“Look,” says the first crow, “yonder goes the beauty.”

“Yes,” says the second, “but she is only as a cabbage to a rose when compared
to the lass who followed the golden ball down into the pit, and who has married
the handsome young king over at the castle yonder.”

Then, “Caw! caw!” they cried, and flapped their wings and flew away.

As for the Stepmother, her heart was ready to burst with anger and with
spite. Home she went and began to think of what she should do to put her
step-daughter out of the way again.

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The young king goeth down into the pit and bringeth up the maiden.

-156-

She took some dough and some feathers, and of them she made an old hen and
six chicks. She put them in the oven and baked them, and when she drew them out
again they were all of pure gold. But the strangest of all was, that when she
set them upon the table the little golden hen strutted and clucked, and the
chicks cried, “Peep! peep!” and followed at her heels.

Then the woman clad herself in a strange dress, so that no one might know who
she was. She hid a long, keen silver pin in her bosom, and off she set for the
castle with the golden hen and the golden chickens in a basket wrapped up in a
white napkin.

She set her basket on the ground under the palace window, and when the folks
within saw the little clucking hen and her chicks, all made of pure gold that
shone in the sunlight, they could not look enough.

Off ran one and told the queen, who came and looked and looked, and wondered
and wondered, until by and by she longed for the golden hen and the golden
chickens as she had never longed for anything in all of her life before. So she
called one of her maids, and sent her down to ask the strange woman the price of
her golden chickens.

“Prut!” says the wicked witch of a Stepmother, “who are you that you should
come to talk with me? If the young queen would buy my wares she must come and
bargain with me herself.”

So down went the young queen to the wicked Stepmother; “And what is the
price of your hen and chicks, my good woman,” said she, for she did not know the
other, because of the strange dress in which she was clad.

“Oh! it is little or nothing I ask for my hen and chickens,” said the wicked

Stepmother to the beautiful queen. “If you will give me a kiss down in the
garden back of the rose-tree yonder, you may have the chickens and welcome.”

Oh, yes; the queen was willing enough to pay the price, if that was all the
woman wanted. So off they went back of the rose-tree, she and the Stepmother.

There the witch drew out the silver pin from her bosom, and as she kissed the
queen she thrust the pin deep into her head. Then quick as a wink the queen was
changed into a white dove and flew away over the tree-tops.

Off went the Stepmother, and was as pleased with what she had done this time
as with what she had done that time; for the two crows sat on the thorn-tree,
and the first crow said to the second crow, “Yonder goes

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The Stepmother bringeth mischief upon the Young Queen by sundry magic spells.

-158-

the beauty.” And the second crow said to the first, “Yes, there is none to
compare with her now that the young queen has been changed to a white dove.

At the king’s castle they hunted for the queen high, and they hunted for the
queen low, but could find neither thread nor hair of her. As for the white dove,
it had flown in at a window, and there the little cook-boy found it, and caught
it and sold it to the cook for a penny. So the beautiful white dove sat over the
kitchen window, and did nothing but mourn from the dawn to the gloaming.

One day the folk in the kitchen were talking together. The king was lying
sick abed and dying of a broken heart because his beautiful young queen was
nowhere to be found. That was what they said, and the white bird heard every
word of it.

The next morning when they came to the kitchen there was a beautiful sweet
cake lying upon a white napkin, and on the cake were written these words:

“Break this, my king, and ease thy sorrow.”

They took the sweet cake to the king where he lay, and he broke it as the
words told him to. Within it he found the ring which he had given to the queen,
inside of which were written words which no one but he and she knew.

“Where did this come from?” said he; but nobody could tell him.

“Where the ring came from,” said he, “there will the queen be found.” And up
he got from his bed and dressed himself, and ate his breakfast with a cheerful
face.

They talked about what had happened down in the kitchen, and the white dove
heard it all.

Next morning there, on a fine linen napkin, lay another cake like the first,
and on it was written:

“Break this, my king, and be comforted.”

They took it up to the king as they had done the first. And the king snatched
it like a hungry man. He broke the cake, and there was the necklace and the
locket that he had given the queen.

“Where did this come from?” said he.

But they could tell him no more about that than about the other.

All the same, they talked about it down in the kitchen, and the white dove
heard what was said.

But that night the little cook-boy hid in the closet to watch, for he

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The Young King caresses the white dove.

wanted to see who it was that brought the cakes that they took up-stairs to the
king. So he watched and watched, and by and by the clock struck twelve. And when
the last stroke sounded the dove flew down from over the window, and as soon as
it lit upon the floor it was the white dove no longer, but the queen herself.

She made a sweet cake of sugar and of flour, and in it she put a feather as
white as silver. Then she became the white dove again, and flew back over the
window where she had sat before.

The next morning they found the third cake lying upon a white napkin, and on
the cake was written:

“Break this, my king, for the time has come.”

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They took it up to the king and he broke it, and there was the white feather.

Then the king called everybody that was in the castle, and asked each one in
turn if he or she could tell where the sweet cake had come from. But no; nobody
knew, until last of all they questioned the kitchen-boy.

“Oh, yes,” said he, “I know who it was that brought the cake. Last night the
white dove in the kitchen flew down from over the window and became the queen
herself; she made the sweet cake and laid it upon the white napkin, for I saw
her do it with my own eyes.”

Up they brought the white dove from the kitchen, and the king took it in his
own hands and held it up to his bosom, and stroked it and caressed it.

“If thou art my queen,” said he, “why dost thou not speak to me?”

But the dove answered never a word, and the king stroked it and stroked it.

By and by he felt something, and when he came to look it was the head of the
silver pin. He drew it forth, and there stood the young queen again in her own
true shape.

She told everything that had happened to her from the first to the last, and
how her Stepmother had treated her. Then, hui! but the king was angry! He sent
a great lot of soldiers off to the father’s house to bring the Stepmother to
the castle so that she might be punished for her wickedness. But she was not to
be caught as easily as a sparrow in a rain-storm; she jumped upon a broom straw,
and — puff! — away she flew up the chimney, and that was the last that anybody
saw of her so far as ever I heard.

But they brought the father over to the king’s castle, where he sat in the
warmest corner and had the best that was to be had.

That is all of this story, and if you see a blind mouse run across the floor
throw your cap over it and catch it, for it is yours.

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Chapter 13

XIII

One O’clock.

One O’clock.

The Kobold lies,

And blinks his Eyes,

Under the Grape-vine leaves.

The Chickens scratch

In a sunny Patch,

And the Sparrows fight on the Eaves.

The Bee-Hive hums;

The House-wife comes,

And looks outside the Door.

The speckled Chick

Hops in, to pick

The Crumbs from off the Floor.

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Master Jacob.

XIII.

ONCE upon a time there was a man whose name was just Master Jacob and nothing
more.

All that Master Jacob had in the world was a good fat pig, two black goats, a
wife, and a merry temper — which was more than many a better man than he had,
for the matter of that.

“See, now,” says Master Jacob, “I will drive the fat pig to the market
tomorrow; who knows but that I might strike a bit of a sale.”

“Do,” says Master Jacob’s wife, for she was of the good sort, and always
nodded when he said “yes,” as the saying goes.

Now there were three rogues in the town over the hill, who lived in plenty;
one was the priest, one was the provost, and one was the master mayor; and which
was the greatest rogue of the three it would be a hard matter to tell, but
perhaps it was the priest.

“See, now,” says the priest to the other two, “Master Jacob, who lives over
yonder way, is going to bring his fat pig to market tomorrow. If you have a
mind for a trick, we will go snacks in what we win, and each of us will have a
rib or two of bacon hanging in the pantry, and a string or so of sausages back
in the chimney without paying so much as a brass button for them.”

Well, of course that was a tune to which the others were willing to

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dance. So the rogue of a priest told them to do thus and so, and to say this and
that, and they would cheat Master Jacob out of his good fat pig as easily as a
beggar eats buttered parsnips.

So the next morning off starts Master Jacob to the market, driving his fat
pig before him with a bit of string around the leg of it. Down he comes into the
town, and the first one whom he meets is the master priest.

“How do you find yourself, Master Jacob?” says the priest, “and where are you
going with that fine, fat dog?”

“Dog!” says Master Jacob, opening his eyes till they were as big and as round
as saucers. “Dog! Prut! It is as fine a pig as ever came into this town, I would
have you know.”

“What!” says the priest. “Do you try to tell me that that is a pig, when I
can see with both of my ears and all of my eyes that it is a great, fat dog?”

“I say it is a pig!” says Master Jacob.

“I say it is a dog!” says the priest.

“I say it is a pig!” says Master Jacob.

“I say it is a dog!” says the priest.

“I say it is a pig!” says Master Jacob.

Just then who should come along but the provost, with his hands in his
pockets and his pipe in his mouth, looking as high and mighty as though he owned
all of that town and the sun and the moon into the bargain.

“Look, friend,” says the priest. “We have been saying so and so and so and
so, just now. Will you tell me, is that a pig, or is it a dog?”

“Prut!” says the provost, “how you talk, neighbor! Do you take me for a fool

I should like to know? Why, it is as plain as the nose on your face that it is a
great, fat dog.”

“I say it is a pig!” bawled Master Jacob.

“I say it is a dog!” says the provost.

“I say it is a pig!” says Master Jacob.

“I say it is a dog!” says the provost.

“I say it is a pig!” says Master Jacob.

“Come, come,” says the priest, “let us have no high words over the matter.

No, no; we will take it to the mayor. If he says that it is a pig we two will
give you ten shillings; and if he says it is a dog, you will give the animal to
us as a penance.”

Well, Master Jacob was satisfied with that, for he was almost certain that it
was a pig. So off they marched to the mayor’s house. There the

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Master Jacob comes to the town with his fine, fat pig and there falls in with
the Priest and the Provost.

-166-

priest told all about the matter, for he was used to talking. “And now,” says
he, “is it a pig, or is it a dog?”

“Why,” says the mayor, “I wish I may be choked to death with a string of
sausages if it is not a dog, and a big dog and a fat dog into the bargain.”

So there was an end of the matter, and Master Jacob had to march off home
without his pig and with no more in his pockets than he had before. All the
same, he saw what kind of trick had been played on him, and, says he to himself,

“What is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. If one can pipe another
can whistle; I’ll just try a bit of a trick myself.” So he went to his wife and
told her that he had a mind to do thus and so, and that she must do this and
that; for he thought of trying his hand at a little trickery as well as other
folks.

Now, as I told you before, Master Jacob had two goats, both of them as black
as the inside of your hat at midnight; moreover, they were as like as two spoons
in the same dish; for no one could have told them apart unless he had lived with
them year in and year out, rainy weather and clear, as Master Jacob had done.

Well, the next day Master Jacob tied a rope around the neck of one of the
goats, took down a basket from the wall, and started off to the town over the
hill, leading his goat behind him. By and by he came to the market place and
began buying many and one things, until his basket was as full as it could hold.

After a while whom should he see coming along but the priest and the provost and
the mayor, walking arm-in-arm as bold as you please.

“Halloa, Master Jacob,” said they, “and what have you there?”

“The blessed saints only know that,” said Master Jacob. “It may be a black
cat for all that I know; it was a black goat when I left home this morning.”

And what was Master Jacob going to do with his little black goat? That was
what they should like to know.

“Oh,” said Master Jacob, “I am about to send my little black goat on an
errand, if you will wait you shall see for yourselves.”

Then what did he do but hang the basket around the goat’s neck. “Go home to
your mistress,” said he, “and tell her to boil the beef and cabbage for dinner
to-day; and, stop! tell her to go to Neighbor Nicholas’s house and borrow a good
big jug of beer, for I have a masterful thirst this morning.” Then he gave the
goat a slap on the back, and off it went

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Master Jacob takes his black goat to town.

as though the ground were hot under it. But whether it ever really went home or
not, I never heard.

As for the priest, the provost, and the mayor, you may guess how they grinned
at all of this. Good land sake’s alive! And did Master Jacob really mean to say
that the little black goat would tell the mistress all that?

Oh, yes; that it would. It was a keen blade, that little black goat, and if
they would only come home with him, Master Jacob would show them.

So off they all went, Master Jacob and the priest and the provost and the
mayor, and after a while they came to Master Jacob’s house. Yes, sure enough,
there was a black goat feeding in the front yard, and how should the priest and
the provost and the mayor know that it was not the same

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one that they had seen at the market-place! And just then out came Master

Jacob’s wife. “Come in, Jacob,” says she, “the cabbage and the meat are all
ready. As for the beer, Neighbor Nicholas had none to spare, so I just borrowed
a jugful of Neighbor Frederick, and it is as good as the other for certain and
sure.”

Dear, dear! how the three cronies did open their eyes when they heard all of
this! They would like to have such a goat as that, indeed they would. Now, if

Master Jacob had a mind to sell his goat, they would give as much as twenty
dollars for it.

Oh, no; Master Jacob could not think of selling his nice little, dear little
black goat for twenty dollars.

For thirty, then.

No; Master Jacob would not sell his goat for thirty dollars, either.

Well, they would give as much as forty.

No; forty dollars was not enough for such a goat as that.

So they bargained and bargained till the upshot of the matter was that they
paid Master Jacob fifty dollars, and marched off with the goat as pleased as
pleased could be.

Well, the three rogues were not long in finding out what a trick had been
played upon them, I can tell you. So, in a day or two, whom should Master Jacob
see coming down the road but the priest, the provost, and the master mayor, and
anybody could see with half an eye that they were in an awful fume.

“Hi!” says Master Jacob, “there will be hot water boiling presently.” In he
went to his good wife. “Here,” says he, “take this bladder of blood that we were
going to make into pudding, and hide it under your apron, and then when I do
this and that, you do thus and so.”

Presently in came the priest, the provost, and the mayor, bubbling and
sizzling like water on slake lime. “What kind of a goat was that that you sold
us?” bawled they, as soon as they could catch their breaths.

“My black goat,” says Master Jacob.

Then look! He would run on no errands, and would do nothing that it was told.

It was of no more use about the house than five wheels to a wagon. Now Master

Jacob might just go and put his hat on and come along with them, for they were
about to take him away to prison.

“But stop a bit,” says Master Jacob. “Did you say `by the great horn spoon,’

when you told the goat to do this or that?”

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No; the cronies had done nothing of the kind, for Master Jacob had said
nothing about a great horn spoon when he sold them the goat.

“Why didn’t you remind me?” says Master Jacob to his good wife.

“I didn’t think of it,” says she.

“You didn’t?” says he.

“No,” says she.

“Then take that!” says he, and he out with a great sharp knife and jabbed it
into the bladder under her apron, so that the blood ran out like everything.

“Ugh!” says the good wife, and then fell down and lay quite still, just for
all the world as though she were dead.

When the three cronies saw this, they gaped like fish out of water. Just look
now! Master Jacob had gone and killed his good wife, and all for nothing at all.

Dear, dear! what a hasty temper the man had. Now he had gotten himself into a
pretty scrape, and would have to go before the judge and settle the business
with him.

“Tut! tut!” says Master Jacob, “the broth is not all in the ashes yet.

Perhaps I am a bit hasty, but we will soon mend this stocking.”

So he went to the closet in the corner of the room, and brought out a little
tin horn. He blew a turn or two over his wife, whereat she sneezed, and then sat
up as good and as sound as ever.

As for the priest and the provost and the mayor, they thought that they had
never seen anything so wonderful in all of their lives before. They must and
would have that tin horn if it was to be had; now, how much would Master Jacob
take for it, money down?

Oh, Master Jacob did not want to part with his horn: all the same, if he had
to sell it, he would just as fief that they should buy it as anybody. So they
bargained and bargained, and the end of the matter was that they paid down
another fifty dollars and marched off with the little tin horn, blowing away at
it for dear life.

By and by they came home, and there stood the goat, nibbling at the grass in
front of the house and thinking of no harm at all. “So!” says the provost, “was
it you that would do nothing for us without our saying, `By the great horn
spoon?’ Take that then!” And he fetched the goat a thwack with his heavy
walking-staff so that it fell down, and lay with no more motion than a stone.

“There,” says he, “that business is done; and now lend me the horn a minute,
brother, till I fetch him back again.”

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Well, he blew and he blew, and he blew and he blew, till he was as red in the
face as a cherry, but the goat moved never so much as a single hair. Then the
priest took a turn at the horn, but he had no better luck than the provost. Last
of all the mayor had a try at it; but he might as well have blown the horn over
a lump of dough for all the answer he had for his blowing.

Then it began to work into their heads that they had been befooled again.

Phew! what a passion they were in. I can only say that I am glad that I was not
in Master Jacob’s shoes. “We’ll put him in prison right away,” said they, and
off they went to do as they said.

But Master Jacob saw them coming down the road, and was ready for them this
time too. He took two pots and filled them with pitch, and over the top of the
pitch he spread gold and silver money, so that if you had looked into the pots
you would have thought that there was nothing in them but what you saw on the
top. Then he took the pots off into the little woods back of the house. Now in
the woods was a great deep pit, and all around the pit grew a row of bushes, so
thick that nothing was to be seen of the mouth of the hole.

By and by came the priest and the mayor and the provost to Master Jacob’s
house, puffing and blowing and fuming.

Rap! rap! tap! they knocked at the door, but nobody was there but Master

Jacob’s wife.

Was Master Jacob at home? That was what they wanted to know, for they had a
score to settle with him.

Oh, Master Jacob’s wife did not know just where he was, but she thought that
he was in the little woods back of the house yonder, gathering money.

Phew! and did money grow so near to the house as all that? This was a matter
to be looked into, for if money was to be gathered they must have their share.

So off they went to the woods, hot-foot.

Yes; there was Master Jacob, sure enough, and what was more, he was carrying
two pots, one on each arm.

“Hi! Master Jacob, and what have you there?” said they.

“Oh, nothing much,” says Master Jacob.

Yes; that was all very good, but they would like to look into those pots that
he was carrying; that was what the three cronies said.

“Well,” says Master Jacob, “you may look into the pots if you choose;

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The Priest, the Provost and the Master Mayor blow and blow the little tin
trumpet over the black goat.

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all the same, I will tell you that they are both full of pitch, and that there
is only just a little money scattered over the top.

Yes, yes; that was all very well, but the three cronies knew the smell of
money from the smell of pitch. See now, they had been fooled twice already, and
were not to be caught again. Now, where did Master Jacob get that money, that
was what they wanted to know.

“Oh,” says Master Jacob, “I cannot tell you that; if you want to gather money
you will have to look for it yourselves. But you must not go too near to those
thick bushes yonder, for there is a deep pit hidden there, and you will be sure
to fall into it.”

When the priest and the provost and the mayor heard this, they nudged one
another with their elbows and winked with one eye. They knew how much of that
cheese to swallow. They would just take a look at this wonderful pit, for they
thought that the money was hidden in the bushes for sure and certain. So off
they went as fast as they could lay foot to the ground.

“Just you stay here,” said the priest to the others, “while I go and see
whether there really is a pit as he said.” For he thought to himself that he
would go and gather a pocketful of the money before it would be share and share
with his comrades. So, into the thicket he jumped, and — plump! — he fell into
the great, deep pit; and there was an end of number one.

By and by the others grew tired of tarrying. “I’ll go and see what he is
waiting for,” says the provost. For he thought to himself, “He is filling his
pockets, and I might as well have my share.” So, into the thicket he jumped, and

— plump! — he fell into the great, deep pit; and there was an end of number
two.

As for the mayor, he waited and waited. “What a fool am I,” said he at last,

“to sit here twiddling my thumbs while the two rogues yonder are filling their
pockets without me. It is little or nothing but the scraps and the bones that I
will come in for.”

So the upshot of the matter was that he too ran and jumped into the thicket,
and heels over head into the great, deep pit, and there was an end of number
three. And if Master Jacob ever helped them out, you may depend upon it that he
made them promise to behave themselves in time to come.

And this is true that I tell you: it would have been cheaper for them to

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Master Jacob, with his two pots, meets the three cronies in the woods.

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have bought their pork in the first place, for, as it was, they paid a pretty
penny for it.

As for Master Jacob and his good wife, they had a hundred dollars in good
hard money, and if they did not get along in the world with that, why I, for
one, want nothing more to do with them.

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Chapter 14

XIV

Two O’clock.

Two O’clock.

