{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_19068/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_19068","id":"gutenberg_19068","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/19068","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Classics of Literature","Category: German Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Children's Picture Books","Fairy tales -- Germany"],"text":"Produced by Suzanne Shell, Melissa Er-Raqabi and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\nHOUSEHOLD STORIES\n\nGRIMM\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE SLEEPING BEAUTY\n\n \"--AT LAST HE CAME TO THE\n TOWER & OPENED THE DOOR\n OF THE LITTLE ROOM WHERE\n ROSAMOND LAY.\"]\n\n\n\n\nHOUSEHOLD\nSTORIES,\nFROM\nTHE COLLECTION OF THE BROS:\nGRIMM:\n\nTRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN\nBY\nLUCY CRANE;\nAND\nDONE INTO PICTURES\nBY\nWALTER CRANE\n\nDOVER\nPUBLICATIONS, INC.\n\nNEW YORK\n\n\n\n\nThis new Dover edition, first published in 1963, is an unabridged\nrepublication of the work first published by Macmillan and Company in\n1886.\n\n\n_Standard Book Number: 486-21080-4_\n\n_Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 64-16327_\n\n\nManufactured in the United States of America\nDover Publications, Inc.\n180 Varick Street\nNew York, N. Y. 10014\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n HALF-TITLE.\n\n THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. _Frontispiece_\n\n TITLE-PAGE. PAGE\n\n THE RABBIT'S BRIDE, Headpiece 1\n Tailpiece 2\n\n SIX SOLDIERS OF FORTUNE, Headpiece 3\n Tailpiece 8\n\n CLEVER GRETHEL, Headpiece 9\n Tailpiece 11\n\n THE DEATH OF THE HEN, Headpiece 12\n Tailpiece 13\n\n HANS IN LUCK, Headpiece 14\n Tailpiece 19\n\n THE GOOSE GIRL _To face page_ 20\n Headpiece 20\n Tailpiece 25\n\n THE RAVEN, Headpiece 26\n Tailpiece 31\n\n THE FROG PRINCE, Headpiece 32\n Tailpiece 36\n\n CAT AND MOUSE IN PARTNERSHIP, Headpiece 37\n Tailpiece 39\n\n THE WOLF AND THE SEVEN KIDS, Headpiece 40\n Tailpiece 42\n\n FAITHFUL JOHN _To face page_ 43\n Headpiece 43\n Tailpiece 51\n\n THE WONDERFUL MUSICIAN, Headpiece 52\n Tailpiece 55\n\n THE TWELVE BROTHERS, Headpiece 56\n Tailpiece 61\n\n THE VAGABONDS, Headpiece 62\n Tailpiece 64\n\n THE BROTHER AND SISTER, Headpiece 65\n Tailpiece 71\n\n RAPUNZEL _To face page_ 72\n Headpiece 72\n Tailpiece 75\n\n THE THREE LITTLE MEN IN THE WOOD, Headpiece 76\n Tailpiece 81\n\n THE THREE SPINSTERS, Headpiece 82\n Tailpiece 84\n\n HANSEL AND GRETHEL, Headpiece 85\n Tailpiece 92\n\n THE WHITE SNAKE _To face page_ 93\n Headpiece 93\n Tailpiece 97\n\n THE STRAW, THE COAL, AND THE BEAN, Headpiece 98\n Tailpiece 99\n\n THE FISHERMAN AND HIS WIFE, Headpiece 100\n Tailpiece 108\n\n THE GALLANT TAILOR, Headpiece 109\n Tailpiece 117\n\n ASCHENPUTTEL, Headpiece 118\n Tailpiece 125\n\n THE MOUSE, THE BIRD, AND THE SAUSAGE, Headpiece 126\n Tailpiece 127\n\n MOTHER HULDA _To face page_ 128\n Headpiece 128\n Tailpiece 131\n\n LITTLE RED-CAP, Headpiece 132\n Tailpiece 135\n\n THE BREMEN TOWN MUSICIANS, Headpiece 136\n Tailpiece 139\n\n PRUDENT HANS, Headpiece 140\n Tailpiece 144\n\n CLEVER ELSE, Headpiece 145\n Tailpiece 148\n\n THE TABLE, THE ASS, AND THE STICK, Headpiece 149\n Tailpiece 159\n\n TOM THUMB, Headpiece 160\n Tailpiece 166\n\n HOW MRS. FOX MARRIED AGAIN, Headpiece 167\n Initial 169\n Tailpiece 170\n\n THE ELVES, Headpiece 171\n Initial 173\n Initial 174\n Tailpiece 174\n\n THE ROBBER BRIDEGROOM _To face page_ 175\n Headpiece 175\n Tailpiece 178\n\n MR. KORBES, Headpiece 179\n Tailpiece 180\n\n TOM THUMB'S TRAVELS, Headpiece 181\n Tailpiece 185\n\n THE ALMOND TREE _To face page_ 186\n Headpiece 186\n Tailpiece 194\n\n OLD SULTAN, Headpiece 195\n Tailpiece 197\n\n THE SIX SWANS _To face page_ 198\n Headpiece 198\n Tailpiece 203\n\n THE SLEEPING BEAUTY, Headpiece 204\n Tailpiece 207\n\n KING THRUSHBEARD, Headpiece 208\n Tailpiece 212\n\n SNOW-WHITE _To face page_ 213\n Headpiece 213\n Tailpiece 221\n\n THE KNAPSACK, THE HAT, AND THE HORN, Headpiece 222\n Tailpiece 227\n\n RUMPELSTILTSKIN, Headpiece 228\n Tailpiece 231\n\n ROLAND, Headpiece 232\n Tailpiece 235\n\n THE GOLDEN BIRD, _To face page_ 236\n Headpiece 236\n Tailpiece 243\n\n THE DOG AND THE SPARROW, Headpiece 244\n Tailpiece 247\n\n FRED AND KATE, Headpiece 248\n Tailpiece 255\n\n THE LITTLE FARMER, Headpiece 256\n Tailpiece 261\n\n THE QUEEN BEE, Headpiece 262\n Tailpiece 264\n\n THE GOLDEN GOOSE, Headpiece 265\n Tailpiece 269\n\n\n\n\nTHE RABBIT'S BRIDE\n\n\nTHERE was once a woman who lived with her daughter in a beautiful\ncabbage-garden; and there came a rabbit and ate up all the cabbages. At\nlast said the woman to her daughter,\n\n\"Go into the garden, and drive out the rabbit.\"\n\n\"Shoo! shoo!\" said the maiden; \"don't eat up all our cabbages, little\nrabbit!\"\n\n\"Come, maiden,\" said the rabbit, \"sit on my tail and go with me to my\nrabbit-hutch.\" But the maiden would not.\n\nAnother day, back came the rabbit, and ate away at the cabbages, until\nthe woman said to her daughter,\n\n\"Go into the garden, and drive away the rabbit.\"\n\n\"Shoo! shoo!\" said the maiden; \"don't eat up all our cabbages, little\nrabbit!\"\n\n\"Come, maiden,\" said the rabbit, \"sit on my tail and go with me to my\nrabbit-hutch.\" But the maiden would not.\n\nAgain, a third time back came the rabbit, and ate away at the cabbages,\nuntil the woman said to her daughter,\n\n\"Go into the garden, and drive away the rabbit.\"\n\n\"Shoo! shoo!\" said the maiden; \"don't eat up all our cabbages, little\nrabbit!\"\n\n\"Come, maiden,\" said the rabbit, \"sit on my tail and go with me to my\nrabbit-hutch.\"\n\nAnd then the girl seated herself on the rabbit's tail, and the rabbit\ntook her to his hutch.\n\n\"Now,\" said he, \"set to work and cook some bran and cabbage; I am going\nto bid the wedding guests.\" And soon they were all collected. Would you\nlike to know who they were? Well, I can only tell you what was told to\nme; all the hares came, and the crow who was to be the parson to marry\nthem, and the fox for the clerk, and the altar was under the rainbow.\nBut the maiden was sad, because she was so lonely.\n\n\"Get up! get up!\" said the rabbit, \"the wedding folk are all merry.\"\n\nBut the bride wept and said nothing, and the rabbit went away, but very\nsoon came back again.\n\n\"Get up! get up!\" said he, \"the wedding folk are waiting.\" But the bride\nsaid nothing, and the rabbit went away. Then she made a figure of straw,\nand dressed it in her own clothes, and gave it a red mouth, and set it\nto watch the kettle of bran, and then she went home to her mother. Back\nagain came the rabbit, saying, \"Get up! get up!\" and he went up and hit\nthe straw figure on the head, so that it tumbled down.\n\nAnd the rabbit thought that he had killed his bride, and he went away\nand was very sad.\n\n\n\n\nSIX SOLDIERS OF FORTUNE\n\n\nTHERE was once a man who was a Jack-of-all-trades; he had served in the\nwar, and had been brave and bold, but at the end of it he was sent about\nhis business, with three farthings and his discharge.\n\n\"I am not going to stand this,\" said he; \"wait till I find the right man\nto help me, and the king shall give me all the treasures of his kingdom\nbefore he has done with me.\"\n\nThen, full of wrath, he went into the forest, and he saw one standing\nthere by six trees which he had rooted up as if they had been stalks of\ncorn. And he said to him,\n\n\"Will you be my man, and come along with me?\"\n\n\"All right,\" answered he; \"I must just take this bit of wood home to my\nfather and mother.\" And taking one of the trees, he bound it round the\nother five, and putting the faggot on his shoulder, he carried it off;\nthen soon coming back, he went along with his leader, who said,\n\n\"Two such as we can stand against the whole world.\"\n\nAnd when they had gone on a little while, they came to a huntsman who\nwas kneeling on one knee and taking careful aim with his rifle.\n\n\"Huntsman,\" said the leader, \"what are you aiming at?\"\n\n\"Two miles from here,\" answered he, \"there sits a fly on the bough of an\noak-tree, I mean to put a bullet into its left eye.\"\n\n\"Oh, come along with me,\" said the leader; \"three of us together can\nstand against the world.\"\n\nThe huntsman was quite willing to go with him, and so they went on till\nthey came to seven windmills, whose sails were going round briskly, and\nyet there was no wind blowing from any quarter, and not a leaf stirred.\n\n\"Well,\" said the leader, \"I cannot think what ails the windmills,\nturning without wind;\" and he went on with his followers about two miles\nfarther, and then they came to a man sitting up in a tree, holding one\nnostril and blowing with the other.\n\n\"Now then,\" said the leader, \"what are you doing up there?\"\n\n\"Two miles from here,\" answered he, \"there are seven windmills; I am\nblowing, and they are going round.\"\n\n\"Oh, go with me,\" cried the leader, \"four of us together can stand\nagainst the world.\"\n\nSo the blower got down and went with them, and after a time they came to\na man standing on one leg, and the other had been taken off and was\nlying near him.\n\n\"You seem to have got a handy way of resting yourself,\" said the leader\nto the man.\n\n\"I am a runner,\" answered he, \"and in order to keep myself from going\ntoo fast I have taken off a leg, for when I run with both, I go faster\nthan a bird can fly.\"\n\n\"Oh, go with me,\" cried the leader, \"five of us together may well stand\nagainst the world.\"\n\nSo he went with them all together, and it was not long before they met a\nman with a little hat on, and he wore it just over one ear.\n\n\"Manners! manners!\" said the leader; \"with your hat like that, you look\nlike a jack-fool.\"\n\n\"I dare not put it straight,\" answered the other; \"if I did, there would\nbe such a terrible frost that the very birds would be frozen and fall\ndead from the sky to the ground.\"\n\n\"Oh, come with me,\" said the leader; \"we six together may well stand\nagainst the whole world.\"\n\nSo the six went on until they came to a town where the king had caused\nit to be made known that whoever would run a race with his daughter and\nwin it might become her husband, but that whoever lost must lose his\nhead into the bargain. And the leader came forward and said one of his\nmen should run for him.\n\n\"Then,\" said the king, \"his life too must be put in pledge, and if he\nfails, his head and yours too must fall.\"\n\nWhen this was quite settled and agreed upon, the leader called the\nrunner, and strapped his second leg on to him.\n\n\"Now, look out,\" said he, \"and take care that we win.\"\n\nIt had been agreed that the one who should bring water first from a far\ndistant brook should be accounted winner. Now the king's daughter and\nthe runner each took a pitcher, and they started both at the same time;\nbut in one moment, when the king's daughter had gone but a very little\nway, the runner was out of sight, for his running was as if the wind\nrushed by. In a short time he reached the brook, filled his pitcher full\nof water, and turned back again. About half-way home, however, he was\novercome with weariness, and setting down his pitcher, he lay down on\nthe ground to sleep. But in order to awaken soon again by not lying too\nsoft he had taken a horse's skull which lay near and placed it under his\nhead for a pillow. In the meanwhile the king's daughter, who really was\na good runner, good enough to beat an ordinary man, had reached the\nbrook, and filled her pitcher, and was hastening with it back again,\nwhen she saw the runner lying asleep.\n\n\"The day is mine,\" said she with much joy, and she emptied his pitcher\nand hastened on. And now all had been lost but for the huntsman who was\nstanding on the castle wall, and with his keen eyes saw all that\nhappened.\n\n\"We must not be outdone by the king's daughter,\" said he, and he loaded\nhis rifle and took so good an aim that he shot the horse's skull from\nunder the runner's head without doing him any harm. And the runner awoke\nand jumped up, and saw his pitcher standing empty and the king's\ndaughter far on her way home. But, not losing courage, he ran swiftly to\nthe brook, filled it again with water, and for all that, he got home ten\nminutes before the king's daughter.\n\n\"Look you,\" said he; \"this is the first time I have really stretched my\nlegs; before it was not worth the name of running.\"\n\nThe king was vexed, and his daughter yet more so, that she should be\nbeaten by a discharged common soldier; and they took counsel together\nhow they might rid themselves of him and of his companions at the same\ntime.\n\n\"I have a plan,\" said the king; \"do not fear but that we shall be quit\nof them for ever.\" Then he went out to the men and bade them to feast\nand be merry and eat and drink; and he led them into a room, which had a\nfloor of iron, and the doors were iron, the windows had iron frames and\nbolts; in the room was a table set out with costly food.\n\n\"Now, go in there and make yourselves comfortable,\" said the king.\n\nAnd when they had gone in, he had the door locked and bolted. Then he\ncalled the cook, and told him to make a big fire underneath the room, so\nthat the iron floor of it should be red hot. And the cook did so, and\nthe six men began to feel the room growing very warm, by reason, as they\nthought at first, of the good dinner; but as the heat grew greater and\ngreater, and they found the doors and windows fastened, they began to\nthink it was an evil plan of the king's to suffocate them.\n\n\"He shall not succeed, however,\" said the man with the little hat; \"I\nwill bring on a frost that shall make the fire feel ashamed of itself,\nand creep out of the way.\"\n\nSo he set his hat straight on his head, and immediately there came such\na frost that all the heat passed away and the food froze in the dishes.\nAfter an hour or two had passed, and the king thought they must have all\nperished in the heat, he caused the door to be opened, and went himself\nto see how they fared. And when the door flew back, there they were all\nsix quite safe and sound, and they said they were quite ready to come\nout, so that they might warm themselves, for the great cold of that room\nhad caused the food to freeze in the dishes. Full of wrath, the king\nwent to the cook and scolded him, and asked why he had not done as he\nwas ordered.\n\n\"It is hot enough there: you may see for yourself,\" answered the cook.\nAnd the king looked and saw an immense fire burning underneath the room\nof iron, and he began to think that the six men were not to be got rid\nof in that way. And he thought of a new plan by which it might be\nmanaged, so he sent for the leader and said to him,\n\n\"If you will give up your right to my daughter, and take gold instead,\nyou may have as much as you like.\"\n\n\"Certainly, my lord king,\" answered the man; \"let me have as much gold\nas my servant can carry, and I give up all claim to your daughter.\" And\nthe king agreed that he should come again in a fortnight to fetch the\ngold. The man then called together all the tailors in the kingdom, and\nset them to work to make a sack, and it took them a fortnight. And when\nit was ready, the strong man who had been found rooting up trees took it\non his shoulder, and went to the king.\n\n\"Who is this immense fellow carrying on his shoulder a bundle of stuff\nas big as a house?\" cried the king, terrified to think how much gold he\nwould carry off. And a ton of gold was dragged in by sixteen strong men,\nbut he put it all into the sack with one hand, saying,\n\n\"Why don't you bring some more? this hardly covers the bottom!\" So the\nking bade them fetch by degrees the whole of his treasure, and even then\nthe sack was not half full.\n\n\"Bring more!\" cried the man; \"these few scraps go no way at all!\" Then\nat last seven thousand waggons laden with gold collected through the\nwhole kingdom were driven up; and he threw them in his sack, oxen and\nall.\n\n\"I will not look too closely,\" said he, \"but take what I can get, so\nlong as the sack is full.\" And when all was put in there was still\nplenty of room.\n\n\"I must make an end of this,\" he said; \"if it is not full, it is so much\nthe easier to tie up.\" And he hoisted it on his back, and went off with\nhis comrades.\n\nWhen the king saw all the wealth of his realm carried off by a single\nman he was full of wrath, and he bade his cavalry mount, and follow\nafter the six men, and take the sack away from the strong man.\n\nTwo regiments were soon up to them, and called them to consider\nthemselves prisoners, and to deliver up the sack, or be cut in pieces.\n\n\"Prisoners, say you?\" said the man who could blow, \"suppose you first\nhave a little dance together in the air,\" and holding one nostril, and\nblowing through the other, he sent the regiments flying head over heels,\nover the hills and far away. But a sergeant who had nine wounds and was\na brave fellow, begged not to be put to so much shame. And the blower\nlet him down easily, so that he came to no harm, and he bade him go to\nthe king and tell him that whatever regiments he liked to send more\nshould be blown away just the same. And the king, when he got the\nmessage, said,\n\n\"Let the fellows be; they have some right on their side.\" So the six\ncomrades carried home their treasure, divided it among them, and lived\ncontented till they died.\n\n\n\n\nCLEVER GRETHEL\n\n\nTHERE was once a cook called Grethel, who wore shoes with red heels, and\nwhen she went out in them she gave herself great airs, and thought\nherself very fine indeed. When she came home again, she would take a\ndrink of wine to refresh herself, and as that gave her an appetite, she\nwould take some of the best of whatever she was cooking, until she had\nhad enough;--\"for,\" said she, \"a cook must know how things taste.\"\n\nNow it happened that one day her master said to her,--\n\n\"Grethel, I expect a guest this evening; you must make ready a pair of\nfowls.\"\n\n\"Certainly, sir, I will,\" answered Grethel. So she killed the fowls,\ncleaned them, and plucked them, and put them on the spit, and then, as\nevening drew near, placed them before the fire to roast. And they began\nto be brown, and were nearly done, but the guest had not come.\n\n\"If he does not make haste,\" cried Grethel to her master, \"I must take\nthem away from the fire; it's a pity and a shame not to eat them now,\njust when they are done to a turn.\" And the master said he would run\nhimself and fetch the guest. As soon as he had turned his back, Grethel\ntook the fowls from before the fire.\n\n\"Standing so long before the fire,\" said she, \"makes one hot and\nthirsty,--and who knows when they will come! in the meanwhile I will go\nto the cellar and have a drink.\" So down she ran, took up a mug, and\nsaying, \"Here's to me!\" took a good draught. \"One good drink deserves\nanother,\" she said \"and it should not be cut short;\" so she took another\nhearty draught. Then she went and put the fowls down to the fire again,\nand, basting them with butter, she turned the spit briskly round. And\nnow they began to smell so good that Grethel saying, \"I must find out\nwhether they really are all right,\" licked her fingers, and then cried,\n\"Well, I never! the fowls are good; it's a sin and a shame that no one\nis here to eat them!\"\n\nSo she ran to the window to see if her master and his guest were coming,\nbut as she could see nobody she went back to her fowls. \"Why, one of the\nwings is burning!\" she cried presently, \"I had better eat it and get it\nout of the way.\" So she cut it off and ate it up, and it tasted good,\nand then she thought,\n\n\"I had better cut off the other too, in case the master should miss\nanything.\" And when both wings had been disposed of she went and looked\nfor the master, but still he did not come.\n\n\"Who knows,\" said she, \"whether they are coming or not? they may have\nput up at an inn.\" And after a pause she said again, \"Come, I may as\nwell make myself happy, and first I will make sure of a good drink and\nthen of a good meal, and when all is done I shall be easy; the gifts of\nthe gods are not to be despised.\" So first she ran down into the cellar\nand had a famous drink, and ate up one of the fowls with great relish.\nAnd when that was done, and still the master did not come, Grethel eyed\nthe other fowl, saying, \"What one is the other must be, the two belong\nto each other, it is only fair that they should be both treated alike;\nperhaps, when I have had another drink, I shall be able to manage it.\"\nSo she took another hearty drink, and then the second fowl went the way\nof the first.\n\nJust as she was in the middle of it the master came back. \"Make haste,\nGrethel,\" cried he, \"the guest is coming directly!\" \"Very well, master,\"\nshe answered, \"it will soon be ready.\" The master went to see that the\ntable was properly laid, and, taking the great carving knife with which\nhe meant to carve the fowls, he sharpened it upon the step. Presently\ncame the guest, knocking very genteelly and softly at the front door.\nGrethel ran and looked to see who it was, and when she caught sight of\nthe guest she put her finger on her lip saying, \"Hush! make the best\nhaste you can out of this, for if my master catches you, it will be bad\nfor you; he asked you to come to supper, but he really means to cut off\nyour ears! Just listen how he is sharpening his knife!\"\n\nThe guest, hearing the noise of the sharpening, made off as fast as he\ncould go. And Grethel ran screaming to her master. \"A pretty guest you\nhave asked to the house!\" cried she.\n\n\"How so, Grethel? what do you mean?\" asked he.\n\n\"What indeed!\" said she; \"why, he has gone and run away with my pair of\nfowls that I had just dished up.\"\n\n\"That's pretty sort of conduct!\" said the master, feeling very sorry\nabout the fowls; \"he might at least have left me one, that I might have\nhad something to eat.\" And he called out to him to stop, but the guest\nmade as if he did not hear him; then he ran after him, the knife still\nin his hand, crying out, \"Only one! only one!\" meaning that the guest\nshould let him have one of the fowls and not take both, but the guest\nthought he meant to have only one of his ears, and he ran so much the\nfaster that he might get home with both of them safe.\n\n\n\n\nThe DEATH of the HEN\n\n\nONCE on a time the cock and the hen went to the nut mountain, and they\nagreed beforehand that whichever of them should find a nut was to divide\nit with the other. Now the hen found a great big nut, but said nothing\nabout it, and was going to eat it all alone, but the kernel was such a\nfat one that she could not swallow it down, and it stuck in her throat,\nso that she was afraid she should choke.\n\n\"Cock!\" cried she, \"run as fast as you can and fetch me some water, or I\nshall choke!\"\n\nSo the cock ran as fast as he could to the brook, and said, \"Brook, give\nme some water, the hen is up yonder choking with a big nut stuck in her\nthroat.\" But the brook answered, \"First run to the bride and ask her for\nsome red silk.\"\n\nSo the cock ran to the bride and said,\n\n\"Bride, give me some red silk; the brook wants me to give him some red\nsilk; I want him to give me some water, for the hen lies yonder choking\nwith a big nut stuck in her throat.\"\n\nBut the bride answered,\n\n\"First go and fetch me my garland that hangs on a willow.\" And the cock\nran to the willow and pulled the garland from the bough and brought it\nto the bride, and the bride gave him red silk, and he brought it to the\nbrook, and the brook gave him water. So then the cock brought the water\nto the hen, but alas, it was too late; the hen had choked in the\nmeanwhile, and lay there dead. And the cock was so grieved that he\ncried aloud, and all the beasts came and lamented for the hen; and six\nmice built a little waggon, on which to carry the poor hen to her grave,\nand when it was ready they harnessed themselves to it, and the cock\ndrove. On the way they met the fox.\n\n\"Halloa, cock,\" cried he, \"where are you off to?\"\n\n\"To bury my hen,\" answered the cock.\n\n\"Can I come too?\" said the fox.\n\n\"Yes, if you follow behind,\" said the cock.\n\nSo the fox followed behind and he was soon joined by the wolf, the bear,\nthe stag, the lion, and all the beasts in the wood. And the procession\nwent on till they came to a brook.\n\n\"How shall we get over?\" said the cock. Now in the brook there was a\nstraw, and he said,\n\n\"I will lay myself across, so that you may pass over on me.\" But when\nthe six mice had got upon this bridge, the straw slipped and fell into\nthe water and they all tumbled in and were drowned. So they were as\nbadly off as ever, when a coal came up and said he would lay himself\nacross and they might pass over him; but no sooner had he touched the\nwater than he hissed, went out, and was dead. A stone seeing this was\ntouched with pity, and, wishing to help the cock, he laid himself across\nthe stream. And the cock drew the waggon with the dead hen in it safely\nto the other side, and then began to draw the others who followed behind\nacross too, but it was too much for him, the waggon turned over, and all\ntumbled into the water one on the top of another, and were drowned.\n\nSo the cock was left all alone with the dead hen, and he digged a grave\nand laid her in it, and he raised a mound above her, and sat himself\ndown and lamented so sore that at last he died. And so they were all\ndead together.\n\n\n\n\nHANS IN LUCK\n\n\nHANS had served his master seven years, and at the end of the seventh\nyear he said,\n\n\"Master, my time is up; I want to go home and see my mother, so give me\nmy wages.\"\n\n\"You have served me truly and faithfully,\" said the master; \"as the\nservice is, so must the wages be,\" and he gave him a lump of gold as big\nas his head. Hans pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and tied up\nthe lump of gold in it, hoisted it on his shoulder, and set off on his\nway home. And as he was trudging along, there came in sight a man riding\non a spirited horse, and looking very gay and lively. \"Oh!\" cried Hans\naloud, \"how splendid riding must be! sitting as much at one's ease as in\nan arm-chair, stumbling over no stones, saving one's shoes, and getting\non one hardly knows how!\"\n\nThe horseman heard Hans say this, and called out to him,\n\n\"Well Hans, what are you doing on foot?\"\n\n\"I can't help myself,\" said Hans, \"I have this great lump to carry; to\nbe sure, it is gold, but then I can't hold my head straight for it, and\nit hurts my shoulder.\"\n\n\"I'll tell you what,\" said the horseman, \"we will change; I will give\nyou my horse, and you shall give me your lump of gold.\"\n\n\"With all my heart,\" said Hans; \"but I warn you, you will find it\nheavy.\" And the horseman got down, took the gold, and, helping Hans up,\nhe gave the reins into his hand.\n\n\"When you want to go fast,\" said he, \"you must click your tongue and cry\n'Gee-up!'\"\n\nAnd Hans, as he sat upon his horse, was glad at heart, and rode off with\nmerry cheer. After a while he thought he should like to go quicker, so\nhe began to click with his tongue and to cry \"Gee-up!\" And the horse\nbegan to trot, and Hans was thrown before he knew what was going to\nhappen, and there he lay in the ditch by the side of the road. The horse\nwould have got away but that he was caught by a peasant who was passing\nthat way and driving a cow before him. And Hans pulled himself together\nand got upon his feet, feeling very vexed. \"Poor work, riding,\" said he,\n\"especially on a jade like this, who starts off and throws you before\nyou know where you are, going near to break your neck; never shall I try\nthat game again; now, your cow is something worth having, one can jog on\ncomfortably after her and have her milk, butter, and cheese every day,\ninto the bargain. What would I not give to have such a cow!\"\n\n\"Well now,\" said the peasant, \"since it will be doing you such a favour,\nI don't mind exchanging my cow for your horse.\"\n\nHans agreed most joyfully, and the peasant, swinging himself into the\nsaddle, was soon out of sight.\n\nAnd Hans went along driving his cow quietly before him, and thinking all\nthe while of the fine bargain he had made.\n\n\"With only a piece of bread I shall have everything I can possibly want,\nfor I shall always be able to have butter and cheese to it, and if I am\nthirsty I have nothing to do but to milk my cow; and what more is there\nfor heart to wish!\"\n\nAnd when he came to an inn he made a halt, and in the joy of his heart\nate up all the food he had brought with him, dinner and supper and all,\nand bought half a glass of beer with his last two farthings. Then on he\nwent again driving his cow, until he should come to the village where\nhis mother lived. It was now near the middle of the day, and the sun\ngrew hotter and hotter, and Hans found himself on a heath which it would\nbe an hour's journey to cross. And he began to feel very hot, and so\nthirsty that his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth.\n\n\"Never mind,\" said Hans; \"I can find a remedy. I will milk my cow at\nonce.\" And tying her to a dry tree, and taking off his leather cap to\nserve for a pail, he began to milk, but not a drop came. And as he set\nto work rather awkwardly, the impatient beast gave him such a kick on\nthe head with his hind foot that he fell to the ground, and for some\ntime could not think where he was; when luckily there came by a butcher\nwho was wheeling along a young pig in a wheelbarrow.\n\n\"Here's a fine piece of work!\" cried he, helping poor Hans on his legs\nagain. Then Hans related to him all that had happened; and the butcher\nhanded him his pocket-flask, saying,\n\n\"Here, take a drink, and be a man again; of course the cow would give no\nmilk; she is old and only fit to draw burdens, or to be slaughtered.\"\n\n\"Well, to be sure,\" said Hans, scratching his head. \"Who would have\nthought it? of course it is a very handy way of getting meat when a man\nhas a beast of his own to kill; but for my part I do not care much about\ncow beef, it is rather tasteless. Now, if I had but a young pig, that is\nmuch better meat, and then the sausages!\"\n\n\"Look here, Hans,\" said the butcher, \"just for love of you I will\nexchange, and will give you my pig instead of your cow.\"\n\n\"Heaven reward such kindness!\" cried Hans, and handing over the cow,\nreceived in exchange the pig, who was turned out of his wheelbarrow and\nwas to be led by a string.\n\nSo on went Hans, thinking how everything turned out according to his\nwishes, and how, if trouble overtook him, all was sure to be set right\ndirectly. After a while he fell in with a peasant, who was carrying a\nfine white goose under his arm. They bid each other good-day, and Hans\nbegan to tell about his luck, and how he had made so many good\nexchanges. And the peasant told how he was taking the goose to a\nchristening feast.\n\n\"Just feel how heavy it is,\" said he, taking it up by the wings; \"it has\nbeen fattening for the last eight weeks; and when it is roasted, won't\nthe fat run down!\"\n\n\"Yes, indeed,\" said Hans, weighing it in his hand, \"very fine to be\nsure; but my pig is not to be despised.\"\n\nUpon which the peasant glanced cautiously on all sides, and shook his\nhead.\n\n\"I am afraid,\" said he, \"that there is something not quite right about\nyour pig. In the village I have just left one had actually been stolen\nfrom the bailiff's yard. I fear, I fear you have it in your hand; they\nhave sent after the thief, and it would be a bad look-out for you if it\nwas found upon you; the least that could happen would be to be thrown\ninto a dark hole.\"\n\nPoor Hans grew pale with fright. \"For heaven's sake,\" said he, \"help me\nout of this scrape, I am a stranger in these parts; take my pig and give\nme your goose.\"\n\n\"It will be running some risk,\" answered the man, \"but I will do it\nsooner than that you should come to grief.\" And so, taking the cord in\nhis hand, he drove the pig quickly along a by-path, and lucky Hans went\non his way home with the goose under his arm. \"The more I think of it,\"\nsaid he to himself, \"the better the bargain seems; first I get the roast\ngoose; then the fat; that will last a whole year for bread and dripping;\nand lastly the beautiful white feathers which I can stuff my pillow\nwith; how comfortably I shall sleep upon it, and how pleased my mother\nwill be!\"\n\nAnd when he reached the last village, he saw a knife-grinder with his\nbarrow; and his wheel went whirring round, and he sang,\n\n \"My scissors I grind, and my wheel I turn;\n And all good fellows my trade should learn,\n For all that I meet with just serves my turn.\"\n\nAnd Hans stood and looked at him; and at last he spoke to him and said,\n\n\"You seem very well off, and merry with your grinding.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered the knife-grinder, \"my handiwork pays very well. I call\na man a good grinder who, every time he puts his hand in his pocket\nfinds money there. But where did you buy that fine goose?\"\n\n\"I did not buy it, but I exchanged it for my pig,\" said Hans.\n\n\"And the pig?\"\n\n\"That I exchanged for a cow.\"\n\n\"And the cow?\"\n\n\"That I exchanged for a horse.\"\n\n\"And the horse?\"\n\n\"I gave for the horse a lump of gold as big as my head.\"\n\n\"And the gold?\"\n\n\"Oh, that was my wage for seven years' service.\"\n\n\"You seem to have fended for yourself very well,\" said the\nknife-grinder. \"Now, if you could but manage to have money in your\npocket every time you put your hand in, your fortune is made.\"\n\n\"How shall I manage that?\" said Hans.\n\n\"You must be a knife-grinder like me,\" said the man. \"All you want is a\ngrindstone, the rest comes of itself: I have one here; to be sure it is\na little damaged, but I don't mind letting you have it in exchange for\nyour goose; what say you?\"\n\n\"How can you ask?\" answered Hans. \"I shall be the luckiest fellow in the\nworld, for if I find money whenever I put my hand in my pocket, there is\nnothing more left to want.\"\n\nAnd so he handed over the goose to the pedlar and received the\ngrindstone in exchange.\n\n\"Now,\" said the knife-grinder, taking up a heavy common stone that lay\nnear him, \"here is another proper sort of stone that will stand a good\ndeal of wear and that you can hammer out your old nails upon. Take it\nwith you, and carry it carefully.\"\n\nHans lifted up the stone and carried it off with a contented mind. \"I\nmust have been born under a lucky star!\" cried he, while his eyes\nsparkled for joy. \"I have only to wish for a thing and it is mine.\"\n\nAfter a while he began to feel rather tired, as indeed he had been on\nhis legs since daybreak; he also began to feel rather hungry, as in the\nfulness of his joy at getting the cow, he had eaten up all he had. At\nlast he could scarcely go on at all, and had to make a halt every\nmoment, for the stones weighed him down most unmercifully, and he could\nnot help wishing that he did not feel obliged to drag them along. And on\nhe went at a snail's pace until he came to a well; then he thought he\nwould rest and take a drink of the fresh water. And he placed the stones\ncarefully by his side at the edge of the well; then he sat down, and as\nhe stooped to drink, he happened to give the stones a little push, and\nthey both fell into the water with a splash. And then Hans, having\nwatched them disappear, jumped for joy, and thanked his stars that he\nhad been so lucky as to get rid of the stones that had weighed upon him\nso long without any effort of his own.\n\n\"I really think,\" cried he, \"I am the luckiest man under the sun.\" So on\nhe went, void of care, until he reached his mother's house.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOOSE GIRL.\n\n\nTHERE lived once an old Queen, whose husband had been dead many years.\nShe had a beautiful daughter who was promised in marriage to a King's\nson living a great way off. When the time appointed for the wedding drew\nnear, and the old Queen had to send her daughter into the foreign land,\nshe got together many costly things, furniture and cups and jewels and\nadornments, both of gold and silver, everything proper for the dowry of\na royal Princess, for she loved her daughter dearly. She gave her also a\nwaiting gentlewoman to attend her and to give her into the bridegroom's\nhands; and they were each to have a horse for the journey, and the\nPrincess's horse was named Falada, and he could speak. When the time for\nparting came, the old Queen took her daughter to her chamber, and with a\nlittle knife she cut her own finger so that it bled; and she held\nbeneath it a white napkin, and on it fell three drops of blood; and she\ngave it to her daughter, bidding her take care of it, for it would be\nneedful to her on the way. Then they took leave of each other; and the\nPrincess put the napkin in her bosom, got on her horse, and set out to\ngo to the bridegroom. After she had ridden an hour, she began to feel\nvery thirsty, and she said to the waiting-woman,\n\n\"Get down, and fill my cup that you are carrying with water from the\nbrook; I have great desire to drink.\"\n\n\"Get down yourself,\" said the waiting-woman, \"and if you are thirsty\nstoop down and drink; I will not be your slave.\"\n\n[Illustration: GOOSE GIRL\n\n 'O WIND, BLOW CONRAD'S HAT AWAY,\n AND MAKE HIM FOLLOW AS IT FLIES,\n WHILE I WITH MY GOLD HAIR WILL PLAY\n AND BIND IT UP IN SEEMLY WISE.' ]\n\nAnd as her thirst was so great, the Princess had to get down and to\nstoop and drink of the water of the brook, and could not have her gold\ncup to serve her. \"Oh dear!\" said the poor Princess. And the three drops\nof blood heard her, and said,\n\n\"If your mother knew of this, it would break her heart.\"\n\nBut the Princess answered nothing, and quietly mounted her horse again.\nSo they rode on some miles farther; the day was warm, the sun shone hot,\nand the Princess grew thirsty once more. And when they came to a\nwater-course she called again to the waiting-woman and said,\n\n\"Get down, and give me to drink out of my golden cup.\" For she had\nforgotten all that had gone before. But the waiting-woman spoke still\nmore scornfully and said,\n\n\"If you want a drink, you may get it yourself; I am not going to be your\nslave.\"\n\nSo, as her thirst was so great, the Princess had to get off her horse\nand to stoop towards the running water to drink, and as she stooped, she\nwept and said, \"Oh dear!\" And the three drops of blood heard her and\nanswered,\n\n\"If your mother knew of this, it would break her heart!\"\n\nAnd as she drank and stooped over, the napkin on which were the three\ndrops of blood fell out of her bosom and floated down the stream, and in\nher distress she never noticed it; not so the waiting-woman, who\nrejoiced because she should have power over the bride, who, now that she\nhad lost the three drops of blood, had become weak, and unable to defend\nherself. And when she was going to mount her horse again the\nwaiting-woman cried,\n\n\"Falada belongs to me, and this jade to you.\" And the Princess had to\ngive way and let it be as she said. Then the waiting-woman ordered the\nPrincess with many hard words to take off her rich clothing and to put\non her plain garments, and then she made her swear to say nothing of the\nmatter when they came to the royal court; threatening to take her life\nif she refused. And all the while Falada noticed and remembered.\n\nThe waiting-woman then mounting Falada, and the Princess the sorry jade,\nthey journeyed on till they reached the royal castle. There was great\njoy at their coming, and the King's son hastened to meet them, and\nlifted the waiting woman from her horse, thinking she was his bride; and\nthen he led her up the stairs, while the real Princess had to remain\nbelow. But the old King, who was looking out of the window, saw her\nstanding in the yard, and noticed how delicate and gentle and beautiful\nshe was, and then he went down and asked the seeming bride who it was\nthat she had brought with her and that was now standing in the\ncourtyard.\n\n\"Oh!\" answered the bride, \"I only brought her with me for company; give\nthe maid something to do, that she may not be for ever standing idle.\"\n\nBut the old King had no work to give her; until he bethought him of a\nboy he had who took care of the geese, and that she might help him. And\nso the real Princess was sent to keep geese with the goose-boy, who was\ncalled Conrad.\n\nSoon after the false bride said to the Prince,\n\n\"Dearest husband, I pray thee do me a pleasure.\"\n\n\"With all my heart,\" answered he.\n\n\"Then\" said she, \"send for the knacker, that he may carry off the horse\nI came here upon, and make away with him; he was very troublesome to me\non the journey.\" For she was afraid that the horse might tell how she\nhad behaved to the Princess. And when the order had been given that\nFalada should die, it came to the Princess's ears, and she came to the\nknacker's man secretly, and promised him a piece of gold if he would do\nher a service. There was in the town a great dark gate-way through which\nshe had to pass morning and evening with her geese, and she asked the\nman to take Falada's head and to nail it on the gate, that she might\nalways see it as she passed by. And the man promised, and he took\nFalada's head and nailed it fast in the dark gate-way.\n\nEarly next morning as she and Conrad drove their geese through the gate,\nshe said as she went by,\n\n \"O Falada, dost thou hang there?\"\n\nAnd the head answered,\n\n \"Princess, dost thou so meanly fare?\n But if thy mother knew thy pain,\n Her heart would surely break in twain.\"\n\nBut she went on through the town, driving her geese to the field. And\nwhen they came into the meadows, she sat down and undid her hair, which\nwas all of gold, and when Conrad saw how it glistened, he wanted to pull\nout a few hairs for himself. And she said,\n\n \"O wind, blow Conrad's hat away,\n Make him run after as it flies,\n While I with my gold hair will play,\n And twist it up in seemly wise.\"\n\nThen there came a wind strong enough to blow Conrad's hat far away over\nthe fields, and he had to run after it; and by the time he came back she\nhad put up her hair with combs and pins, and he could not get at any to\npull it out; and he was sulky and would not speak to her; so they looked\nafter the geese until the evening came, and then they went home.\n\nThe next morning, as they passed under the dark gate-way, the Princess\nsaid,\n\n \"O Falada, dost thou hang there?\"\n\nAnd Falada answered,\n\n \"Princess, dost thou so meanly fare?\n But if thy mother knew thy pain,\n Her heart would surely break in twain.\"\n\nAnd when they reached the fields she sat down and began to comb out her\nhair; then Conrad came up and wanted to seize upon some of it, and she\ncried,\n\n \"O wind, blow Conrad's hat away,\n Make him run after as it flies,\n While I with my gold hair will play,\n And do it up in seemly wise.\"\n\nThen the wind came and blew Conrad's hat very far away, so that he had\nto run after it, and when he came back again her hair was put up again,\nso that he could pull none of it out; and they tended the geese until\nthe evening.\n\nAnd after they had got home, Conrad went to the old King and said, \"I\nwill tend the geese no longer with that girl!\"\n\n\"Why not?\" asked the old King.\n\n\"Because she vexes me the whole day long,\" answered Conrad. Then the old\nKing ordered him to tell how it was.\n\n\"Every morning,\" said Conrad, \"as we pass under the dark gate-way with\nthe geese, there is an old horse's head hanging on the wall, and she\nsays to it,\n\n \"O Falada, dost thou hang there?\"\n\nAnd the head answers,\n\n \"Princess, dost thou so meanly fare?\n But if thy mother knew thy pain,\n Her heart would surely break in twain.\"\n\nAnd besides this, Conrad related all that happened in the fields, and\nhow he was obliged to run after his hat.\n\nThe old King told him to go to drive the geese next morning as usual,\nand he himself went behind the gate and listened how the maiden spoke to\nFalada; and then he followed them into the fields, and hid himself\nbehind a bush; and he watched the goose-boy and the goose-girl tend the\ngeese; and after a while he saw the girl make her hair all loose, and\nhow it gleamed and shone. Soon she said,\n\n \"O wind, blow Conrad's hat away,\n And make him follow as it flies,\n While I with my gold hair will play,\n And bind it up in seemly wise.\"\n\nThen there came a gust of wind and away went Conrad's hat, and he after\nit, while the maiden combed and bound up her hair; and the old King saw\nall that went on. At last he went unnoticed away, and when the\ngoose-girl came back in the evening he sent for her, and asked the\nreason of her doing all this.\n\n\"That I dare not tell you,\" she answered, \"nor can I tell any man of my\nwoe, for when I was in danger of my life I swore an oath not to reveal\nit.\" And he pressed her sore, and left her no peace, but he could get\nnothing out of her. At last he said,\n\n\"If you will not tell it me, tell it to the iron oven,\" and went away.