They shake the Bread-Crumbs

Out of the Door,

They scrub the Table,

And sand the Floor;

They shoo out the Chickens,

And Cats, and all,

And say, “Run, Johnnie,

And play with your Ball.”

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Peterkin and the Little Grey Hare.

XIV.

THERE was a man who died and left behind him three sons, and nothing but two
pennies to each. So, as there was little to be gained by scraping the dish at
home, off they packed to the king’s house, where they might find better faring.

The two elder lads were smart fellows enough; as for Peterkin, he was the
youngest — why, nobody thought much of him.

So off they went — tramp! tramp! tramp! — all three together. By and by
they came to a great black forest where little was to be seen either before or
behind them.

There old Father Hunger met them, and that was the worse for them, for there
was nothing at all to eat. They looked here and there, and, after a while, what
should they come across but a little grey hare caught in a snare.

Then, if anybody was glad, it was the two elder brothers. “Here is something
to stay our stomachs,” said they.

But Peterkin had a soft heart in his breast. “See, brothers,” said he, “look
how the poor thing turns up its eyes. Sure it would be a pity to take its life,
even though our stomachs do grumble a bit.”

But the two elder brothers were deaf in that ear. They had gone without their
dinners long enough, and they were no such foolish fellows as to throw it away,
now that it had come to them.

But Peterkin begged and begged, until, at last, the two said that they

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would let the Little Grey Hare go free if he would give them the two pennies
that he had in his pocket.

Well, Peterkin let them have the pennies, and they let the hare go, and glad
enough it was to get away, I can tell you.

“See, Peterkin,” it said, speaking as plainly as a Christian, “you shall lose
nothing by this. When you are in a tight place, whistle on your fingers — thus

— and perhaps help will come to you.”

Then it thumped its feet on the ground and away it scampered.

As for Peter’s brothers, they laughed and laughed. A fool and his money were
soon parted, said they. How could a little grey hare help him, they should like
to know?

After a while they came to the town, where Peterkin’s brothers took up their
lodgings at a good inn. As for Peterkin, he had to go and sleep in the straw,
for one cannot spend money and have it both. So while the brothers were eating
broth with meat in it, Peterkin went with nothing.

“I wonder,” said he, “if the Little Grey Hare can help me now.” So he
whistled on his fingers, just as it had told him.

Then who should come hopping and skipping along but the Little Grey Hare
itself. “What do you want, Peterkin?” it said.

“I should like,” said Peterkin, “to have something to eat.”

“Nothing easier than that,” said the Little Grey Hare; and before one could
wink twice a fine feast, fit for a king, was spread out before him, and he fell
to as though he had not eaten a bite for seven years.

After that he slept like a flat stone, for one can sleep well even in the
straw, if one only has a good supper within one.

When the next morning had come, the two elder brothers bought them each a
good new coat with brass buttons. Peterkin they said would have to go as he was,
for patches and tatters were good enough for such a spend thrift.

But Peterkin knew a way out of that hole. Back of the house he went, and
there he blew on his fingers.

“What will you have?” said the Little Grey Hare

“I should like,” said Peterkin, “to have a fine new suit of clothes, so that

I can go to the king’s house with my brothers and not be ashamed.”

“If that is all that you want,” said the Hare, “it is little enough;” and
there lay the finest suit of clothes that Peterkin had ever seen, for it was all
of blue silk sewed with golden threads. So Peterkin dressed himself in his fine
clothes, and you may guess how his brothers stared when they saw him.

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Peterkin’s brothers marvel at the fine clothes that the hare gave him.

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Off they all went to the king’s house, and there was the king feeding his
chickens; for that was all the work he had upon his hands, and an easy life he
led of it. The king looked at Peterkin, and thought that he had never seen such
fine clothes. Did they want service? Well, the king thought that he might give
it to them. The oldest brother might tend the pigs, the second might look after
the cows. But as for Peterkin, he was so spruce and neat that he might stay in
the house and open the door when folks knocked. That was what his fine clothes
did for him.

So Peterkin had the soft feathers in that nest, for he sat in the warm
chimney all day, and had the scraping of the pipkins when good things had been
cooked.

Well, things went quietly enough for a while, but the elder brothers kept up
a great buzzing in their heads, I can tell you; for one does not like to see
another step in front of one, and that is the truth.

So, one day, who should come to the king but the two elder brothers. Perhaps,
said they, the king did not know it, but there was a giant over yonder who had a
grey goose that laid a golden egg every day of her life. Now Peterkin had said
more than once, and over and over again, that he was man enough to get the grey
goose for the king whenever the king wanted it. You can guess how this tickled
the king’s ears. Off he sent for Peterkin, and Peterkin came.

Hui! how Peterkin opened his eyes when he heard what the king wanted. He had
never said that he could get the giant’s goose; he vowed and swore that he had
not. But it was to no purpose that he talked, the king wanted the grey goose,
and Peterkin would have to get it for him. He might have three days for the
business, and that was all. Then, if he brought the grey goose, he should have
two bags of gold money; if he did not bring it he should pack off to the prison.

So Peterkin left the king, and if anybody was down in the mouth in all of the
world it was Peterkin.

“Perhaps,” said he, “the Little Grey Hare can help me.” So he blew a turn or
two on his fingers, and the Little Grey Hare came hopping and skipping up to
him.

What was Peterkin in the dumps about now? That was what it wanted to know.

Why, the king wanted him to get such and such a grey goose from over at the
giant’s house, and Peterkin knew no more about it than a red herring in a box;
that was the trouble.

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“Oh, well,” says the Little Grey Hare, “maybe that can be cured; just go to
the king and ask for this and that and the other thing, and we will see what can
be done about the business.”

So off went Peterkin to the king; perhaps he could get the grey goose after
all, but he must have three barrels of soft pitch, and a bag of barleycorn, and
a pot of good tallow.

The king let him have all that he wanted, and then the Little Grey Hare took

Peterkin and the three barrels of soft pitch and the bag of barleycorn and the
pot of good tallow on its back, and off it went till the wind whistled behind

Peterkin’s ears.

(Now that was a great load for a little grey hare; but I tell the story to
you just as Time’s Clock told it to me.)

After a while they came to a river, and then the Little Grey Hare said:

“Brother Pike! Brother Pike! Here are folks would like to cross the wide
river.”

Then up came a great river pike, and on his back he took Peterkin and the

Little Grey Hare and the three barrels of pitch and the sack of barleycorn and
the pot of good tallow, and away he swam till he had brought them from this side
to that.

(Now that was a great load for a river pike to carry; but as Time’s Clock
told the story to me I tell it to you.)

Then the Little Grey Hare went on and on again until it came to a high hill,
and on the top of the high hill was a great house; that was where the giant
lived.

Then Peterkin took the soft pitch and made a wide pathway of it. After that
he smeared his feet all over with the tallow, so that he stuck to the soft pitch
no more than water sticks to a cabbage leaf. Then he shouldered his bag of
barleycorn and went up to the giant’s castle, and hunted around and hunted
around until he had found where the grey goose was; and it was in the kitchen
and would not come out. But Peterkin had a way to bring it; he scattered the
barleycorn all about, and when the grey goose saw that, it came out quickly
enough and began to eat the grains as fast as it could gobble. But Peterkin did
not give it much time for this, for up he caught it, and off he went as fast as
he could scamper.

Then the grey goose flapped its wings and began squalling. “Master! master!

Here I am! here I am! It is Peterkin who has me! ‘

Out ran the giant with his great iron club, and after Peterkin he came

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as fast as he could lay foot to the ground. But Peterkin had the buttered side
of the cake this time, for he ran over the pitch road as easily as though it
were made of good stones; that was because his boots were smeared with tallow.

As for the giant, he stuck to it as a fly sticks to the butter, so that it was
very slow travelling that he made of it.

Then the hare took Peterkin up on its back, and away it scampered till the
wind whistled behind his ears. When it had come to the river it said:

“Brother Pike! Brother Pike! Here are folks would like to cross the wide
river.”

Then the pike took them on its back and away they went. But it was a tight
squeeze through that crack, I can tell you, for they had hardly left the shore
when up came the giant, fuming and boiling like water in the pot.

“Is that you, Peterkin?” said he.

“Yes; it is I,” said Peterkin.

“And did you steal my grey goose?” said the giant.

“Yes; I stole your grey goose,” said Peterkin.

“And what would you do if you were me and I were you?” said the giant.

“I would do what I could,” said Peterkin.

After that the giant went back home, shaking his head and talking to himself.

So the king got the grey goose, and was as glad as glad could be. And

Peterkin got the bags of gold, and was glad also. Thus there were two in the
world pleased at the same time.

And now the king could not make too much of Peterkin. It was Peterkin here
and Peterkin there, till Peterkin’s brothers were as sour as bad beer over the
matter.

So, one day, they came buzzing in the king’s ear again; perhaps the king did
not know it, but that same giant had a silver bell, and every time that the bell
was rung a good dinner was spread ready for the eating. Now, Peterkin had been
saying to everybody that he could get that bell for the king just as easily as
he had gotten the grey goose. At this the king pricked up his ears, for it
tickled them to hear such talk. He sent for Peterkin to come to him, and

Peterkin came. He vowed and swore that he had said nothing about getting the
giant’s bell. But it was of no use; he only wasted his breath. The king wanted
the silver bell, and the king must have it. Peterkin should have three days in
which to get it. If he brought it at the end of that time, he should have half
of the kingdom to

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Peterkin, with the help of the hare, carries off the Giant’s goose.

-184-

rule over. If he did not bring it he should have his ears clipped; so there was
an end of that talk.

It was a bad piece of business, but off Peterkin went and blew on his
fingers, and up came the Little Grey Hare.

“Well,” said the Little Grey Hare, “and what is the trouble with us now?”

Why, the king wanted a little silver bell that was over at the giant’s house,
and he had to go and get it for him; that was the trouble with Peterkin.

“Well,” says the Little Grey Hare, “there is no telling what one can do till
one tries; just get a little wad of tow and come along, and we will see what we
can make of it.”

So Peterkin got the wad of tow, and then he sat him on the Little Grey Hare’s
back, and away they went till the wind whistled behind his ears. When they came
to the river the Little Grey Hare called on the pike, and up it came and carried
them over as it had done before. By and by they came to the giant’s house, and
this time the giant was away from home, which was a lucky thing for Peterkin.

Peterkin climbed into the window, and hunted here and there till he had found
the little silver bell. Then he wrapped the tow around the clapper, but, in
spite of all that he could do, it made a jingle or two. Then away he scampered
to the Little Grey Hare. He mounted on its back, and off they went.

But the giant heard the jingle of the little silver bell, and home he came as
fast as his legs could carry him.

He hunted here and there till he found the track of Peterkin, then after him
he went, three miles at a step.

When he came to the river, there was Peterkin, just out of harm’s way.

“Is that you, Peterkin?” bawled the giant.

“Yes; it is I,” said Peterkin.

“And have you stolen my silver bell?” said the giant.

“Yes; I have stolen your silver bell,” said Peterkin.

“And have you stolen my grey goose too?” said the giant.

Yes; Peterkin had stolen that too.

“And what would you do if you were me and I were you?” said the giant.

“I would do what I could,” said Peterkin.

At this the giant went back home, grumbling and muttering to himself, and if

Peterkin had been by it would have been bad for Peterkin.

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Peterkin bringeth the little silver bell of the Giant to the King.

-186-

Dear, dear! but the king was glad to get the silver bell; as for Peterkin, he
was a great man now, for he ruled over half of the kingdom.

But now the two elder brothers were less pleased than ever before; they
grumbled and talked together until the upshot of the matter was that they went
to the king for the third time. Peterkin had been bragging and talking again.

This time he had said that the giant over yonder had a sword of such a kind that
it gave more light in the dark than fourteen candles, and that he could get the
sword as easily as he had gotten the grey goose and the little silver bell.

After that nothing would satisfy the king but for Peterkin to go and get the
sword. Peterkin argued and talked, and talked and argued, but it was for no
good; he might have talked till the end of all things. The king wanted the
sword, and the king must have it. If Peterkin could bring it to him in three
days’ time he might have the princess for his wife; if he came back empty-handed
he should have a good thong of skin cut off of his back from top to bottom; that
was what the king said.

So there was nothing for it but for Peterkin to whistle on his fingers for
the Little Grey Hare once more.

“And what is it this time?” said the Little Grey Hare.

Why, the king wanted such and such a kind of sword, and Peterkin must go and
get it for him; that was the trouble.

Well, well; there might be a hole in this hedge as well as another. But this
time Peterkin must borrow one of the princess’s dresses and her golden comb;
then one might see what could be done.

So Peterkin went to the king and said that he must have the dress and the
comb, and the king let him have them. Then he mounted on the Little Grey Hare
and — whisk! — away they went as fast as before.

Well, they crossed the river and came to the giant’s house once more. There

Peterkin dressed himself in the princess’s dress, and combed his hair with her
golden comb; and as he combed his hair it grew longer and longer, and the end of
the matter was that he looked for all the world like as fine and strapping a
lass as ever a body saw. Then he went up to the giant’s house, and — rap! tap!

tap! — he knocked at the door as bold as brass. The giant was in this time, and
he came and opened the door himself. But when he saw what he thought was a fine
lass, he smiled as though he had never eaten anything in all his life but soft
butter.

Perhaps the pretty lass would come in and sit down for a bit, that was what
he said to Peterkin.

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Peterkin as a girl combs the Giant’s hair.

Oh, yes! that suited Peterkin; of course he would come in. So in he came, and
then he and the giant sat down to supper together. After they had eaten as much
as they could the giant laid his head in Peterkin’s lap, and Peterkin combed his
hair and combed his hair, until he fell fast asleep and began to snore so that
he made the cinders fly up the chimney.

Then Peterkin rose up softly and took down the Sword of Light from the wall.

After that he went out on tiptoes and mounted the Little Grey Hare, and away
they went till the chips flew behind them.

By and by the giant opened his eyes and saw that Peterkin was gone, and, what
was more, his Sword of Light was gone also. Then what a rage he was in! Off he
went after Peterkin and the Little Grey Hare, seven

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miles at a step. But he was just a little too late, though there was no room to
spare between Peterkin and him, and that is the truth.

“Is that you, Peterkin?” said he.

“Yes; it is I,” said Peterkin.

“And have you stolen my Sword of Light?” said the giant.

Oh, yes; Peterkin had done that.

“And what would you do if you were me and I were you?” said the giant.

“I would drink the river dry and follow after,” said Peterkin.

“That is good,” said the giant. So he laid himself down and drank and drank
and drank, until he drank so much that he burst with a great noise, and there
was an end of him!

The king was so pleased with the Sword of Light that it seemed as though he
could not look at it and talk about it enough. As for Peterkin, he got the
princess for his wife, and that pleased him also, you may be sure. The princess
was pleased too, for Peterkin was a good, smart, tight bit of a lad, and that is
what the girls like. So it was that everybody was pleased except the two elder
brothers, who looked as sour as green gooseberries. But now Peterkin was an
apple that hung too high for them to reach, and so they had to let him alone.

The next day after the wedding, whom should Peterkin come across but the

Little Grey Hare.

“See, Peterkin,” it said, “I have done much for you; will you do a little for
me?”

“Yes, indeed, that I will,” said Peterkin.

“Then take the Sword of Light and cut off my head and feet,” said the Little

Grey Hare.

No, no; Peterkin could never do such a thing as that; that would be a pretty
way to treat a good friend.

But the Little Grey Hare begged and begged and begged, until at last Peterkin
did as he asked; he cut off his head and his feet. Then who should stand before
him but a handsome young prince, with yellow hair and blue eyes. That was what
the Little Grey Hare had been all the time, only the giant had bewitched him.

As for Peterkin — well, this is the way of it; the youngest will step ahead
of the others sometimes.

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Chapter 15

XV

Three O’clock.

Three O’clock.

The Peddler-Man is at the Door;

It’s Weeks since he was here before.

He gives our little John a Toy,

And says he is a fine, big Boy.

The Mistress buys some Flower Seeds,

And Gretchen gets some Pins and Beads.

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Mother Hildegarde.

XV.

ONCE upon a time there lived a king who had an only daughter, and the
princess was more handsome than I can tell you. But the queen had been dead for
so long that the king began to think about marrying a second time. So the upshot
of the matter was that by and by there came a stepmother into the house, and a
step-sister besides, for the new queen had a daughter of her own. And that was a
sorrowful thing for the princess.

At first the new queen was kind enough to the poor girl; but before long
there were other cakes baking in that oven, for the stepmother began saying to
herself: “See, now, if this hussy were out of the way my own dear girl would be
the first in the land, and might, in time, have the kingdom for her very own.”

So, in the end, the poor princess found but little peace in the same house with
the woman and her daughter.

One day the stepmother, the step-sister, and the pretty princess sat
together in the castle garden beside a deep cistern of water. By the cistern
hung a silver cup for the use of those who wished to drink. And as they sat
there the princess grew thirsty, and would have taken the cup to quench her
thirst, but the stepmother stopped her.

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“See, now,” said she, “if you must drink you will have to stoop to the water,
for the silver cup is too good for such as you.”

“Alas!” said the poor princess, “the time was when a cup of gold was not too
good for me!” And thereupon she began to weep as though her heart would break.

But there was no help for it; if she would drink she must stoop for it; so down
she knelt and began to drink from the deep water without any thought or fear of
harm.

But as the princess thus stooped and drank, the wicked stepmother came
behind her without her knowing it, and gave her a push so that she fell headlong
into the cistern and sank to the bottom. After that the stepmother and the
step-sister went back to the castle again, rejoicing and thinking that now they
were rid of the princess for good and all, and that the step-sister would be the
first in all of the land.

But in this they counted black chicks before they were hatched; for when the
princess sank down to the bottom of the cistern, she found herself in a great
wide meadow, all covered over with bright flowers, as many as there are stars in
the sky at night.

Across this meadow she went on and on and on; but never a single soul did she
see until at last she came to a great, fine house that stood all alone by
itself, without another to be seen, near or afar. In the doorway of the house
stood an old woman, whom the princess saw very plainly was not like common folk.

And she was right, for the old woman was none other than Mother Hildegarde,
who is so wise that she knows almost as much as Father Time himself. Thus it was
that she knew all about the princess, and who she was and whence she came,
without the asking. “Listen,” said she, “I will give you food and lodging, and
will pay you well if you will serve me faithfully for the space of a year and a
day.”

That the princess was willing enough to do, for she was both tired and
hungry; so into the house she went to serve Mother Hildegarde for a year and a
day.

But it was no common work that the princess did, I can tell you; for listen:

When she blew the bellows that the fire might blaze the brighter, the wind swept
over the great brown world so that every windmill turned around and around from

Jacob Pfennigdrummel’s to the shores of the great black sea at the north end of
the earth; and when she sprinkled the clothes, the blessed rain came tumbling
down till all the gutters ran with water so

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The Princess cometh into a wonderful country and to the house of a strange old
woman.

-194-

that little folk had either to stay home from school or to go thither under
great, wide umbrellas.

But of all this the pretty princess knew nothing whatever, but only thought
that she blew the fire and sprinkled the clothes. And that is often the way of
the world — at least, so Tommy Pfouce tells me.

Well, one day Mother Hildegarde said to the princess: “See, now; I am going
off on a journey, and it may be a while before I am back again. Here are the
keys of all of the house, and you are free to go wherever you choose. Only here
is a black key that unlocks a little room into which you must not go; for if you
do I will be sure to know it, and ill-luck will be certain to happen to you.”

Then off she went, and the princess was left all alone.

The first day the lass went here, and the second day she went there, and the
third day she had gone everywhere except into the little room where Mother

Hildegarde had told her not to go; and she never wanted anything in all of her
life as much as she wanted just to peep into that little room.

“I wonder,” said she to herself — “I wonder what harm there could be in it
if I were only to take one little peep?” So the upshot of the matter was that
she went there just to look at the outside of the door.

“I wonder,” said she, “if the key will fit the lock?”

Yes; it did fit it.

“I wonder,” said she, “if the key will turn the bolt?”

Yes; it did turn it.

“I wonder,” said she, “whether it would do any harm just to peep into the
room?”

And she did peep into it.