\nThen she crept into the iron oven, and began to weep and to lament, and\nat last she opened her heart and said,\n\n\"Here I sit forsaken of all the world, and I am a King's daughter, and a\nwicked waiting-woman forced me to give up my royal garments and my place\nat the bridegroom's side, and I am made a goose-girl, and have to do\nmean service. And if my mother knew, it would break her heart.\"\n\nNow the old King was standing outside by the oven-door listening, and he\nheard all she said, and he called to her and told her to come out of the\noven. And he caused royal clothing to be put upon her, and it was a\nmarvel to see how beautiful she was. The old King then called his son\nand proved to him that he had the wrong bride, for she was really only a\nwaiting-woman, and that the true bride was here at hand, she who had\nbeen the goose-girl. The Prince was glad at heart when he saw her beauty\nand gentleness; and a great feast was made ready, and all the court\npeople and good friends were bidden to it. The bridegroom sat in the\nmidst with the Princess on one side and the waiting-woman on the other;\nand the false bride did not know the true one, because she was dazzled\nwith her glittering braveries. When all the company had eaten and drunk\nand were merry, the old King gave the waiting-woman a question to\nanswer, as to what such an one deserved, who had deceived her masters in\nsuch and such a manner, telling the whole story, and ending by asking,\n\n\"Now, what doom does such an one deserve?\"\n\n\"No better than this,\" answered the false bride, \"that she be put naked\ninto a cask, studded inside with sharp nails, and be dragged along in it\nby two white horses from street to street, until she be dead.\"\n\n\"Thou hast spoken thy own doom,\" said the old King; \"as thou hast said,\nso shall it be done.\" And when the sentence was fulfilled, the Prince\nmarried the true bride, and ever after they ruled over their kingdom in\npeace and blessedness.\n\n\n\n\nTHE RAVEN\n\n\nTHERE was once a Queen and she had a little daughter, who was as yet a\nbabe in arms; and once the child was so restless that the mother could\nget no peace, do what she would; so she lost patience, and seeing a\nflight of ravens passing over the castle, she opened the window and said\nto her child,\n\n\"Oh, that thou wert a raven and couldst fly away, that I might be at\npeace.\"\n\nNo sooner had she uttered the words, than the child was indeed changed\ninto a raven, and fluttered from her arms out of the window. And she\nflew into a dark wood and stayed there a long time, and her parents knew\nnothing of her. Once a man was passing through the wood, and he heard\nthe raven cry, and he followed the voice; and when he came near it said,\n\n\"I was born a King's daughter, and have been bewitched, but thou canst\nset me free.\"\n\n\"What shall I do?\" asked the man.\n\n\"Go deeper into the wood,\" said she, \"and thou shalt find a house and an\nold woman sitting in it: she will offer thee meat and drink, but thou\nmust take none; if thou eatest or drinkest thou fallest into a deep\nsleep, and canst not set me free at all. In the garden behind the house\nis a big heap of tan, stand upon that and wait for me. Three days, at\nabout the middle of the day, shall I come to thee in a car drawn by four\nwhite horses the first time, by four red ones the second time, and\nlastly by four black ones; and if thou art not waking but sleeping, thou\nfailest to set me free.\"\n\nThe man promised to do all she said.\n\n\"But ah!\" cried she, \"I know quite well I shall not be set free of thee;\nsomething thou wilt surely take from the old woman.\"\n\nBut the man promised yet once more that certainly he would not touch the\nmeat or the drink. But when he came to the house the old woman came up\nto him.\n\n\"My poor man,\" said she to him, \"you are quite tired out, come and be\nrefreshed, and eat and drink.\"\n\n\"No,\" said the man, \"I will eat and drink nothing.\"\n\nBut she left him no peace, saying,\n\n\"Even if you eat nothing, take a draught out of this cup once and away.\"\n\nSo he was over-persuaded, and he drank.\n\nIn the afternoon, about two o'clock, he went out into the garden to\nstand upon the tan-heap and wait for the raven. As he stood there he\nfelt all at once so tired, that he could bear it no longer, and laid\nhimself down for a little; but not to sleep. But no sooner was he\nstretched at length than his eyes closed of themselves, and he fell\nasleep, and slept so sound, as if nothing in the world could awaken him.\n\nAt two o'clock came the raven in the car drawn by four white horses, but\nshe was sad, knowing already that the man would be asleep, and so, when\nshe came into the garden, there he lay sure enough. And she got out of\nthe car and shook him and called to him, but he did not wake. The next\nday at noon the old woman came and brought him meat and drink, but he\nwould take none. But she left him no peace, and persuaded him until he\ntook a draught out of the cup. About two o'clock he went into the garden\nto stand upon the tan-heap, and to wait for the raven, but he was\novercome with so great a weariness that his limbs would no longer hold\nhim up; and whether he would or no he had to lie down, and he fell into\na deep sleep. And when the raven came up with her four red horses, she\nwas sad, knowing already that the man would be asleep. And she went up\nto him, and there he lay, and nothing would wake him.\n\nThe next day the old woman came and asked what was the matter with him,\nand if he wanted to die, that he would neither eat nor drink; but he\nanswered,\n\n\"I neither can nor will eat and drink.\"\n\nBut she brought the dishes of food and the cup of wine, and placed them\nbefore him, and when the smell came in his nostrils he could not\nrefrain, but took a deep draught. When the hour drew near, he went into\nthe garden and stood on the tan-heap to wait for the king's daughter; as\ntime went on he grew more and more weary, and at last he laid himself\ndown and slept like a stone. At two o'clock came the raven with four\nblack horses, and the car and all was black; and she was sad, knowing\nalready that he was sleeping, and would not be able to set her free; and\nwhen she came up to him, there he lay and slept. She shook him and\ncalled to him, but she could not wake him. Then she laid a loaf by his\nside and some meat, and a flask of wine, for now, however much he ate\nand drank, it could not matter. And she took a ring of gold from her\nfinger, and put it on his finger, and her name was engraven on it. And\nlastly she laid by him a letter, in which was set down what she had\ngiven him, and that all was of no use, and further also it said,\n\n\"I see that here thou canst not save me, but if thy mind is to the\nthing, come to the golden castle of Stromberg: I know well that if thou\nwillst thou canst.\" And when all this was done, she got again into her\ncar, and went to the golden castle of Stromberg.\n\nWhen the man waked up and perceived that he had been to sleep, he was\nsad at heart to think that she had been, and gone, and that he had not\nset her free. Then, catching sight of what lay beside him, he read the\nletter that told him all. And he rose up and set off at once to go to\nthe golden castle of Stromberg, though he knew not where it was. And\nwhen he had wandered about in the world for a long time, he came to a\ndark wood, and there spent a fortnight trying to find the way out, and\nnot being able. At the end of this time, it being towards evening, he\nwas so tired that he laid himself down under a clump of bushes and went\nto sleep. The next day he went on again, and in the evening, when he was\ngoing to lie down again to rest, he heard howlings and lamentations, so\nthat he could not sleep. And about the hour when lamps are lighted, he\nlooked up and saw a light glimmer in the forest; and he got up and\nfollowed it, and he found that it came from a house that looked very\nsmall indeed, because there stood a giant before it. And the man thought\nto himself that if he were to try to enter and the giant were to see\nhim, it would go hard but he should lose his life. At last he made up\nhis mind, and walked in. And the giant saw him.\n\n\"I am glad thou art come,\" said he; \"it is now a long time since I have\nhad anything to eat; I shall make a good supper of thee.\"\n\n\"That may be,\" said the man, \"but I shall not relish it; besides, if\nthou desirest to eat, I have somewhat here that may satisfy thee.\"\n\n\"If that is true,\" answered the giant, \"thou mayest make thy mind easy;\nit was only for want of something better that I wished to devour thee.\"\n\nThen they went in and placed themselves at the table, and the man\nbrought out bread, meat, and wine in plenty.\n\n\"This pleases me well,\" said the giant, and he ate to his heart's\ncontent. After a while the man asked him if he could tell him where the\ngolden castle of Stromberg was.\n\n\"I will look on my land-chart,\" said the giant, \"for on it all towns and\nvillages and houses are marked.\"\n\nSo he fetched the land-chart which was in his room, and sought for the\ncastle, but it was not to be found.\n\n\"Never mind,\" said he, \"I have up-stairs in the cupboard much bigger\nmaps than this; we will have a look at them.\" And so they did, but in\nvain.\n\nAnd now the man wanted to pursue his journey, but the giant begged him\nto stay a few days longer, until his brother, who had gone to get in a\nstore of provisions, should return. When the brother came, they asked\nhim about the golden castle of Stromberg.\n\n\"When I have had time to eat a meal and be satisfied, I will look at the\nmap.\"\n\nThat being done, he went into his room with them, and they looked at his\nmaps, but could find nothing: then he fetched other old maps, and they\nnever left off searching until they found the golden castle of\nStromberg, but it was many thousand miles away.\n\n\"How shall I ever get there?\" said the man.\n\n\"I have a couple of hours to spare,\" said the giant, \"and I will set you\non your way, but I shall have to come back and look after the child that\nwe have in the house with us.\"\n\nThen the giant bore the man until within about a hundred hours' journey\nfrom the castle, and saying,\n\n\"You can manage the rest of the way by yourself,\" he departed; and the\nman went on day and night, until at last he came to the golden castle of\nStromberg. It stood on a mountain of glass, and he could see the\nenchanted Princess driving round it, and then passing inside the gates.\nHe was rejoiced when he saw her, and began at once to climb the mountain\nto get to her; but it was so slippery, as fast as he went he fell back\nagain. And when he saw this he felt he should never reach her, and he\nwas full of grief, and resolved at least to stay at the foot of the\nmountain and wait for her. So he built himself a hut, and sat there and\nwaited a whole year; and every day he saw the Princess drive round and\npass in, and was never able to reach her.\n\nOne day he looked out of his hut and saw three robbers fighting, and he\ncalled out, \"Mercy on us!\" Hearing a voice, they stopped for a moment,\nbut went on again beating one another in a dreadful manner. And he cried\nout again, \"Mercy on us!\" They stopped and listened, and looked about\nthem, and then went on again. And he cried out a third time, \"Mercy on\nus!\" and then, thinking he would go and see what was the matter, he went\nout and asked them what they were fighting for. One of them told him he\nhad found a stick which would open any door only by knocking at it; the\nsecond said he had found a cloak which, if he put it on, made him\ninvisible; the third said he was possessed of a horse that would ride\nover everything, even the glass mountain. Now they had fought because\nthey could not agree whether they should enjoy these things in common or\nseparately.\n\n\"Suppose we make a bargain,\" said the man; \"it is true I have no money,\nbut I have other things yet more valuable to exchange for these; I must,\nhowever, make trial of them beforehand, to see if you have spoken truth\nconcerning them.\"\n\nSo they let him mount the horse, and put the cloak round him, and they\ngave him the stick into his hand, and as soon as he had all this he was\nno longer to be seen; but laying about him well, he gave them all a\nsound thrashing, crying out,\n\n\"Now, you good-for-nothing fellows, you have got what you deserve;\nperhaps you will be satisfied now!\"\n\nThen he rode up the glass mountain, and when he reached the castle gates\nhe found them locked; but he beat with his stick upon the door and it\nopened at once. And he walked in, and up the stairs to the great room\nwhere sat the Princess with a golden cup and wine before her: she could\nnot see him so long as the cloak was on him, but drawing near to her he\npulled off the ring she had given him, and threw it into the cup with a\nclang.\n\n\"This is my ring,\" she cried, \"and the man who is to set me free must be\nhere too!\"\n\nBut though she sought through the whole castle she found him not; he had\ngone outside, seated himself on his horse, and thrown off the cloak. And\nwhen she came to look out at the door, she saw him and shrieked out for\njoy; and he dismounted and took her in his arms, and she kissed him,\nsaying,\n\n\"Now hast thou set me free from my enchantment, and to-morrow we will be\nmarried.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE FROG PRINCE\n\n\nIN the old times, when it was still of some use to wish for the thing\none wanted, there lived a King whose daughters were all handsome, but\nthe youngest was so beautiful that the sun himself, who has seen so\nmuch, wondered each time he shone over her because of her beauty. Near\nthe royal castle there was a great dark wood, and in the wood under an\nold linden-tree was a well; and when the day was hot, the King's\ndaughter used to go forth into the wood and sit by the brink of the cool\nwell, and if the time seemed long, she would take out a golden ball, and\nthrow it up and catch it again, and this was her favourite pastime.\n\nNow it happened one day that the golden ball, instead of falling back\ninto the maiden's little hand which had sent it aloft, dropped to the\nground near the edge of the well and rolled in. The king's daughter\nfollowed it with her eyes as it sank, but the well was deep, so deep\nthat the bottom could not be seen. Then she began to weep, and she wept\nand wept as if she could never be comforted. And in the midst of her\nweeping she heard a voice saying to her,\n\n\"What ails thee, king's daughter? thy tears would melt a heart of\nstone.\"\n\nAnd when she looked to see where the voice came from, there was nothing\nbut a frog stretching his thick ugly head out of the water.\n\n\"Oh, is it you, old waddler?\" said she; \"I weep because my golden ball\nhas fallen into the well.\"\n\n\"Never mind, do not weep,\" answered the frog; \"I can help you; but what\nwill you give me if I fetch up your ball again?\"\n\n\"Whatever you like, dear frog,\" said she; \"any of my clothes, my pearls\nand jewels, or even the golden crown that I wear.\"\n\n\"Thy clothes, thy pearls and jewels, and thy golden crown are not for\nme,\" answered the frog; \"but if thou wouldst love me, and have me for\nthy companion and play-fellow, and let me sit by thee at table, and eat\nfrom thy plate, and drink from thy cup, and sleep in thy little bed,--if\nthou wouldst promise all this, then would I dive below the water and\nfetch thee thy golden ball again.\"\n\n\"Oh yes,\" she answered; \"I will promise it all, whatever you want, if\nyou will only get me my ball again.\"\n\nBut she thought to herself, \"What nonsense he talks! as if he could do\nanything but sit in the water and croak with the other frogs, or could\npossibly be any one's companion.\"\n\nBut the frog, as soon as he heard her promise, drew his head under the\nwater and sank down out of sight, but after a while he came to the\nsurface again with the ball in his mouth, and he threw it on the grass.\n\nThe King's daughter was overjoyed to see her pretty play-thing again,\nand she caught it up and ran off with it.\n\n\"Stop, stop!\" cried the frog; \"take me up too; I cannot run as fast as\nyou!\"\n\nBut it was of no use, for croak, croak after her as he might, she would\nnot listen to him, but made haste home, and very soon forgot all about\nthe poor frog, who had to betake himself to his well again.\n\nThe next day, when the King's daughter was sitting at table with the\nKing and all the court, and eating from her golden plate, there came\nsomething pitter patter up the marble stairs, and then there came a\nknocking at the door, and a voice crying \"Youngest King's daughter, let\nme in!\"\n\nAnd she got up and ran to see who it could be, but when she opened the\ndoor, there was the frog sitting outside. Then she shut the door hastily\nand went back to her seat, feeling very uneasy. The King noticed how\nquickly her heart was beating, and said,\n\n\"My child, what are you afraid of? is there a giant standing at the door\nready to carry you away?\"\n\n\"Oh no,\" answered she; \"no giant, but a horrid frog.\"\n\n\"And what does the frog want?\" asked the King.\n\n\"O dear father,\" answered she, \"when I was sitting by the well\nyesterday, and playing with my golden ball, it fell into the water, and\nwhile I was crying for the loss of it, the frog came and got it again\nfor me on condition I would let him be my companion, but I never thought\nthat he could leave the water and come after me; but now there he is\noutside the door, and he wants to come in to me.\"\n\nAnd then they all heard him knocking the second time and crying,\n\n \"Youngest King's daughter,\n Open to me!\n By the well water\n What promised you me?\n Youngest King's daughter\n Now open to me!\"\n\n\"That which thou hast promised must thou perform,\" said the King; \"so go\nnow and let him in.\"\n\nSo she went and opened the door, and the frog hopped in, following at\nher heels, till she reached her chair. Then he stopped and cried,\n\n\"Lift me up to sit by you.\"\n\nBut she delayed doing so until the King ordered her. When once the frog\nwas on the chair, he wanted to get on the table, and there he sat and\nsaid,\n\n\"Now push your golden plate a little nearer, so that we may eat\ntogether.\"\n\nAnd so she did, but everybody might see how unwilling she was, and the\nfrog feasted heartily, but every morsel seemed to stick in her throat.\n\n\"I have had enough now,\" said the frog at last, \"and as I am tired, you\nmust carry me to your room, and make ready your silken bed, and we will\nlie down and go to sleep.\"\n\nThen the King's daughter began to weep, and was afraid of the cold frog,\nthat nothing would satisfy him but he must sleep in her pretty clean\nbed. Now the King grew angry with her, saying,\n\n\"That which thou hast promised in thy time of necessity, must thou now\nperform.\"\n\nSo she picked up the frog with her finger and thumb, carried him\nupstairs and put him in a corner, and when she had lain down to sleep,\nhe came creeping up, saying, \"I am tired and want sleep as much as you;\ntake me up, or I will tell your father.\"\n\nThen she felt beside herself with rage, and picking him up, she threw\nhim with all her strength against the wall, crying,\n\n\"Now will you be quiet, you horrid frog!\"\n\nBut as he fell, he ceased to be a frog, and became all at once a prince\nwith beautiful kind eyes. And it came to pass that, with her father's\nconsent, they became bride and bridegroom. And he told her how a wicked\nwitch had bound him by her spells, and how no one but she alone could\nhave released him, and that they two would go together to his father's\nkingdom. And there came to the door a carriage drawn by eight white\nhorses, with white plumes on their heads, and with golden harness, and\nbehind the carriage was standing faithful Henry, the servant of the\nyoung prince. Now, faithful Henry had suffered such care and pain when\nhis master was turned into a frog, that he had been obliged to wear\nthree iron bands over his heart, to keep it from breaking with trouble\nand anxiety. When the carriage started to take the prince to his\nkingdom, and faithful Henry had helped them both in, he got up behind,\nand was full of joy at his master's deliverance. And when they had gone\na part of the way, the prince heard a sound at the back of the carriage,\nas if something had broken, and he turned round and cried,\n\n\"Henry, the wheel must be breaking!\" but Henry answered,\n\n \"The wheel does not break,\n 'Tis the band round my heart\n That, to lessen its ache,\n When I grieved for your sake,\n I bound round my heart.\"\n\nAgain, and yet once again there was the same sound, and the prince\nthought it must be the wheel breaking, but it was the breaking of the\nother bands from faithful Henry's heart, because it was now so relieved\nand happy.\n\n\n\n\nCAT & MOUSE IN PARTNERSHIP.\n\n\nA CAT having made acquaintance with a mouse, professed such great love\nand friendship for her, that the mouse at last agreed that they should\nlive and keep house together.\n\n\"We must make provision for the winter,\" said the cat, \"or we shall\nsuffer hunger, and you, little mouse, must not stir out, or you will be\ncaught in a trap.\"\n\nSo they took counsel together and bought a little pot of fat. And then\nthey could not tell where to put it for safety, but after long\nconsideration the cat said there could not be a better place than the\nchurch, for nobody would steal there; and they would put it under the\naltar and not touch it until they were really in want. So this was done,\nand the little pot placed in safety.\n\nBut before long the cat was seized with a great wish to taste it.\n\n\"Listen to me, little mouse,\" said he; \"I have been asked by my cousin\nto stand god-father to a little son she has brought into the world; he\nis white with brown spots; and they want to have the christening to-day,\nso let me go to it, and you stay at home and keep house.\"\n\n\"Oh yes, certainly,\" answered the mouse, \"pray go by all means; and when\nyou are feasting on all the good things, think of me; I should so like a\ndrop of the sweet red wine.\"\n\nBut there was not a word of truth in all this; the cat had no cousin,\nand had not been asked to stand god-father: he went to the church,\nstraight up to the little pot, and licked the fat off the top; then he\ntook a walk over the roofs of the town, saw his acquaintances, stretched\nhimself in the sun, and licked his whiskers as often as he thought of\nthe little pot of fat; and then when it was evening he went home.\n\n\"Here you are at last,\" said the mouse; \"I expect you have had a merry\ntime.\"\n\n\"Oh, pretty well,\" answered the cat.\n\n\"And what name did you give the child?\" asked the mouse.\n\n\"Top-off,\" answered the cat, drily.\n\n\"Top-off!\" cried the mouse, \"that is a singular and wonderful name! is\nit common in your family?\"\n\n\"What does it matter?\" said the cat; \"it's not any worse than\nCrumb-picker, like your god-child.\"\n\nA little time after this the cat was again seized with a longing.\n\n\"Again I must ask you,\" said he to the mouse, \"to do me a favour, and\nkeep house alone for a day. I have been asked a second time to stand\ngod-father; and as the little one has a white ring round its neck, I\ncannot well refuse.\"\n\nSo the kind little mouse consented, and the cat crept along by the town\nwall until he reached the church, and going straight to the little pot\nof fat, devoured half of it.\n\n\"Nothing tastes so well as what one keeps to oneself,\" said he, feeling\nquite content with his day's work. When he reached home, the mouse asked\nwhat name had been given to the child.\n\n\"Half-gone,\" answered the cat.\n\n\"Half-gone!\" cried the mouse, \"I never heard such a name in my life!\nI'll bet it's not to be found in the calendar.\"\n\nSoon after that the cat's mouth began to water again for the fat.\n\n\"Good things always come in threes,\" said he to the mouse; \"again I have\nbeen asked to stand god-father, the little one is quite black with white\nfeet, and not any white hair on its body; such a thing does not happen\nevery day, so you will let me go, won't you?\"\n\n\"Top-off, Half-gone,\" murmured the mouse, \"they are such curious names,\nI cannot but wonder at them!\"\n\n\"That's because you are always sitting at home,\" said the cat, \"in your\nlittle grey frock and hairy tail, never seeing the world, and fancying\nall sorts of things.\"\n\nSo the little mouse cleaned up the house and set it all in order.\nMeanwhile the greedy cat went and made an end of the little pot of fat.\n\n\"Now all is finished one's mind will be easy,\" said he, and came home in\nthe evening, quite sleek and comfortable. The mouse asked at once what\nname had been given to the third child.\n\n\"It won't please you any better than the others,\" answered the cat. \"It\nis called All-gone.\"\n\n\"All-gone!\" cried the mouse. \"What an unheard-of-name! I never met with\nanything like it! All-gone! whatever can it mean?\" And shaking her head,\nshe curled herself round and went to sleep. After that the cat was not\nagain asked to stand god-father.\n\nWhen the winter had come and there was nothing more to be had out of\ndoors, the mouse began to think of their store.\n\n\"Come, cat,\" said she, \"we will fetch our pot of fat, how good it will\ntaste, to be sure!\"\n\n\"Of course it will,\" said the cat, \"just as good as if you stuck your\ntongue out of window!\"\n\nSo they set out, and when they reached the place, they found the pot,\nbut it was standing empty.\n\n\"Oh, now I know what it all meant,\" cried the mouse, \"now I see what\nsort of a partner you have been! Instead of standing god-father you have\ndevoured it all up; first Top-off, then Half-gone, then\"----\n\n\"Will you hold your tongue!\" screamed the cat, \"another word, and I\ndevour you too!\"\n\nAnd the poor little mouse, having \"All-gone\" on her tongue, out it came,\nand the cat leaped upon her and made an end of her. And that is the way\nof the world.\n\n\n\n\nThe WOLF and the SEVEN LITTLE GOATS.\n\n\nTHERE was once an old goat who had seven little ones, and was as fond of\nthem as ever mother was of her children. One day she had to go into the\nwood to fetch food for them, so she called them all round her.\n\n\"Dear children,\" said she, \"I am going out into the wood; and while I am\ngone, be on your guard against the wolf, for if he were once to get\ninside he would eat you up, skin, bones, and all. The wretch often\ndisguises himself, but he may always be known by his hoarse voice and\nblack paws.\"\n\n\"Dear mother,\" answered the kids, \"you need not be afraid, we will take\ngood care of ourselves.\" And the mother bleated good-bye, and went on\nher way with an easy mind.\n\nIt was not long before some one came knocking at the house-door, and\ncrying out,\n\n\"Open the door, my dear children, your mother is come back, and has\nbrought each of you something.\"\n\nBut the little kids knew it was the wolf by the hoarse voice.\n\n\"We will not open the door,\" cried they; \"you are not our mother, she\nhas a delicate and sweet voice, and your voice is hoarse; you must be\nthe wolf.\"\n\nThen off went the wolf to a shop and bought a big lump of chalk, and ate\nit up to make his voice soft. And then he came back, knocked at the\nhouse-door, and cried,\n\n\"Open the door, my dear children, your mother is here, and has brought\neach of you something.\"\n\nBut the wolf had put up his black paws against the window, and the kids\nseeing this, cried out,\n\n\"We will not open the door; our mother has no black paws like you; you\nmust be the wolf.\"\n\nThe wolf then ran to a baker.\n\n\"Baker,\" said he, \"I am hurt in the foot; pray spread some dough over\nthe place.\"\n\nAnd when the baker had plastered his feet, he ran to the miller.\n\n\"Miller,\" said he, \"strew me some white meal over my paws.\" But the\nmiller refused, thinking the wolf must be meaning harm to some one.\n\n\"If you don't do it,\" cried the wolf, \"I'll eat you up!\"\n\nAnd the miller was afraid and did as he was told. And that just shows\nwhat men are.\n\nAnd now came the rogue the third time to the door and knocked. \"Open,\nchildren!\" cried he. \"Your dear mother has come home, and brought you\neach something from the wood.\"\n\n\"First show us your paws,\" said the kids, \"so that we may know if you\nare really our mother or not.\"\n\nAnd he put up his paws against the window, and when they saw that they\nwere white, all seemed right, and they opened the door; and when he was\ninside they saw it was the wolf, and they were terrified and tried to\nhide themselves. One ran under the table, the second got into the bed,\nthe third into the oven, the fourth in the kitchen, the fifth in the\ncupboard, the sixth under the sink, the seventh in the clock-case. But\nthe wolf found them all, and gave them short shrift; one after the other\nhe swallowed down, all but the youngest, who was hid in the clock-case.\nAnd so the wolf, having got what he wanted, strolled forth into the\ngreen meadows, and laying himself down under a tree, he fell asleep.\n\nNot long after, the mother goat came back from the wood; and, oh! what a\nsight met her eyes! the door was standing wide open, table, chairs, and\nstools, all thrown about, dishes broken, quilt and pillows torn off the\nbed. She sought her children, they were nowhere to be found. She called\nto each of them by name, but nobody answered, until she came to the name\nof the youngest.\n\n\"Here I am, mother,\" a little voice cried, \"here, in the clock-case.\"\n\nAnd so she helped him out, and heard how the wolf had come, and eaten\nall the rest. And you may think how she cried for the loss of her dear\nchildren. At last in her grief she wandered out of doors, and the\nyoungest kid with her; and when they came into the meadow, there they\nsaw the wolf lying under a tree, and snoring so that the branches shook.\nThe mother goat looked at him carefully on all sides and she noticed how\nsomething inside his body was moving and struggling.\n\n\"Dear me!\" thought she, \"can it be that my poor children that he\ndevoured for his evening meal are still alive?\" And she sent the little\nkid back to the house for a pair of shears, and needle, and thread. Then\nshe cut the wolf's body open, and no sooner had she made one snip than\nout came the head of one of the kids, and then another snip, and then\none after the other the six little kids all jumped out alive and well,\nfor in his greediness the rogue had swallowed them down whole. How\ndelightful this was! so they comforted their dear mother and hopped\nabout like tailors at a wedding.\n\n\"Now fetch some good hard stones,\" said the mother, \"and we will fill\nhis body with them, as he lies asleep.\"\n\nAnd so they fetched some in all haste, and put them inside him, and the\nmother sewed him up so quickly again that he was none the wiser.\n\nWhen the wolf at last awoke, and got up, the stones inside him made him\nfeel very thirsty, and as he was going to the brook to drink, they\nstruck and rattled one against another. And so he cried out:\n\n \"What is this I feel inside me\n Knocking hard against my bones?\n How should such a thing betide me!\n They were kids, and now they're stones.\"\n\nSo he came to the brook, and stooped to drink, but the heavy stones\nweighed him down, so he fell over into the water and was drowned. And\nwhen the seven little kids saw it they came up running.\n\n\"The wolf is dead, the wolf is dead!\" they cried, and taking hands, they\ndanced with their mother all about the place.\n\n[Illustration: FAITHFUL JOHN\n\n\"IT HAPPENED, AS THEY WERE STILL\nJOURNEYING ON THE OPEN SEA, THAT\nFAITHFUL JOHN, AS HE SAT IN THE FORE\nPART OF THE SHIP, & MADE MUSIC, CAUGHT\nSIGHT OF THREE RAVENS FLYING OVERHEAD.\nTHEN HE STOPPED PLAYING &\nLISTENED TO WHAT THEY SAID TO ONE ANOTHER\"]\n\n\n\n\nFAITHFUL JOHN\n\n\nTHERE was once an old King, who, having fallen sick, thought to himself,\n\"This is very likely my death-bed on which I am lying.\"\n\nThen he said, \"Let Faithful John be sent for.\"\n\nFaithful John was his best-beloved servant, and was so called because he\nhad served the King faithfully all his life long. When he came near the\nbed, the King said to him,\n\n\"Faithful John, I feel my end drawing near, and my only care is for my\nson; he is yet of tender years, and does not always know how to shape\nhis conduct; and unless you promise me to instruct him in all his\nactions and be a true foster-father to him, I shall not be able to close\nmy eyes in peace.\"\n\nThen answered Faithful John, \"I will never forsake him, and will serve\nhim faithfully, even though it should cost me my life.\"\n\nAnd the old King said, \"Then I die, being of good cheer and at peace.\"\nAnd he went on to say,\n\n\"After my death, you must lead him through the whole castle, into all\nthe chambers, halls, and vaults, and show him the treasures that in them\nlie; but the last chamber in the long gallery, in which lies hidden the\npicture of the Princess of the Golden Palace, you must not show him. If\nhe were to see that picture, he would directly fall into so great a love\nfor her, that he would faint with the strength of it, and afterwards for\nher sake run into great dangers; so you must guard him well.\"\n\nAnd as Faithful John gave him his hand upon it, the old King became\nstill and silent, laid his head upon the pillow, and died.\n\nWhen the old King was laid in the grave, Faithful John told the young\nKing what he had promised to his father on his death-bed, and said,\n\n\"And I will certainly hold to my promise and be faithful to you, as I\nwas faithful to him, even though it should cost me my life.\"\n\nWhen the days of mourning were at an end, Faithful John said to the\nPrince,\n\n\"It is now time that you should see your inheritance; I will show you\nall the paternal castle.\"\n\nThen he led him over all the place, upstairs and down-stairs, and showed\nhim all the treasures and the splendid chambers; one chamber only he did\nnot open, that in which the perilous picture hung. Now the picture was\nso placed that when the door opened it was the first thing to be seen,\nand was so wonderfully painted that it seemed to breathe and move, and\nin the whole world was there nothing more lovely or more beautiful. The\nyoung King noticed how Faithful John always passed by this one door, and\nasked,\n\n\"Why do you not undo this door?\"\n\n\"There is something inside that would terrify you,\" answered he. But the\nKing answered,\n\n\"I have seen the whole castle, and I will know what is in here also.\"\nAnd he went forward and tried to open the door by force.\n\nThen Faithful John called him back, and said, \"I promised your father on\nhis death-bed that you should not see what is in that room; it might\nbring great misfortune on you and me were I to break my promise.\"\n\nBut the young King answered, \"I shall be undone if I do not go inside\nthat room; I shall have no peace day or night until I have seen it with\nthese eyes; and I will not move from this place until you have unlocked\nit.\"\n\nThen Faithful John saw there was no help for it, and he chose out the\nkey from the big bunch with a heavy heart and many sighs. When the door\nwas opened he walked in first, and thought that by standing in front of\nthe King he might hide the picture from him, but that was no good, the\nKing stood on tiptoe, and looked over his shoulder. And when he saw the\nimage of the lady that was so wonderfully beautiful, and so glittering\nwith gold and jewels, he fell on the ground powerless. Faithful John\nhelped him up, took him to his bed, and thought with sorrow, \"Ah me! the\nevil has come to pass; what will become of us?\"\n\nThen he strengthened the King with wine, until he came to himself. The\nfirst words that he said were,\n\n\"Oh, the beautiful picture! whose portrait is it?\"\n\n\"It is the portrait of the Princess of the Golden Palace,\" answered\nFaithful John. Then the King said,\n\n\"My love for her is so great that if all the leaves of the forest were\ntongues they could not utter it! I stake my life on the chance of\nobtaining her, and you, my Faithful John, must stand by me.\"\n\nThe faithful servant considered for a long time how the business should\nbe begun; it seemed to him that it would be a difficult matter to come\nonly at a sight of the Princess. At last he thought out a way, and said\nto the King,\n\n\"All that she has about her is of gold--tables, chairs, dishes,\ndrinking-cups, bowls, and all the household furniture; in your treasury\nare five tons of gold, let the goldsmiths of your kingdom work it up\ninto all kinds of vessels and implements, into all kinds of birds, and\nwild creatures, and wonderful beasts, such as may please her; then we\nwill carry them off with us, and go and seek our fortune.\"\n\nThe King had all the goldsmiths fetched, and they worked day and night,\nuntil at last some splendid things were got ready. When a ship had been\nloaded with them, Faithful John put on the garb of a merchant, and so\ndid the King, so as the more completely to disguise themselves. Then\nthey journeyed over the sea, and went so far that at last they came to\nthe city where the Princess of the Golden Palace dwelt.\n\nFaithful John told the King to stay in the ship, and to wait for him.\n\n\"Perhaps,\" said he, \"I shall bring the Princess back with me, so take\ncare that everything is in order; let the golden vessels be placed\nabout, and the whole ship be adorned.\"\n\nThen he gathered together in his apron some of the gold things, one of\neach kind, landed, and went up to the royal castle. And when he reached\nthe courtyard of the castle there stood by the well a pretty maiden, who\nhad two golden pails in her hand, and she was drawing water with them;\nand as she turned round to carry them away she saw the strange man, and\nasked him who he was. He answered,\n\n\"I am a merchant,\" and opened his apron, and let her look within it.\n\n\"Ah, what beautiful things!\" cried she, and setting down her pails, she\nturned the golden toys over, and looked at them one after another: then\nshe said,\n\n\"The Princess must see these; she takes so much pleasure in gold things\nthat she will buy them all from you.\"\n\nThen she took him by the hand and led him in, for she was the\nchamber-maid.\n\nWhen the Princess saw the golden wares she was very pleased, and said,\n\n\"All these are so finely worked that I should like to buy them of you.\"\n\nBut the faithful John said,\n\n\"I am only the servant of a rich merchant, and what I have here is\nnothing to what my master has in the ship--the cunningest and costliest\nthings that ever were made of gold.\"\n\nThe Princess then wanted it all to be brought to her; but he said,\n\n\"That would take up many days; so great is the number of them, and so\nmuch space would they occupy that there would not be enough room for\nthem in your house.\"\n\nBut the Princess's curiosity and fancy grew so much that at last she\nsaid,\n\n\"Lead me to the ship; I will myself go and see your master's treasures.\"\n\nThen Faithful John led her to the ship joyfully, and the King, when he\nsaw that her beauty was even greater than the picture had set forth,\nfelt his heart leap at the sight. Then she climbed up into the ship, and\nthe King received her. Faithful John stayed by the steersman, and gave\norders for the ship to push off, saying, \"Spread all sail, that she may\nfly like a bird in the air.\"\n\nSo the King showed her all the golden things, each separately--the\ndishes, the bowls, the birds, the wild creatures, and the wonderful\nbeasts. Many hours were passed in looking at them all, and in her\npleasure the Princess never noticed that the ship was moving onwards.\nWhen she had examined the last, she thanked the merchant, and prepared\nto return home; but when she came to the ship's side, she saw that they\nwere on the high seas, far from land, and speeding on under full sail.\n\n\"Ah!\" cried she, full of terror, \"I am betrayed and carried off by this\nmerchant. Oh that I had died rather than have fallen into his power!\"\n\nBut the King took hold of her hand, and said,\n\n\"No merchant am I, but a King, and no baser of birth than thyself; it is\nbecause of my over-mastering love for thee that I have carried thee off\nby cunning. The first time I saw thy picture I fell fainting to the\nearth.\"\n\nWhen the Princess of the Golden Palace heard this she became more\ntrustful, and her heart inclined favourably towards him, so that she\nwillingly consented to become his wife.\n\nIt happened, however, as they were still journeying on the open sea,\nthat Faithful John, as he sat in the forepart of the ship and made\nmusic, caught sight of three ravens in the air flying overhead. Then he\nstopped playing, and listened to what they said one to another, for he\nunderstood them quite well. The first one cried,\n\n\"Ay, there goes the Princess of the Golden Palace.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered the second; \"but he has not got her safe yet.\" And the\nthird said,\n\n\"He has her, though; she sits beside him in the ship.\"\n\nThen the first one spoke again,\n\n\"What does that avail him? When they come on land a fox-red horse will\nspring towards them; then will the King try to mount him; and if he\ndoes, the horse will rise with him into the air, so that he will never\nsee his bride again.\" The second raven asked,\n\n\"Is there no remedy?\"\n\n\"Oh yes; if another man mounts quickly, and takes the pistol out of the\nholster and shoots the horse dead with it, he will save the young King.\nBut who knows that? and he that knows it and does it will become stone\nfrom toe to knee.\" Then said the second,\n\n\"I know further, that if the horse should be killed, the young King will\nnot even then be sure of his bride. When they arrive at the castle there\nwill lie a wrought bride-shirt in a dish, and it will seem all woven of\ngold and silver, but it is really of sulphur and pitch, and if he puts\nit on it will burn him to the marrow of his bones.\" The third raven\nsaid,\n\n\"Is there no remedy?\"\n\n\"Oh yes,\" answered the second; \"if another man with gloves on picks up\nthe shirt, and throws it into the fire, so that it is consumed, then is\nthe young King delivered. But what avails that? He who knows it and does\nit will be turned into stone from his heart to his knee.\" Then spoke the\nthird,\n\n\"I know yet more, that even when the bride-shirt is burnt up the King is\nnot sure of his bride; when at the wedding the dance begins, and the\nyoung Queen dances, she will suddenly grow pale and fall to the earth as\nif she were dead, and unless some one lifts her up and takes three drops\nof blood from her right breast, she will die. But he that knows this and\ndoes this will become stone from the crown of his head to the sole of\nhis foot.\"\n\nWhen the ravens had spoken thus among themselves they flew away.\nFaithful John had understood it all, and from that time he remained\nquiet and sad, for he thought to himself that were he to conceal what he\nhad heard from his master, misfortune would befall; and were he to\ndiscover it his own life would be sacrificed. At last, however, he said\nwithin himself,\n\n\"I will save my master, though I myself should perish!\"\n\nSo when they came on land, it happened just as the ravens had foretold,\nthere sprang forward a splendid fox-red horse.\n\n\"Come on!\" said the King, \"he shall carry me to the castle,\" and was\ngoing to mount, when Faithful John passed before him and mounted\nquickly, drew the pistol out of the holster, and shot the horse dead.\nThen the other servants of the king cried out (for they did not wish\nwell to Faithful John),\n\n\"How shameful to kill that beautiful animal that was to have carried the\nking to his castle.\" But the King said,\n\n\"Hold your tongues, and let him be: he is my Faithful John; he knows\nwhat is the good of it.\"\n\nThen they went up to the castle, and there stood in the hall a dish,\nand the wrought bride-shirt that lay on it seemed as if of gold and\nsilver. The young King went up to it and was going to put it on, but\nFaithful John pushed him away, picked it up with his gloved hands, threw\nit quickly on the fire, and there let it burn. The other servants began\ngrumbling again, and said,\n\n\"Look, he is even burning up the king's bridal shirt!\" But the young\nKing said,\n\n\"Who knows but that there may be a good reason for it? let him be, he is\nmy Faithful John.\"\n\nThen the wedding feast was held; and the bride led the dance; Faithful\nJohn watched her carefully, and all at once she grew pale and fell down\nas if she were dead. Then he went quickly to her, and carried her into a\nchamber hard by, laid her down, and kneeling, took three drops of blood\nfrom her right breast. Immediately she drew breath again and raised\nherself up, but the young King witnessing all, and not knowing why\nFaithful John had done this, grew very angry, and cried out,\n\n\"Throw him into prison!\"\n\nThe next morning Faithful John was condemned to death and led to the\ngallows, and as he stood there ready to suffer, he said,\n\n\"He who is about to die is permitted to speak once before his end; may I\nclaim that right?