Believe me or not, all the same I tell you the truth when I say that there
was not one thing in the room but a covered jar, that stood in the middle of the
floor. Of course the princess must have just one peep into the jar, for as she
had gone as far as she had, there could be no more harm in this than in the
other. So she went to the jar and took off the lid and peeped into it.

And what do you think was in it? Nothing but water!

But as the princess looked into the water she saw Mother Hildegarde as though
she were a great way off, and the Mother Hildegarde whom she saw in the water
was looking at nobody in all of the world but her. As soon as the princess saw
what she saw, she clapped down the lid of the jar

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The Princess looks into that which she should not have done.

-196-

again; but she clapped it down just a moment too late, for a lock of hair fell
down over her face, and one single hair touched the water in the jar.

Yes; only one single hair. But when the princess looked she saw that every
lock upon her head was turned to pure gold. Then if anybody in all of the world
was frightened it was the poor princess. She twisted up the hair upon the top of
her head and bound her kerchief about it so that it was all hidden; but all the
same the hair was there, and could never be changed from the gold again.

Just then who should come walking into the house but Mother Hildegarde
herself. “Have you obeyed all that I have told you?” said she.

“Yes,” said the princess, but all the same she was so frightened that her
knees knocked together.

“Did you go into the little room?” said Mother Hildegarde.

“No,” said the princess; but her heart beat so that she could hardly speak.

Then Mother Hildegarde snatched the kerchief off of the princess’s head, and
her golden hair came tumbling down all about her shoulders, glittering, so that
it was the finest sight that you could see between here and Nomansland.

“Then how came your hair to be like that?” said Mother Hildegarde.

“I do not know,” said the princess; and then she began crying and sobbing as
though her heart would break.

“See now,” said Mother Hildegarde; “you have served me well for all of the
time that you have been with me, therefore I will have pity upon you, only you
must tell me the truth. Did you go into the little room while I was away?”

But for all that Mother Hildegarde spoke ever so kindly the princess could
not bring herself to speak the truth.

“No,” said she.

“Then how came your hair to be like that?” said Mother Hildegarde.

“I do not know,” said the princess.

At this Mother Hildegarde frowned till her eyes burned like sparks of fire.

She caught the princess by the arm and struck her staff upon the ground, and
away they flew through the air till the wind whistled behind them. So by and by
they came to a great forest, out of which there was no path to be found either
to the east or the west or the north or the south.

“See now,” said Mother Hildegarde, “because you have been faithful in your
labor with me I will give you still another chance. But if you do not

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The Princess dwells in the oak tree where the wild pigeons come to feed her.

-198-

answer me truthfully this time, I will leave you alone here in the forest, and
will take away your speech so that you will be as dumb as the beasts of the
field. Did you go into the little room?”

But still the princess hardened her heart and answered “No.”

“Then how came your hair to be like that?” said Mother Hildegarde.

“I do not know,” said the princess.

Then Mother Hildegarde went away, and left the princess alone in the forest
as she had promised to do; and not only that, but she took away the princess’s
speech, so that she was quite dumb. So in the forest the princess dwelt for a
long, long time, and there she would have died of hunger, only that Mother

Hildegarde still cared for her and sent the wood-pigeons to feed her, which they
did from day to day and from week to week and from month to month. As for the
princess, she lived in the branches of the trees, for she was afraid of the wild
beasts that roamed through the wood.

By and by her clothes became nothing but rags and tatters, and then she had
to weave her beautiful hair about her, so that she was clad all from head to
foot in her golden tresses, and in them alone.

Well, one time it happened that a young king came riding into the forest to
hunt the wild boars, and many of his people came along with him. Some of those
who rode on before came suddenly to where a great flock of wood-pigeons flew
about in the tree-tops above them. But when they looked up, you may guess how
wonder-struck they were when they saw that the pigeons were feeding a beautiful
maiden who sat in the branches above, clad all in her golden hair. Back they
rode to the young king and told him all that they had seen, and up he came as
fast as he could ride. There he saw the maiden and how beautiful she was, and he
called to her to come down. But she only shook her head, for she could not
speak, and she was ashamed of being found where she was. Then the young king,
seeing that she would not come down from the branches to him, climbed up himself
and brought her.

He wrapped his cloak about her and set her on his horse in front of him, and
then he and all that were with him rode away out of the dark forest and under
the blue sky, until they had come to the king’s castle. But all the time the
princess did nothing but weep and weep, for she could not speak a single word.

The young king gave her to his mother to care for, who was none too glad to have
such a dumb maiden brought into the house, even though the lass was as pretty as
milk and rose-leaves.

But the young king cared nothing whatever for what his mother thought

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Mother Hildegarde carries the baby away from the castle of the king.

-200-

about the matter, for the more he looked at the princess, the more beautiful she
appeared in his eyes. So the end of the matter was that he married her, even
though she had not a word to say for herself.

Well, time went on and on, till one day the storks that lived on the castle
roof brought a baby boy to the poor dumb princess, whereat everybody was as glad
as glad could be.

But their gladness was soon changed to sadness, for that night, when every
one in the king’s house was fast and sound asleep, Mother Hildegarde came softly
into the princess’s room. She gave her back her speech for the time being, and
then she said. “I will still have pity upon you. If you will only tell me the
truth you shall have your speech again, and all will go well with you. But if
you tell me a falsehood once more, still greater troubles will come upon you.

Now tell me, did you go into the little room?”

“No,” said the princess, for still she could not bring herself to confess to

Mother Hildegarde.

“Then how came your hair to be like that?”

“I do not know,” said the princess.

So Mother Hildegarde took away her speech once more.

After that she smeared the mouth of the princess with blood, and then,
wrapping the baby in her mantle, she carried it away with her, leaving the
mother weeping alone.

You can guess what a hubbub there was the next morning in the castle, when
they came and found that the baby was gone, and that the princess’s mouth was
smeared with blood. “See,” said the king’s mother, “what did I tell you from the
very first. Do you not see that you have brought a wicked witch into the house,
and that she has killed her own child?”

But the king would listen to no such words as these, for it seemed to him
that the princess was too beautiful and too good to do such a wicked thing.

After a time there came another baby to the princess, and once more Mother

Hildegarde came to her and said, “Did you go into the little room?”

“No,” said the princess.

“Then how came your hair to be like that?”

“I do not know,” said the princess.

So Mother Hildegarde took this baby away as she had done the other, and left
the princess with her lips smeared with blood.

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And now every one of the king’s household began to mutter and to whisper to
his neighbor, and the king had nothing to say, but only left the room silently,
for his heart was like heavy lead within his breast. Still he would not hear of
harm coming to the princess, no matter what had happened.

In time there came a third baby, but still the princess could not soften her
heart, and Mother Hildegarde took it away as she had done the others. This time
the king could do nothing to save the princess, for every one cried out upon her
that she was a wicked witch who killed her children, and that she should be
burned at the stake, as was fitting for such a one. So a great pile of fagots
was built out in the castle courtyard, and the princess was brought out and tied
to a stake that stood in the midst. Then they lit the pile of fagots, and it
began to crackle and burn around her where she stood.

Then suddenly Mother Hildegarde stood beside her in the midst of the fire. In
her arms she held the princess’s youngest baby, and the others stood, one upon
one side and the other upon the other, and held on to her skirts.

She gave the princess her speech again, and then she said, “Now, tell me, did
you go into the little room?”

Even yet the princess would have answered “No;” but when she saw her children
standing in the midst of the fire with her, her heart melted away within her.

“Yes!” she cried, “I went in and I saw.”

“And how came your hair to be like that?” said Mother Hildegarde.

“Alas!” said the princess, “I gazed upon that which I should not have gazed
upon, and looked into that which I should not have looked into, and one hair
touched the water and all was turned to gold.”

Then Mother Hildegarde smiled till her face shone as white as the moon. “The
truth is better late than not at all,” said she “and if you had but spoken in
the first place, I would have freely forgiven you. As she spoke a shower of rain
fell down from the sky, and the fire of the fagots was quenched.

And now you can guess what joy there was in the king’s castle when every one
knew all that had happened, and it was seen how the right thing had come about
at last, though it was the toss of a farthing betwixt this and that. Even the
king’s mother was glad enough when she came to know that it was a real princess
whom her son had married after all.

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And now listen to what happened in the end.

They gave a great feast, and everybody was asked to come from far and near.

Then who should come travelling along with the others, as grand as you please,
but the wicked stepmother and step-sister of the princess.

Dear, dear, how they stared and goggled when they saw who the young queen
really was, and that the poor princess had married the richest and greatest king
in all of the land!

Their hearts were so filled with envy that they swelled and swelled until
they burst within them, and they fell down dead, and there was an end of them.

Thus it is that everything turns out right in the long run — that is in
fairy tales.

But, after all, if the princess had only told the truth in the first place,
she would never have gotten in all this peck of trouble.

And then who knows what Mother Hildegarde would have done for her, for she is
a strange woman, is Mother Hildegarde.

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Chapter 16

XVI

Four O’clock.

Four O’clock.

Bare-necked Gretchen combs her hair

At the Looking-Glass.

This is Grease, and these are Beads

She takes to early Mass.

Her Water-Pitcher, blue and white,

Has got a broken Nose,

And both the Stockings that she wears

Are ravelled at the Toes.

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Which is Best?

XVI.

THERE was a rich man who lived on a hill, and a poor man who lived down in
the valley, and they were brothers, the one was older and the other younger. The
one lived in a grand house and the other in a little, rickety, tumbledown hut,
and the one was covetous and greedy and the other was kind and merciful. All the
same, it was a merry life that the poor brother led of it, for each morning when
he took a drink he said, “Thank Heaven for clear water;” and when the day was
bright he said, “Thank Heaven for the warm sun that shines on us all;” and when
it was wet it was, “Thank Heaven for the gentle rain that makes the green grass
grow.”

One day the poor brother was riding in the forest, and there he met the rich
brother, and they jogged along the way together. The one rode upon a poor, old,
spavined, white horse, and the other rode upon a fine, prancing steed.

By and by they met an old woman, and it was all that she could do to hobble
along the way she was going.

“Dear, good, kind gentlemen,” said she, “do help a poor old body with a penny
or two, for it is nothing I have in the world, and life sits heavy on old
shoulders.”

The rich brother was for passing along as though he heard never a word

-206-

of what she said, but the poor brother had a soft heart, and reined in his
horse.

“It is only three farthings that I have in the world,” said he; “but such as
they are you are welcome to them,” and he emptied his purse into her hand.

“You shall not have the worst of the bargain,” said the old woman; “here is
something that is worth the having,” and she gave him a little black stone about
as big as a bean. Then off she went with what he had given her.

“See, now,” said the rich brother, “that is why you are so poor as hardly to
be able to make both ends meet in the world.”

“That may be so, or may not be so,” said the poor brother; “all the same,
mercy is better than greed.”

How the elder did laugh at this, to be sure! “Why, look,” says he, “here I am
riding upon a grand horse with my pockets full of gold and silver money, and
there you are astride of a beast that can hardly hobble along the road, and with
never a copper bit in your pocket to jingle against another.”

Yes; that was all true enough; nevertheless, the younger brother stuck to it
that mercy was better than greed, until, at last, the other flew into a mighty
huff.

“Very well,” says he, “I will wager my horse against yours that I am right,
and we will leave it to the first body we meet to settle the point.”

Well, that suited the poor brother, and he was agreed to do as the other
said.

So by and by they met a grand lord riding along the road with six servants
behind him; and would he tell whether mercy or greed were the best for a body in
this world?

The rich lord laughed and laughed. “Why,” said he, “greed is the best, for if
it were otherwise, and I had only what belonged to me, I should never be jogging
along through the world with six servants behind me.”

So off he rode, and the poor brother had to give up his horse to the other,
who had no more use for it than I have for five more fingers. “All the same,”

says the poor brother, “mercy is better than greed.” Goodness! what a rage the
rich brother fell into, to be sure! “There is no teaching a simpleton,” said he;

“nevertheless, I will wager all the money in my purse against your left eye that
greed is better than mercy, and we will leave it to the next body we meet, since
you are not content with the other.”

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Having been thrice adjudged in the wrong, the poor man is left by the rich man
blind upon the highway.

-208-

That suited the younger brother well enough, and on they jogged until they
met a rich merchant driving a donkey loaded with things to sell. And would he
judge between them whether mercy or greed were the best for a body?

“Poof!” says the merchant, “what a question to ask! All the world knows that
greed is the best. If it were not for taking the cool end of the bargain myself,
and leaving the hot end for my neighbor to hold, it is little or nothing that I
should have in the world to call my own.” And off he went whither he was going.

“There,” says the rich brother, “now perhaps you will be satisfied;” and he
put out the poor man’s left eye.

But no, the other still held that mercy was better than greed; and so they
made another wager of all the rich man had in the world against the poor man’s
right eye.

This time it was a poor ploughman whom they met, and would he tell whether
mercy or greed were the best?

“Prut!” said he, “any simpleton can tell that greed is the best, for all the
world rides on the poor man’s shoulders, and he is able to bear the burden the
least of all.”

Then the rich man put out the poor man’s right eye; “for,” says he, “a body
deserves to be blind who cannot see the truth when it is as plain as a
pikestaff.”

But still the poor man stuck to it that mercy was the best. So the rich man
rode away and left him in his blindness.

As all was darkness to his eyes, he sat down beside the road at the first
place he could find, and that was underneath the gallows where three wicked
robbers had been hung. While he sat there two ravens came flying, and lit on the
gallows above him. They began talking to one another, and the younger brother
heard what they said, for he could understand the speech of the birds of the air
and of the beasts of the field, just as little children can, because he was
innocent.

And the first raven said to the second raven, “Yonder, below, sits a fellow
in blindness, because he held that mercy was better than greed.”

And the second raven said to the first, “Yes, that is so, but he might have
his sight again if he only knew enough to spread his handkerchief upon the
grass, and bathe his eyes in the dew which falls upon it from the gallows
above.”

And the first raven said to the second, “That is as true as that one and

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The poor man touches the door with the stone.

one make two; but there is more to tell yet, for in his pocket he carries a
little black stone with which he may open every door that he touches. Back of
the oak-tree yonder is a little door; if he would but enter thereat he would
find something below well worth the having.”

That was what the two ravens said, and then they flapped their wings and flew
away.

As for the younger brother, you can guess how his heart danced at what he
heard. He spread his handkerchief on the grass, and by and by,

-210-

when night came, the dew fell upon it until it was as wet as clothes on the
line. He wiped his eyes with it, and when the dew touched the lids they were
cured, and he could see as well and better than ever.

By and by the day broke, and he lost no time in finding the door back of the
oak-tree. He touched the lock with the little black stone, and the door opened
as smoothly as though the hinges were greased. There he found a flight of steps
that led down into a pit as dark as a beer vault. Down the steps he went, and on
and on until, at last, he came to a great room, the like of which his eyes had
never seen before. In the centre of the room was a statue as black as ink; in
one hand it held a crystal globe which shone with a clear white light, so that
it dazzled one’s eyes to look upon it; in the other hand it held a great diamond
as big as a hen’s egg. Upon the breast of the statue were written these words in
letters of gold:

“WHAT THOU DESERVEST

THAT THOU SHALT HAVE.”

On three sides of the room sat three statues, and at the feet of each statue
stood a heavy chest:

The first statue was of gold, and over its head were written these words:

“WHO CHOOSES HERE TAKES THE BEST THAT THE EARTH HAS TO GIVE.”

The second statue was of silver, and over its head was written these words:

“WHO CHOOSES HERE TAKES WHAT THE RICH MAN LOVES.”

The third statue was of dull lead, and over its head was written:

“WHO CHOOSES HERE TAKES WHAT HE SHOULD HAVE.

The man touched the chest at the feet of the golden statue with the little
black stone. And — click! clack! — up flew the lid, and the chest was full of
all kinds of precious stones.

“Pugh!” says the younger brother; “and if this is the best that the world has
to give, it is poor enough.” And he shut down the lid again.

He touched the chest at the feet of the silver statue with his little black
stone, and it was full of gold and silver money.

“Pish!” says he; “and if this is what the rich man loves, why, so do not I.”

And he shut down the lid again.

Last of all he touched the chest at the feet of the leaden statue.

-211-

The poor man finds that which is the best.

-212-

In it was a book, and the letters on it said that whoever read within would
know all that was worth the knowing. Beside the book was a pair of spectacles,
and whoever set them astride of his nose might see the truth without having to
rub the glasses with his pocket-handkerchief. But the best of all in the chest
was an apple, and whoever ate of it would be cured of sorrow and sickness.

“Hi!” said the younger brother, “but these are worth the having, for sure and
certain.” And he put the spectacles upon his nose and the apple and the book in
his pocket. Then off he went, and the spectacles showed him the way, although it
was as crooked as sin and as black as night.

So by and by he came out into the blessed sunlight again, and at the same
place where he had gone in.

Off he went to his own home as fast as his legs could carry him, and you can
guess how the rich brother stared when he saw the poor brother back in that town
again, with his eyesight as good as ever.

As for the poor brother, he just turned his hand to being a doctor; and there
has never been one like him since that day, for not only could he cure all
sickness with his apple, but he could cure all sorrow as well. Money and fame
poured in on him; and whenever trouble lit on his shoulders he just put on his
spectacles and looked into the business, and then opened the book of wisdom and
found how to cure it. So his life was as happy as the day was long; and a body
can ask for no more than that in this world here below.

One day the rich brother came and knocked at the other’s door. “Well,
brother,” says he, “I am glad to see you getting along so well in the world. Let
us let bygones be bygones and live together as we should, for I am sorry for
what I did to you.”

Well, that suited the younger brother well enough; he bore no malice against
the other, for all that had been done had turned out for the best. All the same,
he was more sure than ever now that mercy was better than greed.

The elder brother twisted up his face at this, as though the words were sour;
all the same, he did not argue the question, for what he had come for was to
find why the world had grown so easy with the other all of a sudden. So in he
came, and they lit their pipes and sat down by the stove together.

He was a keen blade, was the elder brother, and it was not long before he had
screwed the whole story out of the other.

-213-

The rich man findeth that which he deserveth.

-214-

“Dear, dear, dear!” said he, “I only wish I could find a black pebble like
that one of yours.”

“It would do you no good if you had it,” said the younger brother, “for I
have brought away all that is worth the having. All the same, if you want my
black pebble now you are welcome to it.”

Did the elder brother want it! Why, of course he wanted it, and he could not
find words enough to thank the younger.

Off he went, hot-foot, to find the door back of the oak-tree; “For,” said he
to himself, “I will bring something back better worth the having than a musty
book, an old pair of spectacles, and a red apple.”

He touched the door with the black stone, and it opened for him just as it
had for the younger brother.

Down the steps he went, and on and on and on, until by and by he came to the
room where the statues were. There was the black statue holding out the crystal
ball and the diamond as big as a hen’s egg, and there sat the golden statue and
the silver statue and the leaden statue, just as they had sat when the younger
brother had been there, only there was nothing in the chest at the feet of the
leaden statue.

The rich brother touched the lock of the chest in front of the silver statue.

Up flew the lid, and there lay all the gold and silver money.

“Yes,” says he, “that is what the rich man loves, sure enough. Nevertheless,
there may be something else that is better worth the having.” So he let the
money lay where it was.

He touched the chest in front of the golden statue. Up flew the lid, and he
had to blink and wink his eyes because the precious stones dazzled them so.

“Yes,” says he, “this is the best the world has to give, and there is no
gainsaying that; all the same, there may be something better worth the having
than these.”

So he looked all about the room, until he saw the golden letters on the
breast of the black statue that stood in the middle. First he read the words:

“WHAT THOU DESERVEST

THAT THOU SHALT HAVE.”

And then he saw the great diamond that the statue held in its left hand.

“Why,” said he, “it is as plain as daylight that I deserve this precious

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stone, for not being so simple as my brother, and taking what I could find
without looking for anything better.”

So up he stepped and took the diamond out of the statue’s hand.

Crash! — and all was darkness, darker than the darkest midnight; for, as
quick as a wink, the black statue let the crystal globe of light fall from its
right hand upon the stone floor, where it broke into ten thousand pieces.

And now the rich brother might wander up and wander down, but wander as he
chose he could never find his way out of that place again, for the darkness shut
him in like a blanket.