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered the King, \"it is granted to you.\" Then said Faithful\nJohn,\n\n\"I have been condemned unjustly, for I have always been faithful,\" and\nhe related how he had heard on the sea voyage the talk of the ravens,\nand how he had done everything in order to save his master. Then cried\nthe King,\n\n\"O my Faithful John, pardon! pardon! lead him down!\" But Faithful John,\nas he spoke the last words, fell lifeless, and became stone.\n\nThe King and Queen had great grief because of this, and the King said,\n\n\"Ah, how could I have evil-rewarded such faithfulness!\" and he caused\nthe stone image to be lifted up and put to stand in his sleeping-room by\nthe side of his bed. And as often as he saw it he wept and said,\n\n\"Would that I could bring thee back to life, my Faithful John!\"\n\nAfter some time the Queen bore twins--two little sons--that grew and\nthrived, and were the joy of their parents. One day, when the Queen was\nin church, the two children were sitting and playing with their father,\nand he gazed at the stone image full of sadness, sighed, and cried,\n\n\"Oh that I could bring thee back to life, my Faithful John!\" Then the\nstone began to speak, and said,\n\n\"Yes, thou canst bring me back to life again, if thou wilt bestow\ntherefor thy best-beloved.\" Then cried the King,\n\n\"All that I have in the world will I give up for thee!\" The stone went\non to say,\n\n\"If thou wilt cut off the heads of thy two children with thy own hand,\nand besmear me with their blood, I shall receive life again.\"\n\nThe King was horror-struck at the thought that he must put his beloved\nchildren to death, but he remembered all John's faithfulness, and how he\nhad died for him, and he drew his sword and cut off his children's heads\nwith his own hand. And when he had besmeared the stone with their blood\nlife returned to it, and Faithful John stood alive and well before him;\nand he said to the king,\n\n\"Thy faithfulness shall not be unrewarded,\" and, taking up the heads of\nthe children, he set them on again, and besmeared the wound with their\nblood, upon which in a moment they were whole again, and jumped about,\nand went on playing as if nothing had happened to them.\n\nNow was the King full of joy; and when he saw the Queen coming he put\nthe Faithful John and the two children in a great chest. When she came\nin he said to her,\n\n\"Hast thou prayed in church?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered she, \"but I was thinking all the while of Faithful John,\nand how he came to such great misfortune through us.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said he, \"dear wife, we can give him life again, but it will\ncost us both our little sons, whom we must sacrifice.\"\n\nThe Queen grew pale and sick at heart, but said,\n\n\"We owe it him, because of his great faithfulness.\"\n\nThen the King rejoiced because she thought as he did, and he went and\nunlocked the chest and took out the children and Faithful John, and\nsaid,\n\n\"God be praised, he is delivered, and our little sons are ours again;\"\nand he related to her how it had come to pass.\n\nAfter that they all lived together in happiness to their lives' end.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WONDERFUL MUSICIAN\n\n\nTHERE was once a wonderful musician, and he was one day walking through\na wood all alone, thinking of this and that: and when he had nothing\nmore left to think about, he said to himself,\n\n\"I shall grow tired of being in this wood, so I will bring out a good\ncompanion.\"\n\nSo he took the fiddle that hung at his back and fiddled so that the wood\nechoed. Before long a wolf came through the thicket and trotted up to\nhim.\n\n\"Oh, here comes a wolf! I had no particular wish for such company,\" said\nthe musician: but the wolf drew nearer, and said to him,\n\n\"Ho, you musician, how finely you play! I must learn how to play too.\"\n\n\"That is easily done,\" answered the musician, \"you have only to do\nexactly as I tell you.\"\n\n\"O musician,\" said the wolf, \"I will obey you, as a scholar does his\nmaster.\"\n\nThe musician told him to come with him. As they went a part of the way\ntogether they came to an old oak tree, which was hollow within and cleft\nthrough the middle.\n\n\"Look here,\" said the musician, \"if you want to learn how to fiddle, you\nmust put your fore feet in this cleft.\"\n\nThe wolf obeyed, but the musician took up a stone and quickly wedged\nboth his paws with one stroke, so fast, that the wolf was a prisoner,\nand there obliged to stop.\n\n\"Stay there until I come back again,\" said the musician, and went his\nway.\n\nAfter a while he said again to himself,\n\n\"I shall grow weary here in this wood; I will bring out another\ncompanion,\" and he took his fiddle and fiddled away in the wood. Before\nlong a fox came slinking through the trees.\n\n\"Oh, here comes a fox!\" said the musician; \"I had no particular wish for\nsuch company.\"\n\nThe fox came up to him and said,\n\n\"O my dear musician, how finely you play! I must learn how to play too.\"\n\n\"That is easily done,\" said the musician, \"you have only to do exactly\nas I tell you.\"\n\n\"O musician,\" answered the fox, \"I will obey you, as a scholar his\nmaster.\"\n\n\"Follow me,\" said the musician; and as they went a part of the way\ntogether they came to a footpath with a high hedge on each side. Then\nthe musician stopped, and taking hold of a hazel-branch bent it down to\nthe earth, and put his foot on the end of it; then he bent down a branch\nfrom the other side, and said: \"Come on, little fox, if you wish to\nlearn something, reach me your left fore foot.\"\n\nThe fox obeyed, and the musician bound the foot to the left hand branch.\n\n\"Now, little fox,\" said he, \"reach me the right one;\" then he bound it\nto the right hand branch. And when he had seen that the knots were fast\nenough he let go, and the branches flew back and caught up the fox,\nshaking and struggling, in the air.\n\n\"Wait there until I come back again,\" said the musician, and went his\nway.\n\nBy and by he said to himself: \"I shall grow weary in this wood; I will\nbring out another companion.\"\n\nSo he took his fiddle, and the sound echoed through the wood. Then a\nhare sprang out before him.\n\n\"Oh, here comes a hare!\" said he, \"that's not what I want.\"\n\n\"Ah, my dear musician,\" said the hare, \"how finely you play! I should\nlike to learn how to play too.\"\n\n\"That is soon done,\" said the musician, \"only you must do whatever I\ntell you.\"\n\n\"O musician,\" answered the hare, \"I will obey you, as a scholar his\nmaster.\"\n\nSo they went a part of the way together, until they came to a clear\nplace in the wood where there stood an aspen tree. The musician tied a\nlong string round the neck of the hare, and knotted the other end of it\nto the tree.\n\n\"Now then, courage, little hare! run twenty times round the tree!\" cried\nthe musician, and the hare obeyed: as he ran round the twentieth time\nthe string had wound twenty times round the tree trunk and the hare was\nimprisoned, and pull and tug as he would he only cut his tender neck\nwith the string. \"Wait there until I come back again,\" said the\nmusician, and walked on.\n\nThe wolf meanwhile had struggled, and pulled, and bitten, at the stone,\nand worked away so long, that at last he made his paws free and got\nhimself out of the cleft. Full of anger and fury he hastened after the\nmusician to tear him to pieces. When the fox saw him run by he began\ngroaning, and cried out with all his might,\n\n\"Brother wolf, come and help me! the musician has betrayed me.\" The wolf\nthen pulled the branches down, bit the knots in two, and set the fox\nfree, and he went with him to take vengeance on the musician. They found\nthe imprisoned hare, and set him likewise free, and then they all went\non together to seek their enemy.\n\nThe musician had once more played his fiddle, and this time he had been\nmore fortunate. The sound had reached the ears of a poor woodcutter, who\nimmediately, and in spite of himself, left his work, and, with his axe\nunder his arm, came to listen to the music.\n\n\"At last here comes the right sort of companion,\" said the musician; \"it\nwas a man I wanted, and not wild animals.\" And then he began to play so\nsweetly that the poor man stood as if enchanted, and his heart was\nfilled with joy. And as he was standing there up came the wolf, the fox,\nand the hare, and he could easily see that they meant mischief. Then he\nraised his shining axe, and stood in front of the musician, as if to\nsay,\n\n\"Whoever means harm to him had better take care of himself, for he will\nhave to do with me!\"\n\nThen the animals were frightened, and ran back into the wood, and the\nmusician, when he had played once more to the man to show his gratitude,\nwent on his way.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWELVE BROTHERS\n\n\nONCE upon a time there lived a King and Queen very peacefully together;\nthey had twelve children, all boys. Now the King said to the Queen one\nday,\n\n\"If our thirteenth child should be a girl the twelve boys shall die, so\nthat her riches may be the greater, and the kingdom fall to her alone.\"\n\nThen he caused twelve coffins to be made; and they were filled with\nshavings, and a little pillow laid in each, and they were brought and\nput in a locked-up room; and the King gave the key to the Queen, and\ntold her to say nothing about it to any one.\n\nBut the mother sat the whole day sorrowing, so that her youngest son,\nwho never left her, and to whom she had given the Bible name Benjamin,\nsaid to her,\n\n\"Dear mother, why are you so sad?\"\n\n\"Dearest child,\" answered she, \"I dare not tell you.\"\n\nBut he let her have no peace until she went and unlocked the room, and\nshowed him the twelve coffins with the shavings and the little pillows.\nThen she said,\n\n\"My dear Benjamin, your father has caused these coffins to be made for\nyou and your eleven brothers, and if I bring a little girl into the\nworld you are all to be put to death together and buried therein.\" And\nshe wept as she spoke, and her little son comforted her and said,\n\n\"Weep not, dear mother, we will save ourselves and go far away.\" Then\nshe answered,\n\n\"Yes, go with your eleven brothers out into the world, and let one of\nyou always sit on the top of the highest tree that can be found, and\nkeep watch upon the tower of this castle. If a little son is born I will\nput out a white flag, and then you may safely venture back again; but if\nit is a little daughter I will put out a red flag, and then flee away as\nfast as you can, and the dear God watch over you. Every night will I\narise and pray for you--in winter that you may have a fire to warm\nyourselves by, and in summer that you may not languish in the heat.\"\n\nAfter that, when she had given her sons her blessing, they went away out\ninto the wood. One after another kept watch, sitting on the highest oak\ntree, looking towards the tower. When eleven days had passed, and\nBenjamin's turn came, he saw a flag put out, but it was not white, but\nblood red, to warn them that they were to die. When the brothers knew\nthis they became angry, saying,\n\n\"Shall we suffer death because of a girl! we swear to be revenged;\nwherever we find a girl we will shed her blood.\"\n\nThen they went deeper into the wood; and in the middle, where it was\ndarkest, they found a little enchanted house, standing empty. Then they\nsaid,\n\n\"Here will we dwell; and you, Benjamin, the youngest and weakest, shall\nstay at home and keep house; we others will go abroad and purvey food.\"\n\nThen they went into the wood and caught hares, wild roes, birds, and\npigeons, and whatever else is good to eat, and brought them to Benjamin\nfor him to cook and make ready to satisfy their hunger. So they lived\ntogether in the little house for ten years, and the time did not seem\nlong.\n\nBy this time the Queen's little daughter was growing up, she had a kind\nheart and a beautiful face, and a golden star on her forehead. Once when\nthere was a great wash she saw among the clothes twelve shirts, and she\nasked her mother,\n\n\"Whose are these twelve shirts? they are too small to be my father's.\"\nThen the mother answered with a sore heart,\n\n\"Dear child, they belong to your twelve brothers.\" The little girl said,\n\n\"Where are my twelve brothers? I have never heard of them.\" And her\nmother answered,\n\n\"God only knows where they are wandering about in the world.\" Then she\nled the little girl to the secret room and unlocked it, and showed her\nthe twelve coffins with the shavings and the little pillows.\n\n\"These coffins,\" said she, \"were intended for your twelve brothers, but\nthey went away far from home when you were born,\" and she related how\neverything had come to pass. Then said the little girl,\n\n\"Dear mother, do not weep, I will go and seek my brothers.\"\n\nSo she took the twelve shirts and went far and wide in the great forest.\nThe day sped on, and in the evening she came to the enchanted house. She\nwent in and found a youth, who asked,\n\n\"Whence do you come, and what do you want?\" and he marvelled at her\nbeauty, her royal garments, and the star on her forehead. Then she\nanswered,\n\n\"I am a king's daughter, and I seek my twelve brothers, and I will go\neverywhere under the blue sky until I find them.\" And she showed him the\ntwelve shirts which belonged to them. Then Benjamin saw that it must be\nhis sister, and said,\n\n\"I am Benjamin, your youngest brother.\"\n\nAnd she began weeping for joy, and Benjamin also, and they kissed and\ncheered each other with great love. After a while he said,\n\n\"Dear sister, there is still a hindrance; we have sworn that any maiden\nthat we meet must die, as it was because of a maiden that we had to\nleave our kingdom.\" Then she said,\n\n\"I will willingly die, if so I may benefit my twelve brothers.\"\n\n\"No,\" answered he, \"you shall not die; sit down under this tub until the\neleven brothers come, and I agree with them about it.\" She did so; and\nas night came on they returned from hunting, and supper was ready. And\nas they were sitting at table and eating, they asked,\n\n\"What news?\" And Benjamin said,\n\n\"Don't you know any?\"\n\n\"No,\" answered they. So he said,\n\n\"You have been in the wood, and I have stayed at home, and yet I know\nmore than you.\"\n\n\"Tell us!\" cried they. He answered,\n\n\"Promise me that the first maiden we see shall not be put to death.\"\n\n\"Yes, we promise,\" cried they all, \"she shall have mercy; tell us now.\"\nThen he said,\n\n\"Our sister is here,\" and lifted up the tub, and the king's daughter\ncame forth in her royal garments with her golden star on her forehead,\nand she seemed so beautiful, delicate, and sweet, that they all\nrejoiced, and fell on her neck and kissed her, and loved her with all\ntheir hearts.\n\nAfter this she remained with Benjamin in the house and helped him with\nthe work. The others went forth into the woods to catch wild animals,\ndoes, birds, and pigeons, for food for them all, and their sister and\nBenjamin took care that all was made ready for them. She fetched the\nwood for cooking, and the vegetables, and watched the pots on the fire,\nso that supper was always ready when the others came in. She kept also\ngreat order in the house, and the beds were always beautifully white and\nclean, and the brothers were contented, and lived in unity.\n\nOne day the two got ready a fine feast, and when they were all assembled\nthey sat down and ate and drank, and were full of joy. Now there was a\nlittle garden belonging to the enchanted house, in which grew twelve\nlilies; the maiden, thinking to please her brothers, went out to gather\nthe twelve flowers, meaning to give one to each as they sat at meat. But\nas she broke off the flowers, in the same moment the brothers were\nchanged into twelve ravens, and flew over the wood far away, and the\nhouse with the garden also disappeared. So the poor maiden stood alone\nin the wild wood, and as she was looking around her she saw an old woman\nstanding by her, who said,\n\n\"My child, what hast thou done! why couldst thou not leave the twelve\nflowers standing? they were thy twelve brothers, who are now changed to\nravens for ever.\" The maiden said, weeping,\n\n\"Is there no means of setting them free?\"\n\n\"No,\" said the old woman, \"there is in the whole world no way but one,\nand that is difficult; thou canst not release them but by being dumb for\nseven years: thou must neither speak nor laugh; and wert thou to speak\none single word, and it wanted but one hour of the seven years, all\nwould be in vain, and thy brothers would perish because of that one\nword.\"\n\nThen the maiden said in her heart, \"I am quite sure that I can set my\nbrothers free,\" and went and sought a tall tree, climbed up, and sat\nthere spinning, and never spoke or laughed. Now it happened that a King,\nwho was hunting in the wood, had with him a large greyhound, who ran to\nthe tree where the maiden was, sprang up at it, and barked loudly. Up\ncame the King and saw the beautiful Princess with the golden star on her\nforehead, and he was so charmed with her beauty that he prayed her to\nbecome his wife. She gave no answer, only a little nod of her head. Then\nhe himself climbed the tree and brought her down, set her on his horse\nand took her home. The wedding was held with great splendour and\nrejoicing, but the bride neither spoke nor laughed. After they had lived\npleasantly together for a few years, the King's mother, who was a wicked\nwoman, began to slander the young Queen, and said to the King,\n\n\"She is only a low beggar-maid that you have taken to yourself; who\nknows what mean tricks she is playing? Even if she is really dumb and\ncannot speak she might at least laugh; not to laugh is the sign of a bad\nconscience.\"\n\nAt first the King would believe nothing of it, but the old woman talked\nso long, and suggested so many bad things, that he at last let himself\nbe persuaded, and condemned the Queen to death.\n\nNow a great fire was kindled in the courtyard, and she was to be burned\nin it; and the King stood above at the window, and watched it all with\nweeping eyes, for he had held her very dear. And when she was already\nfast bound to the stake, and the fire was licking her garments with red\ntongues, the last moment of the seven years came to an end. Then a\nrushing sound was heard in the air, and twelve ravens came flying and\nsank downwards; and as they touched the earth they became her twelve\nbrothers that she had lost. They rushed through the fire and quenched\nthe flames, and set their dear sister free, kissing and consoling her.\nAnd now that her mouth was opened, and that she might venture to speak,\nshe told the King the reason of her dumbness, and why she had never\nlaughed. The King rejoiced when he heard of her innocence, and they all\nlived together in happiness until their death.\n\nBut the wicked mother-in-law was very unhappy, and died miserably.\n\n\n\n\nTHE VAGABONDS\n\n\nTHE cock said to the hen,\n\n\"It is nutting time, let us go together to the mountains and have a good\nfeast for once, before the squirrels come and carry all away.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered the hen, \"come along; we will have a jolly time\ntogether.\"\n\nThen they set off together to the mountains, and as it was a fine day\nthey stayed there till the evening. Now whether it was that they had\neaten so much, or because of their pride and haughtiness, I do not know,\nbut they would not go home on foot; so the cock set to work to make a\nlittle carriage out of nutshells. When it was ready, the hen seated\nherself in it, and said to the cock,\n\n\"Now you can harness yourself to it.\"\n\n\"That's all very fine,\" said the cock, \"I would sooner go home on foot\nthan do such a thing: and I never agreed to it. I don't mind being\ncoachman, and sitting on the box; but as to drawing it myself, it's\nquite out of the question.\"\n\nAs they were wrangling, a duck came quacking,\n\n\"You thieving vagabonds, who told you you might go to my mountain? Look\nout, or it will be the worse for you!\" and flew at the cock with bill\nwide open. But the cock was not backward, and he gave the duck a good\ndig in the body, and hacked at her with his spurs so valiantly that she\nbegged for mercy, and willingly allowed herself to be harnessed to the\ncarriage. Then the cock seated himself on the box and was coachman; so\noff they went at a great pace, the cock crying out \"Run, duck, as fast\nas you can!\"\n\nWhen they had gone a part of the way they met two foot-passengers, a pin\nand a needle. They cried \"Stop! stop!\" and said that it would soon be\nblindman's holiday; that they could not go a step farther; that the ways\nwere very muddy; might they just get in for a little? they had been\nstanding at the door of the tailors' house of call and had been delayed\nbecause of beer.\n\nThe cock, seeing they were slender folks that would not take up a great\ndeal of room, let them both step in, only they must promise not to tread\non his toes nor on the hen's.\n\nLate in the evening they came to an inn, and there they found that they\ncould not go any farther that night, as the duck's paces were not good,\nshe waddled so much from side to side; so they turned in. The landlord\nat first made some difficulty; his house was full already, and he\nthought they had no very distinguished appearance; at last, however,\nwhen they had made many fine speeches, and had promised him the egg that\nthe hen had laid on the way, and that he should keep the duck, who laid\none every day, he agreed to let them stay the night; and so they had a\nvery gay time.\n\nEarly in the morning, when it was beginning to grow light, and everybody\nwas still asleep, the cock waked up the hen, fetched the egg, and made a\nhole in it, and they ate it up between them, and put the eggshell on the\nhearth. Then they went up to the needle, who was still sleeping, picked\nhim up by his head, and stuck him in the landlord's chair-cushion, and\nhaving also placed the pin in his towel, off they flew over the hills\nand far away. The duck, who had chosen to sleep in the open air, and had\nremained in the yard, heard the rustling of their wings, and, waking up,\nlooked about till she found a brook, down which she swam a good deal\nfaster than she had drawn the carriage.\n\nA few hours later the landlord woke, and, leaving his feather-bed, began\nwashing himself; but when he took the towel to dry himself he drew the\npin all across his face, and made a red streak from ear to ear. Then he\nwent into the kitchen to light his pipe, but when he stooped towards the\nhearth to take up a coal the eggshell flew in his eyes.\n\n\"Everything goes wrong this morning,\" said he, and let himself drop,\nfull of vexation, into his grandfather's chair; but up he jumped in a\nmoment, crying, \"Oh dear!\" for the needle had gone into him.\n\nNow he became angry, and had his suspicions of the guests who had\narrived so late the evening before; and when he looked round for them\nthey were nowhere to be seen.\n\nThen he swore that he would never more harbour such vagabonds, that\nconsumed so much, paid nothing, and played such nasty tricks into the\nbargain.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BROTHER AND SISTER\n\n\nTHE brother took his sister's hand and said to her,\n\n\"Since our mother died we have had no good days; our stepmother beats us\nevery day, and if we go near her she kicks us away; we have nothing to\neat but hard crusts of bread left over; the dog under the table fares\nbetter; he gets a good piece every now and then. If our mother only\nknew, how she would pity us! Come, let us go together out into the wide\nworld!\"\n\nSo they went, and journeyed the whole day through fields and meadows and\nstony places, and if it rained the sister said,\n\n\"The skies and we are weeping together.\"\n\nIn the evening they came to a great wood, and they were so weary with\nhunger and their long journey, that they climbed up into a high tree and\nfell asleep.\n\nThe next morning, when they awoke, the sun was high in heaven, and shone\nbrightly through the leaves. Then said the brother,\n\n\"Sister, I am thirsty; if I only knew where to find a brook, that I\nmight go and drink! I almost think that I hear one rushing.\" So the\nbrother got down and led his sister by the hand, and they went to seek\nthe brook. But their wicked stepmother was a witch, and had known quite\nwell that the two children had run away, and had sneaked after them, as\nonly witches can, and had laid a spell on all the brooks in the forest.\nSo when they found a little stream flowing smoothly over its pebbles,\nthe brother was going to drink of it; but the sister heard how it said\nin its rushing,\n\n \"He a tiger will be who drinks of me,\n Who drinks of me a tiger will be!\"\n\nThen the sister cried,\n\n\"Pray, dear brother, do not drink, or you will become a wild beast, and\nwill tear me in pieces.\"\n\nSo the brother refrained from drinking, though his thirst was great, and\nhe said he would wait till he came to the next brook. When they came to\na second brook the sister heard it say,\n\n \"He a wolf will be who drinks of me,\n Who drinks of me a wolf will be!\"\n\nThen the sister cried,\n\n\"Pray, dear brother, do not drink, or you will be turned into a wolf,\nand will eat me up!\"\n\nSo the brother refrained from drinking, and said,\n\n\"I will wait until we come to the next brook, and then I must drink,\nwhatever you say; my thirst is so great.\"\n\nAnd when they came to the third brook the sister heard how in its\nrushing it said,\n\n \"Who drinks of me a fawn will be,\n He a fawn will be who drinks of me!\"\n\nThen the sister said,\n\n\"O my brother, I pray drink not, or you will be turned into a fawn, and\nrun away far from me.\"\n\nBut he had already kneeled by the side of the brook and stooped and\ndrunk of the water, and as the first drops passed his lips he became a\nfawn.\n\nAnd the sister wept over her poor lost brother, and the fawn wept also,\nand stayed sadly beside her. At last the maiden said,\n\n\"Be comforted, dear fawn, indeed I will never leave you.\"\n\nThen she untied her golden girdle and bound it round the fawn's neck,\nand went and gathered rushes to make a soft cord, which she fastened to\nhim; and then she led him on, and they went deeper into the forest. And\nwhen they had gone a long long way, they came at last to a little\nhouse, and the maiden looked inside, and as it was empty she thought,\n\n\"We might as well live here.\"\n\nAnd she fetched leaves and moss to make a soft bed for the fawn, and\nevery morning she went out and gathered roots and berries and nuts for\nherself, and fresh grass for the fawn, who ate out of her hand with joy,\nfrolicking round her. At night, when the sister was tired, and had said\nher prayers, she laid her head on the fawn's back, which served her for\na pillow, and softly fell asleep. And if only the brother could have got\nback his own shape again, it would have been a charming life. So they\nlived a long while in the wilderness alone.\n\nNow it happened that the King of that country held a great hunt in the\nforest. The blowing of the horns, the barking of the dogs, and the lusty\nshouts of the huntsmen sounded through the wood, and the fawn heard them\nand was eager to be among them.\n\n\"Oh,\" said he to his sister, \"do let me go to the hunt; I cannot stay\nbehind any longer,\" and begged so long that at last she consented.\n\n\"But mind,\" said she to him, \"come back to me at night. I must lock my\ndoor against the wild hunters, so, in order that I may know you, you\nmust knock and say, 'Little sister, let me in,' and unless I hear that I\nshall not unlock the door.\"\n\nThen the fawn sprang out, and felt glad and merry in the open air. The\nKing and his huntsmen saw the beautiful animal, and began at once to\npursue him, but they could not come within reach of him, for when they\nthought they were certain of him he sprang away over the bushes and\ndisappeared. As soon as it was dark he went back to the little house,\nknocked at the door, and said,\n\n\"Little sister, let me in.\"\n\nThen the door was opened to him, and he went in, and rested the whole\nnight long on his soft bed. The next morning the hunt began anew, and\nwhen the fawn heard the hunting-horns and the tally-ho of the huntsmen\nhe could rest no longer, and said,\n\n\"Little sister, let me out, I must go.\" The sister opened the door and\nsaid,\n\n\"Now, mind you must come back at night and say the same words.\"\n\nWhen the King and his hunters saw the fawn with the golden collar again,\nthey chased him closely, but he was too nimble and swift for them. This\nlasted the whole day, and at last the hunters surrounded him, and one of\nthem wounded his foot a little, so that he was obliged to limp and to go\nslowly. Then a hunter slipped after him to the little house, and heard\nhow he called out, \"Little sister, let me in,\" and saw the door open and\nshut again after him directly. The hunter noticed all this carefully,\nwent to the King, and told him all he had seen and heard. Then said the\nKing,\n\n\"To-morrow we will hunt again.\"\n\nBut the sister was very terrified when she saw that her fawn was\nwounded. She washed his foot, laid cooling leaves round it, and said,\n\"Lie down on your bed, dear fawn, and rest, that you may be soon well.\"\nThe wound was very slight, so that the fawn felt nothing of it the next\nmorning. And when he heard the noise of the hunting outside, he said,\n\n\"I cannot stay in, I must go after them; I shall not be taken easily\nagain!\" The sister began to weep, and said,\n\n\"I know you will be killed, and I left alone here in the forest, and\nforsaken of everybody. I cannot let you go!\"\n\n\"Then I shall die here with longing,\" answered the fawn; \"when I hear\nthe sound of the horn I feel as if I should leap out of my skin.\"\n\nThen the sister, seeing there was no help for it, unlocked the door with\na heavy heart, and the fawn bounded away into the forest, well and\nmerry. When the King saw him, he said to his hunters,\n\n\"Now, follow him up all day long till the night comes, and see that you\ndo him no hurt.\"\n\nSo as soon as the sun had gone down, the King said to the huntsmen:\n\"Now, come and show me the little house in the wood.\"\n\nAnd when he got to the door he knocked at it, and cried,\n\n\"Little sister, let me in!\"\n\nThen the door opened, and the King went in, and there stood a maiden\nmore beautiful than any he had seen before. The maiden shrieked out\nwhen she saw, instead of the fawn, a man standing there with a gold\ncrown on his head. But the King looked kindly on her, took her by the\nhand, and said,\n\n\"Will you go with me to my castle, and be my dear wife?\"\n\n\"Oh yes,\" answered the maiden, \"but the fawn must come too. I could not\nleave him.\" And the King said,\n\n\"He shall remain with you as long as you live, and shall lack nothing.\"\nThen the fawn came bounding in, and the sister tied the cord of rushes\nto him, and led him by her own hand out of the little house.\n\nThe King put the beautiful maiden on his horse, and carried her to his\ncastle, where the wedding was held with great pomp; so she became lady\nQueen, and they lived together happily for a long while; the fawn was\nwell tended and cherished, and he gambolled about the castle garden.\n\nNow the wicked stepmother, whose fault it was that the children were\ndriven out into the world, never dreamed but that the sister had been\neaten up by wild beasts in the forest, and that the brother, in the\nlikeness of a fawn, had been slain by the hunters. But when she heard\nthat they were so happy, and that things had gone so well with them,\njealousy and envy arose in her heart, and left her no peace, and her\nchief thought was how to bring misfortune upon them.\n\nHer own daughter, who was as ugly as sin, and had only one eye,\ncomplained to her, and said,\n\n\"I never had the chance of being a Queen.\"\n\n\"Never mind,\" said the old woman, to satisfy her; \"when the time comes,\nI shall be at hand.\"\n\nAfter a while the Queen brought a beautiful baby-boy into the world, and\nthat day the King was out hunting. The old witch took the shape of the\nbedchamber woman, and went into the room where the Queen lay, and said\nto her,\n\n\"Come, the bath is ready; it will give you refreshment and new strength.\nQuick, or it will be cold.\"\n\nHer daughter was within call, so they carried the sick Queen into the\nbath-room, and left her there. And in the bath-room they had made a\ngreat fire, so as to suffocate the beautiful young Queen.\n\nWhen that was managed, the old woman took her daughter, put a cap on\nher, and laid her in the bed in the Queen's place, gave her also the\nQueen's form and countenance, only she could not restore the lost eye.\nSo, in order that the King might not remark it, she had to lie on the\nside where there was no eye. In the evening, when the King came home and\nheard that a little son was born to him, he rejoiced with all his heart,\nand was going at once to his dear wife's bedside to see how she did.\nThen the old woman cried hastily,\n\n\"For your life, do not draw back the curtains, to let in the light upon\nher; she must be kept quiet.\" So the King went away, and never knew that\na false Queen was lying in the bed.\n\nNow, when it was midnight, and every one was asleep, the nurse, who was\nsitting by the cradle in the nursery and watching there alone, saw the\ndoor open, and the true Queen come in. She took the child out of the\ncradle, laid it in her bosom, and fed it. Then she shook out its little\npillow, put the child back again, and covered it with the coverlet. She\ndid not forget the fawn either: she went to him where he lay in the\ncorner, and stroked his back tenderly. Then she went in perfect silence\nout at the door, and the nurse next morning asked the watchmen if any\none had entered the castle during the night, but they said they had seen\nno one. And the Queen came many nights, and never said a word; the nurse\nsaw her always, but she did not dare speak of it to any one.\n\nAfter some time had gone by in this manner, the Queen seemed to find\nvoice, and said one night,\n\n \"My child my fawn twice more I come to see,\n Twice more I come, and then the end must be.\"\n\nThe nurse said nothing, but as soon as the Queen had disappeared she\nwent to the King and told him all. The King said,\n\n\"Ah, heaven! what do I hear! I will myself watch by the child to-morrow\nnight.\"\n\nSo at evening he went into the nursery, and at midnight the Queen\nappeared, and said,\n\n \"My child my fawn once more I come to see,\n Once more I come, and then the end must be.\"\n\nAnd she tended the child, as she was accustomed to do, before she\nvanished. The King dared not speak to her, but he watched again the\nfollowing night, and heard her say,\n\n \"My child my fawn this once I come to see,\n This once I come, and now the end must be.\"\n\nThen the King could contain himself no longer, but rushed towards her,\nsaying,\n\n\"You are no other than my dear wife!\" Then she answered,\n\n\"Yes, I am your dear wife,\" and in that moment, by the grace of heaven,\nher life returned to her, and she was once more well and strong. Then\nshe told the King the snare that the wicked witch and her daughter had\nlaid for her. The King had them both brought to judgment, and sentence\nwas passed upon them. The daughter was sent away into the wood, where\nshe was devoured by the wild beasts, and the witch was burned, and ended\nmiserably. And as soon as her body was in ashes the spell was removed\nfrom the fawn, and he took human shape again; and then the sister and\nbrother lived happily together until the end.\n\n\n\n\nRAPUNZEL\n\n\nTHERE once lived a man and his wife, who had long wished for a child,\nbut in vain. Now there was at the back of their house a little window\nwhich overlooked a beautiful garden full of the finest vegetables and\nflowers; but there was a high wall all round it, and no one ventured\ninto it, for it belonged to a witch of great might, and of whom all the\nworld was afraid. One day that the wife was standing at the window, and\nlooking into the garden, she saw a bed filled with the finest rampion;\nand it looked so fresh and green that she began to wish for some; and at\nlength she longed for it greatly. This went on for days, and as she knew\nshe could not get the rampion, she pined away, and grew pale and\nmiserable. Then the man was uneasy, and asked, \"What is the matter, dear\nwife?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" answered she, \"I shall die unless I can have some of that rampion\nto eat that grows in the garden at the back of our house.\" The man, who\nloved her very much, thought to himself,\n\n\"Rather than lose my wife I will get some rampion, cost what it will.\"\n\n[Illustration: RAPUNZEL\n\n \"O RAPUNZEL, RAPUNZEL!\n LET DOWN THINE HAIR.\"]\n\nSo in the twilight he climbed over the wall into the witch's garden,\nplucked hastily a handful of rampion and brought it to his wife. She\nmade a salad of it at once, and ate of it to her heart's content. But\nshe liked it so much, and it tasted so good, that the next day she\nlonged for it thrice as much as she had done before; if she was to\nhave any rest the man must climb over the wall once more. So he went in\nthe twilight again; and as he was climbing back, he saw, all at once,\nthe witch standing before him, and was terribly frightened, as she\ncried, with angry eyes,\n\n\"How dare you climb over into my garden like a thief, and steal my\nrampion! it shall be the worse for you!\"\n\n\"Oh,\" answered he, \"be merciful rather than just, I have only done it\nthrough necessity; for my wife saw your rampion out of the window, and\nbecame possessed with so great a longing that she would have died if she\ncould not have had some to eat.\" Then the witch said,\n\n\"If it is all as you say you may have as much rampion as you like, on\none condition--the child that will come into the world must be given to\nme. It shall go well with the child, and I will care for it like a\nmother.\"\n\nIn his distress of mind the man promised everything; and when the time\ncame when the child was born the witch appeared, and, giving the child\nthe name of Rapunzel (which is the same as rampion), she took it away\nwith her.\n\nRapunzel was the most beautiful child in the world. When she was twelve\nyears old the witch shut her up in a tower in the midst of a wood, and\nit had neither steps nor door, only a small window above. When the witch\nwished to be let in, she would stand below and would cry,\n\n\"Rapunzel, Rapunzel! let down your hair!\"\n\nRapunzel had beautiful long hair that shone like gold. When she heard\nthe voice of the witch she would undo the fastening of the upper window,\nunbind the plaits of her hair, and let it down twenty ells below, and\nthe witch would climb up by it.\n\nAfter they had lived thus a few years it happened that as the King's son\nwas riding through the wood, he came to the tower; and as he drew near\nhe heard a voice singing so sweetly that he stood still and listened. It\nwas Rapunzel in her loneliness trying to pass away the time with sweet\nsongs. The King's son wished to go in to her, and sought to find a door\nin the tower, but there was none. So he rode home, but the song had\nentered into his heart, and every day he went into the wood and listened\nto it. Once, as he was standing there under a tree, he saw the witch\ncome up, and listened while she called out,\n\n\"O Rapunzel, Rapunzel! let down your hair.\"\n\nThen he saw how Rapunzel let down her long tresses, and how the witch\nclimbed up by it and went in to her, and he said to himself,\n\n\"Since that is the ladder I will climb it, and seek my fortune.\" And the\nnext day, as soon as it began to grow dusk, he went to the tower and\ncried,\n\n\"O Rapunzel, Rapunzel! let down your hair.\"\n\nAnd she let down her hair, and the King's son climbed up by it.\n\nRapunzel was greatly terrified when she saw that a man had come in to\nher, for she had never seen one before; but the King's son began\nspeaking so kindly to her, and told how her singing had entered into his\nheart, so that he could have no peace until he had seen her herself.\nThen Rapunzel forgot her terror, and when he asked her to take him for\nher husband, and she saw that he was young and beautiful, she thought to\nherself,\n\n\"I certainly like him much better than old mother Gothel,\" and she put\nher hand into his hand, saying,\n\n\"I would willingly go with thee, but I do not know how I shall get out.\nWhen thou comest, bring each time a silken rope, and I will make a\nladder, and when it is quite ready I will get down by it out of the\ntower, and thou shalt take me away on thy horse.\" They agreed that he\nshould come to her every evening, as the old woman came in the day-time.\nSo the witch knew nothing of all this until once Rapunzel said to her\nunwittingly,\n\n\"Mother Gothel, how is it that you climb up here so slowly, and the\nKing's son is with me in a moment?\"\n\n\"O wicked child,\" cried the witch, \"what is this I hear! I thought I had\nhidden thee from all the world, and thou hast betrayed me!\"\n\nIn her anger she seized Rapunzel by her beautiful hair, struck her\nseveral times with her left hand, and then grasping a pair of shears in\nher right--snip, snap--the beautiful locks lay on the ground. And she\nwas so hard-hearted that she took Rapunzel and put her in a waste and\ndesert place, where she lived in great woe and misery.\n\nThe same day on which she took Rapunzel away she went back to the tower\nin the evening and made fast the severed locks of hair to the\nwindow-hasp, and the King's son came and cried,\n\n\"Rapunzel, Rapunzel! let down your hair.\"\n\nThen she let the hair down, and the King's son climbed up, but instead\nof his dearest Rapunzel he found the witch looking at him with wicked\nglittering eyes.\n\n\"Aha!\" cried she, mocking him, \"you came for your darling, but the sweet\nbird sits no longer in the nest, and sings no more; the cat has got her,\nand will scratch out your eyes as well! Rapunzel is lost to you; you\nwill see her no more.\"\n\nThe King's son was beside himself with grief, and in his agony he sprang\nfrom the tower: he escaped with life, but the thorns on which he fell\nput out his eyes. Then he wandered blind through the wood, eating\nnothing but roots and berries, and doing nothing but lament and weep for\nthe loss of his dearest wife.\n\nSo he wandered several years in misery until at last he came to the\ndesert place where Rapunzel lived with her twin-children that she had\nborne, a boy and a girl. At first he heard a voice that he thought he\nknew, and when he reached the place from which it seemed to come\nRapunzel knew him, and fell on his neck and wept. And when her tears\ntouched his eyes they became clear again, and he could see with them as\nwell as ever.\n\nThen he took her to his kingdom, where he was received with great joy,\nand there they lived long and happily.\n\n\n\n\nThe THREE LITTLE MEN in the WOOD\n\n\nTHERE was once a man, whose wife was dead, and a woman, whose husband\nwas dead; and the man had a daughter, and so had the woman. The girls\nwere acquainted with each other, and used to play together sometimes in\nthe woman's house. So the woman said to the man's daughter,\n\n\"Listen to me, tell your father that I will marry him, and then you\nshall have milk to wash in every morning and wine to drink, and my\ndaughter shall have water to wash in and water to drink.\"\n\nThe girl went home and told her father what the woman had said. The man\nsaid,\n\n\"What shall I do! Marriage is a joy, and also a torment.\"\n\nAt last, as he could come to no conclusion, he took off his boot, and\nsaid to his daughter,\n\n\"Take this boot, it has a hole in the sole; go up with it into the loft,\nhang it on the big nail and pour water in it. If it holds water, I will\nonce more take to me a wife; if it lets out the water, so will I not.\"\n\nThe girl did as she was told, but the water held the hole together, and\nthe boot was full up to the top. So she went and told her father how it\nwas. And he went up to see with his own eyes, and as there was no\nmistake about it, he went to the widow and courted her, and then they\nhad the wedding.\n\nThe next morning, when the two girls awoke, there stood by the bedside\nof the man's daughter milk to wash in and wine to drink, and by the\nbedside of the woman's daughter there stood water to wash in and water\nto drink.\n\nOn the second morning there stood water to wash in and water to drink\nfor both of them alike. On the third morning there stood water to wash\nin and water to drink for the man's daughter, and milk to wash in and\nwine to drink for the woman's daughter; and so it remained ever after.\nThe woman hated her step-daughter, and never knew how to treat her badly\nenough from one day to another. And she was jealous because her\nstep-daughter was pleasant and pretty, and her real daughter was ugly\nand hateful.\n\nOnce in winter, when it was freezing hard, and snow lay deep on hill and\nvalley, the woman made a frock out of paper, called her step-daughter,\nand said,\n\n\"Here, put on this frock, go out into the wood and fetch me a basket of\nstrawberries; I have a great wish for some.\"\n\n\"Oh dear,\" said the girl, \"there are no strawberries to be found in\nwinter; the ground is frozen, and the snow covers everything. And why\nshould I go in the paper frock? it is so cold out of doors that one's\nbreath is frozen; the wind will blow through it, and the thorns will\ntear it off my back!\"\n\n\"How dare you contradict me!\" cried the step-mother, \"be off, and don't\nlet me see you again till you bring me a basket of strawberries.\"\n\nThen she gave her a little piece of hard bread, and said,\n\n\"That will do for you to eat during the day,\" and she thought to\nherself, \"She is sure to be frozen or starved to death out of doors, and\nI shall never set eyes on her again.\"\n\nSo the girl went obediently, put on the paper frock, and started out\nwith the basket. The snow was lying everywhere, far and wide, and there\nwas not a blade of green to be seen. When she entered the wood she saw a\nlittle house with three little men peeping out of it. She wished them\ngood day, and knocked modestly at the door. They called her in, and she\ncame into the room and sat down by the side of the oven to warm herself\nand eat her breakfast. The little men said,\n\n\"Give us some of it.\"\n\n\"Willingly,\" answered she, breaking her little piece of bread in two,\nand giving them half. They then said,\n\n\"What are you doing here in the wood this winter time in your little\nthin frock?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" answered she, \"I have to get a basket of strawberries, and I must\nnot go home without them.\"\n\nWhen she had eaten her bread they gave her a broom, and told her to go\nand sweep the snow away from the back door. When she had gone outside to\ndo it the little men talked among themselves about what they should do\nfor her, as she was so good and pretty, and had shared her bread with\nthem. Then the first one said,\n\n\"She shall grow prettier every day.\" The second said,\n\n\"Each time she speaks a piece of gold shall fall from her mouth.\" The\nthird said,\n\n\"A king shall come and take her for his wife.\"\n\nIn the meanwhile the girl was doing as the little men had told her, and\nhad cleared the snow from the back of the little house, and what do you\nsuppose she found? fine ripe strawberries, showing dark red against the\nsnow! Then she joyfully filled her little basket full, thanked the\nlittle men, shook hands with them all, and ran home in haste to bring\nher step-mother the thing she longed for. As she went in and said, \"Good\nevening,\" a piece of gold fell from her mouth at once. Then she related\nall that had happened to her in the wood, and at each word that she\nspoke gold pieces fell out of her mouth, so that soon they were\nscattered all over the room.\n\n\"Just look at her pride and conceit!\" cried the step-sister, \"throwing\nmoney about in this way!\" but in her heart she was jealous because of\nit, and wanted to go too into the wood to fetch strawberries. But the\nmother said,\n\n\"No, my dear little daughter, it is too cold, you will be frozen to\ndeath.\"\n\nBut she left her no peace, so at last the mother gave in, got her a\nsplendid fur coat to put on, and gave her bread and butter and cakes to\neat on the way.\n\nThe girl went into the wood and walked straight up to the little house.\nThe three little men peeped out again, but she gave them no greeting,\nand without looking round or taking any notice of them she came stumping\ninto the room, sat herself down by the oven, and began to eat her bread\nand butter and cakes.\n\n\"Give us some of that,\" cried the little men, but she answered,\n\n\"I've not enough for myself; how can I give away any?\"\n\nNow when she had done with her eating, they said,\n\n\"Here is a broom, go and sweep all clean by the back door.\"\n\n\"Oh, go and do it yourselves,\" answered she; \"I am not your housemaid.\"\n\nBut when she saw that they were not going to give her anything, she went\nout to the door. Then the three little men said among themselves,\n\n\"What shall we do to her, because she is so unpleasant, and has such a\nwicked jealous heart, grudging everybody everything?\" The first said,\n\n\"She shall grow uglier every day.\" The second said,\n\n\"Each time she speaks a toad shall jump out of her mouth at every word.\"\nThe third said,\n\n\"She shall die a miserable death.\"\n\nThe girl was looking outside for strawberries, but as she found none,\nshe went sulkily home. And directly she opened her mouth to tell her\nmother what had happened to her in the wood a toad sprang out of her\nmouth at each word, so that every one who came near her was quite\ndisgusted.\n\nThe step-mother became more and more set against the man's daughter,\nwhose beauty increased day by day, and her only thought was how to do\nher some injury. So at last she took a kettle, set it on the fire, and\nscalded some yarn in it. When it was ready she hung it over the poor\ngirl's shoulder, and gave her an axe, and she was to go to the frozen\nriver and break a hole in the ice, and there to rinse the yarn. She\nobeyed, and went and hewed a hole in the ice, and as she was about it\nthere came by a splendid coach, in which the King sat. The coach stood\nstill, and the King said,\n\n\"My child, who art thou, and what art thou doing there?\" She answered,\n\n\"I am a poor girl, and am rinsing yarn.\"\n\nThen the King felt pity for her, and as he saw that she was very\nbeautiful, he said,\n\n\"Will you go with me?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, with all my heart,\" answered she; and she felt very glad to be\nout of the way of her mother and sister.\n\nSo she stepped into the coach and went off with the King; and when they\nreached his castle the wedding was celebrated with great splendour, as\nthe little men in the wood had foretold.\n\nAt the end of a year the young Queen had a son; and as the step-mother\nhad heard of her great good fortune she came with her daughter to the\ncastle, as if merely to pay the King and Queen a visit. One day, when\nthe King had gone out, and when nobody was about, the bad woman took the\nQueen by the head, and her daughter took her by the heels, and dragged\nher out of bed, and threw her out of the window into a stream that\nflowed beneath it. Then the old woman put her ugly daughter in the bed,\nand covered her up to her chin. When the King came back, and wanted to\ntalk to his wife a little, the old woman cried,\n\n\"Stop, stop! she is sleeping nicely; she must be kept quiet to-day.\"\n\nThe King dreamt of nothing wrong, and came again the next morning; and\nas he spoke to his wife, and she answered him, there jumped each time\nout of her mouth a toad instead of the piece of gold as heretofore. Then\nhe asked why that should be, and the old woman said it was because of\nher great weakness, and that it would pass away.\n\nBut in the night, the boy who slept in the kitchen saw how something in\nthe likeness of a duck swam up the gutter, and said,--\n\n \"My King, what mak'st thou?\n Sleepest thou, or wak'st thou?\"\n\nBut there was no answer. Then it said,\n\n \"What cheer my two guests keep they?\"\n\nSo the kitchen-boy answered,\n\n \"In bed all soundly sleep they.\"\n\nIt asked again,\n\n \"And my little baby, how does _he_?\"\n\nAnd he answered,\n\n \"He sleeps in his cradle quietly.\"\n\nThen the duck took the shape of the Queen and went to the child, and\ngave him to drink, smoothed his little bed, covered him up again, and\nthen, in the likeness of a duck, swam back down the gutter. In this way\nshe came two nights, and on the third she said to the kitchen-boy,\n\n\"Go and tell the King to brandish his sword three times over me on the\nthreshold!\"\n\nThen the kitchen-boy ran and told the King, and he came with his sword\nand brandished it three times over the duck, and at the third time his\nwife stood before him living, and hearty, and sound, as she had been\nbefore.\n\nThe King was greatly rejoiced, but he hid the Queen in a chamber until\nthe Sunday came when the child was to be baptized. And after the baptism\nhe said,\n\n\"What does that person deserve who drags another out of bed and throws\nhim in the water?\"\n\nAnd the old woman answered,\n\n\"No better than to be put into a cask with iron nails in it, and to be\nrolled in it down the hill into the water.\"\n\nThen said the King,\n\n\"You have spoken your own sentence;\" and he ordered a cask to be\nfetched, and the old woman and her daughter were put into it, and the\ntop hammered down, and the cask was rolled down the hill into the river.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THREE SPINSTERS\n\n\nTHERE was once a girl who was lazy and would not spin, and her mother\ncould not persuade her to it, do what she would. At last the mother\nbecame angry and out of patience, and gave her a good beating, so that\nshe cried out loudly. At that moment the Queen was going by; as she\nheard the crying, she stopped; and, going into the house, she asked the\nmother why she was beating her daughter, so that every one outside in\nthe street could hear her cries.\n\nThe woman was ashamed to tell of her daughter's laziness, so she said,\n\n\"I cannot stop her from spinning; she is for ever at it, and I am poor\nand cannot furnish her with flax enough.\"\n\nThen the Queen answered,\n\n\"I like nothing better than the sound of the spinning-wheel, and always\nfeel happy when I hear its humming; let me take your daughter with me to\nthe castle--I have plenty of flax, she shall spin there to her heart's\ncontent.\"\n\nThe mother was only too glad of the offer, and the Queen took the girl\nwith her. When they reached the castle the Queen showed her three rooms\nwhich were filled with the finest flax as full as they could hold.\n\n\"Now you can spin me this flax,\" said she, \"and when you can show it me\nall done you shall have my eldest son for bridegroom; you may be poor,\nbut I make nothing of that--your industry is dowry enough.\"\n\nThe girl was inwardly terrified, for she could not have spun the flax,\neven if she were to live to be a hundred years old, and were to sit\nspinning every day of her life from morning to evening. And when she\nfound herself alone she began to weep, and sat so for three days without\nputting her hand to it. On the third day the Queen came, and when she\nsaw that nothing had been done of the spinning she was much surprised;\nbut the girl excused herself by saying that she had not been able to\nbegin because of the distress she was in at leaving her home and her\nmother. The excuse contented the Queen, who said, however, as she went\naway,\n\n\"To-morrow you must begin to work.\"\n\nWhen the girl found herself alone again she could not tell how to help\nherself or what to do, and in her perplexity she went and gazed out of\nthe window. There she saw three women passing by, and the first of them\nhad a broad flat foot, the second had a big under-lip that hung down\nover her chin, and the third had a remarkably broad thumb. They all of\nthem stopped in front of the window, and called out to know what it was\nthat the girl wanted. She told them all her need, and they promised her\ntheir help, and said,\n\n\"Then will you invite us to your wedding, and not be ashamed of us, and\ncall us your cousins, and let us sit at your table; if you will promise\nthis, we will finish off your flax-spinning in a very short time.\"\n\n\"With all my heart,\" answered the girl; \"only come in now, and begin at\nonce.\"\n\nThen these same women came in, and she cleared a space in the first room\nfor them to sit and carry on their spinning. The first one drew out the\nthread and moved the treddle that turned the wheel, the second moistened\nthe thread, the third twisted it, and rapped with her finger on the\ntable, and as often as she rapped a heap of yarn fell to the ground, and\nit was most beautifully spun. But the girl hid the three spinsters out\nof the Queen's sight, and only showed her, as often as she came, the\nheaps of well-spun yarn; and there was no end to the praises she\nreceived. When the first room was empty they went on to the second, and\nthen to the third, so that at last all was finished. Then the three\nwomen took their leave, saying to the girl,\n\n\"Do not forget what you have promised, and it will be all the better for\nyou.\"\n\nSo when the girl took the Queen and showed her the empty rooms, and the\ngreat heaps of yarn, the wedding was at once arranged, and the\nbridegroom rejoiced that he should have so clever and diligent a wife,\nand praised her exceedingly.\n\n\"I have three cousins,\" said the girl, \"and as they have shown me a\ngreat deal of kindness, I would not wish to forget them in my good\nfortune; may I be allowed to invite them to the wedding, and to ask them\nto sit at the table with us?\"\n\nThe Queen and the bridegroom said at once,\n\n\"There is no reason against it.\"\n\nSo when the feast began in came the three spinsters in strange guise,\nand the bride said,\n\n\"Dear cousins, you are welcome.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said the bridegroom, \"how come you to have such dreadfully ugly\nrelations?\"\n\nAnd then he went up to the first spinster and said,\n\n\"How is it that you have such a broad flat foot?\"\n\n\"With treading,\" answered she, \"with treading.\"\n\nThen he went up to the second and said,\n\n\"How is it that you have such a great hanging lip?\"\n\n\"With licking,\" answered she, \"with licking.\"\n\nThen he asked the third,\n\n\"How is it that you have such a broad thumb?\"\n\n\"With twisting thread,\" answered she, \"with twisting thread.\"\n\nThen the bridegroom said that from that time forward his beautiful bride\nshould never touch a spinning-wheel.\n\nAnd so she escaped that tiresome flax-spinning.\n\n\n\n\nHANSEL AND GRETHEL\n\n\nNEAR a great forest there lived a poor woodcutter and his wife, and his\ntwo children; the boy's name was Hansel and the girl's Grethel. They had\nvery little to bite or to sup, and once, when there was great dearth in\nthe land, the man could not even gain the daily bread. As he lay in bed\none night thinking of this, and turning and tossing, he sighed heavily,\nand said to his wife,\n\n\"What will become of us? we cannot even feed our children; there is\nnothing left for ourselves.\"\n\n\"I will tell you what, husband,\" answered the wife; \"we will take the\nchildren early in the morning into the forest, where it is thickest; we\nwill make them a fire, and we will give each of them a piece of bread,\nthen we will go to our work and leave them alone; they will never find\nthe way home again, and we shall be quit of them.\"\n\n\"No, wife,\" said the man, \"I cannot do that; I cannot find in my heart\nto take my children into the forest and to leave them there alone; the\nwild animals would soon come and devour them.\"\n\n\"O you fool,\" said she, \"then we will all four starve; you had better\nget the coffins ready,\"--and she left him no peace until he consented.\n\n\"But I really pity the poor children,\" said the man.\n\nThe two children had not been able to sleep for hunger, and had heard\nwhat their step-mother had said to their father. Grethel wept bitterly,\nand said to Hansel,\n\n\"It is all over with us.\"\n\n\"Do be quiet, Grethel,\" said Hansel, \"and do not fret; I will manage\nsomething.\" And when the parents had gone to sleep he got up, put on his\nlittle coat, opened the back door, and slipped out. The moon was shining\nbrightly, and the white flints that lay in front of the house glistened\nlike pieces of silver. Hansel stooped and filled the little pocket of\nhis coat as full as it would hold. Then he went back again, and said to\nGrethel,\n\n\"Be easy, dear little sister, and go to sleep quietly; God will not\nforsake us,\" and laid himself down again in his bed.\n\nWhen the day was breaking, and before the sun had risen, the wife came\nand awakened the two children, saying,\n\n\"Get up, you lazy bones; we are going into the forest to cut wood.\"\n\nThen she gave each of them a piece of bread, and said,\n\n\"That is for dinner, and you must not eat it before then, for you will\nget no more.\"\n\nGrethel carried the bread under her apron, for Hansel had his pockets\nfull of the flints. Then they set off all together on their way to the\nforest. When they had gone a little way Hansel stood still and looked\nback towards the house, and this he did again and again, till his father\nsaid to him,\n\n\"Hansel, what are you looking at? take care not to forget your legs.\"\n\n\"O father,\" said Hansel, \"I am looking at my little white kitten, who is\nsitting up on the roof to bid me good-bye.\"\n\n\"You young fool,\" said the woman, \"that is not your kitten, but the\nsunshine on the chimney-pot.\"\n\nOf course Hansel had not been looking at his kitten, but had been taking\nevery now and then a flint from his pocket and dropping it on the road.\n\nWhen they reached the middle of the forest the father told the children\nto collect wood to make a fire to keep them warm; and Hansel and Grethel\ngathered brushwood enough for a little mountain; and it was set on fire,\nand when the flame was burning quite high the wife said,\n\n\"Now lie down by the fire and rest yourselves, you children, and we will\ngo and cut wood; and when we are ready we will come and fetch you.\"\n\nSo Hansel and Grethel sat by the fire, and at noon they each ate their\npieces of bread. They thought their father was in the wood all the time,\nas they seemed to hear the strokes of the axe: but really it was only a\ndry branch hanging to a withered tree that the wind moved to and fro. So\nwhen they had stayed there a long time their eyelids closed with\nweariness, and they fell fast asleep. When at last they woke it was\nnight, and Grethel began to cry, and said,\n\n\"How shall we ever get out of this wood?\" But Hansel comforted her,\nsaying,\n\n\"Wait a little while longer, until the moon rises, and then we can\neasily find the way home.\"\n\nAnd when the full moon got up Hansel took his little sister by the hand,\nand followed the way where the flint stones shone like silver, and\nshowed them the road. They walked on the whole night through, and at the\nbreak of day they came to their father's house. They knocked at the\ndoor, and when the wife opened it and saw that it was Hansel and Grethel\nshe said,\n\n\"You naughty children, why did you sleep so long in the wood? we thought\nyou were never coming home again!\"\n\nBut the father was glad, for it had gone to his heart to leave them both\nin the woods alone.\n\nNot very long after that there was again great scarcity in those parts,\nand the children heard their mother say at night in bed to their father,\n\n\"Everything is finished up; we have only half a loaf, and after that the\ntale comes to an end. The children must be off; we will take them\nfarther into the wood this time, so that they shall not be able to find\nthe way back again; there is no other way to manage.\"\n\nThe man felt sad at heart, and he thought,\n\n\"It would better to share one's last morsel with one's children.\"\n\nBut the wife would listen to nothing that he said, but scolded and\nreproached him. He who says A must say B too, and when a man has given\nin once he has to do it a second time.\n\nBut the children were not asleep, and had heard all the talk. When the\nparents had gone to sleep Hansel got up to go out and get more flint\nstones, as he did before, but the wife had locked the door, and Hansel\ncould not get out; but he comforted his little sister, and said,\n\n\"Don't cry, Grethel, and go to sleep quietly, and God will help us.\"\n\nEarly the next morning the wife came and pulled the children out of bed.\nShe gave them each a little piece of bread--less than before; and on the\nway to the wood Hansel crumbled the bread in his pocket, and often\nstopped to throw a crumb on the ground.\n\n\"Hansel, what are you stopping behind and staring for?\" said the father.\n\n\"I am looking at my little pigeon sitting on the roof, to say good-bye\nto me,\" answered Hansel.\n\n\"You fool,\" said the wife, \"that is no pigeon, but the morning sun\nshining on the chimney pots.\"\n\nHansel went on as before, and strewed bread crumbs all along the road.\n\nThe woman led the children far into the wood, where they had never been\nbefore in all their lives. And again there was a large fire made, and\nthe mother said,\n\n\"Sit still there, you children, and when you are tired you can go to\nsleep; we are going into the forest to cut wood, and in the evening,\nwhen we are ready to go home we will come and fetch you.\"\n\nSo when noon came Grethel shared her bread with Hansel, who had strewed\nhis along the road. Then they went to sleep, and the evening passed, and\nno one came for the poor children. When they awoke it was dark night,\nand Hansel comforted his little sister, and said,\n\n\"Wait a little, Grethel, until the moon gets up, then we shall be able\nto see the way home by the crumbs of bread that I have scattered along\nit.\"\n\nSo when the moon rose they got up, but they could find no crumbs of\nbread, for the birds of the woods and of the fields had come and picked\nthem up. Hansel thought they might find the way all the same, but they\ncould not. They went on all that night, and the next day from the\nmorning until the evening, but they could not find the way out of the\nwood, and they were very hungry, for they had nothing to eat but the\nfew berries they could pick up. And when they were so tired that they\ncould no longer drag themselves along, they lay down under a tree and\nfell asleep.\n\nIt was now the third morning since they had left their father's house.\nThey were always trying to get back to it, but instead of that they only\nfound themselves farther in the wood, and if help had not soon come they\nwould have been starved. About noon they saw a pretty snow-white bird\nsitting on a bough, and singing so sweetly that they stopped to listen.\nAnd when he had finished the bird spread his wings and flew before them,\nand they followed after him until they came to a little house, and the\nbird perched on the roof, and when they came nearer they saw that the\nhouse was built of bread, and roofed with cakes; and the window was of\ntransparent sugar.\n\n\"We will have some of this,\" said Hansel, \"and make a fine meal. I will\neat a piece of the roof, Grethel, and you can have some of the\nwindow--that will taste sweet.\"\n\nSo Hansel reached up and broke off a bit of the roof, just to see how it\ntasted, and Grethel stood by the window and gnawed at it. Then they\nheard a thin voice call out from inside,\n\n \"Nibble, nibble, like a mouse,\n Who is nibbling at my house?\"\n\nAnd the children answered,\n\n \"Never mind,\n It is the wind.\"\n\nAnd they went on eating, never disturbing themselves. Hansel, who found\nthat the roof tasted very nice, took down a great piece of it, and\nGrethel pulled out a large round window-pane, and sat her down and began\nupon it. Then the door opened, and an aged woman came out, leaning upon\na crutch. Hansel and Grethel felt very frightened, and let fall what\nthey had in their hands. The old woman, however, nodded her head, and\nsaid,\n\n\"Ah, my dear children, how come you here? you must come indoors and stay\nwith me, you will be no trouble.\"\n\nSo she took them each by the hand, and led them into her little house.\nAnd there they found a good meal laid out, of milk and pancakes, with\nsugar, apples, and nuts. After that she showed them two little white\nbeds, and Hansel and Grethel laid themselves down on them, and thought\nthey were in heaven.\n\nThe old woman, although her behaviour was so kind, was a wicked witch,\nwho lay in wait for children, and had built the little house on purpose\nto entice them. When they were once inside she used to kill them, cook\nthem, and eat them, and then it was a feast-day with her. The witch's\neyes were red, and she could not see very far, but she had a keen scent,\nlike the beasts, and knew very well when human creatures were near. When\nshe knew that Hansel and Grethel were coming, she gave a spiteful laugh,\nand said triumphantly,\n\n\"I have them, and they shall not escape me!\"\n\nEarly in the morning, before the children were awake, she got up to look\nat them, and as they lay sleeping so peacefully with round rosy cheeks,\nshe said to herself,\n\n\"What a fine feast I shall have!\"\n\nThen she grasped Hansel with her withered hand, and led him into a\nlittle stable, and shut him up behind a grating; and call and scream as\nhe might, it was no good. Then she went back to Grethel and shook her,\ncrying,\n\n\"Get up, lazy bones; fetch water, and cook something nice for your\nbrother; he is outside in the stable, and must be fattened up. And when\nhe is fat enough I will eat him.\"\n\nGrethel began to weep bitterly, but it was of no use, she had to do what\nthe wicked witch bade her.\n\nAnd so the best kind of victuals was cooked for poor Hansel, while\nGrethel got nothing but crab-shells. Each morning the old woman visited\nthe little stable, and cried,\n\n\"Hansel, stretch out your finger, that I may tell if you will soon be\nfat enough.\"\n\nHansel, however, used to hold out a little bone, and the old woman, who\nhad weak eyes, could not see what it was, and supposing it to be\nHansel's finger, wondered very much that it was not getting fatter. When\nfour weeks had passed and Hansel seemed to remain so thin, she lost\npatience and could wait no longer.\n\n\"Now then, Grethel,\" cried she to the little girl; \"be quick and draw\nwater; be Hansel fat or be he lean, to-morrow I must kill and cook\nhim.\"\n\nOh what a grief for the poor little sister to have to fetch water, and\nhow the tears flowed down over her cheeks!\n\n\"Dear God, pray help us!\" cried she; \"if we had been devoured by wild\nbeasts in the wood at least we should have died together.\"\n\n\"Spare me your lamentations,\" said the old woman; \"they are of no\navail.\"\n\nEarly next morning Grethel had to get up, make the fire, and fill the\nkettle.\n\n\"First we will do the baking,\" said the old woman; \"I have heated the\noven already, and kneaded the dough.\"\n\nShe pushed poor Grethel towards the oven, out of which the flames were\nalready shining.\n\n\"Creep in,\" said the witch, \"and see if it is properly hot, so that the\nbread may be baked.\"\n\nAnd Grethel once in, she meant to shut the door upon her and let her be\nbaked, and then she would have eaten her. But Grethel perceived her\nintention, and said,\n\n\"I don't know how to do it: how shall I get in?\"\n\n\"Stupid goose,\" said the old woman, \"the opening is big enough, do you\nsee? I could get in myself!\" and she stooped down and put her head in\nthe oven's mouth. Then Grethel gave her a push, so that she went in\nfarther, and she shut the iron door upon her, and put up the bar. Oh how\nfrightfully she howled! but Grethel ran away, and left the wicked witch\nto burn miserably. Grethel went straight to Hansel, opened the\nstable-door, and cried,\n\n\"Hansel, we are free! the old witch is dead!\"\n\nThen out flew Hansel like a bird from its cage as soon as the door is\nopened. How rejoiced they both were! how they fell each on the other's\nneck! and danced about, and kissed each other! And as they had nothing\nmore to fear they went over all the old witch's house, and in every\ncorner there stood chests of pearls and precious stones.\n\n\"This is something better than flint stones,\" said Hansel, as he filled\nhis pockets, and Grethel, thinking she also would like to carry\nsomething home with her, filled her apron full.\n\n\"Now, away we go,\" said Hansel;--\"if we only can get out of the witch's\nwood.\"\n\nWhen they had journeyed a few hours they came to a great piece of water.\n\n\"We can never get across this,\" said Hansel, \"I see no stepping-stones\nand no bridge.\"\n\n\"And there is no boat either,\" said Grethel; \"but here comes a white\nduck; if I ask her she will help us over.\" So she cried,\n\n \"Duck, duck, here we stand,\n Hansel and Grethel, on the land,\n Stepping-stones and bridge we lack,\n Carry us over on your nice white back.\"\n\nAnd the duck came accordingly, and Hansel got upon her and told his\nsister to come too.\n\n\"No,\" answered Grethel, \"that would be too hard upon the duck; we can go\nseparately, one after the other.\"\n\nAnd that was how it was managed, and after that they went on happily,\nuntil they came to the wood, and the way grew more and more familiar,\ntill at last they saw in the distance their father's house. Then they\nran till they came up to it, rushed in at the door, and fell on their\nfather's neck. The man had not had a quiet hour since he left his\nchildren in the wood; but the wife was dead. And when Grethel opened her\napron the pearls and precious stones were scattered all over the room,\nand Hansel took one handful after another out of his pocket. Then was\nall care at an end, and they lived in great joy together.\n\n[Illustration:\n\n Sing every one,\n My story is done,\n And look! round the house\n There runs a little mouse,\n He that can catch her before she scampers in,\n May make himself a very very large fur-cap out of her skin.]\n\n[Illustration:\n\n THE\n WHITE SNAKE\n\n \"THEY DIVIDED THE APPLE OF\n LIFE AND ATE IT TOGETHER.\"]\n\n\n\n\nTHE WHITE SNAKE\n\n\nA LONG time ago there lived a King whose wisdom was noised abroad in all\nthe country. Nothing remained long unknown to him, and it was as if the\nknowledge of hidden things was brought to him in the air. However, he\nhad one curious custom. Every day at dinner, after the table had been\ncleared and every one gone away, a trusty servant had to bring in one\nother dish. But it was covered up, and the servant himself did not know\nwhat was in it, and no one else knew, for the King waited until he was\nquite alone before he uncovered it. This had gone on a long time, but at\nlast there came a day when the servant could restrain his curiosity no\nlonger, but as he was carrying the dish away he took it into his own\nroom. As soon as he had fastened the door securely, he lifted the cover,\nand there he saw a white snake lying on the dish. After seeing it he\ncould not resist the desire to taste it, and so he cut off a small piece\nand put it in his mouth. As soon as it touched his tongue he heard\noutside his window a strange chorus of delicate voices. He went and\nlistened, and found that it was the sparrows talking together, and\ntelling each other all they had seen in the fields and woods. The virtue\nof the snake had given him power to understand the speech of animals.\n\nNow it happened one day that the Queen lost her most splendid ring, and\nsuspicion fell upon the trusty servant, who had the general\nsuperintendence, and he was accused of stealing it. The King summoned\nhim to his presence, and after many reproaches told him that if by the\nnext day he was not able to name the thief he should be considered\nguilty, and punished. It was in vain that he protested his innocence; he\ncould get no better sentence. In his uneasiness and anxiety he went out\ninto the courtyard, and began to consider what he could do in so great a\nnecessity. There sat the ducks by the running water and rested\nthemselves, and plumed themselves with their flat bills, and held a\ncomfortable chat. The servant stayed where he was and listened to them.\nThey told how they had waddled about all yesterday morning and found\ngood food; and then one of them said pitifully,\n\n\"Something lies very heavy in my craw,--it is the ring that was lying\nunder the Queen's window; I swallowed it down in too great a hurry.\"\n\nThen the servant seized her by the neck, took her into the kitchen, and\nsaid to the cook,\n\n\"Kill this one, she is quite ready for cooking.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the cook, weighing it in her hand; \"there will be no trouble\nof fattening this one--it has been ready ever so long.\"\n\nShe then slit up its neck, and when it was opened the Queen's ring was\nfound in its craw. The servant could now clearly prove his innocence,\nand in order to make up for the injustice he had suffered the King\npermitted him to ask some favour for himself, and also promised him the\nplace of greatest honour in the royal household.\n\nBut the servant refused it, and only asked for a horse and money for\ntravelling, for he had a fancy to see the world, and look about him a\nlittle. So his request was granted, and he set out on his way; and one\nday he came to a pool of water, by which he saw three fishes who had got\nentangled in the rushes, and were panting for water. Although fishes are\nusually considered dumb creatures, he understood very well their lament\nthat they were to perish so miserably; and as he had a compassionate\nheart he dismounted from his horse, and put the three fishes back again\ninto the water. They quivered all over with joy, stretched out their\nheads, and called out to him,\n\n\"We will remember and reward thee, because thou hast delivered us.\" He\nrode on, and after a while he heard a small voice come up from the sand\nunderneath his horse's feet. He listened, and understood how an ant-king\nwas complaining,\n\n\"If only these men would keep off, with their great awkward beasts! here\ncomes this stupid horse treading down my people with his hard hoofs!\"\n\nThe man then turned his horse to the side-path, and the ant-king called\nout to him,\n\n\"We will remember and reward thee!\"\n\nThe path led him through a wood, and there he saw a father-raven and\nmother-raven standing by their nest and throwing their young ones out.\n\n\"Off with you! young gallows-birds!\" cried they; \"we cannot stuff you\nany more; you are big enough to fend for yourselves!\" The poor young\nravens lay on the ground, fluttering, and beating the air with their\npinions, and crying,\n\n\"We are poor helpless things, we cannot fend for ourselves, we cannot\neven fly! we can only die of hunger!\"\n\nThen the kind young man dismounted, killed his horse with his dagger,\nand left it to the young ravens for food. They came hopping up, feasted\naway at it, and cried,\n\n\"We will remember and reward thee!\"\n\nSo now he had to use his own legs, and when he had gone a long way he\ncame to a great town. There was much noise and thronging in the streets,\nand there came a man on a horse, who proclaimed,\n\n\"That the King's daughter seeks a husband, but he who wishes to marry\nher must perform a difficult task, and if he cannot carry it through\nsuccessfully, he must lose his life.\"\n\nMany had already tried, but had lost their lives, in vain. The young\nman, when he saw the King's daughter, was so dazzled by her great\nbeauty, that he forgot all danger, went to the King and offered himself\nas a wooer.\n\nThen he was led to the sea-side, and a gold ring was thrown into the\nwater before his eyes. Then the King told him that he must fetch the\nring up again from the bottom of the sea, saying,\n\n\"If you come back without it, you shall be put under the waves again and\nagain until you are drowned.\"\n\nEvery one pitied the handsome young man, but they went, and left him\nalone by the sea. As he was standing on the shore and thinking of what\nhe should do, there came three fishes swimming by, none other than those\nhe had set free. The middle one had a mussel in his mouth, and he laid\nit on the strand at the young man's feet; and when he took it up and\nopened it there was the gold ring inside! Full of joy he carried it to\nthe King, and expected the promised reward; but the King's daughter,\nproud of her high birth, despised him, and set him another task to\nperform. She went out into the garden, and strewed about over the grass\nten sacks full of millet seed.\n\n\"By the time the sun rises in the morning you must have picked up all\nthese,\" she said, \"and not a grain must be wanting.\"\n\nThe young man sat down in the garden and considered how it was possible\nto do this task, but he could contrive nothing, and stayed there,\nfeeling very sorrowful, and expecting to be led to death at break of\nday. But when the first beams of the sun fell on the garden he saw that\nthe ten sacks were all filled, standing one by the other, and not even a\ngrain was missing. The ant-king had arrived in the night with his\nthousands of ants, and the grateful creatures had picked up all the\nmillet seed, and filled the sacks with great industry. The King's\ndaughter came herself into the garden and saw with astonishment that the\nyoung man had performed all that had been given him to do. But she could\nnot let her proud heart melt, but said,\n\n\"Although he has completed the two tasks, he shall not be my bridegroom\nunless he brings me an apple from the tree of life.\"\n\nThe young man did not know where the tree of life was to be found, but\nhe set out and went on and on, as long as his legs could carry him, but\nhe had no hope of finding it. When he had gone through three kingdoms he\ncame one evening to a wood, and seated himself under a tree to go to\nsleep; but he heard a rustling in the boughs, and a golden apple fell\ninto his hand. Immediately three ravens flew towards him, perched on his\nknee, and said,\n\n\"We are the three young ravens that you delivered from starving; when we\ngrew big, and heard that you were seeking the golden apple, we flew\nover the sea to the end of the earth, where the tree of life stands, and\nwe fetched the apple.\"\n\nFull of joy the young man set off on his way home, and brought the\ngolden apple to the King's beautiful daughter, who was without any\nfurther excuse.\n\nSo they divided the apple of life, and ate it together; and their hearts\nwere filled with love, and they lived in undisturbed happiness to a\ngreat age.\n\n\n\n\nThe STRAW, The COAL, and the BEAN\n\n\nTHERE lived in a certain village a poor old woman who had collected a\nmess of beans, and was going to cook them. So she made a fire on her\nhearth, and, in order to make it burn better, she put in a handful of\nstraw. When the beans began to bubble in the pot, one of them fell out\nand lay, never noticed, near a straw which was already there; soon a\nred-hot coal jumped out of the fire and joined the pair. The straw began\nfirst, and said,\n\n\"Dear friends, how do you come here?\" The coal answered,\n\n\"I jumped out of the fire by great good luck, or I should certainly have\nmet with my death. I should have been burned to ashes.\" The bean said,\n\n\"I too have come out of it with a whole skin, but if the old woman had\nkept me in the pot I should have been cooked into a soft mass like my\ncomrades.\"\n\n\"Nor should I have met with a better fate,\" said the straw; \"the old\nwoman has turned my brothers into fire and smoke, sixty of them she took\nup at once and deprived of life. Very luckily I managed to slip through\nher fingers.\"\n\n\"What had we better do now?\" said the coal.\n\n\"I think,\" answered the bean, \"that as we have been so lucky as to\nescape with our lives, we will join in good fellowship together, and,\nlest any more bad fortune should happen to us here, we will go abroad\ninto foreign lands.\"\n\nThe proposal pleased the two others, and forthwith they started on their\ntravels. Soon they came to a little brook, and as there was no\nstepping-stone, and no bridge, they could not tell how they were to get\nto the other side. The straw was struck with a good idea, and said,\n\n\"I will lay myself across, so that you can go over me as if I were a\nbridge!\"\n\nSo the straw stretched himself from one bank to the other, and the coal,\nwho was of an ardent nature, quickly trotted up to go over the new-made\nbridge. When, however, she reached the middle, and heard the water\nrushing past beneath her, she was struck with terror, and stopped, and\ncould get no farther. So the straw began to get burnt, broke in two\npieces, and fell in the brook, and the coal slipped down, hissing as she\ntouched the water, and gave up the ghost. The bean, who had prudently\nremained behind on the bank, could not help laughing at the sight, and\nnot being able to contain herself, went on laughing so excessively that\nshe burst. And now would she certainly have been undone for ever, if a\ntailor on his travels had not by good luck stopped to rest himself by\nthe brook. As he had a compassionate heart, he took out needle and\nthread and stitched her together again. The bean thanked him in the most\nelegant manner, but as he had sewn her up with black stitches, all beans\nsince then have a black seam.\n\n\n\n\nThe FISHERMAN and his WIFE\n\n\nTHERE was once a fisherman and his wife who lived together in a hovel by\nthe sea-shore, and the fisherman went out every day with his hook and\nline to catch fish, and he angled and angled.\n\nOne day he was sitting with his rod and looking into the clear water,\nand he sat and sat.\n\nAt last down went the line to the bottom of the water, and when he drew\nit up he found a great flounder on the hook. And the flounder said to\nhim,\n\n\"Fisherman, listen to me; let me go, I am not a real fish but an\nenchanted prince. What good shall I be to you if you land me? I shall\nnot taste well; so put me back into the water again, and let me swim\naway.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the fisherman, \"no need of so many words about the matter,\nas you can speak I had much rather let you swim away.\"\n\nThen he put him back into the clear water, and the flounder sank to the\nbottom, leaving a long streak of blood behind him. Then the fisherman\ngot up and went home to his wife in their hovel.\n\n\"Well, husband,\" said the wife, \"have you caught nothing to-day?\"\n\n\"No,\" said the man--\"that is, I did catch a flounder, but as he said he\nwas an enchanted prince, I let him go again.\"\n\n\"Then, did you wish for nothing?\" said the wife.\n\n\"No,\" said the man; \"what should I wish for?\"\n\n\"Oh dear!\" said the wife; \"and it is so dreadful always to live in this\nevil-smelling hovel; you might as well have wished for a little cottage;\ngo again and call him; tell him we want a little cottage, I daresay he\nwill give it us; go, and be quick.\"\n\nAnd when he went back, the sea was green and yellow, and not nearly so\nclear. So he stood and said,\n\n \"O man, O man!--if man you be,\n Or flounder, flounder, in the sea--\n Such a tiresome wife I've got,\n For she wants what I do not.\"\n\nThen the flounder came swimming up, and said,\n\n\"Now then, what does she want?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said the man, \"you know when I caught you my wife says I ought to\nhave wished for something. She does not want to live any longer in the\nhovel, and would rather have a cottage.\n\n\"Go home with you,\" said the flounder, \"she has it already.\"\n\nSo the man went home, and found, instead of the hovel, a little cottage,\nand his wife was sitting on a bench before the door. And she took him by\nthe hand, and said to him,\n\n\"Come in and see if this is not a great improvement.\"\n\nSo they went in, and there was a little house-place and a beautiful\nlittle bedroom, a kitchen and larder, with all sorts of furniture, and\niron and brass ware of the very best. And at the back was a little yard\nwith fowls and ducks, and a little garden full of green vegetables and\nfruit.\n\n\"Look,\" said the wife, \"is not that nice?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the man, \"if this can only last we shall be very well\ncontented.\"\n\n\"We will see about that,\" said the wife. And after a meal they went to\nbed.\n\nSo all went well for a week or fortnight, when the wife said,\n\n\"Look here, husband, the cottage is really too confined, and the yard\nand garden are so small; I think the flounder had better get us a\nlarger house; I should like very much to live in a large stone castle;\nso go to your fish and he will send us a castle.\"\n\n\"O my dear wife,\" said the man, \"the cottage is good enough; what do we\nwant a castle for?\"\n\n\"We want one,\" said the wife; \"go along with you; the flounder can give\nus one.\"\n\n\"Now, wife,\" said the man, \"the flounder gave us the cottage; I do not\nlike to go to him again, he may be angry.\"\n\n\"Go along,\" said the wife, \"he might just as well give us it as not; do\nas I say!\"\n\nThe man felt very reluctant and unwilling; and he said to himself,\n\n\"It is not the right thing to do;\" nevertheless he went.\n\nSo when he came to the seaside, the water was purple and dark blue and\ngrey and thick, and not green and yellow as before. And he stood and\nsaid,\n\n \"O man, O man!--if man you be,\n Or flounder, flounder, in the sea--\n Such a tiresome wife I've got,\n For she wants what I do not.\"\n\n\"Now then, what does she want?\" said the flounder.\n\n\"Oh,\" said the man, half frightened, \"she wants to live in a large stone\ncastle.\"\n\n\"Go home with you, she is already standing before the door,\" said the\nflounder.\n\nThen the man went home, as he supposed, but when he got there, there\nstood in the place of the cottage a great castle of stone, and his wife\nwas standing on the steps, about to go in; so she took him by the hand,\nand said,\n\n\"Let us enter.