So, after all, mercy and temperance were better in the long run than greed
and covetousness, in spite of what the great lord and the rich merchant and the
poor ploughman had said.

Maybe I have got this story twisted awry in the telling; all the same, Tommy

Pfouce says that it is a true-enough story, if you put on your spectacles and
look at it from the right side.

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Chapter 17

XVII

Five O’clock.

Five O’clock.

Pussy-Cat, Pussy-Cat what do you dream,

Sleeping out there in the Sun?

The Red Cow and the White Cow are out in the Lane;

I guess that the Milking is done.

Pussy-Cat, Pussy-Cat open your Eyes,

And see what your Kitten’s about;

She’s found a great Rat-Hole that’s close to the Step,

And is watching for him to come out.

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The Simpleton and his Little Black Hen.

XVII.

THERE were three brothers left behind when the father died. The two elder,
whose names were John and James, were as clever lads as ever ate pease with a
fork.

As for the youngest, his name was Caspar, he had no more than enough sense to
blow his potatoes when they were hot. Well, when they came to divide things up
between themselves, John and James contrived to share all of the good things
between them. As for Caspar, “why, the little black hen is enough for him,” says

John and James, and that was all the butter he got from that churn.

“I’ll take the little black hen to the fair,” says Caspar, “and there I’ll
sell her and buy me some eggs. I’ll set the eggs under the minister’s speckled
hen, and then I’ll have more chicks. Then I’ll buy me more eggs and have more
chicks, and then I’ll buy me more eggs and have more chicks, and after that I’ll
be richer than Uncle Henry, who has two cows and a horse, and will marry my
sweetheart into the bargain.” So off he went to the fair with the black hen
under his arm, as he had promised himself to do.

“There goes a goose to the plucking,” says John and James, and then they
turned no hairs grey by thinking any more about the case.

As for him, why, he went on and on until he came to the inn over the hill not
far from the town, the host of which was no better than he should be, and that
was the long and the short of it.

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“Where do you go with the little black hen, Caspar?” says he.

“Oh,” says Caspar, “I take it to the fair to sell it and buy me some eggs.

I’ll set the eggs under the minister’s speckled hen, and then I’ll have more
chicks. Then I’ll buy me more eggs and have more chicks, and then I’ll buy me
more eggs and have more chicks, and after that I’ll be richer than Uncle Henry,
who has two cows and a horse, and will marry my sweetheart into the bargain.”

Prut! And why should Caspar take his hen to the fair? That was what the
landlord said. It was a silly thing to tramp to the river for water before the
well was dry at home. Why, the landlord had a friend over yonder who would give
ten pennies to one that he could get at the fair for his black hen. Now, had

Caspar ever heard tell of the little old gentleman who lived in the old
willow-tree over yonder?

No, Caspar had never heard tell of him in all of his life. And there was no
wonder in that, for no more had anybody else, and the landlord was only up to a
bit of a trick to get the little black hen for himself.

But the landlord sucked in his lips — “tsch” — so! Well, that was a pity,
for the little old gentleman had said, time and time again, that he would give a
whole bagful of gold and silver money for just such a little black hen as the
one that Caspar carried under his arm.

Dear, dear! How Caspar’s eyes did open at this, to be sure. Off he started
for the willow-tree. “Here’s the little black hen,” said he, “and I’ll sell her
for a bagful of gold and silver money.” But nobody answered him; and you may be
sure of that, for there was nobody there.

“Well,” says Caspar, “I’ll just tie the hen to the tree here, and you may pay
me tomorrow.” So he did as he had said, and off he marched. Then came the
landlord and took the hen off home and had it for his supper; and there was an
end of that business.

An end of that business? No, no; stop a bit, for we will not drive too fast
down the hill. Listen: there was a wicked robber who had hidden a bag of gold
and silver money in that very tree; but of that neither Caspar nor the landlord
knew any more than the chick in the shell.

“Hi!” says Caspar, “it is the wise man who gets along in the world.” But
there he was wrong for once in his life, Tommy Pfouce tells me.

“And did you sell your hen?” says John and James.

“Oh, yes; Caspar had done that.

And what had he got for it?

Oh, just a bag of gold and silver money, that was all. He would show

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The cunning landlord telleth Caspar where to take his hen to sell it for a good
price.

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it to them tomorrow, for he was to go and get it then from the old gentleman
who lived in the willow-tree over yonder by the inn over the hill.

When John and James heard that they saw as plain as the nose on your face
that Caspar had been bitten by the fool dog.

But Caspar never bothered his head about that; off he went the next day as
grand as you please. Up he marched to the willow-tree, but never a soul did he
find there; for why, there was nobody.

Rap! tap! tap! He knocked upon the tree as civil as a beggar at the kitchen
door, but nobody said, “Come in!”

“Look,” says he, “we will have no dilly-dallying; I want my money and I will
have it,” and he fetched a kick at the tree that made the bark fly. But he might
as well have kicked my grandfather’s bedpost for all the good he had of it. “Oh,
very well!” says he, and off he marched and brought the axe that stood back of
the stable door.

Hui! how the chips flew! for Caspar was bound to get to the bottom of the
business. So by and by the tree lay on the ground, and there was the bag of gold
and silver money that the wicked robber had hidden. “So!” says Caspar, “better
late than never!” and off he marched with it.

By and by whom should he meet but John and James. Bless me, how they stared!

And did Caspar get all of that money for one little black hen?

Oh, yes; that he had.

And where did he get it?

Oh! the little old man in the willow-tree had paid it to him.

So, good! that was a fine thing, and it should be share and share alike among
brothers; that was what John and James said, and Caspar did not say “No;” so
down they all sat on the grass and began counting it out.

“This is mine,” said John.

“And this is mine,” said James.

“And this is mine,” said John.

“And this is mine,” said James.

“And where is mine?” says Caspar. But neither of the others thought of him
because he was so simple.

Just then who should come along but the rogue of a landlord. “Hi! and where
did you get all that?” says he.

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Caspar findeth money in the willow-tree.

“Oh,” says Caspar, “the little old man in the willow-tree paid it to me for
my little black hen.”

Yes, yes, the landlord knew how much of that cake to eat. He was not to have
the wool pulled over his eyes so easily. See, now, he knew very well that
thieving had been done, and he would have them all up before the master mayor
for it. So the upshot of the matter was that they had to take him in to share
with them.

“This is mine,” says the landlord.

“And this is mine,” says John.

“And this is mine,” says James.

“And where do I come in?” says poor Caspar. But nobody thought of him because
he was so simple.

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Just then came along a company of soldiers — tramp! tramp! tramp! — and
there they found them all sharing the money between them, except Caspar.

“Hi!” says the captain, “here are a lot of thieves, and no mistake!” and off
he marched them to the king’s house, which was finer than any in our town, and
as big as a church into the bargain.

And how had they come by all that money? that was what the king would like to
know.

As for the three rogues, they sang a different tune now than they had
whistled before.

“It’s none of mine, it’s his,” said the landlord, and he pointed to John.

“It’s none of mine, it’s his,” said John, and he pointed to James.

“It’s none of mine, it’s his,” said James, and he pointed to Caspar.

“And how did you get it?” says the king.

“Oh!” says Caspar, “the little old man in the willow-tree gave it to me for
my little black hen;” and then he told the whole story without missing a single
grain.

Beside the king sat the princess, who was so serious and solemn that she had
never laughed once in all her life. So the king had said, time and time again,
that whoever should make her laugh should have her for his wife. Now, when she
heard Caspar’s story, and how he came in behind all the rest, so that he always
had the pinching, like the tail of our cat in the crack of the door, she laughed
like everything, for she could not help it. So there was the fat in the fire,
for Caspar was not much to look at, and that was the truth. Dear, dear, what a
stew the king was in, for he had no notion for Caspar as a son-in-law. So he
began to think about striking a bargain. “Come,” says he to Caspar, “how much
will you take to give up the princess instead of marrying her?”

Well, Caspar did not know how much a princess was worth. So he scratched his
head and scratched his head, and by and by he said that he would be willing to
take ten dollars and let the princess go.

At this the king boiled over into a mighty fume, like water into the fire.

What! did Caspar think that ten dollars was a fit price for a princess!

Oh, Caspar had never done any business of this kind before. He had a
sweetheart of his own at home, and if ten dollars was too much for the princess
he would be willing to take five.

Sakes alive! what a rage the king was in! Why, I would not have

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The three share the money amongst them.

stood in Caspar’s shoes just then — no, not for a hundred dollars. The king
would have had him whipped right away, only just then he had some other business
on hand. So he paid Caspar his five dollars, and told him that if he would come
back the next day he should have all that his back could carry — meaning a
whipping.

As for Caspar and his brothers and the rogue of a landlord, they thought that
the king was talking about dollars. So when they had left the king’s house and
had come out into the road again, the three rogues began to talk as smooth and
as soft as though their words were buttered.

See, now, what did Caspar want with all that the king had promised him; that
was what they said. If he would let them have it, they would give him all of
their share of the money he had found in the willow-tree.

“Ah, yes,” says Caspar, “I am willing to do that. For,” says he to

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himself, “an apple in the pocket is worth three on the tree.” And there he was
right for once in his life.

Well, the next day back they all tramped to the king’s house again to get
what had been promised to Caspar.

So! Caspar had come back for the rest, had he?

Oh, yes, he had come back again; but the lord king must know that he had sold
all that had been promised to him to these three lads for their share of the
money he had found in the willow-tree over yonder.

“Yes,” says the landlord, “one part of what has been promised is mine.”

“And one part of it is mine,” says John.

“Stop a bit, brother,” says James; “remember, one part of it is mine too.”

At this the king could not help laughing, and that broke the back of his
anger.

First of all he sent the landlord for his share, and if his back did not
smart after he had it, why, it was not the fault of those who gave it to him. By
and by he came back again, but he said nothing to the others of what had been
given to him; but all the same he grinned as though he had been eating sour
gooseberries. Then John went, and last of all James, and what they got satisfied
them, I can tell you.

After that the king told Caspar that he might go into the other room and fill
his pockets with money for what he had given up to the others; so he had the
cool end of that bargain, and did not burn his fingers after all.

But the three rogues were not satisfied with this. No, indeed! Caspar should
have his share of the smarting, see if he shouldn’t! So back they went to the
king’s house one fine day, and said that Caspar had been talking about the lord
king, and had said that he was no better than an old hunks. At this the king was
awfully angry. And so off he sent the others to fetch Caspar along so that he
might settle the score with him.

When the three came home, there was Caspar lying on a bench in the sun, for
he could take the world easy now, because he was so rich.

“Come along, Caspar,” said they, “the king wants to see you over at his house
yonder.”

Yes, yes, but there was too much hurrying in this business, for it was
over-quick cooking that burned the broth. If Caspar was to go to the king’s
house he would go in fitting style, so they would just have to wait till he
found a horse, for he was not going to jog it afoot; that was what Caspar said.

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The three rogues lend Caspar sundry things so that he may go to the king’s
castle.

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“Yes,” says the landlord, “but sooner than you should lose time in the
waiting, I will lend you my fine dapple-gray.”

But where was the bridle to come from? Caspar would have them know that he
was not going to ride a horse to the king’s house without a good bridle over the
nag’s ears.

Oh, John would lend him the new bridle that he bought in the town last week;
so that was soon settled.

But how about the saddle? — that was what Caspar wanted to know — yes, how
about the saddle? Did they think that he was going to ride up to the king’s
house with his heels thumping against the horse’s ribs as though he were no
better than a ploughman?

Oh, James would lend him a saddle if that was all he wanted.

So off they went, all four of them, to the king’s house.

There was the king, walking up and down, and fussing and fuming with anger
till he was all of a heat.

“See, now,” says he, as soon as he saw Caspar, “what did you call me an old
hunks for?”

“I didn’t call you an old hunks,” said Caspar.

“Yes, you did,” said the king.

“No, I didn’t,” said Caspar.

“Yes, you did,” said the king, “for these three lads told me so.”

“Prut!” said Caspar, “who would believe what they say? Why, they would just
as fief tell you that this horse and saddle and bridle belong to them.”

“And so they do!” bawled the three rogues.

“See there, now,” said Caspar.

The king scratched his head, for here was a tangled knot, for certain. “Yes,
yes,” said he, “these fellows are fooling either Caspar or me, and we are both
in the same tub, for the matter of that. Take them away and whip them!” So it
was done as he said, and that was all that they got for their trouble.

Wit and Luck are not always hatched in the same nest, says Tommy Pfouce, and
maybe he is right about it, for Caspar married his sweetheart; and if she did
not keep his money for him, and himself out of trouble, she would not have been
worth speaking of, and I, for one, would never have told this story.

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Chapter 18

XVIII

Six O’clock.

Six O’clock.

Little John and Eliza

Went down to the Mill,

But now it has stopped,

And the Hopper is still;

So John and Eliza

Come Home to their Tea,

And both are as hungry,

As hungry can be.

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The Swan Maiden.

XVIII.

ONCE there was a king who had a pear-tree which bore four-and-twenty golden
pears. Every day he went into the garden and counted them to see that none were
missing.

But, one morning, he found that a pear had been taken during the night, and
thereat he was troubled and vexed to the heart, for the pear-tree was as dear to
him as the apple of his eye. Now, the king had three sons, and so he called the
eldest prince to him.

“See,” said he, “if you will watch my pear-tree to-night, and will find me
the thief who stole the pear, you shall have half of my kingdom now, and the
whole of it when I am gone.”

You can guess how the prince was tickled at this: oh, yes, he would watch the
tree, and if the thief should come he should not get away again as easily.

Well, that night he sat down beside the tree, with his gun across his knees,
to wait for the coming of the thief.

He waited and waited, and still he saw not so much as a thread or a hair. But
about the middle of the night there came the very prettiest music that his ears
had ever heard, and before he knew what he was about he was asleep and snoring
until the little leaves shook upon the tree.

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When the morning came and he awoke, another pear was gone, and he could tell no
more about it than the man in the moon.

The next night the second son set out to watch the pear-tree. But he fared no
better than the first. About midnight came the music, and in a little while he
was snoring till the stones rattled. When the morning came another pear was
gone, and he had no more to tell about it than his brother.

The third night it was the turn of the youngest son, and he was more clever
than the others, for, when the evening came, he stuffed his ears full of wax, so
that he was as deaf as a post. About midnight, when the music came, he heard
nothing of it, and so he stayed wide awake. After the music had ended he took
the wax out of his ears, so that he might listen for the coming of the thief.

Presently there was a loud clapping and rattling, and a white swan flew overhead
and lit in the pear-tree above him. It began picking at one of the pears, and
then the prince raised his gun to shoot at it. But when he looked along the
barrel it was not a swan that he saw up in the pear-tree, but the prettiest girl
that he had ever looked upon.

“Don’t shoot me, king’s son! Don’t shoot me!” cried she.

But the prince had no thought of shooting her, for he had never seen such a
beautiful maiden in all of his days. “Very well,” said he, “I will not shoot,
but, if I spare your life, will you promise to be my sweetheart and to marry
me?”

“That may be as may be,” said the Swan Maiden. “For listen! I serve the witch
with three eyes. She lives on the glass hill that lies beyond the seven high
mountains, the seven deep valleys, and the seven wide rivers; are you man enough
to go that far?”

“Oh, yes,” said the prince, “I am man enough for that and more too.”

“That is good,” said the Swan Maiden, and thereupon she jumped down from the
pear-tree to the earth. Then she became a swan again, and bade the king’s son to
mount upon her back at the roots of her wings. When he had done as she had told
him, she sprang into the air and flew away, bearing him with her.

On flew the swan, and on and on, until, by and by, she said, “What do you
see, king’s son?”

“I see the grey sky above me and the dark earth below me, but nothing else,”

said he.

After that they flew on and on again, until, at last, the Swan Maiden said,

“What do you see now, king’s son?”

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The Swan carries the Prince over the hills and far away.

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“I see the grey sky above me and the dark earth below me, but nothing else,”

said he.

So once more they flew on until the Swan Maiden said, for the third time,

“And what do you see by now, king’s son?”

But this time the prince said, “I see the grey sky above me and the dark
earth below me, and over yonder is a glass hill, and on the hill is a house that
shines like fire.”

“That is where the witch with three eyes lives,” said the Swan Maiden; “and
now listen: when she asks you what it is that you came for, ask her to give you
the one who draws the water and builds the fire; for that is myself.”

So, when they had come to the top of the hill of glass, the king’s son
stepped down to the ground, and the swan flew over the roof.

Rap! tap! tap! he knocked at the door, and the old witch herself came and
opened it.

“And what do you want here?” said she.

“I want the one who draws the water and builds the fire,” said the prince.

At this the old witch scowled until her eyebrows met.

“Very well,” said she, “you shall have what you want if you can clean my
stables tomorrow between the rise and the set of the sun. But I tell you
plainly, if you fail in the doing, you shall be torn to pieces body and bones.”

But the prince was not to be scared away with empty words. So the next
morning the old witch came and took him to the stables where he was to do his
task. There stood more than a hundred cattle, and the stable had not been
cleaned for at least ten long years.

“There is your work,” said the old witch, and then she left him.

Well, the king’s son set to work with fork and broom and might and main, but

— prut! — he might as well have tried to bale out the great ocean with a
bucket.

At noontide who should come to the stable but the pretty Swan Maiden herself.

“When one is tired, one should rest for a while,” said she; “come and lay
your head in my lap.”

The prince was glad enough to do as she said, for nothing was to be gained by
working at that task. So he laid his head in her lap, and she combed his hair
with a golden comb till he fell fast asleep. When he awoke the Swan Maiden was
gone, the sun was setting, and the stable was as clean as a plate. Presently he
heard the old witch coming, so up he

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The Prince comes to the old, three eyed Witch’s house.

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jumped and began clearing away a straw here and a speck there, just as though he
were finishing the work.

“You never did this by yourself!” said the old witch, and her brows grew as
black as a thunder-storm.

“That may be so, and that may not be so,” said the king’s son, “but you lent
no hand to help; so now may I have the one who builds the fire and draws the
water?”

At this the old witch shook her head. “No,” said she, “there is more to be
done yet before you can have what you ask for. If you can thatch the roof of the
stable with bird feathers, no two of which shall be of the same color, and can
do it between the rise and the set of sun tomorrow, then you shall have your
sweetheart and welcome. But if you fail your bones shall be ground as fine as
malt in the mill.”

Very well; that suited the king’s son well enough. So at sunrise he arose and
went into the fields with his gun; but if there were birds to be shot, it was
few of them that he saw; for at noontide he had but two, and they were both of a
color. At that time who should come to him but the Swan Maiden.

“One should not tramp and tramp all day with never a bit of rest,” said she;

“come hither and lay your head in my lap for a while!”

The prince did as she bade him, and the maiden again combed his hair with a
golden comb until he fell asleep. When he awoke the sun was setting, and his
work was done. He heard the old witch coming, so up he jumped to the roof of the
stable and began laying a feather here and a feather there, for all the world as
though he were just finishing his task.

“You never did that work alone,” said the old witch.

“That may be so, and that may not be so,” said the prince; “all the same, it
was none of your doing. So now may I have the one who draws the water and builds
the fire?”

But the witch shook her head. “No,” said she, “there is still another task to
do before that. Over yonder is a fir-tree; on the tree is a crow’s nest, and in
the nest are three eggs. If you can harry that nest tomorrow between the rising
and the setting of the sun, neither breaking nor leaving a single egg, you shall
have that for which you ask.”

Very well; that suited the prince. The next morning at the rising of the sun
he started off to find the fir-tree, and there was no trouble in the finding I
can tell you, for it was more than a hundred feet high, and as smooth as glass
from root to tip. As for climbing it, he might as well have

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The Swan-Maiden helps the young Prince.

-238-

tried to climb a moonbeam, for in spite of all his trying he did nothing but
slip and slip. By and by came the Swan Maiden as she had come before.

“Do you climb the fir-tree?” said she.

“None too well,” said the king’s son.

“Then I may help you in a hard task,” said she.

She let down the braids of her golden hair, so that it hung down all about
her and upon the ground, and then she began singing to the wind. She sang and
sang, and by and by the wind began to blow, and, catching up the maiden’s hair,
carried it to the top of the fir-tree, and there tied it to the branches. Then
the prince climbed the hair and so reached the nest. There were the three eggs;
he gathered them, and then he came down as he had gone up. After that the wind
came again and loosed the maiden’s hair from the branches, and she bound it up
as it was before.