\"\n\nWith that he went in with her, and in the castle was a great hall with a\nmarble pavement, and there were a great many servants, who led them\nthrough large doors, and the passages were decked with tapestry, and the\nrooms with golden chairs and tables, and crystal chandeliers hanging\nfrom the ceiling; and all the rooms had carpets. And the tables were\ncovered with eatables and the best wine for any one who wanted them. And\nat the back of the house was a great stable-yard for horses and cattle,\nand carriages of the finest; besides, there was a splendid large garden,\nwith the most beautiful flowers and fine fruit trees, and a pleasance\nfull half a mile long, with deer and oxen and sheep, and everything that\nheart could wish for.\n\n\"There!\" said the wife, \"is not this beautiful?\"\n\n\"Oh yes,\" said the man, \"if it will only last we can live in this fine\ncastle and be very well contented.\"\n\n\"We will see about that,\" said the wife, \"in the meanwhile we will sleep\nupon it.\" With that they went to bed.\n\nThe next morning the wife was awake first, just at the break of day, and\nshe looked out and saw from her bed the beautiful country lying all\nround. The man took no notice of it, so she poked him in the side with\nher elbow, and said,\n\n\"Husband, get up and just look out of the window. Look, just think if we\ncould be king over all this country. Just go to your fish and tell him\nwe should like to be king.\"\n\n\"Now, wife,\" said the man, \"what should we be kings for? I don't want to\nbe king.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the wife, \"if you don't want to be king, I will be king.\"\n\n\"Now, wife,\" said the man, \"what do you want to be king for? I could not\nask him such a thing.\"\n\n\"Why not?\" said the wife, \"you must go directly all the same; I must be\nking.\"\n\nSo the man went, very much put out that his wife should want to be king.\n\n\"It is not the right thing to do--not at all the right thing,\" thought\nthe man. He did not at all want to go, and yet he went all the same.\n\nAnd when he came to the sea the water was quite dark grey, and rushed\nfar inland, and had an ill smell. And he stood and said,\n\n \"O man, O man!--if man you be,\n Or flounder, flounder, in the sea--\n Such a tiresome wife I've got,\n For she wants what I do not.\"\n\n\"Now then, what does she want?\" said the fish.\n\n\"Oh dear!\" said the man, \"she wants to be king.\"\n\n\"Go home with you, she is so already,\" said the fish.\n\nSo the man went back, and as he came to the palace he saw it was very\nmuch larger, and had great towers and splendid gateways; the herald\nstood before the door, and a number of soldiers with kettle-drums and\ntrumpets.\n\nAnd when he came inside everything was of marble and gold, and there\nwere many curtains with great golden tassels. Then he went through the\ndoors of the saloon to where the great throne-room was, and there was\nhis wife sitting upon a throne of gold and diamonds, and she had a great\ngolden crown on, and the sceptre in her hand was of pure gold and\njewels, and on each side stood six pages in a row, each one a head\nshorter than the other. So the man went up to her and said,\n\n\"Well, wife, so now you are king!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the wife, \"now I am king.\"\n\nSo then he stood and looked at her, and when he had gazed at her for\nsome time he said,\n\n\"Well, wife, this is fine for you to be king! now there is nothing more\nto wish for.\"\n\n\"O husband!\" said the wife, seeming quite restless, \"I am tired of this\nalready. Go to your fish and tell him that now I am king I must be\nemperor.\"\n\n\"Now, wife,\" said the man, \"what do you want to be emperor for?\"\n\n\"Husband,\" said she, \"go and tell the fish I want to be emperor.\"\n\n\"Oh dear!\" said the man, \"he could not do it--I cannot ask him such a\nthing. There is but one emperor at a time; the fish can't possibly make\nany one emperor--indeed he can't.\"\n\n\"Now, look here,\" said the wife, \"I am king, and you are only my\nhusband, so will you go at once? Go along! for if he was able to make me\nking he is able to make me emperor; and I will and must be emperor, so\ngo along!\"\n\nSo he was obliged to go; and as he went he felt very uncomfortable about\nit, and he thought to himself,\n\n\"It is not at all the right thing to do; to want to be emperor is really\ngoing too far; the flounder will soon be beginning to get tired of\nthis.\"\n\nWith that he came to the sea, and the water was quite black and thick,\nand the foam flew, and the wind blew, and the man was terrified. But he\nstood and said,\n\n \"O man, O man!--if man you be,\n Or flounder, flounder, in the sea--\n Such a tiresome wife I've got,\n For she wants what I do not.\"\n\n\"What is it now?\" said the fish.\n\n\"Oh dear!\" said the man, \"my wife wants to be emperor.\"\n\n\"Go home with you,\" said the fish, \"she is emperor already.\"\n\nSo the man went home, and found the castle adorned with polished marble\nand alabaster figures, and golden gates. The troops were being\nmarshalled before the door, and they were blowing trumpets and beating\ndrums and cymbals; and when he entered he saw barons and earls and dukes\nwaiting about like servants; and the doors were of bright gold. And he\nsaw his wife sitting upon a throne made of one entire piece of gold, and\nit was about two miles high; and she had a great golden crown on, which\nwas about three yards high, set with brilliants and carbuncles; and in\none hand she held the sceptre, and in the other the globe; and on both\nsides of her stood pages in two rows, all arranged according to their\nsize, from the most enormous giant of two miles high to the tiniest\ndwarf of the size of my little finger; and before her stood earls and\ndukes in crowds. So the man went up to her and said,\n\n\"Well, wife, so now you are emperor.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said she, \"now I am emperor.\"\n\nThen he went and sat down and had a good look at her, and then he said,\n\n\"Well now, wife, there is nothing left to be, now you are emperor.\"\n\n\"What are you talking about, husband?\" said she; \"I am emperor, and next\nI will be pope! so go and tell the fish so.\"\n\n\"Oh dear!\" said the man, \"what is it that you don't want? You can never\nbecome pope; there is but one pope in Christendom, and the fish can't\npossibly do it.\"\n\n\"Husband,\" said she, \"no more words about it; I must and will be pope;\nso go along to the fish.\"\n\n\"Now, wife,\" said the man, \"how can I ask him such a thing? it is too\nbad--it is asking a little too much; and, besides, he could not do it.\"\n\n\"What rubbish!\" said the wife; \"if he could make me emperor he can make\nme pope. Go along and ask him; I am emperor, and you are only my\nhusband, so go you must.\"\n\nSo he went, feeling very frightened, and he shivered and shook, and his\nknees trembled; and there arose a great wind, and the clouds flew by,\nand it grew very dark, and the sea rose mountains high, and the ships\nwere tossed about, and the sky was partly blue in the middle, but at the\nsides very dark and red, as in a great tempest. And he felt very\ndesponding, and stood trembling and said,\n\n \"O man, O man!--if man you be,\n Or flounder, flounder, in the sea--\n Such a tiresome wife I've got,\n For she wants what I do not.\"\n\n\"Well, what now?\" said the fish.\n\n\"Oh dear!\" said the man, \"she wants to be pope.\"\n\n\"Go home with you, she is pope already,\" said the fish.\n\nSo he went home, and he found himself before a great church, with\npalaces all round. He had to make his way through a crowd of people; and\nwhen he got inside he found the place lighted up with thousands and\nthousands of lights; and his wife was clothed in a golden garment, and\nsat upon a very high throne, and had three golden crowns on, all in the\ngreatest priestly pomp; and on both sides of her there stood two rows of\nlights of all sizes--from the size of the longest tower to the smallest\nrushlight, and all the emperors and kings were kneeling before her and\nkissing her foot.\n\n\"Well, wife,\" said the man, and sat and stared at her, \"so you are\npope.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said she, \"now I am pope!\"\n\nAnd he went on gazing at her till he felt dazzled, as if he were sitting\nin the sun. And after a little time he said,\n\n\"Well, now, wife, what is there left to be, now you are pope?\"\n\nAnd she sat up very stiff and straight, and said nothing.\n\nAnd he said again, \"Well, wife, I hope you are contented at last with\nbeing pope; you can be nothing more.\"\n\n\"We will see about that,\" said the wife. With that they both went to\nbed; but she was as far as ever from being contented, and she could not\nget to sleep for thinking of what she should like to be next.\n\nThe husband, however, slept as fast as a top after his busy day; but the\nwife tossed and turned from side to side the whole night through,\nthinking all the while what she could be next, but nothing would occur\nto her; and when she saw the red dawn she slipped off the bed, and sat\nbefore the window to see the sun rise, and as it came up she said,\n\n\"Ah, I have it! what if I should make the sun and moon to\nrise--husband!\" she cried, and stuck her elbow in his ribs, \"wake up,\nand go to your fish, and tell him I want power over the sun and moon.\"\n\nThe man was so fast asleep that when he started up he fell out of bed.\nThen he shook himself together, and opened his eyes and said,\n\n\"Oh,--wife, what did you say?\"\n\n\"Husband,\" said she, \"if I cannot get the power of making the sun and\nmoon rise when I want them, I shall never have another quiet hour. Go to\nthe fish and tell him so.\"\n\n\"O wife!\" said the man, and fell on his knees to her, \"the fish can\nreally not do that for you. I grant you he could make you emperor and\npope; do be contented with that, I beg of you.\"\n\nAnd she became wild with impatience, and screamed out,\n\n\"I can wait no longer, go at once!\"\n\nAnd so off he went as well as he could for fright. And a dreadful storm\narose, so that he could hardly keep his feet; and the houses and trees\nwere blown down, and the mountains trembled, and rocks fell in the sea;\nthe sky was quite black, and it thundered and lightened; and the waves,\ncrowned with foam, ran mountains high. So he cried out, without being\nable to hear his own words,\n\n \"O man, O man!--if man you be,\n Or flounder, flounder, in the sea--\n Such a tiresome wife I've got,\n For she wants what I do not.\"\n\n\"Well, what now?\" said the flounder.\n\n\"Oh dear!\" said the man, \"she wants to order about the sun and moon.\"\n\n\"Go home with you!\" said the flounder, \"you will find her in the old\nhovel.\"\n\nAnd there they are sitting to this very day.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GALLANT TAILOR\n\n\nONE summer morning a little tailor was sitting on his board near the\nwindow, and working cheerfully with all his might, when an old woman\ncame down the street crying,\n\n\"Good jelly to sell! good jelly to sell!\"\n\nThe cry sounded pleasant in the little tailor's ears, so he put his head\nout of the window, and called out,\n\n\"Here, my good woman--come here, if you want a customer.\"\n\nSo the poor woman climbed the steps with her heavy basket, and was\nobliged to unpack and display all her pots to the tailor. He looked at\nevery one of them, and lifting all the lids, applied his nose to each,\nand said at last,\n\n\"The jelly seems pretty good; you may weigh me out four half ounces, or\nI don't mind having a quarter of a pound.\"\n\nThe woman, who had expected to find a good customer, gave him what he\nasked for, but went off angry and grumbling.\n\n\"This jelly is the very thing for me,\" cried the little tailor; \"it will\ngive me strength and cunning;\" and he took down the bread from the\ncupboard, cut a whole round of the loaf, and spread the jelly on it,\nlaid it near him, and went on stitching more gallantly than ever. All\nthe while the scent of the sweet jelly was spreading throughout the\nroom, where there were quantities of flies, who were attracted by it and\nflew to partake.\n\n\"Now then, who asked you to come?\" said the tailor, and drove the\nunbidden guests away. But the flies, not understanding his language,\nwere not to be got rid of like that, and returned in larger numbers than\nbefore. Then the tailor, not being able to stand it any longer, took\nfrom his chimney-corner a ragged cloth, and saying,\n\n\"Now, I'll let you have it!\" beat it among them unmercifully. When he\nceased, and counted the slain, he found seven lying dead before him.\n\n\"This is indeed somewhat,\" he said, wondering at his own gallantry; \"the\nwhole town shall know this.\"\n\nSo he hastened to cut out a belt, and he stitched it, and put on it in\nlarge capitals \"Seven at one blow!\"\n\n\"--The town, did I say!\" said the little tailor; \"the whole world shall\nknow it!\" And his heart quivered with joy, like a lamb's tail.\n\nThe tailor fastened the belt round him, and began to think of going out\ninto the world, for his workshop seemed too small for his worship. So he\nlooked about in all the house for something that it would be useful to\ntake with him, but he found nothing but an old cheese, which he put in\nhis pocket. Outside the door he noticed that a bird had got caught in\nthe bushes, so he took that and put it in his pocket with the cheese.\nThen he set out gallantly on his way, and as he was light and active he\nfelt no fatigue. The way led over a mountain, and when he reached the\ntopmost peak he saw a terrible giant sitting there, and looking about\nhim at his ease. The tailor went bravely up to him, called out to him,\nand said,\n\n\"Comrade, good day! there you sit looking over the wide world! I am on\nthe way thither to seek my fortune: have you a fancy to go with me?\"\n\nThe giant looked at the tailor contemptuously, and said,\n\n\"You little rascal! you miserable fellow!\"\n\n\"That may be!\" answered the little tailor, and undoing his coat he\nshowed the giant his belt; \"you can read there whether I am a man or\nnot!\"\n\nThe giant read: \"Seven at one blow!\" and thinking it meant men that the\ntailor had killed, felt at once more respect for the little fellow. But\nas he wanted to prove him, he took up a stone and squeezed it so hard\nthat water came out of it.\n\n\"Now you can do that,\" said the giant,--\"that is, if you have the\nstrength for it.\"\n\n\"That's not much,\" said the little tailor, \"I call that play,\" and he\nput his hand in his pocket and took out the cheese and squeezed it, so\nthat the whey ran out of it.\n\n\"Well,\" said he, \"what do you think of that?\"\n\nThe giant did not know what to say to it, for he could not have believed\nit of the little man. Then the giant took up a stone and threw it so\nhigh that it was nearly out of sight.\n\n\"Now, little fellow, suppose you do that!\"\n\n\"Well thrown,\" said the tailor; \"but the stone fell back to earth\nagain,--I will throw you one that will never come back.\" So he felt in\nhis pocket, took out the bird, and threw it into the air. And the bird,\nwhen it found itself at liberty, took wing, flew off, and returned no\nmore.\n\n\"What do you think of that, comrade?\" asked the tailor.\n\n\"There is no doubt that you can throw,\" said the giant; \"but we will see\nif you can carry.\"\n\nHe led the little tailor to a mighty oak-tree which had been felled, and\nwas lying on the ground, and said,\n\n\"Now, if you are strong enough, help me to carry this tree out of the\nwood.\"\n\n\"Willingly,\" answered the little man; \"you take the trunk on your\nshoulders, I will take the branches with all their foliage, that is much\nthe most difficult.\"\n\nSo the giant took the trunk on his shoulders, and the tailor seated\nhimself on a branch, and the giant, who could not see what he was doing,\nhad the whole tree to carry, and the little man on it as well. And the\nlittle man was very cheerful and merry, and whistled the tune: \"_There\nwere three tailors riding by_,\" as if carrying the tree was mere child's\nplay. The giant, when he had struggled on under his heavy load a part of\nthe way, was tired out, and cried,\n\n\"Look here, I must let go the tree!\"\n\nThe tailor jumped off quickly, and taking hold of the tree with both\narms, as if he were carrying it, said to the giant,\n\n\"You see you can't carry the tree though you are such a big fellow!\"\n\nThey went on together a little farther, and presently they came to a\ncherry-tree, and the giant took hold of the topmost branches, where the\nripest fruit hung, and pulling them downwards, gave them to the tailor\nto hold, bidding him eat. But the little tailor was much too weak to\nhold the tree, and as the giant let go, the tree sprang back, and the\ntailor was caught up into the air. And when he dropped down again\nwithout any damage, the giant said to him,\n\n\"How is this? haven't you strength enough to hold such a weak sprig as\nthat?\"\n\n\"It is not strength that is lacking,\" answered the little tailor; \"how\nshould it to one who has slain seven at one blow! I just jumped over the\ntree because the hunters are shooting down there in the bushes. You jump\nit too, if you can.\"\n\nThe giant made the attempt, and not being able to vault the tree, he\nremained hanging in the branches, so that once more the little tailor\ngot the better of him. Then said the giant,\n\n\"As you are such a gallant fellow, suppose you come with me to our den,\nand stay the night.\"\n\nThe tailor was quite willing, and he followed him. When they reached the\nden there sat some other giants by the fire, and each had a roasted\nsheep in his hand, and was eating it. The little tailor looked round and\nthought,\n\n\"There is more elbow-room here than in my workshop.\"\n\nAnd the giant showed him a bed, and told him he had better lie down upon\nit and go to sleep. The bed was, however, too big for the tailor, so he\ndid not stay in it, but crept into a corner to sleep. As soon as it was\nmidnight the giant got up, took a great staff of iron and beat the bed\nthrough with one stroke, and supposed he had made an end of that\ngrasshopper of a tailor. Very early in the morning the giants went into\nthe wood and forgot all about the little tailor, and when they saw him\ncoming after them alive and merry, they were terribly frightened, and,\nthinking he was going to kill them, they ran away in all haste.\n\nSo the little tailor marched on, always following his nose. And after he\nhad gone a great way he entered the courtyard belonging to a King's\npalace, and there he felt so overpowered with fatigue that he lay down\nand fell asleep. In the meanwhile came various people, who looked at him\nvery curiously, and read on his belt, \"Seven at one blow!\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said they, \"why should this great lord come here in time of peace?\nwhat a mighty champion he must be.\"\n\nThen they went and told the King about him, and they thought that if war\nshould break out what a worthy and useful man he would be, and that he\nought not to be allowed to depart at any price. The King then summoned\nhis council, and sent one of his courtiers to the little tailor to beg\nhim, so soon as he should wake up, to consent to serve in the King's\narmy. So the messenger stood and waited at the sleeper's side until his\nlimbs began to stretch, and his eyes to open, and then he carried his\nanswer back. And the answer was,\n\n\"That was the reason for which I came,\" said the little tailor, \"I am\nready to enter the King's service.\"\n\nSo he was received into it very honourably, and a separate dwelling set\napart for him.\n\nBut the rest of the soldiers were very much set against the little\ntailor, and they wished him a thousand miles away.\n\n\"What shall be done about it?\" they said among themselves; \"if we pick a\nquarrel and fight with him then seven of us will fall at each blow. That\nwill be of no good to us.\"\n\nSo they came to a resolution, and went all together to the King to ask\nfor their discharge.\n\n\"We never intended,\" said they, \"to serve with a man who kills seven at\na blow.\"\n\nThe King felt sorry to lose all his faithful servants because of one\nman, and he wished that he had never seen him, and would willingly get\nrid of him if he might. But he did not dare to dismiss the little tailor\nfor fear he should kill all the King's people, and place himself upon\nthe throne. He thought a long while about it, and at last made up his\nmind what to do. He sent for the little tailor, and told him that as he\nwas so great a warrior he had a proposal to make to him. He told him\nthat in a wood in his dominions dwelt two giants, who did great damage\nby robbery, murder, and fire, and that no man durst go near them for\nfear of his life. But that if the tailor should overcome and slay both\nthese giants the King would give him his only daughter in marriage, and\nhalf his kingdom as dowry, and that a hundred horsemen should go with\nhim to give him assistance.\n\n\"That would be something for a man like me!\" thought the little tailor,\n\"a beautiful princess and half a kingdom are not to be had every day,\"\nand he said to the King,\n\n\"Oh yes, I can soon overcome the giants, and yet have no need of the\nhundred horsemen; he who can kill seven at one blow has no need to be\nafraid of two.\"\n\nSo the little tailor set out, and the hunched horsemen followed him.\nWhen he came to the border of the wood he said to his escort,\n\n\"Stay here while I go to attack the giants.\"\n\nThen he sprang into the wood, and looked about him right and left. After\na while he caught sight of the two giants; they were lying down under a\ntree asleep, and snoring so that all the branches shook. The little\ntailor, all alive, filled both his pockets with stones and climbed up\ninto the tree, and made his way to an overhanging bough, so that he\ncould seat himself just above the sleepers; and from there he let one\nstone after another fall on the chest of one of the giants. For a long\ntime the giant was quite unaware of this, but at last he waked up and\npushed his comrade, and said,\n\n\"What are you hitting me for?\"\n\n\"You are dreaming,\" said the other, \"I am not touching you.\" And they\ncomposed themselves again to sleep, and the tailor let fall a stone on\nthe other giant.\n\n\"What can that be?\" cried he, \"what are you casting at me?\"\n\n\"I am casting nothing at you,\" answered the first, grumbling.\n\nThey disputed about it for a while, but as they were tired, they gave it\nup at last, and their eyes closed once more. Then the little tailor\nbegan his game anew, picked out a heavier stone and threw it down with\nforce upon the first giant's chest.\n\n\"This is too much!\" cried he, and sprang up like a madman and struck his\ncompanion such a blow that the tree shook above them. The other paid him\nback with ready coin, and they fought with such fury that they tore up\ntrees by their roots to use for weapons against each other, so that at\nlast they both of them lay dead upon the ground. And now the little\ntailor got down.\n\n\"Another piece of luck!\" said he,--\"that the tree I was sitting in did\nnot get torn up too, or else I should have had to jump like a squirrel\nfrom one tree to another.\"\n\nThen he drew his sword and gave each of the giants a few hacks in the\nbreast, and went back to the horsemen and said,\n\n\"The deed is done, I have made an end of both of them: but it went hard\nwith me, in the struggle they rooted up trees to defend themselves, but\nit was of no use, they had to do with a man who can kill seven at one\nblow.\"\n\n\"Then are you not wounded?\" asked the horsemen.\n\n\"Nothing of the sort!\" answered the tailor, \"I have not turned a hair.\"\n\nThe horsemen still would not believe it, and rode into the wood to see,\nand there they found the giants wallowing in their blood, and all about\nthem lying the uprooted trees.\n\nThe little tailor then claimed the promised boon, but the King repented\nhim of his offer, and he sought again how to rid himself of the hero.\n\n\"Before you can possess my daughter and the half of my kingdom,\" said he\nto the tailor, \"you must perform another heroic act. In the wood lives a\nunicorn who does great damage; you must secure him.\"\n\n\"A unicorn does not strike more terror into me than two giants. Seven at\none blow!--that is my way,\" was the tailor's answer.\n\nSo, taking a rope and an axe with him, he went out into the wood, and\ntold those who were ordered to attend him to wait outside. He had not\nfar to seek, the unicorn soon came out and sprang at him, as if he would\nmake an end of him without delay. \"Softly, softly,\" said he, \"most\nhaste, worst speed,\" and remained standing until the animal came quite\nnear, then he slipped quietly behind a tree. The unicorn ran with all\nhis might against the tree and stuck his horn so deep into the trunk\nthat he could not get it out again, and so was taken.\n\n\"Now I have you,\" said the tailor, coming out from behind the tree, and,\nputting the rope round the unicorn's neck, he took the axe, set free the\nhorn, and when all his party were assembled he led forth the animal and\nbrought it to the King.\n\nThe King did not yet wish to give him the promised reward, and set him a\nthird task to do. Before the wedding could take place the tailor was to\nsecure a wild boar which had done a great deal of damage in the wood.\n\nThe huntsmen were to accompany him.\n\n\"All right,\" said the tailor, \"this is child's play.\"\n\nBut he did not take the huntsmen into the wood, and they were all the\nbetter pleased, for the wild boar had many a time before received them\nin such a way that they had no fancy to disturb him. When the boar\ncaught sight of the tailor he ran at him with foaming mouth and gleaming\ntusks to bear him to the ground, but the nimble hero rushed into a\nchapel which chanced to be near, and jumped quickly out of a window on\nthe other side. The boar ran after him, and when he got inside the door\nshut after him, and there he was imprisoned, for the creature was too\nbig and unwieldy to jump out of the window too. Then the little tailor\ncalled the huntsmen that they might see the prisoner with their own\neyes; and then he betook himself to the king, who now, whether he liked\nit or not, was obliged to fulfil his promise, and give him his daughter\nand the half of his kingdom. But if he had known that the great warrior\nwas only a little tailor he would have taken it still more to heart. So\nthe wedding was celebrated with great splendour and little joy, and the\ntailor was made into a king.\n\nOne night the young queen heard her husband talking in his sleep and\nsaying,\n\n\"Now boy, make me that waistcoat and patch me those breeches, or I will\nlay my yard measure about your shoulders!\"\n\nAnd so, as she perceived of what low birth her husband was, she went to\nher father the next morning and told him all, and begged him to set her\nfree from a man who was nothing better than a tailor. The king bade her\nbe comforted, saying,\n\n\"To-night leave your bedroom door open, my guard shall stand outside,\nand when he is asleep they shall come in and bind him and carry him off\nto a ship, and he shall be sent to the other side of the world.\"\n\nSo the wife felt consoled, but the king's water-bearer, who had been\nlistening all the while, went to the little tailor and disclosed to him\nthe whole plan.\n\n\"I shall put a stop to all this,\" said he.\n\nAt night he lay down as usual in bed, and when his wife thought that he\nwas asleep, she got up, opened the door and lay down again. The little\ntailor, who only made believe to be asleep, began to murmur plainly,\n\n\"Now, boy, make me that waistcoat and patch me those breeches, or I will\nlay my yard measure about your shoulders! I have slain seven at one\nblow, killed two giants, caught a unicorn, and taken a wild boar, and\nshall I be afraid of those who are standing outside my room door?\"\n\nAnd when they heard the tailor say this, a great fear seized them; they\nfled away as if they had been wild hares, and none of them would venture\nto attack him.\n\nAnd so the little tailor all his lifetime remained a king.\n\n\n\n\nASCHENPUTTEL\n\n\nTHERE was once a rich man whose wife lay sick, and when she felt her end\ndrawing near she called to her only daughter to come near her bed, and\nsaid,\n\n\"Dear child, be pious and good, and God will always take care of you,\nand I will look down upon you from heaven, and will be with you.\"\n\nAnd then she closed her eyes and expired. The maiden went every day to\nher mother's grave and wept, and was always pious and good. When the\nwinter came the snow covered the grave with a white covering, and when\nthe sun came in the early spring and melted it away, the man took to\nhimself another wife.\n\nThe new wife brought two daughters home with her, and they were\nbeautiful and fair in appearance, but at heart were black and ugly. And\nthen began very evil times for the poor step-daughter.\n\n\"Is the stupid creature to sit in the same room with us?\" said they;\n\"those who eat food must earn it. Out upon her for a kitchen-maid!\"\n\nThey took away her pretty dresses, and put on her an old gray kirtle,\nand gave her wooden shoes to wear.\n\n\"Just look now at the proud princess, how she is decked out!\" cried they\nlaughing, and then they sent her into the kitchen. There she was obliged\nto do heavy work from morning to night, get up early in the morning,\ndraw water, make the fires, cook, and wash. Besides that, the sisters\ndid their utmost to torment her,--mocking her, and strewing peas and\nlentils among the ashes, and setting her to pick them up. In the\nevenings, when she was quite tired out with her hard day's work, she had\nno bed to lie on, but was obliged to rest on the hearth among the\ncinders. And as she always looked dusty and dirty, they named her\nAschenputtel.\n\nIt happened one day that the father went to the fair, and he asked his\ntwo step-daughters what he should bring back for them.\n\n\"Fine clothes!\" said one.\n\n\"Pearls and jewels!\" said the other.\n\n\"But what will you have, Aschenputtel?\" said he.\n\n\"The first twig, father, that strikes against your hat on the way home;\nthat is what I should like you to bring me.\"\n\nSo he bought for the two step-daughters fine clothes, pearls, and\njewels, and on his way back, as he rode through a green lane, a\nhazel-twig struck against his hat; and he broke it off and carried it\nhome with him. And when he reached home he gave to the step-daughters\nwhat they had wished for, and to Aschenputtel he gave the hazel-twig.\nShe thanked him, and went to her mother's grave, and planted this twig\nthere, weeping so bitterly that the tears fell upon it and watered it,\nand it flourished and became a fine tree. Aschenputtel went to see it\nthree times a day, and wept and prayed, and each time a white bird rose\nup from the tree, and if she uttered any wish the bird brought her\nwhatever she had wished for.\n\nNow if came to pass that the king ordained a festival that should last\nfor three days, and to which all the beautiful young women of that\ncountry were bidden, so that the king's son might choose a bride from\namong them. When the two step-daughters heard that they too were bidden\nto appear, they felt very pleased, and they called Aschenputtel, and\nsaid,\n\n\"Comb our hair, brush our shoes, and make our buckles fast, we are going\nto the wedding feast at the king's castle.\"\n\nAschenputtel, when she heard this, could not help crying, for she too\nwould have liked to go to the dance, and she begged her step-mother to\nallow her.\n\n\"What, you Aschenputtel!\" said she, \"in all your dust and dirt, you\nwant to go to the festival! you that have no dress and no shoes! you\nwant to dance!\"\n\nBut as she persisted in asking, at last the step-mother said,\n\n\"I have strewed a dish-full of lentils in the ashes, and if you can pick\nthem all up again in two hours you may go with us.\"\n\nThen the maiden went to the back-door that led into the garden, and\ncalled out,\n\n \"O gentle doves, O turtle-doves,\n And all the birds that be,\n The lentils that in ashes lie\n Come and pick up for me!\n The good must be put in the dish,\n The bad you may eat if you wish.\"\n\nThen there came to the kitchen-window two white doves, and after them\nsome turtle-doves, and at last a crowd of all the birds under heaven,\nchirping and fluttering, and they alighted among the ashes; and the\ndoves nodded with their heads, and began to pick, peck, pick, peck, and\nthen all the others began to pick, peck, pick, peck, and put all the\ngood grains into the dish. Before an hour was over all was done, and\nthey flew away. Then the maiden brought the dish to her step-mother,\nfeeling joyful, and thinking that now she should go to the feast; but\nthe step-mother said,\n\n\"No, Aschenputtel, you have no proper clothes, and you do not know how\nto dance, and you would be laughed at!\"\n\nAnd when Aschenputtel cried for disappointment, she added,\n\n\"If you can pick two dishes full of lentils out of the ashes, nice and\nclean, you shall go with us,\" thinking to herself, \"for that is not\npossible.\" When she had strewed two dishes full of lentils among the\nashes the maiden went through the back-door into the garden, and cried,\n\n \"O gentle doves, O turtle-doves,\n And all the birds that be,\n The lentils that in ashes lie\n Come and pick up for me!\n The good must be put in the dish,\n The bad you may eat if you wish.\"\n\nSo there came to the kitchen-window two white doves, and then some\nturtle-doves, and at last a crowd of all the other birds under heaven,\nchirping and fluttering, and they alighted among the ashes, and the\ndoves nodded with their heads and began to pick, peck, pick, peck, and\nthen all the others began to pick, peck, pick, peck, and put all the\ngood grains into the dish. And before half-an-hour was over it was all\ndone, and they flew away. Then the maiden took the dishes to the\nstep-mother, feeling joyful, and thinking that now she should go with\nthem to the feast; but she said \"All this is of no good to you; you\ncannot come with us, for you have no proper clothes, and cannot dance;\nyou would put us to shame.\"\n\nThen she turned her back on poor Aschenputtel, and made haste to set out\nwith her two proud daughters.\n\nAnd as there was no one left in the house, Aschenputtel went to her\nmother's grave, under the hazel bush, and cried,\n\n \"Little tree, little tree, shake over me,\n That silver and gold may come down and cover me.\"\n\nThen the bird threw down a dress of gold and silver, and a pair of\nslippers embroidered with silk and silver. And in all haste she put on\nthe dress and went to the festival. But her step-mother and sisters did\nnot know her, and thought she must be a foreign princess, she looked so\nbeautiful in her golden dress. Of Aschenputtel they never thought at\nall, and supposed that she was sitting at home, and picking the lentils\nout of the ashes. The King's son came to meet her, and took her by the\nhand and danced with her, and he refused to stand up with any one else,\nso that he might not be obliged to let go her hand; and when any one\ncame to claim it he answered,\n\n\"She is my partner.\"\n\nAnd when the evening came she wanted to go home, but the prince said he\nwould go with her to take care of her, for he wanted to see where the\nbeautiful maiden lived. But she escaped him, and jumped up into the\npigeon-house. Then the prince waited until the father came, and told him\nthe strange maiden had jumped into the pigeon-house. The father thought\nto himself,\n\n\"It cannot surely be Aschenputtel,\" and called for axes and hatchets,\nand had the pigeon-house cut down, but there was no one in it. And when\nthey entered the house there sat Aschenputtel in her dirty clothes among\nthe cinders, and a little oil-lamp burnt dimly in the chimney; for\nAschenputtel had been very quick, and had jumped out of the pigeon-house\nagain, and had run to the hazel bush; and there she had taken off her\nbeautiful dress and had laid it on the grave, and the bird had carried\nit away again, and then she had put on her little gray kirtle again, and\nhad sat down in the kitchen among the cinders.\n\nThe next day, when the festival began anew, and the parents and\nstep-sisters had gone to it, Aschenputtel went to the hazel bush and\ncried,\n\n \"Little tree, little tree, shake over me,\n That silver and gold may come down and cover me.\"\n\nThen the bird cast down a still more splendid dress than on the day\nbefore. And when she appeared in it among the guests every one was\nastonished at her beauty. The prince had been waiting until she came,\nand he took her hand and danced with her alone. And when any one else\ncame to invite her he said,\n\n\"She is my partner.\"\n\nAnd when the evening came she wanted to go home, and the prince followed\nher, for he wanted to see to what house she belonged; but she broke away\nfrom him, and ran into the garden at the back of the house. There stood\na fine large tree, bearing splendid pears; she leapt as lightly as a\nsquirrel among the branches, and the prince did not know what had become\nof her. So he waited until the father came, and then he told him that\nthe strange maiden had rushed from him, and that he thought she had gone\nup into the pear-tree. The father thought to himself,\n\n\"It cannot surely be Aschenputtel,\" and called for an axe, and felled\nthe tree, but there was no one in it. And when they went into the\nkitchen there sat Aschenputtel among the cinders, as usual, for she had\ngot down the other side of the tree, and had taken back her beautiful\nclothes to the bird on the hazel bush, and had put on her old gray\nkirtle again.\n\nOn the third day, when the parents and the step-children had set off,\nAschenputtel went again to her mother's grave, and said to the tree,\n\n \"Little tree, little tree, shake over me,\n That silver and gold may come down and cover me.\"\n\nThen the bird cast down a dress, the like of which had never been seen\nfor splendour and brilliancy, and slippers that were of gold.\n\nAnd when she appeared in this dress at the feast nobody knew what to say\nfor wonderment. The prince danced with her alone, and if any one else\nasked her he answered,\n\n\"She is my partner.\"\n\nAnd when it was evening Aschenputtel wanted to go home, and the prince\nwas about to go with her, when she ran past him so quickly that he could\nnot follow her. But he had laid a plan, and had caused all the steps to\nbe spread with pitch, so that as she rushed down them the left shoe of\nthe maiden remained sticking in it. The prince picked it up, and saw\nthat it was of gold, and very small and slender. The next morning he\nwent to the father and told him that none should be his bride save the\none whose foot the golden shoe should fit. Then the two sisters were\nvery glad, because they had pretty feet. The eldest went to her room to\ntry on the shoe, and her mother stood by. But she could not get her\ngreat toe into it, for the shoe was too small; then her mother handed\nher a knife, and said,\n\n\"Cut the toe off, for when you are queen you will never have to go on\nfoot.\" So the girl cut her toe off, squeezed her foot into the shoe,\nconcealed the pain, and went down to the prince. Then he took her with\nhim on his horse as his bride, and rode off. They had to pass by the\ngrave, and there sat the two pigeons on the hazel bush, and cried,\n\n \"There they go, there they go!\n There is blood on her shoe;\n The shoe is too small,\n --Not the right bride at all!\"\n\nThen the prince looked at her shoe, and saw the blood flowing. And he\nturned his horse round and took the false bride home again, saying she\nwas not the right one, and that the other sister must try on the shoe.\nSo she went into her room to do so, and got her toes comfortably in, but\nher heel was too large. Then her mother handed her the knife, saying,\n\"Cut a piece off your heel; when you are queen you will never have to\ngo on foot.\"\n\nSo the girl cut a piece off her heel, and thrust her foot into the shoe,\nconcealed the pain, and went down to the prince, who took his bride\nbefore him on his horse and rode off. When they passed by the hazel bush\nthe two pigeons sat there and cried,\n\n \"There they go, there they go!\n There is blood on her shoe;\n The shoe is too small,\n --Not the right bride at all!\"\n\nThen the prince looked at her foot, and saw how the blood was flowing\nfrom the shoe, and staining the white stocking. And he turned his horse\nround and brought the false bride home again.\n\n\"This is not the right one,\" said he, \"have you no other daughter?\"\n\n\"No,\" said the man, \"only my dead wife left behind her a little stunted\nAschenputtel; it is impossible that she can be the bride.\" But the\nKing's son ordered her to be sent for, but the mother said,\n\n\"Oh no! she is much too dirty, I could not let her be seen.\"\n\nBut he would have her fetched, and so Aschenputtel had to appear.\n\nFirst she washed her face and hands quite clean, and went in and\ncurtseyed to the prince, who held out to her the golden shoe. Then she\nsat down on a stool, drew her foot out of the heavy wooden shoe, and\nslipped it into the golden one, which fitted it perfectly. And when she\nstood up, and the prince looked in her face, he knew again the beautiful\nmaiden that had danced with him, and he cried,\n\n\"This is the right bride!\"\n\nThe step-mother and the two sisters were thunderstruck, and grew pale\nwith anger; but he put Aschenputtel before him on his horse and rode\noff. And as they passed the hazel bush, the two white pigeons cried,\n\n \"There they go, there they go!\n No blood on her shoe;\n The shoe's not too small,\n The right bride is she after all.\"\n\nAnd when they had thus cried, they came flying after and perched on\nAschenputtel's shoulders, one on the right, the other on the left, and\nso remained.\n\nAnd when her wedding with the prince was appointed to be held the false\nsisters came, hoping to curry favour, and to take part in the\nfestivities. So as the bridal procession went to the church, the eldest\nwalked on the right side and the younger on the left, and the pigeons\npicked out an eye of each of them. And as they returned the elder was on\nthe left side and the younger on the right, and the pigeons picked out\nthe other eye of each of them. And so they were condemned to go blind\nfor the rest of their days because of their wickedness and falsehood.\n\n\n\n\nThe MOUSE, the BIRD, and the SAUSAGE\n\n\nONCE on a time, a mouse and a bird and a sausage lived and kept house\ntogether in perfect peace among themselves, and in great prosperity. It\nwas the bird's business to fly to the forest every day and bring back\nwood. The mouse had to draw the water, make the fire, and set the table;\nand the sausage had to do the cooking. Nobody is content in this world:\nmuch will have more! One day the bird met another bird on the way, and\ntold him of his excellent condition in life. But the other bird called\nhim a poor simpleton to do so much work, while the two others led easy\nlives at home.\n\nWhen the mouse had made up her fire and drawn water, she went to rest in\nher little room until it was time to lay the cloth. The sausage stayed\nby the saucepans, looked to it that the victuals were well cooked, and\njust before dinner-time he stirred the broth or the stew three or four\ntimes well round himself, so as to enrich and season and flavour it.\nThen the bird used to come home and lay down his load, and they sat down\nto table, and after a good meal they would go to bed and sleep their\nfill till the next morning. It really was a most satisfactory life.\n\nBut the bird came to the resolution next day never again to fetch wood:\nhe had, he said, been their slave long enough, now they must change\nabout and make a new arrangement So in spite of all the mouse and the\nsausage could say, the bird was determined to have his own way. So they\ndrew lots to settle it, and it fell so that the sausage was to fetch\nwood, the mouse was to cook, and the bird was to draw water.\n\nNow see what happened. The sausage went away after wood, the bird made\nup the fire, and the mouse put on the pot, and they waited until the\nsausage should come home, bringing the wood for the next day. But the\nsausage was absent so long, that they thought something must have\nhappened to him, and the bird went part of the way to see if he could\nsee anything of him. Not far off he met with a dog on the road, who,\nlooking upon the sausage as lawful prey, had picked him up, and made an\nend of him. The bird then lodged a complaint against the dog as an open\nand flagrant robber, but it was all no good, as the dog declared that he\nhad found forged letters upon the sausage, so that he deserved to lose\nhis life.