“Now, listen,” said she to the prince: “when the old witch asks you for the
three crow’s eggs which you have gathered, tell her that they belong to the one
who found them. She will not be able to take them from you, and they are worth
something, I can tell you.”

At sunset the old witch came hobbling along, and there sat the prince at the
foot of the fir-tree. “Have you gathered the crow’s eggs?” said she.

“Yes,” said the prince, “here they are in my handkerchief. And now may I have
the one who draws the water and builds the fire?”

“Yes,” said the old witch, “you may have her; only give me my crow’s eggs.”

“No,” said the prince, “the crow’s eggs are none of yours, for they belong to
him who gathered them.”

When the old witch found that she was not to get her crow’s eggs in that way,
she tried another, and began using words as sweet as honey. Come, come, there
should be no hard feeling between them. The prince had served her faithfully,
and before he went home with what he had come for he should have a good supper,
for it is ill to travel on an empty stomach.

So she brought the prince into the house, and then she left him while she
went to put the pot on the fire, and to sharpen the bread knife on the stone
door-step.

While the prince sat waiting for the witch, there came a tap at the door, and
whom should it be but the pretty Swan Maiden.

“Come,” said she, “and bring the three eggs with you, for the knife

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The witch and the woman of honey and meal.

that the old witch is sharpening is for you, and so is the great pot on the
fire, for she means to pick your bones in the morning.”

She led the prince down into the kitchen; there they made a figure out of
honey and barley-meal, so that it was all soft and sticky; then the maiden
dressed the figure in her own clothes and set it in the chimney-corner by the
fire.

After that was done, she became a swan again, and, taking the prince upon her
back, she flew away, over hill and over dale.

As for the old witch, she sat on the stone door-step, sharpening her knife.

By and by she came in, and, look as she might, there was no prince to be found.

Then if anybody was ever in a rage it was the old witch; off she went,
storming and fuming, until she came to the kitchen. There sat the woman of honey
and barley-meal beside the fire, dressed in the maiden’s clothes, and the old
woman thought that it was the girl herself. “Where is your sweetheart?” said
she; but to this the woman of honey and barley-meal answered never a word.

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“How now! are you dumb?” cried the old witch; “I will see whether I cannot
bring speech to your lips.” She raised her hand — slap! — she struck, and so
hard was the blow that her hand stuck fast to the honey and barley-meal. “What!”

cried she, “will you hold me?” — slap! — she struck with the other hand, and
it too stuck fast. So there she was, and, for all that I know, she is sticking
to the woman of honey and barley-meal to this day.

As for the Swan Maiden and the prince, they flew over the seven high
mountains, the seven deep valleys, and the seven wide rivers, until they came
near to the prince’s home again. The Swan Maiden lit in a great wide field, and
there she told the prince to break open one of the crow’s eggs. The prince did
as she bade him, and what should he find but the most beautiful little palace,
all of pure gold and silver. He set the palace on the ground, and it grew and
grew and grew until it covered as much ground as seven large barns. Then the

Swan Maiden told him to break another egg, and he did as she said, and what
should come out of it but such great herds of cows and sheep that they covered
the meadow far and near. The Swan Maiden told him to break the third egg, and
out of it came scores and scores of servants all dressed in gold-and-silver
livery.

That morning, when the king looked out of his bedroom window, there stood the
splendid castle of silver and gold. Then he called all of his people together,
and they rode over to see what it meant. On the way they met such herds of fat
sheep and cattle that the king had never seen the like in all of his life
before; and when he came to the fine castle, there were two rows of servants
dressed in clothes of silver and gold, ready to meet him. But when he came to
the door of the castle, there stood the prince himself. Then there was joy and
rejoicing, you may be sure! only the two elder brothers looked down in the
mouth, for since the young prince had found the thief who stole the golden
pears, their father’s kingdom was not for them. But the prince soon set their
minds at rest on that score, for he had enough and more than enough of his own.

After that the prince and the Swan Maiden were married, and a grand wedding
they had of it, with music of fiddles and kettle-drums, and plenty to eat and to
drink. I, too, was there; but all of the good red wine ran down over my tucker,
so that not a drop of it passed my lips, and I had to come away empty.

And that is all.

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Chapter 19

XIX

Seven O’clock.

Seven O’clock.

The Work is over for the Day;

The Sky is pale, and far away

The Village Children shout at Play.

Now from his Hole the Toad comes out,

And blinks his Eyes, and hops about,

And likes the pleasant Air, no doubt.

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The Three Little Pigs and the OGRE.

XIX.

THERE were three nice, fat little pigs. The first was small, the second was
smaller, and the third was the smallest of all. And these three little pigs
thought of going out into the woods to gather acorns, for there were better
acorns there than here.

“There’s a great ogre who lives over yonder in the woods,” says the barn-yard
cock.

“And he will eat you up, body and bones,” says the speckled hen.

“And there will be an end of you,” says the black drake.

“If folks only knew what was good for them, they would stay at home and make
the best of what they had there,” said the old grey goose who laid eggs under
the barn, and who had never gone out into the world or had had a peep of it
beyond the garden gate.

But no; the little pigs would go out into the world, whether or no; “for,”

said they, “if we stay at home because folks shake their heads, we will never
get the best acorns that are to be had;” and there was more than one barleycorn
of truth in that chaff, I can tell you.

So out into the woods they went.

They hunted for acorns here and they hunted for acorns there, and by and by
whom should the smallest of all the little pigs meet but the great, wicked ogre
himself.

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“Aha!” says the great, wicked ogre, “it is a nice, plump little pig that I
have been wanting for my supper this many a day past. So you may just come along
with me now.”

“Oh, Master Ogre,” squeaked the smallest of the little pigs in the smallest
of voices — “oh, Master Ogre, don’t eat me! There’s a bigger pig back of me,
and he will be along presently.”

So the ogre let the smallest of the little pigs go, for he would rather have
a larger pig if he could get it.

By and by came the second little pig. “Aha!” says the great, wicked ogre, “I
have been wanting just such a little pig as you for my supper for this many a
day past. So you may just come along with me now.”

“Oh, Master Ogre,” said the middle-sized pig, in his middle-sized voice,

“don’t take me for your supper; there’s a bigger pig than I am coming along
presently. Just wait for him.”

Well, the ogre was satisfied to do that; so he waited, and by and by, sure
enough, came the largest of the little pigs.

“And now,” says the great, wicked ogre, “I will wait no longer, for you are
just the pig I want for my supper, and so you may march along with me.”

But the largest of the little pigs had his wits about him, I can tell you.

“Oh, very well,” says he; “if I am the shoe that fits there is no use in hunting
for another; only, have you a roasted apple to put in my mouth when I am cooked?

for no one ever heard of a little pig brought on the table without a roast apple
in its mouth.”

No; the ogre had no roasted apple.

Dear, dear! that was a great pity. If he would wait for a little while, the
largest of the little pigs would run home and fetch one, and then things would
be as they should.

Yes, the ogre was satisfied with that. So off ran the little pig, and the
ogre sat down on a stone and waited for him.

Well, he waited and he waited and he waited and he waited, but not a tip of a
hair of the little pig did he see that day, as you can guess without my telling
you.

And Tommy Pfouce tells me that the great, wicked ogre is not the only one who
has gone without either pig or roast apple, because when he could get the one he
would not take it without the other.

“And now,” says the cock and the speckled hen and the black drake and the old
grey goose who laid her eggs under the barn, and had never

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The Ogre meets the three little pigs in the forest, whither they went to gather
acorns.

-246-

been out into the world beyond the garden-gate — “and now perhaps you will run
out into the world and among ogres no more. Are there not good enough acorns at
home?”

Perhaps there were; but that was not what the three little pigs thought.

“See, now,” said the smallest of the three little pigs, “if one is afraid of the
water, one will never catch any fish. I, for one, am going out into the woods to
get a few acorns.”

So out into the woods he went, and there he found all of the acorns that he
wanted. But, on his way home, whom should he meet but the great, wicked ogre.

“Aha!” says the ogre, “and is that you?”

Oh, yes, it was nobody else; but had the ogre come across three fellows
tramping about in the woods down yonder?

No, the ogre had met nobody in the woods that day.

“Dear, dear,” says the smallest little pig, “but that is a pity, for those
three fellows were three wicked robbers, and they have just hidden a meal-bag
full of money in that hole up in the tree yonder.”

You can guess how the ogre pricked up his ears at this, and how he stared
till his eyes were as big as saucers.

“Just wait,” said he to the smallest little pig, “and I will be down again in
a minute.” So he laid his jacket to one side and up the tree he climbed, for he
wanted to find that bag of money, and he meant to have it.

“Do you find the hole?” says the smallest of the little pigs.

Yes; the ogre had found the hole.

“And do you find the money?” says the smallest of the little pigs.

No; the ogre could find no money.

“Then good-bye,” says the smallest of the little pigs, and off he trotted
home, leaving the ogre to climb down the tree again as he chose.

“And now, at least, you will go out into the woods no more,” says the cock,
the speckled hen, the black drake, and the grey goose.

Oh, well, there was no telling what the three little pigs would do yet, they
would have to wait and see.

One day it was the middle-sized little pig who would go out into the woods,
for he also had a mind to taste the acorns there.

So out into the woods the middle-sized little pig went, and there he had all
the acorns that he wanted.

But by and by the ogre came along. “Aha!” says he. “Now I have you for sure
and certain.”

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The Ogre climbs the tree for the money that be believes to be there.

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But the middle-sized little pig just stood and looked at a great rock just in
front of him, with all of his might and main. “Sh-h-h-h-h-h!” says he, “I am not
to be talked to or bothered now!”

Hoity-toity! Here was a pretty song, to be sure! And why was the middle-sized
pig not to be talked to? That was what the ogre should like to know.

Oh, the middle-sized little pig was looking at what was going on under the
great rock yonder, for he could see the little folk brewing more beer than
thirty-seven men could drink.

So! Why, the ogre would like to see that for himself.

“Very well,” says the middle-sized little pig, “there is nothing easier than
to learn that trick! just take a handful of leaves from yonder bush and rub them
over your eyes, and then shut them tight and count fifty. ‘

Well, the ogre would have a try at that. So he gathered a handful of the
leaves and rubbed them over his eyes, just as the middle-sized pig had said.

“And now are you ready?” said the middle-sized little pig.

Yes; the ogre was ready.

“Then shut your eyes and count,” said the middle-sized little pig.

So the ogre shut them as tightly as he could and began to count, “One, two,
three, four, five,” and so on; and while he was counting, why, the little pig
was running away home again.

By and by the ogre bawled out “Fifty!!!” and opened his eyes, for he was
done. Then he saw not more, but less, than he had seen before, for the little
pig was not there.

And now it was the largest of the three little pigs who began to talk about
going out into the woods to look for acorns.

“You had better stay at home and take things as they come. The crock that
goes often to the well gets broken at last;” that was what the cock, the
speckled hen, the black drake, and the grey goose said; and they thought
themselves very wise to talk as they did.

But no; the little pig wanted to go out into the woods, and into the woods
the little pig would go, ogre or no ogre.

After he had eaten all of the acorns that he wanted he began to think of
going home again, but just then the ogre came stumping along. “Aha!” says he,

“we have met again, have we?”

“Yes,” said the largest of the three little pigs, “we have. And I want

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The Ogre shuts his eyes and counts fifty.

to say that I could find no roast apple at home, and so I did not come back
again.”

Yes, yes, that was all very fine; but they should have a settling of old
scores now. The largest of the three little pigs might just come along home with
the ogre, and tomorrow he should be made into sausages; for there was to be no
trickery this time, so there was an end of the matter.

Come, come! the ogre must not be too testy. There was such a thing as having
too much pepper in the pudding — that was what the largest of the little pigs
said. If it were sausages that the ogre was after, maybe the pig could help him.

Over home at the farm yonder was a storehouse filled with more sausages and good
things than two men could count. There was a window where the ogre could just
squeeze through. Only

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he must promise to eat what he wanted and to carry nothing away with him.

Well, the ogre promised to eat all he wanted in the storehouse, and then off
they went together.

By and by they came to the storehouse at the farm, and there, sure enough,
was a window, and it was just large enough for the ogre to squeeze through
without a button to spare in the size.

Dear, dear! how the ogre did stuff himself with the sausages and puddings and
other good things in the storehouse.

By and by the little pig bawled out as loud as he could, “Have you had enough
yet?”

“Hush-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh!” says the ogre, “don’t talk so loud, or you’ll be
rousing the folks and having them about our ears like a hive of bees.”

“No,” bawled the little pig, louder than before, “but tell me, have you had
enough yet?”

“Yes, yes,” says the ogre, “I have had almost enough, only be still about
it!”

“Very well!” bawled the little pig, as loud as he could, “if you have had
enough, and if you have eaten all of the sausages and all of the puddings you
can stuff, it is about time that you were going, for here comes the farmer and
two of his men to see what all the stir is about.”

And, sure enough, the farmer and his men were coming as fast as they could
lay foot to the ground.

But when the ogre heard them coming, he felt sure that it was time that he
was getting away home again, and so he tried to get out of the same window that
he had gotten in a little while before. But he had stuffed himself with so much
of the good things that he had swelled like everything, and there he stuck in
the storehouse window like a cork in a bottle, and could budge neither one way
nor the other; and that was a pretty pickle to be in.

“Oho!” says the farmer, “you were after my sausages and my puddings, were
you? Then you will come no more.”

And that was so; for when the farmer and his men were done with the ogre he
never went into the woods again, for he could not.

As for the three little pigs, they trotted away into the woods every day of
their lives, for there was nobody nowadays to stop them from gathering all the
acorns that they wanted.

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The Ogre sticks fast in the window.

Now, don’t you believe folks when they say that this is all stuff and
nonsense that I have been telling you; for if you turn it upside down and look
in the bottom of it you will find that there is more than one grain of truth
there; that is if you care to scratch among the chaff for it. And that is the
end of this story.

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-253-

Chapter 20

XX

Eight O’clock.

Eight O’clock.

The little Bats fly

About in the Sky,

And the Kobold’s wide awake.

The great black Trees

Are stirred in the Breeze,

And a curious Sound they make.

The Plays are done,

And the Prayers are said,

And the Children are snugly

Tucked in Bed.

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The Staff and The Fiddle.

XX.

THE wind of heaven blows the chips and the straws together.

There was a fiddler, a tinker, and a shoemaker jogging along the road, but
whatever brought them in company is more than I am able to tell you. All the
same, there they were, and, after all, that is the kernel of the nut.

The fiddler was as merry a little toad as ever a body could wish to see; as
for the tinker and the shoemaker, why, they were as sour as bad beer.

Well, they plodded along, all three of them, until by and by they came to a
cross-road, and there sat an old body begging; “Dear, good, kind gentlemen, give
a poor old woman a penny or two. Do now.”

“Pooh!” says the tinker and the shoemaker, and off they walked with their
noses in the air as though they were hunting for flies up yonder.

As for the fiddler, he had another kind of a heart under his jacket; “Come,”

says he, “we are all chicks in the same puddle.” So he gave the old woman all
that he had, which was only two pennies.

“A cake for a pie,” said the old woman; “and what would you like to

-256-

have in the way of a wish? for all that you have to do is to ask, and it shall
be granted.”

This old woman was a famous wise one, I can tell you, though the fiddler knew
nothing of that.

The fiddler thought and thought, but there was little that he had to wish
for; nevertheless, since they were in the way of asking and giving, and seeing
that his body was none of the largest, he would like to have it for a wish that
whenever he should say, “Rub-a-dub-dub,” the staff in his hand would up and
fight for him.

So! and was that all that he wanted? Then it was granted and welcome, for it
was little enough.

After that they said, “Good-morning,” and the fiddler went one way and the
old woman the other.

So the three companions plodded along together until, by and by, night came,
and there they were, in a deep forest, with branches over their heads and not a
peep out from under the trees, no matter where they might look; and that was not
the pleasantest thing for them, I can tell you. But by and by they saw a light,
and then the world looked up with them again. So they hurried along more
rapidly, and presently came to the house where the light was shining; and, after
all, it was not much to look at.

Rap, tap, tap! they knocked at the door, but nobody came; so they opened it
for themselves and walked in.

No; there was no one at home, but there was a table spread with a smoking hot
supper, and places for three. Down they sat without waiting for the bidding, for
their hunger was as sharp as vinegar.

Well, they ate and they ate and they ate until they could eat no more, and
then they turned around and roasted their toes at the warm fire.

That was all very well and good, but by and by all the wood was burned, and
then who was to go out into the dark forest and fetch another armful?

“Not I,” says the tinker.

“Not I,” says the shoemaker.

And so it fell to the lot of the fiddler, and off he went.

But many a one spills the milk-mug to save the water-jug, and so it was with
the tinker and the shoemaker; for, while they sat warming their shins at the
fire and rubbing their hands over their knees, in walked an ugly little troll no
taller than a yard-stick, but with a head as big as a

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The fiddler gives the old woman all that he has in his purse.

-258-

cabbage, and a good stout cudgel twice as long as himself in his hand; as for
his eyes, why, they were as big as your mother’s teacups.

“I want something to eat,” says he.

“You’ll get nothing here,” says the tinker and the shoemaker.

“Yes, but I will,” says the little manikin.

“No, but you will not,” says the tinker and the shoemaker.

“That we’ll see,” says the manikin; whereupon he spat upon his hands,
snatched up his club, and, without more ado, fell upon the tinker and the
shoemaker, and began beating them with all his might and main. My goodness, you
should have seen how they hopped about like two peas on a drum-head, and you
should have heard how they bellowed and bawled for mercy! But the little ugly
troll never stopped until he was too tired to drub them any more; then he went
away whither he had come, and all that the two fellows could do was to rub the
places that smarted the most.

By and by in came the fiddler with his armful of wood, but never a word did
the tinker and the shoemaker say, for they had no notion of telling how such a
little manikin had dusted the coats of two great hulking fellows like
themselves; only the next day they thought that it would be well to rest where
they were, for their bones were too sore to be jogging. So they lolled around
the house all day, and found everything that they wanted to eat in the
cupboards.

After supper there was more wood to be brought in from the forest, and this
time it was the tinker and the shoemaker who went to fetch it, for they had
settled it between them that the fiddler was to have a taste of the same broth
that they had supped.

Sure enough, by and by in came the ugly little troll with the great long
cudgel.

“I want something to eat,” says he.

“There it is, brother,” says the fiddler, “help yourself.”

“It is you who shall wait on me,” says the ugly little troll.

“Tut!” says the fiddler, “how you talk, neighbor; have you no hands of your
own?”

“You shall wait on me,” says the manikin.

“I shall not,” says the fiddler.

“That we will see,” says the manikin, and he spat upon his hands and gripped
his cudgel.

“Hi!” says the fiddler, “and is that the game you are playing? Then,
rub-a-dub-dub!” says he.

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The fiddler gives the word and the staff falls to drubbing the Dwarf as he
deserves.

-260-

Pop! — up jumps his staff from the corner where he had stood it, and then
you should have seen the dust fly! This time it was the manikin who hopped over
the chairs and begged and bawled for mercy. As for the fiddler, he stood by with
his hands in his pockets and whistled. By and by the manikin found the door, and
out he jumped with the fiddler at his heels. But the fiddler was not quick
enough, for, before he could catch him, the little troll popped into a great
hole in the ground like a frog into a well; and there was an end to that
business.

After a while the tinker and the shoemaker came back from the forest with
their load of wood, and then how the fiddler did laugh at them, for he saw very
well how the wind had been blowing with them. As for him, he was all for
following the little manikin into the hole in the ground; so they hunted here
and they hunted there, until they found a great basket and a rope, and then the
tinker and the shoemaker lowered the fiddler and his staff down into the pit.

Down he went ever so deep until he reached the bottom, and there he found a
great room. The first body whom he saw was a princess as pretty as a ripe apple,
but looking, oh, so sad! at being in such a place. The next he saw was the ugly
little troll, who sat in the corner and growled like our cat when the dog comes
into the kitchen.

“So!” says the fiddler, “there you are, are you? Then it is rub-a-dub-dub
again.” And this time before the drubbing was stopped it was all over with the
troll.

And then who was glad but the pretty princess. She flung her arms around the
merry little fiddler’s neck, and gave him a right good smacking kiss or two, and
that paid a part of the score, I can tell you. Then they sat down and the pretty
princess told him all about how the troll had carried her off a year and more
ago, and had kept her in this place ever since. After that she took a pure gold
ring off of her finger and broke it in two; half of it was for the fiddler and
half of it was for her; for they were sweethearts now, and the ring was to be a
love token.

Then the fiddler put the princess into the basket, and the two fellows above
hauled her up. By and by down came the basket again, and now it was the
fiddler’s turn. “Suppose,” says he, “that they are up to some of their tricks!”

So he tumbled a great stone into the basket in the place of himself. Sure
enough, when the basket was about half-way up, down it came tumbling, for the
rogues above had cut the rope, and if the fiddler had been there in the place of
the stone, it would have been all over with him.

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The fiddler finds the Princess in the cavern of the Dwarf.

-262-

Then if anybody was ever down in the dumps the fiddler was the fellow. For
there he was down in the pit, and he could no more get out of his pickle than a
toad out of the cellar window. After he had been there for ever so long a time,
he saw a pretty little fiddle that hung back of the cupboard. “Aha!” says he,

“there is some butter to the crust after all; and now we will just have a bit of
a jig to cheer us up a little.” So down he sat and began to play.

And then what do you think happened? Why, up popped a little fellow no higher
than your knee and as black as your hat!

“What do you want, master?” said he.

“So,” said the fiddler, “and is that the tune we play? Well, I should like to
get out of this pit, that I should.”

No sooner said than done, for he had hardly time to pick up his staff and
tuck the fiddle under his arm, when — whisk! — he was up above as quick as a
wink.

“Hi!” said he, “but this is a pretty fiddle to own and no mistake!” and off
he went, right foot foremost.

After a while he came to the town where the king lived, and there was a great
buzzing and gossip, and this was why: all the folks were talking about how the
tinker and the shoemaker had brought back the princess from the ugly little
troll, and of how the king had promised that whoever did that was to have her
for his wife and half of the kingdom to boot; but here were two lads, and the
question was who was to have her. For before they had left the pit over yonder,
the tinker and the shoemaker had made the princess vow and promise that she
would say nothing about how they had treated the fiddler, and now each fellow
was saying that he had brought her up out of the troll’s den.

And the princess did nothing but sit and cry and cry; but, as for marrying,
she vowed and declared that she would not do that till she had a pair of
slippers of pure gold, and a real diamond buckle on each slipper; and nobody in
all of the town was able to make the kind that she wanted.

When the fiddler heard all this he went straight to a shoemaker’s shop. “Will
you take a journeyman shoemaker?” says he.

“What can you do?” says the master shoemaker.

“I can make a pair of slippers such as the princess wants, only I must have a
room all to myself to make them in,” says the fiddler.

When the master shoemaker heard this, he was not long in making up his mind,
so the bargain was closed and that settled the business.

-263-

The fiddler and the little, black mannikin.

As soon as the fiddler was alone he drew out his fiddle and began to play a
bit of a jig, and there stood the little black fellow, just as he had done
before.

“What do you want?” says he.

“I should like,” said the fiddler, “to have a pair of slippers such as the
princess asks for, but I only want one buckle to the pair, and that must be made
of real diamonds.”

-264-

Oh! that was an easy thing to have, and there were the slippers just as the
fiddler had ordered.

“But there is only one buckle,” says the master shoemaker.

“Tut!” says the fiddler, “turn no hairs grey for that, brother. Just tell the
princess that the fiddler has the other, and matters will be as smooth as
cream.”

Well, the master shoemaker did as the fiddler said, and you may guess how the
princess opened her pretty eyes when she heard that her sweetheart was
thereabouts. Nothing would suit her but that she must see that journeyman
shoemaker. But when they sent to fetch him, he was gone.

And now the shoemaker and the tinker began to talk again; the princess had
been promised to the man who saved her from the troll, and so she must and
should choose one of them. But no; the princess was not ready yet; she would
never marry till she had a pair of gloves of the finest silk, all embroidered
with silver and pearls and with a ruby clasp at the wrist of each.

And now came the same dance with a different tune, for nobody was to be found
in all of the town who could make such a pair of gloves as she wanted. By and by
the matter came to the fiddler’s ears, and off he set to the glover’s shop. And
did the glover want an apprentice?

Yes, the glover wanted an apprentice, but he must know first what the other
could do.

“Well,” said the fiddler, “if I have a room all to myself, I can make a pair
of gloves such as the princess asks for.” And after that he was not left to kick
his toes in the cold.

As soon as he was alone, he drew out his fiddle and struck up an air, and
there stood the little black man again.

“I would like,” said the fiddler, “to have a pair of gloves such as the
princess asks for. But there must be only one clasp to the wrist, and that made
all of pure rubies.” That is what he said, and there were the gloves without his
having to ask twice for them.

“But there is only one clasp,” said the glover.

“Never mind that,” said the wonderful apprentice; “just tell the princess
that the fiddler had the other, and she will be satisfied.”

As for the princess, she sent off post-haste for the lad who had made her
gloves. But she was behindhand this time too, for, when those whom she sent came
to the glover’s house, they found nobody there but the cat and the kettle, and
the master glover, for the fiddler was gone.

-265-

And now the tinker and the shoemaker began again; the princess had her
gloves, and she must and should choose one or the other of them.

But no. First of all the princess must have a fine dress all of white silk
with both sleeves looped up with pearls as big as marbles.

But there was nobody to make such a dress as that in all of the town, till
the fiddler went to the master tailor and offered himself as a journeyman
workman. Then the dress came quickly enough, and with only the tune of a fiddle.

But the loop of pearls on one sleeve was missing.

“And that will never do in the wide world,” says the tailor.

“Oh,” says the fiddler, “that is nothing; just tell the princess that the
fiddler has the other, and she will be satisfied.”

Well, the tailor did as he said, and when the princess heard who had the
pearl loop, she was satisfied, just as the fiddler had said she would be.

By and by the tinker and the shoemaker began again; the princess must choose
one or the other of them. And now there was nothing left for her to do but to
say “Yes.” She felt sure that the fiddler would be on hand at the right time,
and so a day was fixed for choosing whom she would marry.

It was not long before the fiddler heard of that, for news flies fast. Off he
went by himself and played a turn or two on his fiddle.

“And what do you want now?” says the little manikin.

“This time,” said the fiddler, “I want a splendid suit of clothes for myself,
all of silver and gold; besides that, I want a hat with a great feather in it
and a fine milk-white horse.

So; good! Well, he could have those things easily enough, and there they
were.

So the fiddler dressed himself in his fine clothes, and then, when it was
about time for the princess to make her choice, he mounted upon his great
milk-white horse and set off for the king’s house with his staff across the
saddle in front of him.

But you should have seen how the people looked as he rode along the street,
for they had never laid eyes upon such a fine sight in all of their lives
before. Up he rode to the castle, and when he knocked at the door they did not
keep him waiting long out in the cold, I can tell you.

There they all sat at dinner, the tinker on one side of the princess and the
shoemaker on the other. But when they saw the fiddler in his grand clothes, they
thought that he was some great nobleman for sure and certain, for neither the
princess nor the two rogues knew who he was. The folks squeezed together along
the bench and made room for him; so he leaned

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his staff in the corner and down he sat, just across the table from the
princess.

By and by he asked the princess if she would drink a glass of red wine with
him.

Yes, the princess would do that.

So the fiddler drank, and then what did he do but drop his half of the ring
that the princess had given him into the cup, before he passed it across to her.

Then the princess drank, but something bobbed against her lips; and when she
came to look — lo and behold! — there was the half of her ring.

And if anybody in all of the world was glad, it was the princess at that very
moment. Up she stood before them all; “There is my sweetheart,” says she, “and I
will marry him and no one else.”

As for the fiddler, he just said, “Rub-a-dub-dub,” and up jumped the staff
and began to thump and bang the tinker and the shoemaker until they scampered
away for dear life, and there was an end of them so far as I know, for if you
would like to know what happened to them afterwards, you will have to ask some
one else.

The king was ever so glad to have the fiddler for a son-in-law in the place
either of the tinker or the shoemaker, for he was a much better-looking lad.

Besides, the others had done nothing but brew trouble and worriment ever since
they had come into the house.

After that there was a grand wedding. I too was there at the feasting, but I
got nothing but empty sausage and wind pudding, and so I came away again.

And that is the end of this story.

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Chapter 21

XXI

Nine O’clock.

Nine O’clock.

When all are wrapped in Slumbers sweet,

About the House, with stealthy Tread,

With flowered Gown, and night-capped Head,

Dame Margery goes, in Stocking Feet.

She stops and listens at the Doors;

She sees that every thing is right,

And safe, and quiet for the Night,

Then goes to Bed, and sleeps, and snores.

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How the Princess’s Pride was broken.

XXI.

THERE was a princess who was as pretty as a picture, and she was so proud of
that that she would not so much as look at a body; all the same, there was no
lack of lads who came a-wooing, and who would have liked nothing so much as to
have had her for a sweetheart because she was so good-looking. But, no, she
would have nothing to do with any of them; this one was too young and that one
was too old; this one was too lean and that one was too fat; this one was too
little and that one was too big; this one was too dark and that one was too
fair. So there was never a white sheep in the whole flock, as one might say.

Now there was one came who was a king in his own country, and a fine one at
that. The only blemish about him was a mole on his chin; apart from that he was
as fresh as milk and rose leaves.

But when the princess saw him she burst out laughing; “Who would choose a
specked apple from the basket?” said she; and that was all the cake the prince
bought at that shop, for off he was packed.

But he was not for giving up, not he; he went and dressed himself up in rags
and tatters; then back he came again, and not a soul knew him.

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Rap! tap! rap! — he knocked at the door, and did they want a stout lad about
the place?

Well, yes; they were wanting a gooseherd, and if he liked the place he might
have it.

Oh, that fitted his wants like a silk stocking, and the next day he drove the
geese up on the hill back of the king’s house, so that they might eat grass
where it was fresh and green. By and by he took a golden ball out of his pocket
and began tossing it up and catching it, and as he played with it the sun shone
on it so that it dazzled one’s eyes to look at it.

The princess sat at her window, and it was not long before she saw it, I can
tell you. Dear, dear, but it was a pretty one, the golden ball. The princess
would like to have such a plaything, that she would; so she sent one of the
maids out to ask whether the gooseherd had a mind to sell it.

Oh, yes, it was for sale, and cheap at that; the princess should have it for
the kerchief which she wore about her neck.

Prut! but the lad was a saucy one; that was what the princess said. But,
after all, a kerchief was only a kerchief; fetch the gooseherd over and she
would give it to him, for she wanted the pretty golden ball for her own, and she
would have it if it were to be had.

But, no; the gooseherd would not come at the princess’s bidding. If she
wanted to buy the golden ball she must come up on the hill and pay him, for he
was not going to leave his flock of geese, and have them waddling into the
garden perhaps; that is what the gooseherd said. So the upshot of the matter was
that the princess went out with her women, and gave the lad the kerchief up on
the hill behind the hedge, and brought back the golden ball with her for her
own.

As for the gooseherd he just tied the kerchief around his arm so that
everybody might see it; and all the folks said, “Hi! that is the princess’s
kerchief.”

The next day, when he drove his flock of geese up on the hill, he took a
silver looking-glass and a golden comb out of his pocket and began to comb his
hair, and you should have seen how the one and the other glistened in the sun.

It took the princess no longer to see the comb and the looking-glass than it
had the golden ball, and then she must and would have them. So she sent one to
find whether the lad was of a mind to sell them, for she thought that she had
never seen anything so pretty in all of her life before.

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The Royal gooseherd playeth with the golden ball.

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“Yes,” said he, “I will sell them, but the princess must come up on the hill
back of the hedge and give me the necklace she wears about her neck.”

The princess made a sour enough face at this, but, as the gooseherd would
take nothing more nor less than what he had said, she and her maids had to tuck
up their dresses and go up on the hill; there she paid him his price, and
brought home the silver looking-glass and the golden comb.

The lad clasped the necklace about his throat, and, dear, dear, how all the
folks did goggle and stare. “See,” said they, “the princess has been giving the
gooseherd the necklace from about her own throat.”

The third day it was a new thing the gooseherd had, for he brought out a
musical box with figures on it, dressed up, and looking for all the world like
real little men and women. He turned the handle, and when the music played it
was sweeter than drops of honey. And all the while the little men and women
bowed to one another and went through with a dance, for all the world as though
they knew what they were about, and were doing it with their own wits.

Good gracious! how the princess did wonder at the pretty musical box! She
must and would have it at any price; but this time it was five-and-twenty kisses
that the lad was wanting for his musical box, and he would take nothing more nor
less than just that much for it. Moreover, she would have to come up on the
hillside and give them to him, for he could not leave his geese even for
five-and-twenty kisses.

But you should have seen what a stew the princess was in at this!

Five-and-twenty kisses, indeed! And did the fellow think that it was for the
likes of her to be kissing a poor gooseherd? He might keep his musical box if
that was the price he asked for it; that was what she said.

As for the lad, he just played the music and played the music, and the more
the princess heard and saw the more she wanted it. “After all,” said she, at
last, “a kiss is only a kiss, and I will be none the poorer for giving one or
two of them; I’ll just let him have them, since he will take nothing else.” So
off she marched, with all of her maidens, to pay the gooseherd his price, though
it was a sour face she made of it, and that is the truth.

Now, somebody had been buzzing in the king’s ear, and had told him that the
gooseherd over yonder was wearing the princess’s kerchief and her golden
necklace, and folks said she had given them to him of her own free will.

“What!” says the king, “is that so? her kerchief! golden necklace!

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The king peeps over the hedge and sees what is going on upon the other side.

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we will have to look into this business.” So off he marched, with his little dog
at his heels, to find out what he could about it. Up the hill he went to where
the gooseherd watched his flock; and when he came near the hedge where the
kissing was going on, he heard them counting — “Twenty-one, twenty-two,
twenty-three — ” and he wondered what in the world they were all about. So he
just peeped over the bushes, and there he saw the whole business.

Mercy on us! what a rage he was in! So; the princess would turn up her nose
at folks as good as herself, would she? And here she was kissing the gooseherd
back of the hedge. If he was the kind she liked she should have him for good and
all.

So the minister was called in, and the princess and the gooseherd were
married then and there, and that was the end of the business. Then off they were
packed to shift for themselves in the wide world, for they were not to live at
the king’s castle, and that was the long and the short of it.

But the lad did nothing but grumble and growl, and seemed as sore over his
bargain as though he had been trying to trick a Jew. What did he want with a
lass for a wife who could neither brew nor bake nor boil blue beans? That is
what he said. All the same, they were hitched to the same plough, and there was
nothing for it but to pull together the best they could. So off they packed, and
the poor princess trudged after him and carried his bundle.

So they went on until they came to a poor, mean little hut. There she had to
take off her fine clothes and put on rags and tatters; and that was the way she
came home.

“Well,” said the gooseherd one day, “it’s not the good end of the bargain
that I have had in marrying; all the same, one must make the best one can of a
crooked stick when there is none other to be cut in the hedge. It is little or
nothing you are fit for: but here is a basket of eggs, and you shall take them
to the market and sell them.”

So off the poor princess went to the great town, and stood in the corner of
the market with her eggs. By and by there came along a tipsy countryman —
tramp! tramp! tramp! As for the basket of eggs, he minded them no more than so
many green apples. Smash! and there they lay on the ground, and were fit for
nothing but to patch broken promises, as we say in our town.

Then how the poor princess did wring her hands and cry and cry, for she was
afraid to go home to her husband, because of the hard words he

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The Princess taketh her eggs to the market.

would be sure to fling at her. All the same, there was no other place for her to
go; so back she went.

“There!” said he, “I always knew that you were good for nothing but to look
at, and now I am more sure of it than ever. The china pitcher was never fit to
send to the well, and it was a rainy day for me when I married such a
left-handed wife;” that was what the gooseherd said. All the same, the princess
should try again; this time she should take a basket of apples to the market to
sell; for whatever happened she could not break them; so off she went again.

Well, by and by came a fellow driving swine, and there sat the princess in
the way; that was bad luck for her, for over tumbled the basket, and the

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apples went rolling all about the street. When the drove had passed there was
not a single apple to be seen, for the pigs had eaten every one of them. So
there was nothing for the princess but to go home crying, with her apron to her
eyes.

“Yes, yes,” said the gooseherd, “it is as plain as reading and writing and
the nose on your face that you are just fit for nothing at all! All the same,
we’ll make one more try to mend the crack in your luck. The king up in the
castle yonder is married and is going to give a grand feast. They are wanting a
body in the kitchen to draw the water and chop the wood; and you shall go and
try your hand at that; and see, here is a basket; you shall take it along and
bring home the kitchen scrapings for supper.”

So off went the princess to the castle kitchen, and there she drew the water
and chopped the wood for the cook. After her work was done she begged so
prettily for the kitchen scrapings that the cook filled her basket full of the
leavings from the pots and the pans, for they were about having a grand dinner
up-stairs and the king was going to bring home his wife that day.

By and by it was time for her to be going home, so she picked up her basket
and off she went. Just outside stood two tall soldiers. “Halt!” said they. And
was she the lass who had been chopping the wood and drawing the water for the
cook that day? Yes? Then she must go along with them, for she was wanted
up-stairs. No; it did no good for her to beg and to pray and to cry and to wring
her hands, and it mattered nothing if her good man was waiting for her at home.

She had been sent for, and she must go, willy-nilly. So she had only just time
to fling her apron over her basket of kitchen scrapings, and off they marched
her.

There sat the king on his golden throne, dressed all in splendid golden
robes, and with a golden crown glittering upon his head. But the poor princess
was so frightened that she neither looked at anything nor saw anything, but only
stood there trembling.

“What have you under your apron?” said the king. But to this the princess
could not answer a single word. Then somebody who stood near snatched away her
apron, and there was the basket full of kitchen scrapings, and all the time the
princess stood so heart-struck with shame that she saw nothing but the cracks in
the floor.

But the king stepped down from his golden throne dressed all in his

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The Princess knoweth the Young King.

golden robes, just as he was, and took the princess by the hand. “And do you not
know me?” said he; “look! I am the gooseherd.”

And so he was! She could see it easily enough now, but that made her more
ashamed than ever.

And listen: the king had more to tell her yet. He was the tipsy countryman
and had knocked over her basket of eggs himself, and more than that he was the
swineherd who had driven his pigs over her basket of apples so that they were
spilled on the ground. But the princess only bowed her head lower and lower, for
her pride was broken.

“Come,” says the king, “you are my own sweetheart now;” and he kissed her on
the cheek and seated her beside himself, and if the princess

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cried any more the king wiped away her tears with his own pocket-handkerchief.

As for the poor and rough clothes in which she was dressed, he thought nothing
of them, for they were nothing to him.

That is the end of this story, for everything ends aright in a story worth
the telling.

But if the princess was proud and haughty before, she never was again and
that is the plain truth, fresh from the churn and no hairs in it, and a lump of
it is worth spreading your bread with, I can tell you.

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Chapter 22

XXII

Ten O’clock.

Ten O’clock.

Out of the Cupboard

The Kobold takes

Some bits of the Morning

Griddle-Cakes.

The Windows rattle,

The North Wind blows,

But the Ashes are warm

Between his Toes.

The little grey Mouse

Looks out of the Wall,

And wishes he had

The Crumbs that fall.

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How Two went into Partnership.

XXII.

THIS was the way of it.

Uncle Bear had a pot of honey and a big cheese, but the Great Red Fox had
nothing but his wits.

The fox was for going into partnership, for he says, says he, “a head full of
wits is worth more than a pot of honey and a big cheese,” which was as true as
gospel, only that wits cannot be shared in partnership among folks, like red
herring and blue beans, or a pot of honey and a big cheese.

All the same, Uncle Bear was well enough satisfied, and so they went into
partnership together, just as the Great Red Fox had said. As for the pot of
honey and the big cheese, why, they were put away for a rainy day, and the wits
were all that were to be used just now.