\n\nThe bird then very sadly took up the wood and carried it home himself,\nand related to the mouse all he had seen and heard. They were both very\ntroubled, but determined to look on the bright side of things, and still\nto remain together. And so the bird laid the cloth, and the mouse\nprepared the food, and finally got into the pot, as the sausage used to\ndo, to stir and flavour the broth, but then she had to part with fur and\nskin, and lastly with life!\n\nAnd when the bird came to dish up the dinner, there was no cook to be\nseen; and he turned over the heap of wood, and looked and looked, but\nthe cook never appeared again. By accident the wood caught fire, and the\nbird hastened to fetch water to put it out, but he let fall the bucket\nin the well, and himself after it, and as he could not get out again, he\nwas obliged to be drowned.\n\n\n\n\nMOTHER HULDA\n\n\nA WIDOW had two daughters; one was pretty and industrious, the other was\nugly and lazy. And as the ugly one was her own daughter, she loved her\nmuch the best, and the pretty one was made to do all the work, and be\nthe drudge of the house. Every day the poor girl had to sit by a well on\nthe high road and spin until her fingers bled. Now it happened once that\nas the spindle was bloody, she dipped it into the well to wash it; but\nit slipped out of her hand and fell in. Then she began to cry, and ran\nto her step-mother, and told her of her misfortune; and her step-mother\nscolded her without mercy, and said in her rage,\n\n\"As you have let the spindle fall in, you must go and fetch it out\nagain!\"\n\nThen the girl went back again to the well, not knowing what to do, and\nin the despair of her heart she jumped down into the well the same way\nthe spindle had gone. After that she knew nothing; and when she came to\nherself she was in a beautiful meadow, and the sun was shining on the\nflowers that grew round her. And she walked on through the meadow until\nshe came to a baker's oven that was full of bread; and the bread called\nout to her,\n\n\"Oh, take me out, take me out, or I shall burn; I am baked enough\nalready!\"\n\n[Illustration: MOTHER HULDA\n\n \"THEN THE GIRL WENT BACK AGAIN\n TO THE WELL NOT KNOWING WHAT\n TO DO, AND IN THE DESPAIR OF HER\n HEART SHE JUMPED DOWN INTO\n THE WELL THE SAME WAY THE\n SPINDLE HAD GONE.\"]\n\nThen she drew near, and with the baker's peel she took out all the\nloaves one after the other. And she went farther on till she came to\na tree weighed down with apples, and it called out to her,\n\n\"Oh, shake me, shake me, we apples are all of us ripe!\"\n\nThen she shook the tree until the apples fell like rain, and she shook\nuntil there were no more to fall; and when she had gathered them\ntogether in a heap, she went on farther. At last she came to a little\nhouse, and an old woman was peeping out of it, but she had such great\nteeth that the girl was terrified and about to run away, only the old\nwoman called her back.\n\n\"What are you afraid of, my dear child? Come and live with me, and if\nyou do the house-work well and orderly, things shall go well with you.\nYou must take great pains to make my bed well, and shake it up\nthoroughly, so that the feathers fly about, and then in the world it\nsnows, for I am Mother Hulda.\"[A]\n\n[Footnote A: In Hesse, when it snows, they say, \"Mother Hulda is making\nher bed.\"]\n\nAs the old woman spoke so kindly, the girl took courage, consented, and\nwent to her work. She did everything to the old woman's satisfaction,\nand shook the bed with such a will that the feathers flew about like\nsnow-flakes: and so she led a good life, had never a cross word, but\nboiled and roast meat every day. When she had lived a long time with\nMother Hulda, she began to feel sad, not knowing herself what ailed her;\nat last she began to think she must be home-sick; and although she was a\nthousand times better off than at home where she was, yet she had a\ngreat longing to go home. At last she said to her mistress,\n\n\"I am home-sick, and although I am very well off here, I cannot stay any\nlonger; I must go back to my own home.\"\n\nMother Hulda answered,\n\n\"It pleases me well that you should wish to go home, and, as you have\nserved me faithfully, I will undertake to send you there!\"\n\nShe took her by the hand and led her to a large door standing open, and\nas she was passing through it there fell upon her a heavy shower of\ngold, and the gold hung all about her, so that she was covered with it.\n\n\"All this is yours, because you have been so industrious,\" said Mother\nHulda; and, besides that, she returned to her her spindle, the very\nsame that she had dropped in the well. And then the door was shut again,\nand the girl found herself back again in the world, not far from her\nmother's house; and as she passed through the yard the cock stood on the\ntop of the well and cried,\n\n \"Cock-a-doodle doo!\n Our golden girl has come home too!\"\n\nThen she went in to her mother, and as she had returned covered with\ngold she was well received.\n\nSo the girl related all her history, and what had happened to her, and\nwhen the mother heard how she came to have such great riches she began\nto wish that her ugly and idle daughter might have the same good\nfortune. So she sent her to sit by the well and spin; and in order to\nmake her spindle bloody she put her hand into the thorn hedge. Then she\nthrew the spindle into the well, and jumped in herself. She found\nherself, like her sister, in the beautiful meadow, and followed the same\npath, and when she came to the baker's oven, the bread cried out,\n\n\"Oh, take me out, take me out, or I shall burn; I am quite done\nalready!\"\n\nBut the lazy-bones answered,\n\n\"I have no desire to black my hands,\" and went on farther. Soon she came\nto the apple-tree, who called out,\n\n\"Oh, shake me, shake me, we apples are all of us ripe!\"\n\nBut she answered,\n\n\"That is all very fine; suppose one of you should fall on my head,\" and\nwent on farther. When she came to Mother Hulda's house she did not feel\nafraid, as she knew beforehand of her great teeth, and entered into her\nservice at once. The first day she put her hand well to the work, and\nwas industrious, and did everything Mother Hulda bade her, because of\nthe gold she expected; but the second day she began to be idle, and the\nthird day still more so, so that she would not get up in the morning.\nNeither did she make Mother Hulda's bed as it ought to have been made,\nand did not shake it for the feathers to fly about. So that Mother Hulda\nsoon grew tired of her, and gave her warning, at which the lazy thing\nwas well pleased, and thought that now the shower of gold was coming;\nso Mother Hulda led her to the door, and as she stood in the doorway,\ninstead of the shower of gold a great kettle full of pitch was emptied\nover her.\n\n\"That is the reward for your service,\" said Mother Hulda, and shut the\ndoor. So the lazy girl came home all covered with pitch, and the cock on\nthe top of the well seeing her, cried,\n\n \"Cock-a-doodle doo!\n Our dirty girl has come home too!\"\n\nAnd the pitch remained sticking to her fast, and never, as long as she\nlived, could it be got off.\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE RED CAP\n\n\nTHERE was once a sweet little maid, much beloved by everybody, but most\nof all by her grandmother, who never knew how to make enough of her.\nOnce she sent her a little cap of red velvet, and as it was very\nbecoming to her, and she never wore anything else, people called her\nLittle Red-cap. One day her mother said to her,\n\n\"Come, Little Red-cap, here are some cakes and a flask of wine for you\nto take to grandmother; she is weak and ill, and they will do her good.\nMake haste and start before it grows hot, and walk properly and nicely,\nand don't run, or you might fall and break the flask of wine, and there\nwould be none left for grandmother. And when you go into her room, don't\nforget to say, Good morning, instead of staring about you.\"\n\n\"I will be sure to take care,\" said Little Red-cap to her mother, and\ngave her hand upon it. Now the grandmother lived away in the wood,\nhalf-an-hour's walk from the village; and when Little Red-cap had\nreached the wood, she met the wolf; but as she did not know what a bad\nsort of animal he was, she did not feel frightened.\n\n\"Good day, Little Red-cap,\" said he.\n\n\"Thank you kindly, Wolf,\" answered she.\n\n\"Where are you going so early, Little Red-cap?\"\n\n\"To my grandmother's.\"\n\n\"What are you carrying under your apron?\"\n\n\"Cakes and wine; we baked yesterday; and my grandmother is very weak\nand ill, so they will do her good, and strengthen her.\"\n\n\"Where does your grandmother live, Little Red-cap?\"\n\n\"A quarter of an hour's walk from here; her house stands beneath the\nthree oak trees, and you may know it by the hazel bushes,\" said Little\nRed-cap. The wolf thought to himself,\n\n\"That tender young thing would be a delicious morsel, and would taste\nbetter than the old one; I must manage somehow to get both of them.\"\n\nThen he walked by Little Red-cap a little while, and said,\n\n\"Little Red-cap, just look at the pretty flowers that are growing all\nround you, and I don't think you are listening to the song of the birds;\nyou are posting along just as if you were going to school, and it is so\ndelightful out here in the wood.\"\n\nLittle Red-cap glanced round her, and when she saw the sunbeams darting\nhere and there through the trees, and lovely flowers everywhere, she\nthought to herself,\n\n\"If I were to take a fresh nosegay to my grandmother she would be very\npleased, and it is so early in the day that I shall reach her in plenty\nof time;\" and so she ran about in the wood, looking for flowers. And as\nshe picked one she saw a still prettier one a little farther off, and so\nshe went farther and farther into the wood. But the wolf went straight\nto the grandmother's house and knocked at the door.\n\n\"Who is there?\" cried the grandmother.\n\n\"Little Red-cap,\" he answered, \"and I have brought you some cake and\nwine. Please open the door.\"\n\n\"Lift the latch,\" cried the grandmother; \"I am too feeble to get up.\"\n\nSo the wolf lifted the latch, and the door flew open, and he fell on the\ngrandmother and ate her up without saying one word. Then he drew on her\nclothes, put on her cap, lay down in her bed, and drew the curtains.\n\nLittle Red-cap was all this time running about among the flowers, and\nwhen she had gathered as many as she could hold, she remembered her\ngrandmother, and set off to go to her. She was surprised to find the\ndoor standing open, and when she came inside she felt very strange, and\nthought to herself,\n\n\"Oh dear, how uncomfortable I feel, and I was so glad this morning to go\nto my grandmother!\"\n\nAnd when she said, \"Good morning,\" there was no answer. Then she went up\nto the bed and drew back the curtains; there lay the grandmother with\nher cap pulled over her eyes, so that she looked very odd.\n\n\"O grandmother, what large ears you have got!\"\n\n\"The better to hear with.\"\n\n\"O grandmother, what great eyes you have got!\"\n\n\"The better to see with.\"\n\n\"O grandmother, what large hands you have got!\"\n\n\"The better to take hold of you with.\"\n\n\"But, grandmother, what a terrible large mouth you have got!\"\n\n\"The better to devour you!\" And no sooner had the wolf said it than he\nmade one bound from the bed, and swallowed up poor Little Red-cap.\n\nThen the wolf, having satisfied his hunger, lay down again in the bed,\nwent to sleep, and began to snore loudly. The huntsman heard him as he\nwas passing by the house, and thought,\n\n\"How the old woman snores--I had better see if there is anything the\nmatter with her.\"\n\nThen he went into the room, and walked up to the bed, and saw the wolf\nlying there.\n\n\"At last I find you, you old sinner!\" said he; \"I have been looking for\nyou a long time.\" And he made up his mind that the wolf had swallowed\nthe grandmother whole, and that she might yet be saved. So he did not\nfire, but took a pair of shears and began to slit up the wolf's body.\nWhen he made a few snips Little Red-cap appeared, and after a few more\nsnips she jumped out and cried, \"Oh dear, how frightened I have been! it\nis so dark inside the wolf.\" And then out came the old grandmother,\nstill living and breathing. But Little Red-cap went and quickly fetched\nsome large stones, with which she filled the wolf's body, so that when\nhe waked up, and was going to rush away, the stones were so heavy that\nhe sank down and fell dead.\n\nThey were all three very pleased. The huntsman took off the wolf's skin,\nand carried it home. The grandmother ate the cakes, and drank the wine,\nand held up her head again, and Little Red-cap said to herself that she\nwould never more stray about in the wood alone, but would mind what her\nmother told her.\n\nIt must also be related how a few days afterwards, when Little Red-cap\nwas again taking cakes to her grandmother, another wolf spoke to her,\nand wanted to tempt her to leave the path; but she was on her guard, and\nwent straight on her way, and told her grandmother how that the wolf had\nmet her, and wished her good-day, but had looked so wicked about the\neyes that she thought if it had not been on the high road he would have\ndevoured her.\n\n\"Come,\" said the grandmother, \"we will shut the door, so that he may not\nget in.\"\n\nSoon after came the wolf knocking at the door, and calling out, \"Open\nthe door, grandmother, I am Little Red-cap, bringing you cakes.\" But\nthey remained still, and did not open the door. After that the wolf\nslunk by the house, and got at last upon thereof to wait until Little\nRed-cap should return home in the evening; then he meant to spring down\nupon her, and devour her in the darkness. But the grandmother discovered\nhis plot. Now there stood before the house a great stone trough, and the\ngrandmother said to the child, \"Little Red-cap, I was boiling sausages\nyesterday, so take the bucket, and carry away the water they were boiled\nin, and pour it into the trough.\"\n\nAnd Little Red-cap did so until the great trough was quite full. When\nthe smell of the sausages reached the nose of the wolf he snuffed it up,\nand looked round, and stretched out his neck so far that he lost his\nbalance and began to slip, and he slipped down off the roof straight\ninto the great trough, and was drowned. Then Little Red-cap went\ncheerfully home, and came to no harm.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BREMEN TOWN MUSICIANS\n\n\nTHERE was once an ass whose master had made him carry sacks to the mill\nfor many a long year, but whose strength began at last to fail, so that\neach day as it came found him less capable of work. Then his master\nbegan to think of turning him out, but the ass, guessing that something\nwas in the wind that boded him no good, ran away, taking the road to\nBremen; for there he thought he might get an engagement as town\nmusician. When he had gone a little way he found a hound lying by the\nside of the road panting, as if he had run a long way.\n\n\"Now, Holdfast, what are you so out of breath about?\" said the ass.\n\n\"Oh dear!\" said the dog, \"now I am old, I get weaker every day, and can\ndo no good in the hunt, so, as my master was going to have me killed, I\nhave made my escape; but now, how am I to gain a living?\"\n\n\"I will tell you what,\" said the ass, \"I am going to Bremen to become\ntown musician. You may as well go with me, and take up music too. I can\nplay the lute, and you can beat the drum.\"\n\nAnd the dog consented, and they walked on together. It was not long\nbefore they came to a cat sitting in the road, looking as dismal as\nthree wet days.\n\n\"Now then, what is the matter with you, old shaver?\" said the ass.\n\n\"I should like to know who would be cheerful when his neck is in\ndanger?\" answered the cat. \"Now that I am old my teeth are getting\nblunt, and I would rather sit by the oven and purr than run about after\nmice, and my mistress wanted to drown me; so I took myself off; but good\nadvice is scarce, and I do not know what is to become of me.\"\n\n\"Go with us to Bremen,\" said the ass, \"and become town musician. You\nunderstand serenading.\"\n\nThe cat thought well of the idea, and went with them accordingly. After\nthat the three travellers passed by a yard, and a cock was perched on\nthe gate crowing with all his might.\n\n\"Your cries are enough to pierce bone and marrow,\" said the ass; \"what\nis the matter?\"\n\n\"I have foretold good weather for Lady-day, so that all the shirts may\nbe washed and dried; and now on Sunday morning company is coming, and\nthe mistress has told the cook that I must be made into soup, and this\nevening my neck is to be wrung, so that I am crowing with all my might\nwhile I can.\"\n\n\"You had much better go with us, Chanticleer,\" said the ass. \"We are\ngoing to Bremen. At any rate that will be better than dying. You have a\npowerful voice, and when we are all performing together it will have a\nvery good effect.\"\n\nSo the cock consented, and they went on all four together.\n\nBut Bremen was too far off to be reached in one day, and towards evening\nthey came to a wood, where they determined to pass the night. The ass\nand the dog lay down under a large tree; the cat got up among the\nbranches, and the cock flew up to the top, as that was the safest place\nfor him. Before he went to sleep he looked all round him to the four\npoints of the compass, and perceived in the distance a little light\nshining, and he called out to his companions that there must be a house\nnot far off, as he could see a light, so the ass said,\n\n\"We had better get up and go there, for these are uncomfortable\nquarters.\" The dog began to fancy a few bones, not quite bare, would do\nhim good. And they all set off in the direction of the light, and it\ngrew larger and brighter, until at last it led them to a robber's house,\nall lighted up. The ass, being the biggest, went up to the window, and\nlooked in.\n\n\"Well, what do you see?\" asked the dog.\n\n\"What do I see?\" answered the ass; \"here is a table set out with\nsplendid eatables and drinkables, and robbers sitting at it and making\nthemselves very comfortable.\"\n\n\"That would just suit us,\" said the cock.\n\n\"Yes, indeed, I wish we were there,\" said the ass. Then they consulted\ntogether how it should be managed so as to get the robbers out of the\nhouse, and at last they hit on a plan. The ass was to place his forefeet\non the window-sill, the dog was to get on the ass's back, the cat on the\ntop of the dog, and lastly the cock was to fly up and perch on the cat's\nhead. When that was done, at a given signal they all began to perform\ntheir music. The ass brayed, the dog barked, the cat mewed, and the cock\ncrowed; then they burst through into the room, breaking all the panes of\nglass. The robbers fled at the dreadful sound; they thought it was some\ngoblin, and fled to the wood in the utmost terror. Then the four\ncompanions sat down to table, made free with the remains of the meal,\nand feasted as if they had been hungry for a month. And when they had\nfinished they put out the lights, and each sought out a sleeping-place\nto suit his nature and habits. The ass laid himself down outside on the\ndunghill, the dog behind the door, the cat on the hearth by the warm\nashes, and the cock settled himself in the cockloft, and as they were\nall tired with their long journey they soon fell fast asleep.\n\nWhen midnight drew near, and the robbers from afar saw that no light was\nburning, and that everything appeared quiet, their captain said to them\nthat he thought that they had run away without reason, telling one of\nthem to go and reconnoitre. So one of them went, and found everything\nquite quiet; he went into the kitchen to strike a light, and taking the\nglowing fiery eyes of the cat for burning coals, he held a match to them\nin order to kindle it. But the cat, not seeing the joke, flew into his\nface, spitting and scratching. Then he cried out in terror, and ran to\nget out at the back door, but the dog, who was lying there, ran at him\nand bit his leg; and as he was rushing through the yard by the dunghill\nthe ass struck out and gave him a great kick with his hindfoot; and the\ncock, who had been wakened with the noise, and felt quite brisk, cried\nout, \"Cock-a-doodle-doo!\"\n\nThen the robber got back as well as he could to his captain, and said,\n\"Oh dear! in that house there is a grewsome witch, and I felt her breath\nand her long nails in my face; and by the door there stands a man who\nstabbed me in the leg with a knife; and in the yard there lies a black\nspectre, who beat me with his wooden club; and above, upon the roof,\nthere sits the justice, who cried, 'Bring that rogue here!' And so I ran\naway from the place as fast as I could.\"\n\nFrom that time forward the robbers never ventured to that house, and the\nfour Bremen town musicians found themselves so well off where they were,\nthat there they stayed. And the person who last related this tale is\nstill living, as you see.\n\n\n\n\nPRUDENT HANS\n\n\nONE day, Hans's mother said,\n\n\"Where are you going, Hans?\"\n\nHans answered,\n\n\"To Grethel's, mother.\"\n\n\"Manage well, Hans.\"\n\n\"All right! Good-bye, mother.\"\n\n\"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nThen Hans came to Grethel's.\n\n\"Good morning, Grethel.\"\n\n\"Good morning, Hans. What have you brought me to-day?\"\n\n\"I have brought nothing, but I want something.\"\n\nSo Grethel gave Hans a needle; and then he said,\n\n\"Good-bye, Grethel,\" and she said, \"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nHans carried the needle away with him, and stuck it in a hay-cart that\nwas going along, and he followed it home.\n\n\"Good evening, mother.\"\n\n\"Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's, mother.\"\n\n\"What did you take her?\"\n\n\"I took nothing, but I brought away something.\"\n\n\"What did Grethel give you?\"\n\n\"A needle, mother.\"\n\n\"What did you do with it, Hans?\"\n\n\"Stuck it in the hay-cart.\"\n\n\"That was very stupid of you, Hans. You should have stuck it in your\nsleeve.\"\n\n\"All right, mother! I'll do better next time.\"\n\nWhen next time came, Hans's mother said,\n\n\"Where are you going, Hans?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's, mother.\"\n\n\"Manage well, Hans.\"\n\n\"All right! Good-bye, mother.\"\n\n\"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nThen Hans came to Grethel.\n\n\"Good morning, Grethel.\"\n\n\"Good morning, Hans. What have you brought me to-day?\"\n\n\"I've brought nothing, but I want something.\"\n\nSo Grethel gave Hans a knife, and then he said, \"Good-bye, Grethel,\" and\nshe said, \"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nHans took the knife away with him, and stuck it in his sleeve, and went\nhome.\n\n\"Good evening, mother.\"\n\n\"Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's.\"\n\n\"What did you take her?\"\n\n\"I took nothing, but I brought away something.\"\n\n\"What did Grethel give you, Hans?\"\n\n\"A knife, mother.\"\n\n\"What did you do with it, Hans?\"\n\n\"Stuck it in my sleeve, mother.\"\n\n\"That was very stupid of you, Hans. You should have put it in your\npocket.\"\n\n\"All right, mother! I'll do better next time.\"\n\nWhen next time came, Hans's mother said,\n\n\"Where to, Hans?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's, mother.\"\n\n\"Manage well, Hans.\"\n\n\"All right! Good-bye, mother.\"\n\n\"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nSo Hans came to Grethel's. \"Good morning, Grethel.\"\n\n\"Good morning, Hans. What have you brought me to-day?\"\n\n\"I've brought nothing, but I want to take away something.\"\n\nSo Grethel gave Hans a young goat; then he said,\n\n\"Good-bye, Grethel,\" and she said, \"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nSo Hans carried off the goat, and tied its legs together, and put it in\nhis pocket, and by the time he got home it was suffocated.\n\n\"Good evening, mother.\"\n\n\"Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's, mother.\"\n\n\"What did you take her, Hans?\"\n\n\"I took nothing, but I brought away something.\"\n\n\"What did Grethel give you, Hans?\"\n\n\"A goat, mother.\"\n\n\"What did you do with it, Hans?\"\n\n\"Put it in my pocket, mother.\"\n\n\"That was very stupid of you, Hans. You should have tied a cord round\nits neck, and led it home.\"\n\n\"All right, mother! I'll do better next time.\"\n\nThen when next time came,\n\n\"Where to, Hans?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's, mother.\"\n\n\"Manage well, Hans.\"\n\n\"All right! Good-bye, mother.\"\n\n\"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nThen Hans came to Grethel's.\n\n\"Good morning, Grethel.\"\n\n\"Good morning, Hans. What have you brought me to-day?\"\n\n\"I've brought nothing, but I want to take away something.\"\n\nSo Grethel gave Hans a piece of bacon. Then he said, \"Good-bye,\nGrethel.\"\n\nShe said, \"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nHans took the bacon, and tied a string round it, and dragged it after\nhim on his way home, and the dogs came and ate it up, so that when he\ngot home he had the string in his hand, and nothing at the other end of\nit.\n\n\"Good evening, mother.\"\n\n\"Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's, mother.\"\n\n\"What did you take her, Hans?\"\n\n\"I took her nothing, but I brought away something.\"\n\n\"What did Grethel give you, Hans?\"\n\n\"A piece of bacon, mother.\"\n\n\"What did you do with it, Hans?\"\n\n\"I tied a piece of string to it, and led it home, but the dogs ate it,\nmother.\"\n\n\"That was very stupid of you, Hans. You ought to have carried it on your\nhead.\"\n\n\"All right! I'll do better next time, mother.\"\n\nWhen next time came,\n\n\"Where to, Hans?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's, mother.\"\n\n\"Manage well, Hans.\"\n\n\"All right! Good-bye, mother.\"\n\n\"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nThen Hans came to Grethel's.\n\n\"Good morning, Grethel.\"\n\n\"Good morning, Hans. What have you brought me?\"\n\n\"I have brought nothing, but I want to take away something.\"\n\nSo Grethel gave Hans a calf.\n\n\"Good-bye, Grethel.\"\n\n\"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nHans took the calf, and set it on his head, and carried it home, and the\ncalf scratched his face.\n\n\"Good evening, mother.\"\n\n\"Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's, mother.\"\n\n\"What did you take her?\"\n\n\"I took nothing, but I brought away something.\"\n\n\"What did Grethel give you, Hans?\"\n\n\"A calf, mother.\"\n\n\"What did you do with the calf, Hans?\"\n\n\"I carried it home on my head, but it scratched my face.\"\n\n\"That was very stupid of you, Hans. You ought to have led home the calf,\nand tied it to the manger.\"\n\n\"All right! I'll do better next time, mother.\"\n\nWhen next time came,\n\n\"Where to, Hans?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's, mother.\"\n\n\"Manage well, Hans.\"\n\n\"All right, mother! Good-bye.\"\n\n\"Good-bye, Hans.\"\n\nThen Hans came to Grethel's.\n\n\"Good morning, Grethel.\"\n\n\"Good morning, Hans. What have you brought me to-day?\"\n\n\"I have brought nothing, but I want to take away something.\"\n\nThen Grethel said to Hans,\n\n\"You shall take away me.\"\n\nThen Hans took Grethel, and tied a rope round her neck, and led her\nhome, and fastened her up to the manger, and went to his mother.\n\n\"Good evening, mother.\"\n\n\"Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?\"\n\n\"To Grethel's, mother.\"\n\n\"What did you take her, Hans?\"\n\n\"Nothing, mother.\"\n\n\"What did Grethel give you, Hans?\"\n\n\"Nothing but herself, mother.\"\n\n\"Where have you left Grethel, Hans?\"\n\n\"I led her home with a rope, and tied her up to the manger to eat hay,\nmother.\"\n\n\"That was very stupid of you, Hans. You should have cast sheep's eyes at\nher.\"\n\n\"All right, mother! I'll do better next time.\"\n\nThen Hans went into the stable, and taking all the eyes out of the\nsheep, he threw them in Grethel's face. Then Grethel was angry, and\ngetting loose, she ran away and became the bride of another.\n\n\n\n\nCLEVER ELSE\n\n\nTHERE was once a man who had a daughter who was called \"Clever Else,\"\nand when she was grown up, her father said she must be married, and her\nmother said,\n\n\"Yes, if we could only find some one that she would consent to have.\"\n\nAt last one came from a distance, and his name was Hans, and when he\nproposed to her, he made it a condition that Clever Else should be very\ncareful as well.\n\n\"Oh,\" said the father, \"she does not want for brains.\"\n\n\"No, indeed,\" said the mother, \"she can see the wind coming up the\nstreet and hear the flies cough.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Hans, \"if she does not turn out to be careful too, I will\nnot have her.\"\n\nNow when they were all seated at table, and had well eaten, the mother\nsaid,\n\n\"Else, go into the cellar and draw some beer.\"\n\nThen Clever Else took down the jug from the hook in the wall, and as she\nwas on her way to the cellar she rattled the lid up and down so as to\npass away the time. When she got there, she took a stool and stood it in\nfront of the cask, so that she need not stoop and make her back ache\nwith needless trouble. Then she put the jug under the tap and turned it,\nand while the beer was running, in order that her eyes should not be\nidle, she glanced hither and thither, and finally caught sight of a\npickaxe that the workmen had left sticking in the ceiling just above\nher head. Then Clever Else began to cry, for she thought,\n\n\"If I marry Hans, and we have a child, and it grows big, and we send it\ninto the cellar to draw beer, that pickaxe might fall on his head and\nkill him.\"\n\nSo there she sat and cried with all her might, lamenting the anticipated\nmisfortune. All the while they were waiting upstairs for something to\ndrink, and they waited in vain. At last the mistress said to the maid,\n\n\"Go down to the cellar and see why Else does not come.\"\n\nSo the maid went, and found her sitting in front of the cask crying with\nall her might.\n\n\"What are you crying for?\" said the maid.\n\n\"Oh dear me,\" answered she, \"how can I help crying? if I marry Hans, and\nwe have a child, and it grows big, and we send it here to draw beer,\nperhaps the pickaxe may fall on its head and kill it.\"\n\n\"Our Else is clever indeed!\" said the maid, and directly sat down to\nbewail the anticipated misfortune. After a while, when the people\nupstairs found that the maid did not return, and they were becoming more\nand more thirsty, the master said to the boy,\n\n\"You go down into the cellar, and see what Else and the maid are doing.\"\n\nThe boy did so, and there he found both Clever Else and the maid sitting\ncrying together. Then he asked what was the matter.\n\n\"Oh dear me,\" said Else, \"how can we help crying? if I marry Hans, and\nwe have a child, and it grows big, and we send it here to draw beer, the\npickaxe might fall on its head and kill it.\"\n\n\"Our Else is clever indeed!\" said the boy, and sitting down beside her,\nhe began howling with a good will. Upstairs they were all waiting for\nhim to come back, but as he did not come, the master said to the\nmistress,\n\n\"You go down to the cellar and see what Else is doing.\"\n\nSo the mistress went down and found all three in great lamentations, and\nwhen she asked the cause, then Else told her how the future possible\nchild might be killed as soon as it was big enough to be sent to draw\nbeer, by the pickaxe falling on it. Then the mother at once exclaimed,\n\n\"Our Else is clever indeed!\" and, sitting down, she wept with the rest.\n\nUpstairs the husband waited a little while, but as his wife did not\nreturn, and as his thirst constantly increased, he said,\n\n\"I must go down to the cellar myself, and see what has become of Else.\"\nAnd when he came into the cellar, and found them all sitting and weeping\ntogether, he was told that it was all owing to the child that Else might\npossibly have, and the possibility of its being killed by the pickaxe so\nhappening to fall just at the time the child might be sitting underneath\nit drawing beer; and when he heard all this, he cried,\n\n\"How clever is our Else!\" and sitting down, he joined his tears to\ntheirs.\n\nThe intended bridegroom stayed upstairs by himself a long time, but as\nnobody came back to him, he thought he would go himself and see what\nthey were all about. And there he found all five lamenting and crying\nmost pitifully, each one louder than the other.\n\n\"What misfortune has happened?\" cried he.\n\n\"O my dear Hans,\" said Else, \"if we marry and have a child, and it grows\nbig, and we send it down here to draw beer, perhaps that pickaxe which\nhas been left sticking up there might fall down on the child's head and\nkill it; and how can we help crying at that!\"\n\n\"Now,\" said Hans, \"I cannot think that greater sense than that could be\nwanted in my household; so as you are so clever, Else, I will have you\nfor my wife,\" and taking her by the hand he led her upstairs, and they\nhad the wedding at once.\n\nA little while after they were married, Hans said to his wife,\n\n\"I am going out to work, in order to get money; you go into the field\nand cut the corn, so that we may have bread.\"\n\n\"Very well, I will do so, dear Hans,\" said she. And after Hans was gone\nshe cooked herself some nice stew, and took it with her into the field.\nAnd when she got there, she said to herself,\n\n\"Now, what shall I do? shall I reap first, or eat first? All right, I\nwill eat first.\" Then she ate her fill of stew, and when she could eat\nno more, she said to herself,\n\n\"Now, what shall I do? shall I reap first, or sleep first? All right, I\nwill sleep first.\" Then she lay down in the corn and went to sleep. And\nHans got home, and waited there a long while, and Else did not come, so\nhe said to himself,\n\n\"My clever Else is so industrious that she never thinks of coming home\nand eating.\"\n\nBut when evening drew near and still she did not come, Hans set out to\nsee how much corn she had cut; but she had cut no corn at all, but there\nshe was lying in it asleep. Then Hans made haste home, and fetched a\nbird-net with little bells and threw it over her; and still she went on\nsleeping. And he ran home again and locked himself in, and sat him down\non his bench to work. At last, when it was beginning to grow dark,\nClever Else woke, and when she got up and shook herself, the bells\njingled at each movement that she made. Then she grew frightened, and\nbegan to doubt whether she were really Clever Else or not, and said to\nherself,\n\n\"Am I, or am I not?\" And, not knowing what answer to make, she stood for\na long while considering; at last she thought,\n\n\"I will go home to Hans and ask him if I am I or not; he is sure to\nknow.\"\n\nSo she ran up to the door of her house, but it was locked; then she\nknocked at the window, and cried,\n\n\"Hans, is Else within?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Hans, \"she is in.\"\n\nThen she was in a greater fright than ever, and crying,\n\n\"Oh dear, then I am not I,\" she went to inquire at another door, but the\npeople hearing the jingling of the bells would not open to her, and she\ncould get in nowhere. So she ran away beyond the village, and since then\nno one has seen her.\n\n\n\n\nThe TABLE, the ASS, and the STICK.\n\n\nTHERE was once a tailor who had three sons and one goat. And the goat,\nas she nourished them all with her milk, was obliged to have good food,\nand so she was led every day down to the willows by the water-side; and\nthis business the sons did in turn. One day the eldest took the goat to\nthe churchyard, where the best sprouts are, that she might eat her fill,\nand gambol about.\n\nIn the evening, when it was time to go home, he said,\n\n\"Well, goat, have you had enough?\"\n\nThe goat answered,\n\n \"I am so full,\n I cannot pull\n Another blade of grass--ba! baa!\"\n\n\"Then come home,\" said the youth, and fastened a string to her, led her\nto her stall, and fastened her up.\n\n\"Now,\" said the old tailor, \"has the goat had her proper food?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" answered the son, \"she is so full, she no more can pull.\"\n\nBut the father, wishing to see for himself, went out to the stall,\nstroked his dear goat, and said,\n\n\"My dear goat, are you full?\" And the goat answered,\n\n \"How can I be full?\n There was nothing to pull,\n Though I looked all about me--ba! baa!\"\n\n\"What is this that I hear?\" cried the tailor, and he ran and called out\nto the youth,\n\n\"O you liar, to say that the goat was full, and she has been hungry all\nthe time!\" And in his wrath he took up his yard-measure and drove his\nson out of the house with many blows.\n\nThe next day came the turn of the second son, and he found a fine place\nin the garden hedge, where there were good green sprouts, and the goat\nate them all up. In the evening, when he came to lead her home, he said,\n\n\"Well, goat, have you had enough?\" And the goat answered,\n\n \"I am so full,\n I could not pull\n Another blade of grass--ba! baa!\"\n\n\"Then come home,\" said the youth, and led her home, and tied her up.\n\n\"Now,\" said the old tailor, \"has the goat had her proper food?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" answered the son, \"she is so full, she no more can pull.\"\n\nThe tailor, not feeling satisfied, went out to the stall, and said,\n\n\"My dear goat, are you really full?\" And the goat answered,\n\n \"How can I be full?\n There was nothing to pull,\n Though I looked all about me--ba! baa!\"\n\n\"The good-for-nothing rascal,\" cried the tailor, \"to let the dear\ncreature go fasting!\" and, running back, he chased the youth with his\nyard-wand out of the house.\n\nThen came the turn of the third son, who, meaning to make all sure,\nfound some shrubs with the finest sprouts possible, and left the goat to\ndevour them. In the evening, when he came to lead her home, he said,\n\n\"Well, goat, are you full?\" And the goat answered,\n\n \"I am so full,\n I could not pull\n Another blade of grass--ba! baa!\"\n\n\"Then come home,\" said the youth; and he took her to her stall, and\nfastened her up.\n\n\"Now,\" said the old tailor, \"has the goat had her proper food?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" answered the son, \"she is so full, she no more can pull.\"\n\nBut the tailor, not trusting his word, went to the goat and said,\n\n\"My dear goat, are you really full?\" The malicious animal answered,\n\n \"How can I be full?\n There was nothing to pull,\n Though I looked all about me--ba! baa!\"\n\n\"Oh, the wretches!\" cried the tailor. \"The one as good-for-nothing and\ncareless as the other. I will no longer have such fools about me;\" and\nrushing back, in his wrath he laid about him with his yard-wand, and\nbelaboured his son's back so unmercifully that he ran away out of the\nhouse.\n\nSo the old tailor was left alone with the goat. The next day he went out\nto the stall, and let out the goat, saying,\n\n\"Come, my dear creature, I will take you myself to the willows.\"\n\nSo he led her by the string, and brought her to the green hedges and\npastures where there was plenty of food to her taste, and saying to her,\n\n\"Now, for once, you can eat to your heart's content,\" he left her there\ntill the evening. Then he returned, and said,\n\n\"Well, goat, are you full?\"\n\nShe answered,\n\n \"I am so full,\n I could not pull,\n Another blade of grass--ba! baa!\"\n\n\"Then come home,\" said the tailor, and leading her to her stall, he\nfastened her up.\n\nBefore he left her he turned once more, saying,\n\n\"Now then, for once you are full.\" But the goat actually cried,\n\n \"How can I be full?\n There was nothing to pull,\n Though I looked all about me--ba! baa!\"\n\nWhen the tailor heard that he marvelled, and saw at once that his three\nsons had been sent away without reason.\n\n\"Wait a minute,\" cried he, \"you ungrateful creature! It is not enough\nmerely to drive you away--I will teach you to show your face again among\nhonourable tailors.\"\n\nSo in haste he went and fetched his razor, and seizing the goat he\nshaved her head as smooth as the palm of his hand. And as the\nyard-measure was too honourable a weapon, he took the whip and fetched\nher such a crack that with many a jump and spring she ran away.\n\nThe tailor felt very sad as he sat alone in his house, and would\nwillingly have had his sons back again, but no one knew where they had\ngone.\n\nThe eldest son, when he was driven from home, apprenticed himself to a\njoiner, and he applied himself diligently to his trade, and when the\ntime came for him to travel his master gave him a little table, nothing\nmuch to look at, and made of common wood; but it had one great quality.\nWhen any one set it down and said, \"Table, be covered!\" all at once the\ngood little table had a clean cloth on it, and a plate, and knife, and\nfork, and dishes with roast and boiled, and a large glass of red wine\nsparkling so as to cheer the heart. The young apprentice thought he was\nset up for life, and he went merrily out into the world, and never cared\nwhether an inn were good or bad, or whether he could get anything to eat\nthere or not. When he was hungry, it did not matter where he was,\nwhether in the fields, in the woods, or in a meadow, he set down his\ntable and said, \"Be covered!\" and there he was provided with everything\nthat heart could wish. At last it occurred to him that he would go back\nto his father, whose wrath might by this time have subsided, and perhaps\nbecause of the wonderful table he might receive him again gladly. It\nhappened that one evening during his journey home he came to an inn that\nwas quite full of guests, who bade him welcome, and asked him to sit\ndown with them and eat, as otherwise he would have found some difficulty\nin getting anything.\n\n\"No,\" answered the young joiner, \"I could not think of depriving you;\nyou had much better be my guests.\"\n\nThen they laughed, and thought he must be joking. But he brought his\nlittle wooden table, and put it in the middle of the room, and said,\n\"Table, be covered!\" Immediately it was set out with food much better\nthan the landlord had been able to provide, and the good smell of it\ngreeted the noses of the guests very agreeably. \"Fall to, good friends,\"\nsaid the joiner; and the guests, when they saw how it was, needed no\nsecond asking, but taking up knife and fork fell to valiantly. And what\nseemed most wonderful was that when a dish was empty immediately a full\none stood in its place. All the while the landlord stood in a corner,\nand watched all that went on. He could not tell what to say about it;\nbut he thought \"such cooking as that would make my inn prosper.\" The\njoiner and his fellowship kept it up very merrily until late at night.\nAt last they went to sleep, and the young joiner, going to bed, left his\nwishing-table standing against the wall. The landlord, however, could\nnot sleep for thinking of the table, and he remembered that there was in\nhis lumber room an old table very like it, so he fetched it, and taking\naway the joiner's table, he left the other in its place. The next\nmorning the joiner paid his reckoning, took up the table, not dreaming\nthat he was carrying off the wrong one, and went on his way. About noon\nhe reached home, and his father received him with great joy.\n\n\"Now, my dear son, what have you learned?\" said he to him.\n\n\"I have learned to be a joiner, father,\" he answered.\n\n\"That is a good trade,\" returned the father; \"but what have you brought\nback with you from your travels?\"\n\n\"The best thing I've got, father, is this little table,\" said he.\n\nThe tailor looked at it on all sides, and said,\n\n\"You have certainly produced no masterpiece. It is a rubbishing old\ntable.\"\n\n\"But it is a very wonderful one,\" answered the son. \"When I set it down,\nand tell it to be covered, at once the finest meats are standing on it,\nand wine so good that it cheers the heart. Let us invite all the friends\nand neighbours, that they may feast and enjoy themselves, for the table\nwill provide enough for all.\"\n\nWhen the company was all assembled, he put his table in the middle of\nthe room, and said, \"Table, be covered!\"\n\nBut the table never stirred, and remained just as empty as any other\ntable that does not understand talking. When the poor joiner saw that\nthe table remained unfurnished, he felt ashamed to stand there like a\nfool. The company laughed at him freely, and were obliged to return\nunfilled and uncheered to their houses. The father gathered his pieces\ntogether and returned to his tailoring, and the son went to work under\nanother master.\n\nThe second son had bound himself apprentice to a miller. And when his\ntime was up, his master said to him,\n\n\"As you have behaved yourself so well, I will give you an ass of a\nremarkable kind: he will draw no cart, and carry no sack.\"\n\n\"What is the good of him then?\" asked the young apprentice.\n\n\"He spits out gold,\" answered the miller. \"If you put a cloth before him\nand say, 'Bricklebrit,' out come gold pieces.