“Very well,” says the fox, “we’ll rattle them up a bit;” and so he did, and
this was how.

He was hungry for the honey, was the Great Red Fox. “See, now,” said he, “I
am sick to-day, and I will just go and see the Master Doctor over yonder.”

But it was not the doctor he went to; no, off he marched to the storehouse,
and there he ate part of the honey. After that he laid out in the sun and
toasted his skin, for that is pleasant after a great dinner.

By and by he went home again.

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“Well,” says Uncle Bear, “and how do you feel now?”

“Oh, well enough,” says the Great Red Fox.

“And was the medicine bitter?” says Uncle Bear.

“Oh, no, it was good enough,” says the Great Red Fox.

“And how much did the doctor give you?” says Uncle Bear.

“Oh, about one part of a pot full,” says the Red Fox.

Dear, dear! thinks Uncle Bear, that is a great deal of medicine to take, for
sure and certain.

Well, things went on as smoothly as though the wheels were greased, until by
and by the fox grew hungry for a taste of honey again; and this time he had to
go over yonder and see his aunt. Off he went to the storehouse, and there he ate
all the honey he wanted, and then, after he had slept a bit in the sun, he went
back home again.

“Well,” says Uncle Bear, “and did you see your aunt?”

“Oh, yes,” says the Great Red Fox, “I saw her.”

“And did she give you anything?” says Uncle Bear.

“Oh, yes, she gave me a trifle,” says the Great Red Fox.

“And what was it she gave you?” says Uncle Bear.

“Why, she gave me another part of a pot full, that was all,” says the Great

Red Fox.

“Dear, dear! but that is a queer thing to give,” says Uncle Bear.

By and by the Great Red Fox was thinking of honey again, and now it was a
christening he had to go to. Off he went to the pot of honey, and this time he
finished it all and licked the pot into the bargain.

And had everything gone smoothly at the christening? That was what Uncle Bear
wanted to know.

“Oh, smoothly enough,” says the Great Red Fox.

“And did they have a christening feast?” says Uncle Bear.

“Oh, yes, they had that,” says the Great Red Fox.

“And what did they have?” says Uncle Bear.

“Oh, everything that was in the pot,” says the Great Red Fox.

“Dear, dear,” says Uncle Bear, “but they must have been a hungry set at that
christening.”

Well, one day Uncle Bear says, “We’ll have a feast and eat up the pot of
honey and the big cheese, and we’ll ask Father Goat over to help us.”

That suited the Great Red Fox well enough, so off he went to the storehouse
to fetch the pot of honey and the cheese; as for Uncle Bear

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The Great Red Fox goeth to the storehouse and helps himself to the good things.

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he went to ask Father Goat to come and help them eat up the good things.

“See, now,” says the Great Red Fox to himself, “the pot of honey and the big
cheese belong together, and it is a pity to part them.” So down he sat without
more ado, and when he got up again the cheese was all inside of him.

When he came home again there was Father Goat toasting his toes at the fire
and waiting for supper; and there was Uncle Bear on the back door-step
sharpening the bread-knife.

“Hi!” says the Great Red Fox, “and what are you doing here, Father Goat?”

“I am just waiting for supper, and that is all,” says Father Goat.

“And where is Uncle Bear?” says the Great Red Fox.

“He is sharpening the bread-knife,” says Father Goat.

“Yes,” says the Great Red Fox, “and when he is through with that he is going
to cut your tail off.”

Dear, dear! but Father Goat was in a great fright; that house was no place
for him, and he could see that with one eye shut; off he marched, as though the
ground was hot under him. As for the Great Red Fox, he went out to Uncle Bear,

“That was a pretty body you asked to take supper with us,” says he; “here he has
marched off with the pot of honey and the big cheese, and we may sit down and
whistle over an empty table between us.”

When Uncle Bear heard this he did not tarry, I can tell you; up he got and
off he went after Father Goat. “Stop! stop!” he bawled, “let me have a little at
least.”

But Father Goat thought that Uncle Bear was speaking of his tail, for he knew
nothing of the pot of honey and the big cheese; so he just knuckled down to it,
and away he scampered till the gravel flew behind him.

And this was what came of that partnership; nothing was left but the wits
that the Great Red Fox had brought into the business; for nobody could blame

Father Goat for carrying the wits off with him, and one might guess that without
the telling.

Now, as the pot of honey and big cheese were gone, something else must be
looked up, for one cannot live on thin air, and that is the truth.

“See, now,” says the Great Red Fox, “Farmer John over yonder has a storehouse
full of sausages and chitterlings and puddings, and all sort

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The Fox tells Father Goat a strange story.

of good things. As nothing else is left of the partnership we’ll just churn our
wits a bit, and see if we can make butter with them, as the saying goes;” that
was what the Great Red Fox said, and it suited Uncle Bear as well as anything he
ever heard; so off they marched arm in arm.

By and by they came to Farmer John’s house, and nobody was about, which was
just what the two rogues wanted; and, yes, there was the storehouse as plain as
the nose on your face, only the door was locked. Above was a little window just
big enough for the Great Red Fox to

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creep into, though it was up ever so high. “Just give me a lift up through the
window yonder,” says he to Uncle Bear, “and I will drop the good things out for
you to catch.”

So Uncle Bear gave the Great Red Fox a leg up, and — pop! — and there he
was in the storehouse like a mouse in the cheese-box.

As soon as he was safe among the good things he bawled out to Uncle Bear,

“What shall it be first, sausages or puddings?”

“Hush! hush!” said Uncle Bear.

“Yes, yes,” bawled the Red Fox louder than ever, “only tell me which I shall
take first, sausages or puddings?”

“Sh-h-h-h!” said Uncle Bear, “if you are making such a noise as that you will
have them about our ears; take the first that comes and be quick about it.”

“Yes, yes,” bawled the fox as loud as he was able; “but one is just as handy
as another, and you must tell me which I shall take first.”

But Uncle Bear got neither pudding nor sausage, for the Great Red Fox had
made such a hubbub that Farmer John and his men came running, and three great
dogs with them.

“Hi!” said they, “there is Uncle Bear after the sausages and puddings ;” and
there was nothing for him to do but to lay foot to the ground as fast as he
could. All the same, they caught him over the hill, and gave him such a drubbing
that his bones ached for many a long day.

But the Great Red Fox only waited until all the others were well away on
their own business, and then he filled a bag with the best he could lay his
hands on, opened the door from the inside, and walked out as though it were from
his own barn; for there was nobody to say “No” to him. He hid the good things
away in a place of his own, and it was little of them that Uncle Bear smelt.

After he had gathered all this, Master Fox came home, groaning as though he had
had an awful drubbing; it would have moved a heart of stone to hear him.

“Dear, oh dear! what a drubbing I have had,” said he.

“And so have I,” said Uncle Bear, grinning over his sore bones as though cold
weather were blowing snow in his teeth.

“See, now,” said the Great Red Fox, “this is what comes of going into
partnership, and sharing one’s wits with another. If you had made your choice
when I asked you, your butter would never have been spoiled in the churning.”

That was all the comfort Uncle Bear had, and cold enough it was too.

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Uncle Bear and the Great Red Fox visit the farmer’s storehouse.

-288-

All the same, he is not the first in the world who has lost his dinner, and had
both the drubbing and the blame into the bargain.

But things do not last forever, and so by and by the good things from Farmer

John’s storehouse gave out, and the Great Red Fox had nothing in the larder.

“Listen,” says he to Uncle Bear, “I saw them shaking the apple-trees at

Farmer John’s to-day, and if you have a mind to try the wits that belong to us,
we’ll go and bring a bagful apiece from the storehouse over yonder at the farm.”

Yes, that suited Uncle Bear well enough; so off they marched, each of them
with an empty bag to fetch back the apples. By and by they came to the
storehouse, and nobody was about. This time the door was not locked, so in the
both of them went and began filling their bags with apples. The Great Red Fox
tumbled them into his bag as fast as ever he could, taking them just as they
came, good or bad; but Uncle Bear took his time about it and picked them all
over, for since he had come there he was bound to get the best that were to be
had.

So the upshot of the matter was that the Great Red Fox had his bag full
before Uncle Bear had picked out half a score of good juicy apples.

“I’ll just peep out of the window yonder,” says the Great Red Fox, “and see
if Farmer John is coming.” But in his sleeve he said to himself, “I’ll slip
outside and turn the key of the door on Uncle Bear, for somebody will have to
carry the blame of this, and his shoulders are broader and his skin tougher than
mine; he will never be able to get out of that little window.” So up he jumped
with his bag of apples, to do as he said.

But listen! A hasty man drinks hot broth. And so it was with the Great Red

Fox, for up in the window they had set a trap to catch rats. But he knew nothing
of that; out he jumped from the window — click! went the trap and caught him by
the tail, and there he hung.

“Is Farmer John coming?” bawled Uncle Bear, by and by.

“Hush! hush!” said the Great Red Fox, for he was trying to get his tail out
of the trap.

But the boot was on the other leg now. “Yes, yes,” bawled Uncle Bear, louder
than before, “but tell me, is Farmer John coming?”

“Sh-h-h-h!” says the Great Red Fox.

“No, no,” bawled Uncle Bear, as loud as he could, “what I want to know is, is

Farmer John coming?”

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The Bear and the Fox go to farmer John’s again.

Yes, he was, for he had heard the hubbub, and here he was with a lot of his
men and three great dogs.

“Oh, Farmer John,” bawled the Great Red Fox, “don’t touch me, I am not the
thief. Yonder is Uncle Bear in the pantry, he is the one.”

Yes, yes, Farmer John knew how much of that cake to eat; here was the rogue
of a fox caught in the trap, and the beating was ready for him. That was the
long and the short of it.

When the Great Red Fox heard this, he pulled with all his might and main.

Snap! went his tail and broke off close to his body, and away he

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scampered with Farmer John the men and the dogs close to his heels. But Uncle

Bear filled his bag full of apples, and when all hands had gone racing away
after the Great Red Fox, he walked quietly out of the door and off home.

And that is how the Great Red Fox lost his tail in the trap.

What is the meaning of all this? Why, here it is: When a rogue and another
cracks a nut together, it is not often the rogue who breaks his teeth by trying
to eat the hulls. And this too: But when one sets a trap for another, it is a
toss of a copper whether or no it flies up and pinches his own fingers.

If there is anything more left in the dish you may scrape it for yourself.

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Chapter 23

XXIII

Eleven O’clock.

Eleven O’clock.

Who goes about the House when all

Are sleeping but the Clock,

And no one hears it, all alone,

Still saying tick-a-tock?

It is not Gretchen goes about,

She’s snoring in her Bed;

It’s not the Hound that goes about

He never lifts his Head;

It is the Wind that goes about,

And sighs around the House,

And never wakes the toothless Hound,

Or stops the gnawing Mouse.

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King Stork.

XXIII.

THERE was a drummer marching along the high-road — forward march! — left,
right! — tramp, tramp, tramp! — for the fighting was done, and he was coming
home from the wars. By and by he came to a great wide stream of water, and there
sat an old man as gnarled and as bent as the hoops in a cooper shop. “Are you
going to cross the water?” said he.

“Yes,” says the drummer, “I am going to do that if my legs hold out to carry
me.”

“And will you not help a poor body across?” says the old man.

Now, the drummer was as good-natured a lad as ever stood on two legs. “If the
young never gave a lift to the old,” says he to himself, “the wide world would
not be worth while living in.” So he took off his shoes and stockings, and then
he bent his back and took the old man on it, and away he started through the
water — splash!

But this was no common old man whom the drummer was carrying, and he was not
long finding that out, for the farther he went in the water the heavier grew his
load — like work put off until tomorrow — so that, when he was half-way
across, his legs shook under him and the sweat stood on his forehead like a
string of beads in the shop-window. But by and by he reached the other shore,
and the old man jumped down from his back.

“Phew!” says the drummer, “I am glad to be here at last!”

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And now for the wonder of all this: The old man was an old man no longer, but
a splendid tall fellow with hair as yellow as gold. “And who do you think I am?”

said he.

But of that the drummer knew no more than the mouse in the haystack, so he
shook his head, and said nothing.

“I am king of the storks, and here I have sat for many days; for the wicked
one-eyed witch who lives on the glass hill put it upon me for a spell that I
should be an old man until somebody should carry me over the water. You are the
first to do that, and you shall not lose by it. Here is a little bone whistle;
whenever you are in trouble just blow a turn or two on it, and I will be by to
help you.”

Thereupon King Stork drew a feather cap out of his pocket and clapped it on
his head, and away he flew, for he was turned into a great, long, red legged
stork as quick as a wink.

But the drummer trudged on the way he was going, as merry as a cricket, for
it is not everybody who cracks his shins against such luck as he had stumbled
over, I can tell you. By and by he came to the town over the hill, and there he
found great bills stuck up over the walls. They were all of them proclamations.

And this is what they said:

The princess of that town was as clever as she was pretty; that was saying a
great deal, for she was the handsomest in the whole world. (“Phew! but that is a
fine lass for sure and certain,” said the drummer.) So it was proclaimed that
any lad who could answer a question the princess would ask, and would ask a
question the princess could not answer, and would catch the bird that she would
be wanting, should have her for his wife and half of the kingdom to boot. (“Hi!

but here is luck for a clever lad,” says the drummer.) But whoever should fail
in any one of the three tasks should have his head chopped off as sure as he
lived. (“Ho! but she is a wicked one for all that,” says the drummer.)

That was what the proclamation said, and the drummer would have a try for
her; “for,” said he, “it is a poor fellow who cannot manage a wife when he has
her” — and he knew as much about that business as a goose about churning
butter. As for chopping off heads, he never bothered his own about that; for, if
one never goes out for fear of rain one never catches fish.

Off he went to the king’s castle as fast as he could step, and there he
knocked on the door, as bold as though his own grandmother lived there.

But when the king heard what the drummer had come for, he took out

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The Drummer carries the Old Body across the River.

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his pocket-handkerchief and began to wipe his eyes, for he had a soft heart
under his jacket, and it made him cry like anything to see another coming to
have his head chopped off, as so many had done before him. For there they were,
all along the wall in front of the princess’s window, like so many apples.

But the drummer was not to be scared away by the king’s crying a bit, so in
he came, and by and by they all sat down to supper — he and the king and the
princess. As for the princess, she was so pretty that the drummer’s heart melted
inside of him, like a lump of butter on the stove — and that was what she was
after. After a while she asked him if he had come to answer a question of hers,
and to ask her a question of his, and to catch the bird that she should set him
to catch.

“Yes,” said the drummer, “I have come to do that very thing.” And he spoke as
boldly and as loudly as the clerk in church.

“Very well, then,” says the princess, as sweet as sugar candy, “just come
along tomorrow, and I will ask you your question.”

Off went the drummer; he put his whistle to his lips and blew a turn or two,
and there stood King Stork, and nobody knows where he stepped from.

“And what do you want?” says he.

The drummer told him everything, and how the princess was going to ask him a
question tomorrow morning that he would have to answer, or have his head
chopped off.

“Here you have walked into a pretty puddle, and with your eyes open,” says

King Stork, for he knew that the princess was a wicked enchantress, and loved
nothing so much as to get a lad into just such a scrape as the drummer had
tumbled into. “But see, here is a little cap and a long feather — the cap is a
dark-cap, and when you put it on your head one can see you no more than so much
thin air. At twelve o’clock at night the princess will come out into the castle
garden and will fly away through the air. Then throw your leg over the feather,
and it will carry you wherever you want to go; and if the princess flies fast it
will carry you as fast and faster.”

“Dong! Dong!” The clock struck twelve, and the princess came out of her
house; but in the garden was the drummer waiting for her with the dark-cap on
his head, and he saw her as plain as a pikestaff. She brought a pair of great
wings which she fastened to her shoulders, and away she flew. But the drummer
was as quick with his tricks as she was with hers; he flung his leg over the
feather which King Stork had given him, and away he flew after her, and just as
fast as she with her great wings.

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Thus the Princess cometh forth from the Castle at twelve o’clock at night.

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By and by they came to a huge castle of shining steel that stood on a
mountain of glass. And it was a good thing for the drummer that he had on his
cap of darkness, for all around outside of the castle stood fiery dragons and
savage lions to keep anybody from going in without leave.

But not a thread of the drummer did they see; in he walked with the princess,
and there was a great one-eyed witch with a beard on her chin, and a nose that
hooked over her mouth like the beak of a parrot.

“Uff!” said she, “here is a smell of Christian blood in the house.”

“Tut, mother!” says the princess, “how you talk! do you not see that there is
nobody with me?” For the drummer had taken care that the wind should not blow
the cap of darkness off of his head, I can tell you. By and by they sat down to
supper, the princess and the witch, but it was little the princess ate, for as
fast as anything was put on her plate the drummer helped himself to it, so that
it was all gone before she could get a bite.

“Look, mother!” she said, “I eat nothing, and yet it all goes from my plate;
why is that so?” But that the old witch could not tell her, for she could see
nothing of the drummer.

“There was a lad came to-day to answer the question I shall put to him,” said
the princess. “Now what shall I ask him by way of a question?”

“I have a tooth in the back part of my head,” said the witch, “and it has
been grumbling a bit; ask him what it is you are thinking about, and let it be
that.”

Yes; that was a good question for sure and certain, and the princess would
give it to the drummer tomorrow, to see what he had to say for himself. As for
the drummer, you can guess how he grinned, for he heard every word that they
said.

After a while the princess flew away home again, for it was nearly the break
of day, and she must be back before the sun rose. And the drummer flew close
behind her, but she knew nothing of that.

The next morning up he marched to the king’s castle and knocked at the door,
and they let him in.

There sat the king and the princess, and lots of folks besides. Well, had he
come to answer her question? That was what the princess wanted to know.

Yes; that was the very business he had come about.

Very well, this was the question, and he might have three guesses at it; what
was she thinking of at that minute?

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The Drummer helps himself to the good things, though no one can see him.

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Oh, it could be no hard thing to answer such a question as that, for lasses’

heads all ran upon the same things more or less; was it a fine silk dress with
glass buttons down the front that she was thinking of now?

No, it was not that.

Then, was it of a good stout lad like himself for a sweetheart, that she was
thinking of?

No, it was not that.

No? Then it was the bad tooth that had been grumbling in the head of the
one-eyed witch for a day or two past, perhaps.

Dear, dear! but you should have seen the princess’s face when she heard this!

Up she got and off she packed without a single word, and the king saw without
the help of his spectacles that the drummer had guessed right. He was so glad
that he jumped up and down and snapped his fingers for joy. Besides that he gave
out that bonfires should be lighted all over the town, and that was a fine thing
for the little boys.

The next night the princess flew away to the house of the one-eyed witch
again, but there was the drummer close behind her just as he had been before.

“Uff!” said the one-eyed witch, “here is a smell of Christian blood, for sure
and certain.” But all the same, she saw no more of the drummer than if he had
never been born.

“See, mother,” said the princess, “that rogue of a drummer answered my
question without winking over it.”

“So,” said the old witch, “we have missed for once, but the second time hits
the mark; he will be asking you a question tomorrow, and here is a book that
tells everything that has happened in the world, and if he asks you more than
that he is a smart one and no mistake.”

After that they sat down to supper again, but it was little the princess ate,
for the drummer helped himself out of her plate just as he had done before.

After a while the princess flew away home, and the drummer with her.

“And, now, what will we ask her that she cannot answer?” said the drummer; so
off he went back of the house, and blew a turn or two on his whistle, and there
stood King Stork.

“And what will we ask the princess,” said he, “when she has a book that tells
her everything?”

King Stork was not long in telling him that; “Just ask her so and so and so
and so,” said he, “and she would not dare to answer the question.”

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Well, the next morning there was the drummer at the castle all in good time;
and, had he come to ask her a question? that was what the princess wanted to
know.

Oh, yes, he had come for that very thing.

Very well, then, just let him begin, for the princess was ready and waiting,
and she wet her thumb, and began to turn over the leaves of her Book of

Knowledge.

Oh, it was an easy question the drummer was going to ask, and it needed no
big book like that to answer it. The other night he dreamed that he was in a
castle all built of shining steel, where there lived a witch with one eye. There
was a handsome bit of a lass there who was as great a witch as the old woman
herself, but for the life of him he could not tell who she was; now perhaps the
princess could make a guess at it.

There the drummer had her as tight as a fly in a bottle, for she did not dare
to let folks know that she was a wicked witch like the one-eyed one; so all she
could do was to sit there and gnaw her lip. As for the Book of Knowledge, it was
no more use to her than a fifth wheel under a cart.

But if the king was glad when the drummer answered the princess’s question,
he was twice as glad when he found she could not answer his.

All the same, there is more to do yet, and many a slip betwixt the cup and
the lip. “The bird I want is the one-eyed raven,” said the princess; “Now bring
her to me if you want to keep your head off of the wall yonder.”

Yes; the drummer thought he might do that as well as another thing. So off he
went back of the house to talk to King Stork of the matter.

“Look,” said King Stork, and he drew a net out of his pocket as fine as a
cobweb and as white as milk; “take this with you when you go with the princess
to the one-eyed witch’s house to-night, throw it over the witch’s head, and then
see what will happen; only when you catch the one-eyed raven you are to wring
her neck as soon as you lay hands on her, for if you don’t it will be the worse
for you.”

Well, that night off flew the princess just as she had done before, and off
flew the drummer at her heels, until they came to the witch’s house, both of
them.

“And did you take his head this time?” said the witch.

No, the princess had not done that, for the drummer had asked such and such a
question, and she could not answer it; all the same, she had

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him tight enough now, for she had set it as a task upon him that he should bring
her the one-eyed raven, and it was not likely he would be up to doing that.

After that the princess and the one-eyed witch sat down to supper together, and
the drummer served the princess the same trick that he had done before, so that
she got hardly a bite to eat.

“See,” said the old witch when the princess was ready to go, “I will go home
with you to-night, and see that you get there safe and sound:” So she brought
out a pair of wings, just like those the princess had, and set them on her
shoulders, and away both of them flew with the drummer behind. So they came home
without seeing a soul, for the drummer kept his cap of darkness tight upon his
head all the while.

“Good-night,” said the witch to the princess, and “Good-night” said the
princess to the witch, and the one was for going one way and the other the
other. But the drummer had his wits about him sharply enough, and before the old
witch could get away he flung the net that King Stork had given him over her
head.

“Hi!” but you should have been there to see what happened; for it was a great
one-eyed raven, as black as the inside of the chimney, that he had in his net.

Dear, dear, how it flapped its wings and struck with its great beak! But that
did no good, for the drummer just wrung its neck, and there was an end of it.

The next morning he wrapped it up in his pocket-handkerchief and off he
started for the king’s castle, and there was the princess waiting for him,
looking as cool as butter in the well, for she felt sure the drummer was caught
in the trap this time.

“And have you brought the one-eyed raven with you?” she said.

“Oh, yes,” said the drummer, and here it was wrapped up in this handkerchief.

But when the princess saw the raven with its neck wrung, she gave a great
shriek and fell to the floor. There she lay and they had to pick her up and
carry her out of the room.

But everybody saw that the drummer had brought the bird she had asked for,
and all were as glad as glad could be. The king gave orders that they should
fire off the town cannon, just as they did on his birthday, and all the little
boys out in the street flung up their hats and caps and cried, “Hurrah! Hurrah!”

But the drummer went off back of the house. He blew a turn or two

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The Drummer catches the one-eyed raven.

on his whistle, and there stood King Stork. “Here is your dark-cap and your
feather,” says he, “and it is I who am thankful to you, for they have won me a
real princess for a wife.”

“Yes, good,” says King Stork, “you have won her, sure enough, but the next
thing is to keep her; for a lass is not cured of being a witch as quickly as you
seem to think, and after one has found one’s eggs one must roast them and butter
them into the bargain. See now, the princess is just as wicked as ever she was
before, and if you do not keep your eyes open she will trip you up after all. So
listen to what I tell you. Just after you

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are married, get a great bowl of fresh milk and a good, stiff switch. Pour the
milk over the princess when you are alone together, and after that hold tight to
her and lay on the switch, no matter what happens, for that is the only way to
save yourself and to save her.”

Well, the drummer promised to do as King Stork told him, and by and by came
the wedding-day. Off he went over to the dairy and got a fresh pan of milk, and
out he went into the woods and cut a stout hazel switch, as thick as his finger.

As soon as he and the princess were alone together he emptied the milk all
over her; then he caught hold of her and began laying on the switch for dear
life.

It was well for him that he was a brave fellow and had been to the wars, for,
instead of the princess, he held a great black cat that glared at him with her
fiery eyes, and growled and spat like anything. But that did no good, for the
drummer just shut his eyes and laid on the switch harder than ever.

Then — puff! — instead of a black cat it was like a great, savage wolf,
that snarled and snapped at the drummer with its red jaws; but the drummer just
held fast and made the switch fly, and the wolf scared him no more than the
black cat had done.

So out it went, like a light of a candle, and there was a great snake that
lashed its tail and shot out its forked tongue and spat fire. But no; the
drummer was no more frightened at that than he had been at the wolf and the cat,
and, dear, dear! how he dressed the snake with his hazel switch.

Last of all, there stood the princess herself. “Oh, dear husband!” she cried,

“let me go, and I will promise to be good all the days of my life.” “Very well,”

says the drummer, “and that is the tune I like to hear.”

That was the way he gained the best of her, whether it was the bowl of milk
or the hazel switch, for afterwards she was as good a wife as ever churned
butter, but what did it is a question that you will have to answer for yourself.

All the same, she tried no more of her tricks with him, I can tell you. And so
this story comes to an end, like everything else in the world.

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Chapter 24

XIV

Twelve O’clock.

Twelve O’clock.

Hist, Hark!

The Watch-dogs bark.

The Fire is covered,

The Bricks grow cold;

In the warmest Corner’s

The brown Kobold.

He sits quite still,

And his Eyes are bright.

The Clock strikes twelve;

‘Tis the dead of Night.

Snuggle down closer

Into your Bed,

And pull the Coverlets

Over your Head.

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The Best that Life has to give.

XXIV.

THERE was a blacksmith who lived near to a great, dark pine forest. He was as
poor as charity soup; but dear knows whether that was his fault or not, for he
laid his troubles upon the back of ill-luck, as everybody else does in our town.

One day the snow lay thick all over the ground, and hunger and cold sat in
the blacksmith’s house. “I’ll go out into the forest,” says he, “and see whether

I cannot get a bagful of pine-cones to make a fire in the stove.” So off he
stumped, but could find no cones, because they were all covered up with white.

On into the woods he went, farther and farther and deeper and deeper, until he
came to a high hill, all of bare rock. There he found a clear place and more
pine-cones scattered over the ground than a body could count. He filled his
basket, and it did not take him long to do that.

But he was not to get his pine-cones for nothing: click! clack! — a great
door opened in the side of the hill, and out stepped a little dwarf, as ugly as
ugly could be, for his head was as big as a cabbage, his hair as red as carrots,
and his eyes as green as a snake’s.

“So,” said he, “you are stealing my pine-cones, are you? And there are none
in the world like them. Look your last on the sunlight, for now you shall die.”

Down fell the blacksmith on his knees. “Alas!” said he, “I did not know that
they were your pine-cones. I will empty them out of my sack and find some
elsewhere.”

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“No,” said the dwarf, “it is too late to do that now. But listen, you might
hunt the world over, and find no such pine-cones as these; so we will strike a
bit of a bargain between us. You shall go in peace with your pine-cones if you
will give me what lies in the bread-trough at home.”

“Oh, yes,” said the blacksmith, “I will do that gladly.”

“Very well,” said the dwarf, “I will come for my pay at the end of seven
days,” and back he went into the hill again, and the door shut to behind him.

Off went the blacksmith, chuckling to himself. “It is the right end of the
bargain that I have this time,” said he.

But, bless you! he talked of that horse before he had looked into its mouth,
as my Uncle Peter used to say. For, listen: while his wife sat at home spinning,
she wrapped the baby in a blanket and laid it in the bread-trough, because it
was empty and as good as a cradle. And that was what the dwarf spoke of, for he
knew what had been done over at the blacksmith’s house.

But the blacksmith was as happy as a cricket under the hearth; on he plodded,
kicking up the soft snow with his toes; but all the time the basket of
pine-cones kept growing heavier and heavier.

“Come,” said he, at last, “I can carry this load no farther, some of the
pine-cones must be left behind.” So he opened the basket to throw a parcel of
them out. But —

Hi! how he did stare! for every one of those pine-cones had turned to pure
silver as white as the frost on the window-pane. After that he was for throwing
none of them away, but for carrying all of them home, if he broke his back at
it, and upon that you may depend.

“And I had them all for nothing,” said he to his wife; “for the dwarf gave
them to me for what was in the bread-trough, and I knew very well that there was
nothing there.”

“Alas,” said she, “what have you done! the baby is sleeping there, and has
been sleeping there all the morning.”

When the blacksmith heard this he scratched his head, and looked up and
looked down, for he had burned his fingers with the hot end of the bargain after
all. All the same, there was nothing left but to make the best that he could of
it. So he took two or three of the silver pine-cones to the town and bought
plenty to eat, and plenty to drink, and warm things to wear into the bargain.

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The blacksmith takes the dwarf’s pine-cones.

At the end of seven days up came the dwarf and knocked at the blacksmith’s
house.

“Well, and is the baby ready?” said he, “for I have come to fetch it.”

But the blacksmith’s wife begged and prayed and prayed and begged that the
baby might be spared to her. “Let us keep it for seven years at least,” said
she, “for what can you want with a young baby in the house?”

Yes, that was very true. Young babies were troublesome things to have about
the house, and the woman might keep it for seven years since she was anxious to
do so. So off went the dwarf, and the woman had what she wanted, for seven years
is a long time to put off our troubles.

But at the end of that time up came the dwarf a second time.

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“Well, is the boy ready now?” said he, “for I have come to take him.”

“Yes, yes,” says the woman, “the boy is yours, but why not leave him for
another seven years, for he is very young to be out in the world yet?”

Yes, that was true, and so the dwarf put off taking him for seven years
longer.

But when it had passed, back he came again, and this time it did no good for
his mother and father to beg and pray, for he had put off his bargain long
enough, and now he was for having what was his.

“All the same,” says he to the blacksmith, “if you will come after five years
to the place in the woods where you saw me, you shall have your son, if you
choose to take him.” And off he went with the lad at his heels.

Well, after five years had passed, the blacksmith went into the forest to
find the dwarf and to bring back his son again.

There was the dwarf waiting for him, and in his hand he held a basket. “Well,
neighbor,” says he, “and have you come to fetch your son again?”

Yes, that was what the blacksmith wanted.

“Very well,” says the dwarf, “here he is, and all that you have to do is to
take him.” He opened the basket, and inside was a wren, a thrush, and a dove.

“But which of the three is the lad?” says the blacksmith.

“That is for you to tell, neighbor,” says the dwarf.

The blacksmith looked and looked, and first he thought it might be the wren,
and then he thought it might be the thrush, and then he thought it might be the
dove. But he was afraid to choose any one of the three, lest he should not be
right in the choosing. So he shook his head and sighed, and was forced at last
to go away with empty hands.

Out by the edge of the forest sat an old woman spinning flax from a distaff.

“Whither away, friend?” said she, “and why do you wear such a sorrowful
face?”

The blacksmith stopped and told her the whole story from beginning to end.

“Tut!” said the old woman, “you should have chosen the dove, for that was your
son for sure and certain.”

“There!” said the blacksmith, “if I had only known that in the first place it
would have saved me so much leg wear,” and back he went, hot-foot, to find the
dwarf and to get his son again.

There was the dwarf waiting for him with a basket on his arm, but this time
it was a sparrow and a magpie and a lark that were in it, and the

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The blacksmith chooses the raven and runs away with it.

-312-

blacksmith might take which of the three he liked, for one of them was his own
son.

The man looked and looked, and could make nothing of it, so all that he could
do was to shake his head and turn away again with empty hands.

Out by the edge of the forest sat the old woman spinning. “Prut!” says she,

“you should have chosen the lark, for it was your son for sure and certain. But
listen; go back and try again; look each bird in the eyes, and choose where you
find tears; for nothing but the human soul weeps.”

Back went the man into the forest for the third time, and there was the dwarf
just as before, only this time it was a sparrow and a jackdaw and a raven that
he had in his basket.

The man looked at each of the three in turn, and there were tears in the
raven’s eyes.

“This is the one I choose,” said he, and he snatched it and ran. And it was
his son and none other whom he held.

As for the dwarf, he stood and stamped his feet and tore his hair, but that
was all he could do, for one must abide by one’s bargain, no matter what
happens.

You can guess how glad the father and the mother were to have their son back
home again. But the lad just sat back of the stove and warmed his shins, and
stared into the Land of Nowhere, without doing a stroke of work from morning
till night. At last the father could stand it no longer, for, though one is glad
to have one’s own safe under the roof at home, it is another thing to have one’s
own doing nothing the livelong day but sit back of the stove and eat good bread
and meat; for the silver pine-cones were gone by this time, and good things were
no more plentiful in the blacksmith’s house than they had been before.

“Come!” says he to lazy-boots one day, “is there nothing at all that you can
do to earn the salt you eat?”

“Oh, yes,” said the lad, “I have learned many things, and one over at the
dwarf’s house yonder, for the dwarf is a famous blacksmith.” So out he came from
behind the stove, and brushed the ashes from his hair, and went out into the
forge.

“Give me a piece of iron,” says he, “and I will show you a trick or two worth
the knowing.”

“Yes,” says the blacksmith, “you shall have the iron; all the same I know
that it is little or nothing that you know about the hammer and the tongs.”

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But the young fellow answered nothing. He made a bed of hot coals, and laid
the iron in it.

“Here,” said he to his father, “do you blow the bellows till I come back, and
be sure that you do not stop for so much as a wink, or else all will be
spoiled.” So he gave the handle into the blacksmith’s hand and off he went.

The old man blew the bellows and blew the bellows, but the dwarf over in the
forest knew what was being done as well as though he stood in the forge. He was
not for letting the lad steal his tricks if he could help it. So he changed
himself into a great fly, and came and lit on the blacksmith’s neck, and bit him
till the blood ran; but the blacksmith just shut his eyes tight, and grinned and
bore it, and blew the bellows and blew the bellows.

By and by the lad came in, and the fly flew away. He drew the iron out of the
fire, and dipped it in the water, and what do you think it was? Why, a golden
tree with a little golden bird sitting in the branches, with bright jewels for
its eyes.

The lad drew a little silver wand from his pocket, and gave the tree a tap,
and the bird began to hop from branch to branch, and to sing so sweetly that it
made one’s heart stand still to listen to it.

As for the blacksmith, he just stood and gaped and stared, with his mouth and
eyes as wide open as if they never would shut again.

Now there was no king in that country, but a queen who lived in a grand
castle on a high hill, and was as handsome a one as ever a body’s eyes looked
upon.

“Here,” says the lad to his father, “take this up to the queen at the castle
yonder, and she will pay you well for it.” Then he went and sat down back of the
stove again, and toasted his shins and stared at nothing at all.

Up went the blacksmith to the queen’s castle with the golden bird and the
golden tree wrapped up in his pocket-handkerchief. Dear, dear, how the queen did
look and listen and wonder, when she saw how pretty it was, and heard how
sweetly the little golden bird sang. She called her steward and bade him give
the blacksmith a whole bag of gold and silver money for it, and off went the man
as pleased as pleased could be.

And now they lived upon the very best of good things over at the blacksmith’s
house; but good things cost money, and by and by the last penny was spent of
what the queen had given him, and nothing would do

-314-

but for the lad to go out and work a little while at the forge. So up he got
from back of the stove, and out he went into the forge. He made a bed of coals
and laid the iron upon it.

“Now,” says he to his father, “do you blow the bellows till I come back,” and
off he went.

Well, the old man took the handle and blew and blew, but the dwarf knew what
was going on this time, just as well as he had done before. He changed himself
into a fly, and came and lit on the blacksmith’s neck, and dear, dear, how he
did bite! The blacksmith shut his eyes and grinned, but at last he could bear it
no longer. He raised his hand and slapped at the fly, but away it flew with
never a hair hurt.

In came the lad and drew the iron out of the fire and plunged it into the
water, and there it was a beautiful golden comb that shone like fire. But the
lad was not satisfied with that. “You should have done as I told you,” said he,

“and have stopped at nothing; for now the work is spoiled.”

The blacksmith vowed and declared that he had not stopped from blowing the
bellows, but the lad knew better than that; for there should have been a golden
looking-glass as well as the comb. The one was of no use without the other, for
when one looked in the golden looking-glass, and combed one’s hair with the
golden comb, one grew handsome, every day, and the lad had intended both for the
queen.

“All the same,” said the old man, “I will take the golden comb up to the
castle;” and it did no good for the lad to shake his head and say no. “For,”

says the father, “old heads are wise heads; and the queen will like this as well
as the other.” So up to the castle he would go, and up to the castle he went.

But when the queen saw the golden comb her brows grew as black as a
thunder-storm. “Where is the looking-glass?” said she; and though the old man
vowed and declared that no looking-glass belonged with the comb, she knew a
great deal better. So, now, the blacksmith might have his choice; he should
either bring her the looking-glass that belonged to the golden comb or bring her
that which was the best in all the world. If he did neither of these he should
be thrown into a deep pit full of toads and vipers.

Back went the old man home again and told the lad all that had happened from
beginning to end. And then he wanted to know what he should do to get himself
out of his pickle.

-315-

The blacksmith brings the wonderful little bird and the tree to the Queen.

-316-

Well, it was no easy task to make what the queen wanted; all the same, the
lad would try what he could do. So he rolled up his sleeves and out he went into
the forge and laid a piece of iron upon the bed of hot coals.

This time he would not trust the old man to blow the bellows for him, but
took the handle into his own hand and blew and blew.

The dwarf knew what was happening this time as well as before. He changed
himself into a fly and came and sat on the lad’s forehead, and bit until the
blood ran down into his eyes and blinded him; but the lad blew the bellows and
blew the bellows.

First the fire burned red, and then it burned white, and then it burned blue,
and after that the work was done.

Then the young man raised his hand and struck the fly and killed it, and that
was an end of the dwarf for good and all.

What he had made he dipped into the water and it was a gold ring, nothing
less nor more. He took a sharp knife and drew charms upon it, and inside of the
circle he wrote these words:

“WHO WEARS THIS SHALL HAVE THE BEST

THAT THE WORLD HAS TO GIVE.”

“Here,” said the lad to his father, “take this up to the queen, for it is
what she wants, and there is nothing better in the world.”

Off marched the old man and gave the ring to the queen, and she slipped it on
her finger.

That was how the blacksmith saved his own skin; but the poor queen did
nothing but just sit and look out of the window, and sigh and sigh.

After a while she called her steward to her and bade him go over and tell the
blacksmith’s son to come to her.

There sat the lad back of the stove. “Prut!” said he, “she must send a better
than you if she would have me come to her.” So the steward had just to go back
to the castle again and tell the queen what the lad had said.

Then the queen called her chief minister to her. “Do you go,” said she, “and
bid the lad come to me.”

There sat the lad back of the stove. “Prut!” said he, “she must send a better
than you if she would have me come to her.”

Off went the minister and told the queen what he had said, and the

-317-

The Young Smith forges the best that Life has to give.

-318-

queen saw as plain as the nose on her face that she must go herself if she would
have the lad come at her bidding.

There sat the lad back of the stove. And would he come with her now?

Yes, indeed, that he would. So he slipped from behind the stove and took her
by the hand, and they walked out of the house and up to her castle on the high
hill, for that was where he belonged now. There they were married, and ruled the
land far and near. For it is one thing to be a blacksmith of one kind, and
another thing to be a blacksmith of another kind, and that is the truth, whether
you believe it or not.

And did the queen really get the best in the world? Bless your heart, my
dear, wait until you are as old as I am, and have been married as long, and you
will be able to answer that question without the asking.

-319-

HIC LIBER CAPITE NOSTRO FACTUS EST MANUQUE NOSTRA

RIDEANT HOMINUM STULTITIAS STULTI, SED

NE, QUOD IN STULTITIIS HOMINUM

HOMINIS ALIQUID EST,

OMNIA IN LEVI

HABEAMUS

*

Table of Contents

- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24