\"\n\n\"That is a capital thing,\" said the apprentice, and, thanking his\nmaster, he went out into the world. Whenever he wanted gold he had only\nto say \"Bricklebrit\" to his ass, and there was a shower of gold pieces,\nand so he had no cares as he travelled about. Wherever he came he lived\non the best, and the dearer the better, as his purse was always full.\nAnd when he had been looking about him about the world a long time, he\nthought he would go and find out his father, who would perhaps forget\nhis anger and receive him kindly because of his gold ass. And it\nhappened that he came to lodge in the same inn where his brother's table\nhad been exchanged. He was leading his ass in his hand, and the landlord\nwas for taking the ass from him to tie it up, but the young apprentice\nsaid,\n\n\"Don't trouble yourself, old fellow, I will take him into the stable\nmyself and tie him up, and then I shall know where to find him.\"\n\nThe landlord thought this was very strange, and he never supposed that a\nman who was accustomed to look after his ass himself could have much to\nspend; but when the stranger, feeling in his pocket, took out two gold\npieces and told him to get him something good for supper; the landlord\nstared, and ran and fetched the best that could be got. After supper the\nguest called the reckoning, and the landlord, wanting to get all the\nprofit he could, said that it would amount to two gold pieces more. The\napprentice felt in his pocket, but his gold had come to an end.\n\n\"Wait a moment, landlord,\" said he, \"I will go and fetch some money,\"\nand he went out of the room, carrying the table-cloth with him. The\nlandlord could not tell what to make of it, and, curious to know his\nproceedings, slipped after him, and as the guest shut the stable-door,\nhe peeped in through a knot-hole. Then he saw how the stranger spread\nthe cloth before the ass, saying, \"Bricklebrit,\" and directly the ass\nspat out gold, which rained upon the ground.\n\n\"Dear me,\" said the landlord, \"that is an easy way of getting ducats; a\npurse of money like that is no bad thing.\"\n\nAfter that the guest paid his reckoning and went to bed; but the\nlandlord slipped down to the stable in the middle of the night, led the\ngold-ass away, and tied up another ass in his place. The next morning\nearly the apprentice set forth with his ass, never doubting that it was\nthe right one. By noon he came to his father's house, who was rejoiced\nto see him again, and received him gladly.\n\n\"What trade have you taken up, my son?\" asked the father.\n\n\"I am a miller, dear father,\" answered he.\n\n\"What have you brought home from your travels?\" continued the father.\n\n\"Nothing but an ass,\" answered the son.\n\n\"We have plenty of asses here,\" said the father. \"You had much better\nhave brought me a nice goat!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered the son, \"but this is no common ass. When I say,\n'Bricklebrit,' the good creature spits out a whole clothful of gold\npieces. Let me call all the neighbours together. I will make rich people\nof them all.\"\n\n\"That will be fine!\" said the tailor. \"Then I need labour no more at my\nneedle;\" and he rushed out himself and called the neighbours together.\nAs soon as they were all assembled, the miller called out to them to\nmake room, and brought in the ass, and spread his cloth before him.\n\n\"Now, pay attention,\" said he, and cried, \"Bricklebrit!\" but no gold\npieces came, and that showed that the animal was not more scientific\nthan any other ass.\n\nSo the poor miller made a long face when he saw that he had been taken\nin, and begged pardon of the neighbours, who all went home as poor as\nthey had come. And there was nothing for it but that the old man must\ntake to his needle again, and that the young one should take service\nwith a miller.\n\nThe third brother had bound himself apprentice to a turner; and as\nturning is a very ingenious handicraft, it took him a long time to learn\nit. His brother told him in a letter how badly things had gone with\nthem, and how on the last night of their travels the landlord deprived\nthem of their treasures. When the young turner had learnt his trade, and\nwas ready to travel, his master, to reward him for his good conduct,\ngave him a sack, and told him that there was a stick inside it.\n\n\"I can hang up the sack, and it may be very useful to me,\" said the\nyoung man. \"But what is the good of the stick?\"\n\n\"I will tell you,\" answered the master. \"If any one does you any harm,\nand you say, 'Stick, out of the sack!' the stick will jump out upon\nthem, and will belabour them so soundly that they shall not be able to\nmove or to leave the place for a week, and it will not stop until you\nsay, 'Stick, into the sack!'\"\n\nThe apprentice thanked him, and took up the sack and started on his\ntravels, and when any one attacked him he would say, \"Stick, out of the\nsack!\" and directly out jumped the stick, and dealt a shower of blows on\nthe coat or jerkin, and the back beneath, which quickly ended the\naffair. One evening the young turner reached the inn where his two\nbrothers had been taken in. He laid his knapsack on the table, and began\nto describe all the wonderful things he had seen in the world.\n\n\"Yes,\" said he, \"you may talk of your self-spreading table,\ngold-supplying ass, and so forth; very good things, I do not deny, but\nthey are nothing in comparison with the treasure that I have acquired\nand carry with me in that sack!\"\n\nThen the landlord opened his ears.\n\n\"What in the world can it be?\" thought he. \"Very likely the sack is full\nof precious stones; and I have a perfect right to it, for all good\nthings come in threes.\"\n\nWhen bedtime came the guest stretched himself on a bench, and put his\nsack under his head for a pillow, and the landlord, when he thought the\nyoung man was sound asleep, came, and, stooping down, pulled gently at\nthe sack, so as to remove it cautiously, and put another in its place.\nThe turner had only been waiting for this to happen, and just as the\nlandlord was giving a last courageous pull, he cried, \"Stick, out of the\nsack!\" Out flew the stick directly, and laid to heartily on the\nlandlord's back; and in vain he begged for mercy; the louder he cried\nthe harder the stick beat time on his back, until he fell exhausted to\nthe ground. Then the turner said,\n\n\"If you do not give me the table and the ass directly, this game shall\nbegin all over again.\"\n\n\"Oh dear, no!\" cried the landlord, quite collapsed; \"I will gladly give\nit all back again if you will only make this terrible goblin go back\ninto the sack.\"\n\nThen said the young man, \"I will be generous instead of just, but\nbeware!\" Then he cried, \"Stick, into the sack!\" and left him in peace.\n\nThe next morning the turner set out with the table and the ass on his\nway home to his father. The tailor was very glad, indeed, to see him\nagain, and asked him what he had learned abroad.\n\n\"My dear father,\" answered he, \"I am become a turner.\"\n\n\"A very ingenious handicraft,\" said the father. \"And what have you\nbrought with you from your travels?\"\n\n\"A very valuable thing, dear father,\" answered the son. \"A stick in a\nsack!\"\n\n\"What!\" cried the father. \"A stick! The thing is not worth so much\ntrouble when you can cut one from any tree.\"\n\n\"But it is not a common stick, dear father,\" said the young man. \"When I\nsay, 'Stick, out of the bag!' out jumps the stick upon any one who means\nharm to me, and makes him dance again, and does not leave off till he\nis beaten to the earth, and asks pardon. Just look here, with this stick\nI have recovered the table and the ass which the thieving landlord had\ntaken from my two brothers. Now, let them both be sent for, and bid all\nthe neighbours too, and they shall eat and drink to their hearts'\ncontent, and I will fill their pockets with gold.\"\n\nThe old tailor could not quite believe in such a thing, but he called\nhis sons and all the neighbours together. Then the turner brought in the\nass, opened a cloth before him, and said to his brother,\n\n\"Now, my dear brother, speak to him.\" And the miller said,\n\"Bricklebrit!\" and immediately the cloth was covered with gold pieces,\nuntil they had all got more than they could carry away. (I tell you this\nbecause it is a pity you were not there.) Then the turner set down the\ntable, and said,\n\n\"Now, my dear brother, speak to it.\" And the joiner said, \"Table, be\ncovered!\" and directly it was covered, and set forth plentifully with\nthe richest dishes. Then they held a feast such as had never taken place\nin the tailor's house before, and the whole company remained through the\nnight, merry and content.\n\nThe tailor after that locked up in a cupboard his needle and thread, his\nyard-measure and goose, and lived ever after with his three sons in\ngreat joy and splendour.\n\nBut what became of the goat, the unlucky cause of the tailor's sons\nbeing driven out? I will tell you. She felt so ashamed of her bald head\nthat she ran into a fox's hole and hid herself. When the fox came home\nhe caught sight of two great eyes staring at him out of the darkness,\nand was very frightened and ran away. A bear met him, and seeing that he\nlooked very disturbed, asked him,\n\n\"What is the matter, brother fox, that you should look like that?\"\n\n\"Oh dear,\" answered the fox, \"a grisly beast is sitting in my hole, and\nhe stared at me with fiery eyes!\"\n\n\"We will soon drive him out,\" said the bear; and went to the hole and\nlooked in, but when he caught sight of the fiery eyes he likewise felt\ngreat terror seize him, and not wishing to have anything to do with so\ngrisly a beast, he made off. He was soon met by a bee, who remarked\nthat he had not a very courageous air, and said to him,\n\n\"Bear, you have a very depressed countenance, what has become of your\nhigh spirit?\"\n\n\"You may well ask,\" answered the bear. \"In the fox's hole there sits a\ngrisly beast with fiery eyes, and we cannot drive him out.\"\n\nThe bee answered, \"I know you despise me, bear. I am a poor feeble\nlittle creature, but I think I can help you.\"\n\nSo she flew into the fox's hole, and settling on the goat's\nsmooth-shaven head, stung her so severely that she jumped up, crying,\n\"Ba-baa!\" and ran out like mad into the world; and to this hour no one\nknows where she ran to.\n\n\n\n\nTOM THUMB\n\n\nTHERE was once a poor countryman who used to sit in the chimney-corner\nall evening and poke the fire, while his wife sat at her spinning-wheel.\n\nAnd he used to say,\n\n\"How dull it is without any children about us; our house is so quiet,\nand other people's houses so noisy and merry!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered his wife, and sighed, \"if we could only have one, and\nthat one ever so little, no bigger than my thumb, how happy I should be!\nIt would, indeed, be having our heart's desire.\"\n\nNow, it happened that after a while the woman had a child who was\nperfect in all his limbs, but no bigger than a thumb. Then the parents\nsaid,\n\n\"He is just what we wished for, and we will love him very much,\" and\nthey named him according to his stature, \"Tom Thumb.\" And though they\ngave him plenty of nourishment, he grew no bigger, but remained exactly\nthe same size as when he was first born; and he had very good faculties,\nand was very quick and prudent, so that all he did prospered.\n\nOne day his father made ready to go into the forest to cut wood, and he\nsaid, as if to himself,\n\n\"Now, I wish there was some one to bring the cart to meet me.\"\n\n\"O father,\" cried Tom Thumb, \"I can bring the cart, let me alone for\nthat, and in proper time, too!\"\n\nThen the father laughed, and said,\n\n\"How will you manage that? You are much too little to hold the reins.\"\n\n\"That has nothing to do with it, father; while my mother goes on with\nher spinning I will sit in the horse's ear and tell him where to go.\"\n\n\"Well,\" answered the father, \"we will try it for once.\"\n\nWhen it was time to set off, the mother went on spinning, after setting\nTom Thumb in the horse's ear; and so he drove off, crying,\n\n\"Gee-up, gee-wo!\"\n\nSo the horse went on quite as if his master were driving him, and drew\nthe waggon along the right road to the wood.\n\nNow it happened just as they turned a corner, and the little fellow was\ncalling out \"Gee-up!\" that two strange men passed by.\n\n\"Look,\" said one of them, \"how is this? There goes a waggon, and the\ndriver is calling to the horse, and yet he is nowhere to be seen.\"\n\n\"It is very strange,\" said the other; \"we will follow the waggon, and\nsee where it belongs.\"\n\nAnd the waggon went right through the wood, up to the place where the\nwood had been hewed. When Tom Thumb caught sight of his father, he cried\nout,\n\n\"Look, father, here am I with the waggon; now, take me down.\"\n\nThe father held the horse with his left hand, and with the right he\nlifted down his little son out of the horse's ear, and Tom Thumb sat\ndown on a stump, quite happy and content. When the two strangers saw him\nthey were struck dumb with wonder. At last one of them, taking the other\naside, said to him, \"Look here, the little chap would make our fortune\nif we were to show him in the town for money. Suppose we buy him.\"\n\nSo they went up to the woodcutter, and said,\n\n\"Sell the little man to us; we will take care he shall come to no harm.\"\n\n\"No,\" answered the father; \"he is the apple of my eye, and not for all\nthe money in the world would I sell him.\"\n\nBut Tom Thumb, when he heard what was going on, climbed up by his\nfather's coat tails, and, perching himself on his shoulder, he whispered\nin his ear,\n\n\"Father, you might as well let me go. I will soon come back again.\"\n\nThen the father gave him up to the two men for a large piece of money.\nThey asked him where he would like to sit,\n\n\"Oh, put me on the brim of your hat,\" said he. \"There I can walk about\nand view the country, and be in no danger of falling off.\"\n\nSo they did as he wished, and when Tom Thumb had taken leave of his\nfather, they set off all together. And they travelled on until it grew\ndusk, and the little fellow asked to be set down a little while for a\nchange, and after some difficulty they consented. So the man took him\ndown from his hat, and set him in a field by the roadside, and he ran\naway directly, and, after creeping about among the furrows, he slipped\nsuddenly into a mouse-hole, just what he was looking for.\n\n\"Good evening, my masters, you can go home without me!\" cried he to\nthem, laughing. They ran up and felt about with their sticks in the\nmouse-hole, but in vain. Tom Thumb crept farther and farther in, and as\nit was growing dark, they had to make the best of their way home, full\nof vexation, and with empty purses.\n\nWhen Tom Thumb found they were gone, he crept out of his hiding-place\nunderground.\n\n\"It is dangerous work groping about these holes in the darkness,\" said\nhe; \"I might easily break my neck.\"\n\nBut by good fortune he came upon an empty snail shell.\n\n\"That's all right,\" said he. \"Now I can get safely through the night;\"\nand he settled himself down in it. Before he had time to get to sleep,\nhe heard two men pass by, and one was saying to the other,\n\n\"How can we manage to get hold of the rich parson's gold and silver?\"\n\n\"I can tell you how,\" cried Tom Thumb.\n\n\"How is this?\" said one of the thieves, quite frightened, \"I hear some\none speak!\"\n\nSo they stood still and listened, and Tom Thumb spoke again.\n\n\"Take me with you; I will show you how to do it!\"\n\n\"Where are you, then?\" asked they.\n\n\"Look about on the ground and notice where the voice comes from,\"\nanswered he.\n\nAt last they found him, and lifted him up.\n\n\"You little elf,\" said they, \"how can you help us?\"\n\n\"Look here,\" answered he, \"I can easily creep between the iron bars of\nthe parson's room and hand out to you whatever you would like to have.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said they, \"we will try what you can do.\"\n\nSo when they came to the parsonage-house, Tom Thumb crept into the room,\nbut cried out with all his might,\n\n\"Will you have all that is here?\" So the thieves were terrified, and\nsaid,\n\n\"Do speak more softly, lest any one should be awaked.\"\n\nBut Tom Thumb made as if he did not hear them, and cried out again,\n\n\"What would you like? will you have all that is here?\" so that the cook,\nwho was sleeping in a room hard by, heard it, and raised herself in bed\nand listened. The thieves, however, in their fear of being discovered,\nhad run back part of the way, but they took courage again, thinking that\nit was only a jest of the little fellow's. So they came back and\nwhispered to him to be serious, and to hand them out something.\n\nThen Tom Thumb called out once more as loud as he could,\n\n\"Oh yes, I will give it all to you, only put out your hands.\"\n\nThen the listening maid heard him distinctly that time, and jumped out\nof bed, and burst open the door. The thieves ran off as if the wild\nhuntsman were behind them; but the maid, as she could see nothing, went\nto fetch a light. And when she came back with one, Tom Thumb had taken\nhimself off, without being seen by her, into the barn; and the maid,\nwhen she had looked in every hole and corner and found nothing, went\nback to bed at last, and thought that she must have been dreaming with\nher eyes and ears open.\n\nSo Tom Thumb crept among the hay, and found a comfortable nook to sleep\nin, where he intended to remain until it was day, and then to go home to\nhis father and mother. But other things were to befall him; indeed,\nthere is nothing but trouble and worry in this world! The maid got up\nat dawn of day to feed the cows. The first place she went to was the\nbarn, where she took up an armful of hay, and it happened to be the very\nheap in which Tom Thumb lay asleep. And he was so fast asleep, that he\nwas aware of nothing, and never waked until he was in the mouth of the\ncow, who had taken him up with the hay.\n\n\"Oh dear,\" cried he, \"how is it that I have got into a mill!\" but he\nsoon found out where he was, and he had to be very careful not to get\nbetween the cow's teeth, and at last he had to descend into the cow's\nstomach.\n\n\"The windows were forgotten when this little room was built,\" said he,\n\"and the sunshine cannot get in; there is no light to be had.\"\n\nHis quarters were in every way unpleasant to him, and, what was the\nworst, new hay was constantly coming in, and the space was being filled\nup. At last he cried out in his extremity, as loud as he could,\n\n\"No more hay for me! no more hay for me!\"\n\nThe maid was then milking the cow, and as she heard a voice, but could\nsee no one, and as it was the same voice that she had heard in the\nnight, she was so frightened that she fell off her stool, and spilt the\nmilk. Then she ran in great haste to her master, crying,\n\n\"Oh, master dear, the cow spoke!\"\n\n\"You must be crazy,\" answered her master, and he went himself to the\ncow-house to see what was the matter. No sooner had he put his foot\ninside the door, than Tom Thumb cried out again,\n\n\"No more hay for me! no more hay for me!\"\n\nThen the parson himself was frightened, supposing that a bad spirit had\nentered into the cow, and he ordered her to be put to death. So she was\nkilled, but the stomach, where Tom Thumb was lying, was thrown upon a\ndunghill. Tom Thumb had great trouble to work his way out of it, and he\nhad just made a space big enough for his head to go through, when a new\nmisfortune happened. A hungry wolf ran up and swallowed the whole\nstomach at one gulp. But Tom Thumb did not lose courage. \"Perhaps,\"\nthought he, \"the wolf will listen to reason,\" and he cried out from the\ninside of the wolf,\n\n\"My dear wolf, I can tell you where to get a splendid meal!\"\n\n\"Where is it to be had?\" asked the wolf.\n\n\"In such and such a house, and you must creep into it through the drain,\nand there you will find cakes and bacon and broth, as much as you can\neat,\" and he described to him His father's house. The wolf needed not to\nbe told twice. He squeezed himself through the drain in the night, and\nfeasted in the store-room to his heart's content. When, at last, he was\nsatisfied, he wanted to go away again, but he had become so big, that to\ncreep the same way back was impossible. This Tom Thumb had reckoned\nupon, and began to make a terrible din inside the wolf, crying and\ncalling as loud as he could.\n\n\"Will you be quiet?\" said the wolf; \"you will wake the folks up!\"\n\n\"Look here,\" cried the little man, \"you are very well satisfied, and now\nI will do something for my own enjoyment,\" and began again to make all\nthe noise he could. At last the father and mother were awakened, and\nthey ran to the room-door and peeped through the chink, and when they\nsaw a wolf in occupation, they ran and fetched weapons--the man an axe,\nand the wife a scythe.\n\n\"Stay behind,\" said the man, as they entered the room; \"when I have\ngiven him a blow, and it does not seem to have killed him, then you must\ncut at him with your scythe.\"\n\nThen Tom Thumb heard his father's voice, and cried,\n\n\"Dear father, I am here in the wolf's inside.\"\n\nThen the father called out full of joy,\n\n\"Thank heaven that we have found our dear child!\" and told his wife to\nkeep the scythe out of the way, lest Tom Thumb should be hurt with it.\nThen he drew near and struck the wolf such a blow on the head that he\nfell down dead; and then he fetched a knife and a pair of scissors, slit\nup the wolf's body, and let out the little fellow.\n\n\"Oh, what anxiety we have felt about you!\" said the father.\n\n\"Yes, father, I have seen a good deal of the world, and I am very glad\nto breathe fresh air again.\"\n\n\"And where have you been all this time?\" asked his father.\n\n\"Oh, I have been in a mouse-hole and a snail's shell, in a cow's stomach\nand a wolf's inside: now, I think, I will stay at home.\"\n\n\"And we will not part with you for all the kingdoms of the world,\" cried\nthe parents, as they kissed and hugged their dear little Tom Thumb. And\nthey gave him something to eat and drink, and a new suit of clothes, as\nhis old ones were soiled with travel.\n\n\n\n\nHOW MRS FOX MARRIED AGAIN\n\n\nFIRST VERSION.\n\n\nTHERE was once an old fox with nine tails, who wished to put his wife's\naffection to proof, pretended to be dead, and stretched himself under\nthe bench quite stiff, and never moved a joint, on which Mrs. Fox\nretired to her room and locked herself in, while her maid, the cat,\nstayed by the kitchen fire and attended to the cooking.\n\nWhen it became known that the old fox was dead, some suitors prepared to\ncome forward, and presently the maid heard some one knocking at the\nhouse door; she went and opened it, and there was a young fox, who said,\n\n \"What is she doing, Miss Cat?\n Is she sleeping, or waking, or what is she at?\"\n\nAnd the cat answered,\n\n \"I am not asleep, I am quite wide awake,\n Perhaps you would know what I'm going to make;\n I'm melting some butter, and warming some beer,\n Will it please you sit down, and partake of my cheer?\"\n\n\"Thank you, miss,\" said the fox. \"What is Mrs. Fox doing?\"\n\nThe maid answered,\n\n \"She is sitting upstairs in her grief,\n And her eyes with her weeping are sore;\n From her sorrow she gets no relief,\n Now poor old Mr. Fox is no more!\"\n\n\"But just tell her, miss, that a young fox has come to woo her.\"\n\n\"Very well, young master,\" answered the cat.\n\nUp went the cat pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat.\n\nShe knocks at the door, rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat!\n\n \"Mrs. Fox, are you there?\"\n \"Yes, yes, pussy dear!\"\n \"There's a suitor below,\n Shall I tell him to go?\"\n\n\"But what is he like?\" asked Mrs. Fox. \"Has he nine beautiful tails,\nlike dear Mr. Fox?\"\n\n\"Oh no,\" answered the cat; \"he has only one.\"\n\n\"Then I won't have him,\" said Mrs. Fox.\n\nSo the cat went down-stairs, and sent the suitor away. Soon there was\nanother knock at the door. It was another fox come to woo. He had two\ntails, but he met with no better success than the first. Then there\narrived more foxes, one after another, each with one more tail than the\nlast, but they were all dismissed, until there came one with nine tails\nlike old Mr. Fox. When the widow heard that she cried, full of joy, to\nthe cat,\n\n \"Now, open door and window wide,\n And turn old Mr. Fox outside.\"\n\nBut before they could do so, up jumped old Mr. Fox from under the bench,\nand cudgelled the whole pack, driving them, with Mrs. Fox, out of the\nhouse.\n\n\nSECOND VERSION.\n\n\nWHEN old Mr. Fox died there came a wolf to woo, and he knocked at the\ndoor, and the cat opened to him; and he made her a bow, and said,\n\n \"Good day, Miss Cat, so brisk and gay,\n How is it that alone you stay?\n And what is it you cook to-day?\"\n\nThe cat answered,\n\n \"Bread so white, and milk so sweet,\n Will it please you sit and eat?\"\n\n\"Thank you very much, Miss Cat,\" answered the wolf; \"but is Mrs. Fox at\nhome?\"\n\nThen the cat said,\n\n \"She is sitting upstairs in her grief,\n And her eyes with her weeping are sore,\n From her sorrow she gets no relief,\n Now poor old Mr. Fox is no more!\"\n\nThe wolf answered,\n\n \"Won't she take another spouse,\n To protect her and her house?\"\n\nUp went the cat, pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat.\n\nShe knocks at the door, rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat!\n\n \"Mrs. Fox, are you there?\"\n \"Yes, yes, pussy dear!\"\n \"There's a suitor below,\n Shall I tell him to go?\"\n\nBut Mrs. Fox asked, \"Has the gentleman red breeches and a sharp nose?\"\n\n\"No,\" answered the cat.\n\n\"Then I won't have him,\" said Mrs. Fox.\n\nAfter the wolf was sent away, there came a dog, a stag, a hare, a bear,\na lion, and several other wild animals. But they all of them lacked the\ngood endowments possessed by the late Mr. Fox, so that the cat had to\nsend them all away. At last came a young fox. And Mrs. Fox inquired\nwhether he had red breeches and a sharp nose.\n\n\"Yes, he has,\" said the cat.\n\n\"Then I will have him,\" said Mrs. Fox, and bade the cat make ready the\nwedding-feast.\n\n \"Now, cat, sweep the parlours and bustle about,\n And open the window, turn Mr. Fox out;\n Then, if you've a fancy for anything nice,\n Just manage to catch for yourself a few mice,\n You may eat them alone,\n I do not want one.\"\n\nSo she was married to young Master Fox with much dancing and rejoicing,\nand for anything I have heard to the contrary, they may be dancing\nstill.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ELVES\n\n(I)\n\n\nTHERE was once a shoemaker, who, through no fault of his own, became so\npoor that at last he had nothing left but just enough leather to make\none pair of shoes. He cut out the shoes at night, so as to set to work\nupon them next morning; and as he had a good conscience, he laid himself\nquietly down in his bed, committed himself to heaven, and fell asleep.\nIn the morning, after he had said his prayers, and was going to get to\nwork, he found the pair of shoes made and finished, and standing on his\ntable. He was very much astonished, and could not tell what to think,\nand he took the shoes in his hand to examine them more nearly; and they\nwere so well made that every stitch was in its right place, just as if\nthey had come from the hand of a master-workman.\n\nSoon after a purchaser entered, and as the shoes fitted him very well,\nhe gave more than the usual price for them, so that the shoemaker had\nenough money to buy leather for two more pairs of shoes. He cut them out\nat night, and intended to set to work the next morning with fresh\nspirit; but that was not to be, for when he got up they were already\nfinished, and a customer even was not lacking, who gave him so much\nmoney that he was able to buy leather enough for four new pairs. Early\nnext morning he found the four pairs also finished, and so it always\nhappened; whatever he cut out in the evening was worked up by the\nmorning, so that he was soon in the way of making a good living, and in\nthe end became very well to do.\n\nOne night, not long before Christmas, when the shoemaker had finished\ncutting out, and before he went to bed, he said to his wife,\n\n\"How would it be if we were to sit up to-night and see who it is that\ndoes us this service?\"\n\nHis wife agreed, and set a light to burn. Then they both hid in a corner\nof the room, behind some coats that were hanging up, and then they began\nto watch. As soon as it was midnight they saw come in two neatly-formed\nnaked little men, who seated themselves before the shoemaker's table,\nand took up the work that was already prepared, and began to stitch, to\npierce, and to hammer so cleverly and quickly with their little fingers\nthat the shoemaker's eyes could scarcely follow them, so full of wonder\nwas he. And they never left off until everything was finished and was\nstanding ready on the table, and then they jumped up and ran off.\n\nThe next morning the shoemaker's wife said to her husband, \"Those little\nmen have made us rich, and we ought to show ourselves grateful. With all\ntheir running about, and having nothing to cover them, they must be very\ncold. I'll tell you what; I will make little shirts, coats, waistcoats,\nand breeches for them, and knit each of them a pair of stockings, and\nyou shall make each of them a pair of shoes.\"\n\nThe husband consented willingly, and at night, when everything was\nfinished, they laid the gifts together on the table, instead of the\ncut-out work, and placed themselves so that they could observe how the\nlittle men would behave. When midnight came, they rushed in, ready to\nset to work, but when they found, instead of the pieces of prepared\nleather, the neat little garments put ready for them, they stood a\nmoment in surprise, and then they testified the greatest delight. With\nthe greatest swiftness they took up the pretty garments and slipped them\non, singing,\n\n \"What spruce and dandy boys are we!\n No longer cobblers we will be.\"\n\nThen they hopped and danced about, jumping over the chairs and tables,\nand at last they danced out at the door.\n\nFrom that time they were never seen again; but it always went well with\nthe shoemaker as long as he lived, and whatever he took in hand\nprospered.\n\n\n(II.)\n\n\nTHERE was once a poor servant maid, who was very cleanly and\nindustrious; she swept down the house every day, and put the sweepings\non a great heap by the door. One morning, before she began her work, she\nfound a letter, and as she could not read, she laid her broom in the\ncorner, and took the letter to her master and mistress, to see what it\nwas about; and it was an invitation from the elves, who wished the maid\nto come and stand godmother to one of their children. The maid did not\nknow what to do; and as she was told that no one ought to refuse the\nelves anything, she made up her mind to go. So there came three little\nelves, who conducted her into the middle of a high mountain, where the\nlittle people lived. Here everything was of a very small size, but more\nfine and elegant than can be told. The mother of the child lay in a bed\nmade of ebony, studded with pearls, the counterpane was embroidered with\ngold, the cradle was of ivory, and the bathing-tub of gold. So the maid\nstood godmother, and was then for going home, but the elves begged her\nto stay at least three more days with them; and so she consented, and\nspent the time in mirth and jollity, and the elves seemed very fond of\nher. At last, when she was ready to go away, they filled her pockets\nfull of gold, and led her back again out of the mountain. When she got\nback to the house, she was going to begin working again, and took her\nbroom in her hand; it was still standing in the corner where she had\nleft it, and began to sweep. Then came up some strangers and asked her\nwho she was, and what she was doing. And she found that instead of three\ndays, she had been seven years with the elves in the mountain, and that\nduring that time her master and mistress had died.\n\n\n(III.)\n\n\nThe elves once took a child away from its mother, and left in its place\na changeling with a big head and staring eyes, who did nothing but eat\nand drink. The mother in her trouble went to her neighbours and asked\ntheir advice. The neighbours told her to take the changeling into the\nkitchen and put it near the hearth, and then to make up the fire, and\nboil water in two egg-shells; that would make the changeling laugh, and\nif he laughed, it would be all over with him. So the woman did as her\nneighbours advised. And when she set the egg-shells of water on the\nfire, the changeling said,\n\n \"Though old I be\n As forest tree,\n Cooking in an egg-shell never did I see!\"\n\nand began to laugh. And directly there came in a crowd of elves bringing\nin the right child; and they laid it near the hearth, and carried the\nchangeling away with them.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE ROBBER BRIDEGROOM\n\n \"TURN BACK, TURN BACK, THOU PRETTY BRIDE,\n WITHIN THIS HOUSE THOU MUST NOT BIDE,\n FOR HERE DO EVIL THINGS BETIDE.\"]\n\n\n\n\nTHE ROBBER BRIDEGROOM\n\n\nTHERE was once a miller who had a beautiful daughter, and when she was\ngrown up he became anxious that she should be well married and taken\ncare of; so he thought,\n\n\"If a decent sort of man comes and asks her in marriage, I will give her\nto him.\"\n\nSoon after a suitor came forward who seemed very well to do, and as the\nmiller knew nothing to his disadvantage, he promised him his daughter.\nBut the girl did not seem to love him as a bride should love her\nbridegroom; she had no confidence in him; as often as she saw him or\nthought about him, she felt a chill at her heart. One day he said to\nher,\n\n\"You are to be my bride, and yet you have never been to see me.\"\n\nThe girl answered,\n\n\"I do not know where your house is.\"\n\nThen he said,\n\n\"My house is a long way in the wood.\"\n\nShe began to make excuses, and said she could not find the way to it;\nbut the bridegroom said,\n\n\"You must come and pay me a visit next Sunday; I have already invited\ncompany, and I will strew ashes on the path through the wood, so that\nyou will be sure to find it.\"\n\nWhen Sunday came, and the girl set out on her way, she felt very uneasy\nwithout knowing exactly why; and she filled both pockets full of peas\nand lentils. There were ashes strewed on the path through the wood,\nbut, nevertheless, at each step she cast to the right and left a few\npeas on the ground. So she went on the whole day until she came to the\nmiddle of the wood, where it was the darkest, and there stood a lonely\nhouse, not pleasant in her eyes, for it was dismal and unhomelike. She\nwalked in, but there was no one there, and the greatest stillness\nreigned. Suddenly she heard a voice cry,\n\n \"Turn back, turn back, thou pretty bride,\n Within this house thou must not bide,\n For here do evil things betide.\"\n\nThe girl glanced round, and perceived that the voice came from a bird\nwho was hanging in a cage by the wall. And again it cried,\n\n \"Turn back, turn back, thou pretty bride,\n Within this house thou must not bide,\n For here do evil things betide.\"\n\nThen the pretty bride went on from one room into another through the\nwhole house, but it was quite empty, and no soul to be found in it.\n\nAt last she reached the cellar, and there sat a very old woman nodding\nher head.\n\n\"Can you tell me,\" said the bride, \"if my bridegroom lives here?\"\n\n\"Oh, poor child,\" answered the old woman, \"do you know what has happened\nto you? You are in a place of cut-throats. You thought you were a bride,\nand soon to be married, but death will be your spouse. Look here, I have\na great kettle of water to set on, and when once they have you in their\npower they will cut you in pieces without mercy, cook you, and eat you,\nfor they are cannibals. Unless I have pity on you, and save you, all is\nover with you!\"\n\nThen the old woman hid her behind a great cask, where she could not be\nseen.\n\n\"Be as still as a mouse,\" said she; \"do not move or go away, or else you\nare lost. At night, when the robbers are asleep, we will escape. I have\nbeen waiting a long time for an opportunity.\"\n\nNo sooner was it settled than the wicked gang entered the house. They\nbrought another young woman with them, dragging her along, and they\nwere drunk, and would not listen to her cries and groans. They gave her\nwine to drink, three glasses full, one of white wine, one of red, and\none of yellow, and then they cut her in pieces. The poor bride all the\nwhile shaking and trembling when she saw what a fate the robbers had\nintended for her. One of them noticed on the little finger of their\nvictim a golden ring, and as he could not draw it off easily, he took an\naxe and chopped it off, but the finger jumped away, and fell behind the\ncask on the bride's lap. The robber took up a light to look for it, but\nhe could not find it. Then said one of the others,\n\n\"Have you looked behind the great cask?\"\n\nBut the old woman cried,\n\n\"Come to supper, and leave off looking till to-morrow; the finger cannot\nrun away.\"\n\nThen the robbers said the old woman was right, and they left off\nsearching, and sat down to eat, and the old woman dropped some sleeping\nstuff into their wine, so that before long they stretched themselves on\nthe cellar floor, sleeping and snoring. When the bride heard that, she\ncame from behind the cask, and had to make her way among the sleepers\nlying all about on the ground, and she felt very much afraid lest she\nmight awaken any of them. But by good luck she passed through, and the\nold woman with her, and they opened the door, and they made all haste to\nleave that house of murderers. The wind had carried away the ashes from\nthe path, but the peas and lentils had budded and sprung up, and the\nmoonshine upon them showed the way. And they went on through the night,\ntill in the morning they reached the mill. Then the girl related to her\nfather all that had happened to her.\n\nWhen the wedding-day came, the friends and neighbours assembled, the\nmiller having invited them, and the bridegroom also appeared. When they\nwere all seated at table, each one had to tell a story. But the bride\nsat still, and said nothing, till at last the bridegroom said to her,\n\n\"Now, sweetheart, do you know no story? Tell us something.\"\n\nShe answered,\n\n\"I will tell you my dream. I was going alone through a wood, and I came\nat last to a house in which there was no living soul, but by the wall\nwas a bird in a cage, who cried,\n\n 'Turn back, turn back, thou pretty bride,\n Within this house thou must not bide,\n For evil things do here betide.'\n\n\"And then again it said it. Sweetheart, the dream is not ended. Then I\nwent through all the rooms, and they were all empty, and it was so\nlonely and wretched. At last I went down into the cellar, and there sat\nan old old woman, nodding her head. I asked her if my bridegroom lived\nin that house, and she answered, 'Ah, poor child, you have come into a\nplace of cut-throats; your bridegroom does live here, but he will kill\nyou and cut you in pieces, and then cook and eat you.' Sweetheart, the\ndream is not ended. But the old woman hid me behind a great cask, and no\nsooner had she done so than the robbers came home, dragging with them a\nyoung woman, and they gave her to drink wine thrice, white, red, and\nyellow. Sweetheart, the dream is not yet ended. And then they killed\nher, and cut her in pieces. Sweetheart, my dream is not yet ended. And\none of the robbers saw a gold ring on the finger of the young woman, and\nas it was difficult to get off, he took an axe and chopped off the\nfinger, which jumped upwards, and then fell behind the great cask on my\nlap. And here is the finger with the ring!\"\n\nAt these words she drew it forth, and showed it to the company.\n\nThe robber, who during the story had grown deadly white, sprang up, and\nwould have escaped, but the folks held him fast, and delivered him up to\njustice. And he and his whole gang were, for their evil deeds, condemned\nand executed.\n\n\n\n\nMR KORBES\n\n\nA COCK and a hen once wanted to go a journey together. So the cock built\na beautiful carriage with four red wheels, and he harnessed four little\nmice to it. And the cock and the hen got into it, and were driven off.\nVery soon they met a cat, who asked where they were going. The cock\nanswered,\n\n \"On Mr. Korbes a call to pay,\n And that is where we go to-day!\"\n\n\"Take me with you,\" said the cat.\n\nThe cock answered,\n\n\"Very well, only you must sit well back, and then you will not fall\nforward.\"\n\n \"And pray take care\n Of my red wheels there;\n And wheels be steady,\n And mice be ready\n On Mr. Korbes a call to pay,\n For that is where we go to-day!\"\n\nThen there came up a millstone, then an egg, then a duck, then a pin,\nand lastly a needle, who all got up on the carriage, and were driven\nalong. But when they came to Mr. Korbes's house he was not at home. So\nthe mice drew the carriage into the barn, the cock and the hen flew up\nand perched on a beam, the cat sat by the fireside, the duck settled on\nthe water; but the egg wrapped itself in the towel, the pin stuck itself\nin the chair cushion, the needle jumped into the bed among the pillows,\nand the millstone laid itself by the door. Then Mr. Korbes came home,\nand went to the hearth to make a fire, but the cat threw ashes in his\neyes. Then he ran quickly into the kitchen to wash himself, but the duck\nsplashed water in his face. Then he was going to wipe it with the towel,\nbut the egg broke in it, and stuck his eyelids together. In order to get\na little peace he sat down in his chair, but the pin ran into him, and,\nstarting up, in his vexation he threw himself on the bed, but as his\nhead fell on the pillow, in went the needle, so that he called out with\nthe pain, and madly rushed out. But when he reached the housedoor the\nmill-stone jumped up and struck him dead.\n\nWhat a bad man Mr. Korbes must have been!\n\n\n\n\nTOM THUMB'S TRAVELS\n\n\nTHERE was once a tailor who had a son no higher than a thumb, so he was\ncalled Tom Thumb. Notwithstanding his small size, he had plenty of\nspirit, and one day he said to his father,\n\n\"Father, go out into the world I must and will.\"\n\n\"Very well, my son,\" said the old man, and taking a long darning needle,\nhe put a knob of sealing-wax on the end, saying,\n\n\"Here is a sword to take with you on your journey.\"\n\nNow the little tailor wanted to have one more meal first, and so he\ntrotted into the kitchen to see what sort of a farewell feast his mother\nhad cooked for him. It was all ready, and the dish was standing on the\nhearth. Then said he,\n\n\"Mother, what is the fare to-day?\"\n\n\"You can see for yourself,\" said the mother. Then Tom Thumb ran to the\nhearth and peeped into the dish, but as he stretched his neck too far\nover it, the steam caught him and carried him up the chimney. For a time\nhe floated with the steam about in the air, but at last he sank down to\nthe ground. Then the little tailor found himself out in the wide world,\nand he wandered about, and finally engaged himself to a master tailor,\nbut the food was not good enough for him.\n\n\"Mistress,\" said Tom Thumb, \"if you do not give us better victuals, I\nshall go out early in the morning and write with a piece of chalk on the\nhouse-door, 'Plenty of potatoes to eat, and but little meat; so\ngood-bye, Mr. Potato.'\"\n\n\"What are you after, grasshopper?\" said the mistress, and growing angry\nshe seized a piece of rag to beat him off; but he crept underneath her\nthimble, and then peeped at her, and put his tongue out at her. She took\nup the thimble, and would have seized him, but he hopped among the rags,\nand as the mistress turned them over to find him, he stepped into a\ncrack in the table. \"He-hee! Mistress!\" cried he, sticking out his head,\nand when she was just going to grasp him, he jumped into the\ntable-drawer. But in the end she caught him, and drove him out of the\nhouse.\n\nSo he wandered on until he came to a great wood; and there he met a gang\nof robbers that were going to rob the king's treasury. When they saw the\nlittle tailor, they thought to themselves,\n\n\"Such a little fellow might easily creep through a key-hole, and serve\ninstead of a pick-lock.\"\n\n\"Holloa!\" cried one, \"you giant Goliath, will you come with us to the\ntreasure-chamber? you can slip in, and then throw us out the money.\"\n\nTom Thumb considered a little, but at last he consented and went with\nthem to the treasure-chamber. Then he looked all over the doors above\nand below, but there was no crack to be seen; at last he found one broad\nenough to let him pass, and he was getting through, when one of the\nsentinels that stood before the door saw him, and said to the other,\n\n\"See what an ugly spider is crawling there! I will put an end to him.\"\n\n\"Let the poor creature alone,\" said the other, \"it has done you no\nharm.\"\n\nSo Tom Thumb got safely through the crack into the treasure-chamber, and\nhe opened the window beneath which the thieves were standing, and he\nthrew them out one dollar after another. Just as he had well settled to\nthe work, he heard the king coming to take a look at his treasure, and\nso Tom Thumb had to creep away. The king presently remarked that many\ngood dollars were wanting, but could not imagine how they could have\nbeen stolen, as the locks and bolts were in good order, and everything\nseemed secure. And he went away, saying to the two sentinels,\n\n\"Keep good guard; there is some one after the money.\"\n\nWhen Tom Thumb had set to work anew, they heard the chink, chink of the\nmoney, and hastily rushed in to catch the thief. But the little tailor,\nas he heard them coming, was too quick for them, and, hiding in a\ncorner, he covered himself up with a dollar, so that nothing of him was\nto be seen, and then he mocked the sentinels, crying, \"Here I am!\" They\nran about, and when they came near him, he was soon in another corner\nunder a dollar, crying, \"Here I am!\" Then the sentinels ran towards him,\nand in a moment he was in a third corner, crying, \"Here I am!\" In this\nway he made fools of them, and dodged them so long about the\ntreasure-chamber, that they got tired and went away. Then he set to\nwork, and threw the dollars out of the window, one after the other, till\nthey were all gone; and when it came to the last, as he flung it with\nall his might, he jumped nimbly on it, and flew with it out of the\nwindow. The robbers gave him great praise, saying,\n\n\"You are a most valiant hero; will you be our captain?\"\n\nBut Tom Thumb thanked them, and said he would like to see the world\nfirst. Then they divided the spoil; but the little tailor's share was\nonly one farthing, which was all he was able to carry.\n\nThen binding his sword to his side, he bid the robbers good day, and\nstarted on his way. He applied to several master tailors, but they would\nnot have anything to do with him; and at last he hired himself as indoor\nservant at an inn. The maid servants took a great dislike to him, for he\nused to see everything they did without being seen by them, and he told\nthe master and mistress about what they took from the plates, and what\nthey carried away out of the cellar. And they said, \"Wait a little, we\nwill pay you out,\" and took counsel together to play him some\nmischievous trick. Once when one of the maids was mowing the grass in\nthe garden she saw Tom Thumb jumping about and creeping among the\ncabbages, and she mowed him with the grass, tied all together in a\nbundle, and threw it to the cows. Among the cows was a big black one,\nwho swallowed him down, without doing him any harm. But he did not like\nhis lodging, it was so dark, and there was no candle to be had. When the\ncow was being milked, he cried out,\n\n \"Strip, strap, strull,\n Will the pail soon be full?\"\n\nBut he was not understood because of the noise of the milk. Presently\nthe landlord came into the stable and said,\n\n\"To-morrow this cow is to be slaughtered.\"\n\nAt that Tom Thumb felt very terrified; and with his shrillest voice he\ncried,\n\n\"Let me out first; I am sitting inside here!\"\n\nThe master heard him quite plainly, but could not tell where the voice\ncame from.\n\n\"Where are you?\" asked he.\n\n\"Inside the black one,\" answered Tom Thumb, but the master, not\nunderstanding the meaning of it all, went away.\n\nThe next morning the cow was slaughtered. Happily, in all the cutting\nand slashing he escaped all harm, and he slipped among the sausage-meat.\nWhen the butcher came near to set to work, he cried with all his might,\n\n\"Don't cut so deep, don't cut so deep, I am underneath!\"\n\nBut for the sound of the butcher's knife his voice was not heard. Now,\npoor Tom Thumb was in great straits, and he had to jump nimbly out of\nthe way of the knife, and finally he came through with a whole skin. But\nhe could not get quite away, and he had to let himself remain with the\nlumps of fat to be put in a black pudding. His quarters were rather\nnarrow, and he had to be hung up in the chimney in the smoke, and to\nremain there a very long while. At last, when winter came he was taken\ndown, for the black pudding was to be set before a guest. And when the\nlandlady cut the black pudding in slices, he had to take great care not\nto lift up his head too much, or it might be shaved off at the neck. At\nlast he saw his opportunity, took courage, and jumped out.\n\nBut as things had gone so badly with him in that house, Tom Thumb did\nnot mean to stay there, but betook himself again to his wanderings. His\nfreedom, however, did not last long. In the open fields there came a fox\nwho snapped him up without thinking.\n\n\"Oh, Mr. Fox,\" cries Tom Thumb, \"here I am sticking in your throat; let\nme out again.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" answered the fox. \"It is true you are no better than\nnothing; promise me the hens in your father's yard, then I will let you\ngo.\"\n\n\"With all my heart,\" answered Tom Thumb, \"you shall have them all, I\npromise you.\"\n\nThen the fox let him go, and he ran home. When the father saw his dear\nlittle son again, he gave the fox willingly all the hens that he had.\n\n\"And look, besides, what a fine piece of money I've got for you!\" said\nTom Thumb, and handed over the farthing which he had earned in his\nwanderings.\n\nBut how, you ask, could they let the fox devour all the poor chicks?\n\nWhy, you silly child, you know that your father would rather have you\nthan the hens in his yard!\n\n\n\n\nTHE ALMOND TREE\n\n\nA LONG time ago, perhaps as much as two thousand years, there was a rich\nman, and he had a beautiful and pious wife, and they loved each other\nvery much, and they had no children, though they wished greatly for\nsome, and the wife prayed for one day and night. Now, in the courtyard\nin front of their house stood an almond tree; and one day in winter the\nwife was standing beneath it, and paring an apple, and as she pared it\nshe cut her finger, and the blood fell upon the snow.\n\n\"Ah,\" said the woman, sighing deeply, and looking down at the blood, \"if\nonly I could have a child as red as blood, and as white as snow!\"\n\n[Illustration: THE ALMOND TREE\n\n \"KYWITT, KYWITT, KYWITT, I CRY,\n OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL BIRD AM I!\"]\n\nAnd as she said these words, her heart suddenly grew light, and she felt\nsure she should have her wish. So she went back to the house, and when a\nmonth had passed the snow was gone; in two months everything was green;\nin three months the flowers sprang out of the earth; in four months the\ntrees were in full leaf, and the branches were thickly entwined; the\nlittle birds began to sing, so that the woods echoed, and the blossoms\nfell from the trees; when the fifth month had passed the wife stood\nunder the almond tree, and it smelt so sweet that her heart leaped\nwithin her, and she fell on her knees for joy; and when the sixth month\nhad gone, the fruit was thick and fine, and she remained still; and the\nseventh month she gathered the almonds, and ate them eagerly, and was\nsick and sorrowful; and when the eighth month had passed she called\nto her husband, and said, weeping,\n\n\"If I die, bury me under the almond tree.\"\n\nThen she was comforted and happy until the ninth month had passed, and\nthen she bore a child as white as snow and as red as blood, and when she\nsaw it her joy was so great that she died.\n\nHer husband buried her under the almond tree, and he wept sore; time\npassed, and he became less sad; and after he had grieved a little more\nhe left off, and then he took another wife.\n\nHis second wife bore him a daughter, and his first wife's child was a\nson, as red as blood and as white as snow. Whenever the wife looked at\nher daughter she felt great love for her, but whenever she looked at the\nlittle boy, evil thoughts came into her heart, of how she could get all\nher husband's money for her daughter, and how the boy stood in the way;\nand so she took great hatred to him, and drove him from one corner to\nanother, and gave him a buffet here and a cuff there, so that the poor\nchild was always in disgrace; when he came back after school hours there\nwas no peace for him.\n\nOnce, when the wife went into the room upstairs, her little daughter\nfollowed her, and said,\n\n\"Mother, give me an apple.\"\n\n\"Yes, my child,\" said the mother, and gave her a fine apple out of the\nchest, and the chest had a great heavy lid with a strong iron lock.\n\n\"Mother,\" said the little girl, \"shall not my brother have one too?\"\n\nThat was what the mother expected, and she said,\n\n\"Yes, when he comes back from school.\"\n\nAnd when she saw from the window that he was coming, an evil thought\ncrossed her mind, and she snatched the apple, and took it from her\nlittle daughter, saying,\n\n\"You shall not have it before your brother.\"\n\nThen she threw the apple into the chest, and shut to the lid. Then the\nlittle boy came in at the door, and she said to him in a kind tone, but\nwith evil looks,\n\n\"My son, will you have an apple?\"\n\n\"Mother,\" said the boy, \"how terrible you look! yes, give me an apple!\"\n\nThen she spoke as kindly as before, holding up the cover of the chest,\n\n\"Come here and take out one for yourself.\"\n\nAnd as the boy was stooping over the open chest, crash went the lid\ndown, so that his head flew off among the red apples. But then the woman\nfelt great terror, and wondered how she could escape the blame. And she\nwent to the chest of drawers in her bedroom and took a white\nhandkerchief out of the nearest drawer, and fitting the head to the\nneck, she bound them with the handkerchief, so that nothing should be\nseen, and set him on a chair before the door with the apple in his hand.\n\nThen came little Marjory into the kitchen to her mother, who was\nstanding before the fire stirring a pot of hot water.\n\n\"Mother,\" said Marjory, \"my brother is sitting before the door and he\nhas an apple in his hand, and looks very pale; I asked him to give me\nthe apple, but he did not answer me; it seems very strange.\"\n\n\"Go again to him,\" said the mother, \"and if he will not answer you, give\nhim a box on the ear.\"\n\nSo Marjory went again and said,\n\n\"Brother, give me the apple.\"\n\nBut as he took no notice, she gave him a box on the ear, and his head\nfell off, at which she was greatly terrified, and began to cry and\nscream, and ran to her mother, and said,\n\n\"O mother! I have knocked my brother's head off!\" and cried and\nscreamed, and would not cease.\n\n\"O Marjory!\" said her mother, \"what have you done? but keep quiet, that\nno one may see there is anything the matter; it can't be helped now; we\nwill put him out of the way safely.\"\n\nWhen the father came home and sat down to table, he said,\n\n\"Where is my son?\"\n\nBut the mother was filling a great dish full of black broth, and Marjory\nwas crying bitterly, for she could not refrain. Then the father said\nagain,\n\n\"Where is my son?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said the mother, \"he is gone into the country to his great-uncle's\nto stay for a little while.\"\n\n\"What should he go for?\" said the father, \"and without bidding me\ngood-bye, too!\"\n\n\"Oh, he wanted to go so much, and he asked me to let him stay there six\nweeks; he will be well taken care of.\"\n\n\"Dear me,\" said the father, \"I am quite sad about it; it was not right\nof him to go without bidding me good-bye.\"\n\nWith that he began to eat, saying,\n\n\"Marjory, what are you crying for? Your brother will come back some\ntime.\"\n\nAfter a while he said,\n\n\"Well, wife, the food is very good; give me some more.\"\n\nAnd the more he ate the more he wanted, until he had eaten it all up,\nand he threw the bones under the table. Then Marjory went to her chest\nof drawers, and took one of her best handkerchiefs from the bottom\ndrawer, and picked up all the bones from under the table and tied them\nup in her handkerchief, and went out at the door crying bitterly. She\nlaid them in the green grass under the almond tree, and immediately her\nheart grew light again, and she wept no more. Then the almond tree began\nto wave to and fro, and the boughs drew together and then parted, just\nlike a clapping of hands for joy; then a cloud rose from the tree, and\nin the midst of the cloud there burned a fire, and out of the fire a\nbeautiful bird arose, and, singing most sweetly, soared high into the\nair; and when he had flown away, the almond tree remained as it was\nbefore, but the handkerchief full of bones was gone. Marjory felt quite\nglad and light-hearted, just as if her brother were still alive. So she\nwent back merrily into the house and had her dinner.\n\nThe bird, when it flew away, perched on the roof of a goldsmith's house,\nand began to sing,\n\n \"It was my mother who murdered me;\n It was my father who ate of me;\n It was my sister Marjory\n Who all my bones in pieces found;\n Them in a handkerchief she bound,\n And laid them under the almond tree.\n Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry,\n Oh what a beautiful bird am I!\"\n\nThe goldsmith was sitting in his shop making a golden chain, and when he\nheard the bird, who was sitting on his roof and singing, he started up\nto go and look, and as he passed over his threshold he lost one of his\nslippers; and he went into the middle of the street with a slipper on\none foot and only a sock on the other; with his apron on, and the gold\nchain in one hand and the pincers in the other; and so he stood in the\nsunshine looking up at the bird.\n\n\"Bird,\" said he, \"how beautifully you sing; do sing that piece over\nagain.\"\n\n\"No,\" said the bird, \"I do not sing for nothing twice; if you will give\nme that gold chain I will sing again.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said the goldsmith, \"here is the gold chain; now do as you\nsaid.\"\n\nDown came the bird and took the gold chain in his right claw, perched in\nfront of the goldsmith, and sang,\n\n \"It was my mother who murdered me;\n It was my father who ate of me;\n It was my sister Marjory\n Who all my bones in pieces found;\n Them in a handkerchief she bound,\n And laid them under the almond tree.\n Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry,\n Oh what a beautiful bird am I!\"\n\nThen the bird flew to a shoemaker's, and perched on his roof, and sang,\n\n \"It was my mother who murdered me;\n It was my father who ate of me;\n It was my sister Marjory\n Who all my bones in pieces found;\n Them in a handkerchief she bound,\n And laid them under the almond tree.\n Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry,\n Oh what a beautiful bird am I!\"\n\nWhen the shoemaker heard, he ran out of his door in his shirt sleeves\nand looked up at the roof of his house, holding his hand to shade his\neyes from the sun.\n\n\"Bird,\" said he, \"how beautifully you sing!\"\n\nThen he called in at his door,\n\n\"Wife, come out directly; here is a bird singing beautifully; only\nlisten.\"\n\nThen he called his daughter, all his children, and acquaintance, both\nyoung men and maidens, and they came up the street and gazed on the\nbird, and saw how beautiful it was with red and green feathers, and\nround its throat was as it were gold, and its eyes twinkled in its head\nlike stars.\n\n\"Bird,\" said the shoemaker, \"do sing that piece over again.\"\n\n\"No,\" said the bird, \"I may not sing for nothing twice; you must give me\nsomething.\"\n\n\"Wife,\" said the man, \"go into the shop; on the top shelf stands a pair\nof red shoes; bring them here.\"\n\nSo the wife went and brought the shoes.\n\n\"Now bird,\" said the man, \"sing us that piece again.\"\n\nAnd the bird came down and took the shoes in his left claw, and flew up\nagain to the roof, and sang,\n\n \"It was my mother who murdered me;\n It was my father who ate of me;\n It was my sister Marjory\n Who all my bones in pieces found;\n Them in a handkerchief she bound,\n And laid them under the almond tree.\n Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry,\n Oh what a beautiful bird am I!\"\n\nAnd when he had finished he flew away, with the chain in his right claw\nand the shoes in his left claw, and he flew till he reached a mill, and\nthe mill went \"clip-clap, clip-clap, clip-clap.\" And in the mill sat\ntwenty millers-men hewing a millstone--\"hick-hack, hick-hack,\nhick-hack,\" while the mill was going \"clip-clap, clip-clap, clip-clap.\"\nAnd the bird perched on a linden tree that stood in front of the mill,\nand sang,\n\n \"It was my mother who murdered me;\"\n\nHere one of the men looked up.\n\n \"It was my father who ate of me;\"\n\nThen two more looked up and listened.\n\n \"It was my sister Marjory\"\n\nHere four more looked up.\n\n \"Who all my bones in pieces found;\n Them in a handkerchief she bound,\"\n\nNow there were only eight left hewing.\n\n \"And laid them under the almond tree.\"\n\nNow only five.\n\n \"Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry,\"\n\nNow only one.\n\n \"Oh what a beautiful bird am I!\"\n\nAt length the last one left off, and he only heard the end.\n\n\"Bird,\" said he, \"how beautifully you sing; let me hear it all; sing\nthat again!\"\n\n\"No,\" said the bird, \"I may not sing it twice for nothing; if you will\ngive me the millstone I will sing it again.\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" said the man, \"if it belonged to me alone you should have it.\"\n\n\"All right,\" said the others, \"if he sings again he shall have it.\"\n\nThen the bird came down, and all the twenty millers heaved up the stone\nwith poles--\"yo! heave-ho! yo! heave-ho!\" and the bird stuck his head\nthrough the hole in the middle, and with the millstone round his neck he\nflew up to the tree and sang,\n\n \"It was my mother who murdered me;\n It was my father who ate of me;\n It was my sister Marjory\n Who all my bones in pieces found;\n Them in a handkerchief she bound,\n And laid them under the almond tree.\n Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry,\n Oh what a beautiful bird am I!\"\n\nAnd when he had finished, he spread his wings, having in the right claw\nthe chain, and in the left claw the shoes, and round his neck the\nmillstone, and he flew away to his father's house.\n\nIn the parlour sat the father, the mother, and Marjory at the table; the\nfather said,\n\n\"How light-hearted and cheerful I feel.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the mother, \"I feel very low, just as if a great storm were\ncoming.\"\n\nBut Marjory sat weeping; and the bird came flying, and perched on the\nroof.\n\n\"Oh,\" said the father, \"I feel so joyful, and the sun is shining so\nbright; it is as if I were going to meet with an old friend.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the wife, \"I am terrified, my teeth chatter, and there is\nfire in my veins,\" and she tore open her dress to get air; and Marjory\nsat in a corner and wept, with her plate before her, until it was quite\nfull of tears. Then the bird perched on the almond tree, and sang,\n\n \"It was my mother who murdered me;\"\n\nAnd the mother stopped her ears and hid her eyes, and would neither see\nnor hear; nevertheless, the noise of a fearful storm was in her ears,\nand in her eyes a quivering and burning as of lightning.\n\n \"It was my father who ate of me;\"\n\n\"O mother!\" said the father, \"there is a beautiful bird singing so\nfinely, and the sun shines, and everything smells as sweet as cinnamon.\n\n \"It was my sister Marjory\"\n\nMarjory hid her face in her lap and wept, and the father said,\n\n\"I must go out to see the bird.\"\n\n\"Oh do not go!\" said the wife, \"I feel as if the house were on fire.\"\n\nBut the man went out and looked at the bird.\n\n \"Who all my bones in pieces found;\n Them in a handkerchief she bound,\n And laid them under the almond tree.\n Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry,\n Oh what a beautiful bird am I!\"\n\nWith that the bird let fall the gold chain upon his father's neck, and\nit fitted him exactly. So he went indoors and said,\n\n\"Look what a beautiful chain the bird has given me.\"\n\nThen his wife was so terrified that she fell all along on the floor, and\nher cap came off. Then the bird began again to sing,\n\n \"It was my mother who murdered me;\"\n\n\"Oh,\" groaned the mother, \"that I were a thousand fathoms under ground,\nso as not to be obliged to hear it.\"\n\n \"It was my father who ate of me;\"\n\nThen the woman lay as if she were dead.\n\n \"It was my sister Marjory\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said Marjory, \"I will go out, too, and see if the bird will give\nme anything.\" And so she went.\n\n \"Who all my bones in pieces found;\n Them in a handkerchief she bound,\"\n\nThen he threw the shoes down to her.\n\n \"And laid them under the almond tree.\n Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry,\n Oh what a beautiful bird am I!\"\n\nAnd poor Marjory all at once felt happy and joyful, and put on her red\nshoes, and danced and jumped for joy.\n\n\"Oh dear,\" said she, \"I felt so sad before I went outside, and now my\nheart is so light! He is a charming bird to have given me a pair of red\nshoes.\"\n\nBut the mother's hair stood on end, and looked like flame, and she said,\n\n\"Even if the world is coming to an end, I must go out for a little\nrelief.\"\n\nJust as she came outside the door, crash went the millstone on her head,\nand crushed her flat. The father and daughter rushed out, and saw smoke\nand flames of fire rise up; but when that had gone by, there stood the\nlittle brother; and he took his father and Marjory by the hand, and they\nfelt very happy and content, and went indoors, and sat to the table, and\nhad their dinner.\n\n\n\n\nOLD SULTAN\n\n\nTHERE was once a peasant who owned a faithful dog called Sultan, now\ngrown so old that he had lost all his teeth, and could lay hold of\nnothing. One day the man was standing at the door of his house with his\nwife, and he said,\n\n\"I shall kill old Sultan to-morrow; he is of no good any longer.\"\n\nHis wife felt sorry for the poor dog, and answered, \"He has served us\nfor so many years, and has kept with us so faithfully, he deserves food\nand shelter in his old age.\"\n\n\"Dear me, you do not seem to understand the matter,\" said the husband;\n\"he has never a tooth, and no thief would mind him in the least, so I do\nnot see why he should not be made away with. If he has served us well,\nwe have given him plenty of good food.\"\n\nThe poor dog, who was lying stretched out in the sun not far off, heard\nall they said, and was very sad to think that the next day would be his\nlast. He bethought him of his great friend the wolf, and slipped out in\nthe evening to the wood to see him, and related to him the fate that was\nawaiting him.\n\n\"Listen to me, old fellow,\" said the wolf; \"be of good courage, I will\nhelp you in your need. I have thought of a way. Early to-morrow morning\nyour master is going hay-making with his wife, and they will take their\nchild with them, so that no one will be left at home. They will be sure\nto lay the child in the shade behind the hedge while they are at work;\nyou must lie by its side, just as if you were watching it. Then I will\ncome out of the wood and steal away the child; you must rush after me,\nas if to save it from me. Then I must let it fall, and you must bring it\nback again to its parents, who will think that you have saved it, and\nwill be much too grateful to do you any harm; on the contrary, you will\nbe received into full favour, and they will never let you want for\nanything again.\"\n\nThe dog was pleased with the plan, which was carried out accordingly.\nWhen the father saw the wolf running away with his child he cried out,\nand when old Sultan brought it back again, he was much pleased with him,\nand patted him, saying,\n\n\"Not a hair of him shall be touched; he shall have food and shelter as\nlong as he lives.\" And he said to his wife,\n\n\"Go home directly and make some good stew for old Sultan, something that\ndoes not need biting; and get the pillow from my bed for him to lie on.\"\n\nFrom that time old Sultan was made so comfortable that he had nothing\nleft to wish for. Before long the wolf paid him a visit, to congratulate\nhim that all had gone so well.\n\n\"But, old fellow,\" said he, \"you must wink at my making off by chance\nwith a fat sheep of your master's; perhaps one will escape some fine\nday.\"\n\n\"Don't reckon on that,\" answered the dog; \"I cannot consent to it; I\nmust remain true to my master.\"\n\nBut the wolf, not supposing it was said in earnest, came sneaking in the\nnight to carry off the sheep. But the master, who had been warned by the\nfaithful Sultan of the wolf's intention, was waiting for him, and gave\nhim a fine hiding with the threshing-flail. So the wolf had to make his\nescape, calling out to the dog,\n\n\"You shall pay for this, you traitor!\"\n\nThe next morning the wolf sent the wild boar to call out the dog; and to\nappoint a meeting in the wood to receive satisfaction from him. Old\nSultan could find no second but a cat with three legs; and as they set\noff together, the poor thing went limping along, holding her tail up in\nthe air. The wolf and his second were already on the spot; when they saw\ntheir antagonists coming, and caught sight of the elevated tail of the\ncat, they thought it was a sabre they were bringing with them. And as\nthe poor thing came limping on three legs, they supposed it was lifting\na big stone to throw at them. This frightened them very much; the wild\nboar crept among the leaves, and the wolf clambered up into a tree. And\nwhen the dog and cat came up, they were surprised not to see any one\nthere. However, the wild boar was not perfectly hidden in the leaves,\nand the tips of his ears peeped out. And when the cat caught sight of\none, she thought it was a mouse, and sprang upon it, seizing it with her\nteeth. Out leaped the wild boar with a dreadful cry, and ran away\nshouting,\n\n\"There is the culprit in the tree!\"\n\nAnd the dog and the cat looking up caught sight of the wolf, who came\ndown, quite ashamed of his timidity, and made peace with the dog once\nmore.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SIX SWANS\n\n\nONCE on a time a king was hunting in a great wood, and he pursued a wild\nanimal so eagerly that none of his people could follow him. When evening\ncame he stood still, and looking round him he found that he had lost his\nway; and seeking a path, he found none. Then all at once he saw an old\nwoman with a nodding head coming up to him; and it was a witch.\n\n\"My good woman,\" said he, \"can you show me the way out of the wood?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, my lord king,\" answered she, \"certainly I can; but I must make\na condition, and if you do not fulfil it, you will never get out of the\nwood again, but die there of hunger.\"\n\n\"What is the condition?\" asked the king.\n\n\"I have a daughter,\" said the old woman, \"who is as fair as any in the\nworld, and if you will take her for your bride, and make her queen, I\nwill show you the way out of the wood.\"\n\nThe king consented, because of the difficulty he was in, and the old\nwoman led him into her little house, and there her daughter was sitting\nby the fire.\n\n[Illustration: THE SIX SWANS\n\n \"THE SWANS CAME CLOSE UP TO\n HER WITH RUSHING WINGS; &\n STOOPED ROUND HER; SO THAT\n SHE COULD THROW THE SHIRTS\n OVER THEM.\"]\n\nShe received the king just as if she had been expecting him, and though\nhe saw that she was very beautiful, she did not please him, and he could\nnot look at her without an inward shudder. Nevertheless, he took the\nmaiden before him on his horse, and the old woman showed him the way,\nand soon he was in his royal castle again, where the wedding was\nheld.\n\nThe king had been married before, and his first wife had left seven\nchildren, six boys and one girl, whom he loved better than all the\nworld, and as he was afraid the step-mother might not behave well to\nthem, and perhaps would do them some mischief, he took them to a lonely\ncastle standing in the middle of a wood. There they remained hidden, for\nthe road to it was so hard to find that the king himself could not have\nfound it, had it not been for a clew of yarn, possessing wonderful\nproperties, that a wise woman had given him; when he threw it down\nbefore him, it unrolled itself and showed him the way. And the king went\nso often to see his dear children, that the queen was displeased at his\nabsence; and she became curious and wanted to know what he went out into\nthe wood for so often alone. She bribed his servants with much money,\nand they showed her the secret, and told her of the clew of yarn, which\nalone could point out the way; then she gave herself no rest until she\nhad found out where the king kept the clew, and then she made some\nlittle white silk shirts, and sewed a charm in each, as she had learned\nwitchcraft of her mother. And once when the king had ridden to the hunt,\nshe took the little shirts and went into the wood, and the clew of yarn\nshowed her the way. The children seeing some one in the distance,\nthought it was their dear father coming to see them, and came jumping\nfor joy to meet him. Then the wicked queen threw over each one of the\nlittle shirts, and as soon as the shirts touched their bodies, they were\nchanged into swans, and flew away through the wood. So the queen went\nhome very pleased to think she had got rid of her step-children; but the\nmaiden had not run out with her brothers, and so the queen knew nothing\nabout her. The next day the king went to see his children, but he found\nnobody but his daughter.\n\n\"Where are thy brothers?\" asked the king.\n\n\"Ah, dear father,\" answered she, \"they are gone away and have left me\nbehind,\" and then she told him how she had seen from her window her\nbrothers in the guise of swans fly away through the wood, and she showed\nhim the feathers which they had let fall in the courtyard, and which she\nhad picked up. The king was grieved, but he never dreamt that it was\nthe queen who had done this wicked deed, and as he feared lest the\nmaiden also should be stolen away from him, he wished to take her away\nwith him. But she was afraid of the step-mother, and begged the king to\nlet her remain one more night in the castle in the wood.\n\nThen she said to herself,\n\n\"I must stay here no longer, but go and seek for my brothers.\"\n\nAnd when the night came, she fled away and went straight into the wood.\nShe went on all that night and the next day, until she could go no\nlonger for weariness. At last she saw a rude hut, and she went in and\nfound a room with six little beds in it; she did not dare to lie down in\none, but she crept under one and lay on the hard boards and wished for\nnight. When it was near the time of sun-setting she heard a rustling\nsound, and saw six swans come flying in at the window. They alighted on\nthe ground, and blew at one another until they had blown all their\nfeathers off, and then they stripped off their swan-skin as if it had\nbeen a shirt. And the maiden looked at them and knew them for her\nbrothers, and was very glad, and crept from under the bed. The brothers\nwere not less glad when their sister appeared, but their joy did not\nlast long.\n\n\"You must not stay here,\" said they to her; \"this is a robbers' haunt,\nand if they were to come and find you here, they would kill you.\"\n\n\"And cannot you defend me?\" asked the little sister.\n\n\"No,\" answered they, \"for we can only get rid of our swan-skins and keep\nour human shape every evening for a quarter of an hour, but after that\nwe must be changed again into swans.\"\n\nTheir sister wept at hearing this, and said,\n\n\"Can nothing be done to set you free?\"\n\n\"Oh no,\" answered they, \"the work would be too hard for you. For six\nwhole years you would be obliged never to speak or laugh, and make\nduring that time six little shirts out of aster-flowers. If you were to\nlet fall a single word before the work was ended, all would be of no\ngood.\"\n\nAnd just as the brothers had finished telling her this, the quarter of\nan hour came to an end, and they changed into swans and flew out of the\nwindow.\n\nBut the maiden made up her mind to set her brothers free, even though it\nshould cost her her life. She left the hut, and going into the middle of\nthe wood, she climbed a tree, and there passed the night. The next\nmorning she set to work and gathered asters and began sewing them\ntogether: as for speaking, there was no one to speak to, and as for\nlaughing, she had no mind to it; so she sat on and looked at nothing but\nher work. When she had been going on like this for a long time, it\nhappened that the king of that country went a-hunting in the wood, and\nsome of his huntsmen came up to the tree in which the maiden sat. They\ncalled out to her, saying, \"Who art thou?\" But she gave no answer. \"Come\ndown,\" cried they; \"we will do thee no harm.\" But she only shook her\nhead. And when they tormented her further with questions she threw down\nto them her gold necklace, hoping they would be content with that. But\nthey would not leave off, so she threw down to them her girdle, and when\nthat was no good, her garters, and one after another everything she had\non and could possibly spare, until she had nothing left but her smock.\nBut all was no good, the huntsmen would not be put off any longer, and\nthey climbed the tree, carried the maiden off, and brought her to the\nking. The king asked, \"Who art thou? What wert thou doing in the tree?\"\nBut she answered nothing. He spoke to her in all the languages he knew,\nbut she remained dumb: but, being very beautiful, the king inclined to\nher, and he felt a great love rise up in his heart towards her; and\ncasting his mantle round her, he put her before him on his horse and\nbrought her to his castle. Then he caused rich clothing to be put upon\nher, and her beauty shone as bright as the morning, but no word would\nshe utter. He seated her by his side at table, and her modesty and\ngentle mien so pleased him, that he said,\n\n\"This maiden I choose for wife, and no other in all the world,\" and\naccordingly after a few days they were married.\n\nBut the king had a wicked mother, who was displeased with the marriage,\nand spoke ill of the young queen.\n\n\"Who knows where the maid can have come from?\" said she, \"and not able\nto speak a word! She is not worthy of a king!\"\n\nAfter a year had passed, and the queen brought her first child into the\nworld, the old woman carried it away, and marked the queen's mouth with\nblood as she lay sleeping. Then she went to the king and declared that\nhis wife was an eater of human flesh. The king would not believe such a\nthing, and ordered that no one should do her any harm. And the queen\nwent on quietly sewing the shirts and caring for nothing else. The next\ntime that a fine boy was born, the wicked step-mother used the same\ndeceit, but the king would give no credence to her words, for he said,\n\n\"She is too tender and good to do any such thing, and if she were only\nnot dumb, and could justify herself, then her innocence would be as\nclear as day.\"\n\nWhen for the third time the old woman stole away the new-born child and\naccused the queen, who was unable to say a word in her defence, the king\ncould do no other but give her up to justice, and she was sentenced to\nsuffer death by fire.\n\nThe day on which her sentence was to be carried out was the very last\none of the sixth year of the years during which she had neither spoken\nnor laughed, to free her dear brothers from the evil spell. The six\nshirts were ready, all except one which wanted the left sleeve. And when\nshe was led to the pile of wood, she carried the six shirts on her arm,\nand when she mounted the pile and the fire was about to be kindled, all\nat once she cried out aloud, for there were six swans coming flying\nthrough the air; and she saw that her deliverance was near, and her\nheart beat for joy. The swans came close up to her with rushing wings,\nand stooped round her, so that she could throw the shirts over them; and\nwhen that had been done the swan-skins fell off them, and her brothers\nstood before her in their own bodies quite safe and sound; but as one\nshirt wanted the left sleeve, so the youngest brother had a swan's wing\ninstead of a left arm. They embraced and kissed each other, and the\nqueen went up to the king, who looked on full of astonishment, and began\nto speak to him and to say,\n\n\"Dearest husband, now I may dare to speak and tell you that I am\ninnocent, and have been falsely accused,\" and she related to him the\ntreachery of the step-mother, who had taken away the three children and\nhidden them. And she was reconciled to the king with great joy, and the\nwicked step-mother was bound to the stake on the pile of wood and burnt\nto ashes.\n\nAnd the king and queen lived many years with their six brothers in peace\nand joy.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SLEEPING BEAUTY\n\n\nIN times past there lived a king and queen, who said to each other every\nday of their lives, \"Would that we had a child!\" and yet they had none.\nBut it happened once that when the queen was bathing, there came a frog\nout of the water, and he squatted on the ground, and said to her,\n\n\"Thy wish shall be fulfilled; before a year has gone by, thou shalt\nbring a daughter into the world.\"\n\nAnd as the frog foretold, so it happened; and the queen bore a daughter\nso beautiful that the king could not contain himself for joy, and he\nordained a great feast. Not only did he bid to it his relations,\nfriends, and acquaintances, but also the wise women, that they might be\nkind and favourable to the child. There were thirteen of them in his\nkingdom, but as he had only provided twelve golden plates for them to\neat from, one of them had to be left out. However, the feast was\ncelebrated with all splendour; and as it drew to an end, the wise women\nstood forward to present to the child their wonderful gifts: one\nbestowed virtue, one beauty, a third riches, and so on, whatever there\nis in the world to wish for. And when eleven of them had said their say,\nin came the uninvited thirteenth, burning to revenge herself, and\nwithout greeting or respect, she cried with a loud voice,\n\n\"In the fifteenth year of her age the princess shall prick herself with\na spindle and shall fall down dead.\"\n\nAnd without speaking one more word she turned away and left the hall.\nEvery one was terrified at her saying, when the twelfth came forward,\nfor she had not yet bestowed her gift, and though she could not do away\nwith the evil prophecy, yet she could soften it, so she said,\n\n\"The princess shall not die, but fall into a deep sleep for a hundred\nyears.\"\n\nNow the king, being desirous of saving his child even from this\nmisfortune, gave commandment that all the spindles in his kingdom should\nbe burnt up.\n\nThe maiden grew up, adorned with all the gifts of the wise women; and\nshe was so lovely, modest, sweet, and kind and clever, that no one who\nsaw her could help loving her.\n\nIt happened one day, she being already fifteen years old, that the king\nand queen rode abroad, and the maiden was left behind alone in the\ncastle. She wandered about into all the nooks and corners, and into all\nthe chambers and parlours, as the fancy took her, till at last she came\nto an old tower. She climbed the narrow winding stair which led to a\nlittle door, with a rusty key sticking out of the lock; she turned the\nkey, and the door opened, and there in the little room sat an old woman\nwith a spindle, diligently spinning her flax.\n\n\"Good day, mother,\" said the princess, \"what are you doing?\"\n\n\"I am spinning,\" answered the old woman, nodding her head.\n\n\"What thing is that that twists round so briskly?\" asked the maiden, and\ntaking the spindle into her hand she began to spin; but no sooner had\nshe touched it than the evil prophecy was fulfilled, and she pricked her\nfinger with it. In that very moment she fell back upon the bed that\nstood there, and lay in a deep sleep. And this sleep fell upon the whole\ncastle; the king and queen, who had returned and were in the great hall,\nfell fast asleep, and with them the whole court. The horses in their\nstalls, the dogs in the yard, the pigeons on the roof, the flies on the\nwall, the very fire that flickered on the hearth, became still, and\nslept like the rest; and the meat on the spit ceased roasting, and the\ncook, who was going to pull the scullion's hair for some mistake he had\nmade, let him go, and went to sleep. And the wind ceased, and not a leaf\nfell from the trees about the castle.\n\nThen round about that place there grew a hedge of thorns thicker every\nyear, until at last the whole castle was hidden from view, and nothing\nof it could be seen but the vane on the roof. And a rumour went abroad\nin all that country of the beautiful sleeping Rosamond, for so was the\nprincess called; and from time to time many kings' sons came and tried\nto force their way through the hedge; but it was impossible for them to\ndo so, for the thorns held fast together like strong hands, and the\nyoung men were caught by them, and not being able to get free, there\ndied a lamentable death.\n\nMany a long year afterwards there came a king's son into that country,\nand heard an old man tell how there should be a castle standing behind\nthe hedge of thorns, and that there a beautiful enchanted princess named\nRosamond had slept for a hundred years, and with her the king and queen,\nand the whole court. The old man had been told by his grandfather that\nmany king's sons had sought to pass the thorn-hedge, but had been caught\nand pierced by the thorns, and had died a miserable death. Then said the\nyoung man, \"Nevertheless, I do not fear to try; I shall win through and\nsee the lovely Rosamond.\" The good old man tried to dissuade him, but he\nwould not listen to his words.\n\nFor now the hundred years were at an end, and the day had come when\nRosamond should be awakened. When the prince drew near the hedge of\nthorns, it was changed into a hedge of beautiful large flowers, which\nparted and bent aside to let him pass, and then closed behind him in a\nthick hedge. When he reached the castle-yard, he saw the horses and\nbrindled hunting-dogs lying asleep, and on the roof the pigeons were\nsitting with their heads under their wings. And when he came indoors,\nthe flies on the wall were asleep, the cook in the kitchen had his hand\nuplifted to strike the scullion, and the kitchen-maid had the black fowl\non her lap ready to pluck. Then he mounted higher, and saw in the hall\nthe whole court lying asleep, and above them, on their thrones, slept\nthe king and the queen. And still he went farther, and all was so quiet\nthat he could hear his own breathing; and at last he came to the tower,\nand went up the winding stair, and opened the door of the little room\nwhere Rosamond lay. And when he saw her looking so lovely in her sleep,\nhe could not turn away his eyes; and presently he stooped and kissed\nher, and she awaked, and opened her eyes, and looked very kindly on him.\nAnd she rose, and they went forth together, and the king and the queen\nand whole court waked up, and gazed on each other with great eyes of\nwonderment. And the horses in the yard got up and shook themselves, the\nhounds sprang up and wagged their tails, the pigeons on the roof drew\ntheir heads from under their wings, looked round, and flew into the\nfield, the flies on the wall crept on a little farther, the kitchen fire\nleapt up and blazed, and cooked the meat, the joint on the spit began to\nroast, the cook gave the scullion such a box on the ear that he roared\nout, and the maid went on plucking the fowl.\n\nThen the wedding of the Prince and Rosamond was held with all splendour,\nand they lived very happily together until their lives' end.\n\n\n\n\nKING THRUSHBEARD\n\n\nA KING had a daughter who was beautiful beyond measure, but so proud and\noverbearing that none of her suitors were good enough for her; she not\nonly refused one after the other, but made a laughing-stock of them.\nOnce the king appointed a great feast, and bade all the marriageable men\nto it from far and near. And they were all put in rows, according to\ntheir rank and station; first came the kings, then the princes, the\ndukes, the earls, the barons, and lastly the noblemen. The princess was\nled in front of the rows, but she had a mocking epithet for each. One\nwas too fat, \"What a tub!\" said she. Another too tall, \"Long and lean is\nill to be seen,\" said she. A third too short, \"Fat and short, not fit to\ncourt,\" said she. A fourth was too pale, \"A regular death's-head;\" a\nfifth too red-faced, \"A game-cock,\" she called him. The sixth was not\nwell-made enough, \"Green wood ill dried!\" cried she. So every one had\nsomething against him, and she made especially merry over a good king\nwho was very tall, and whose chin had grown a little peaked.\n\n\"Only look,\" cried she, laughing, \"he has a chin like a thrush's beak.\"\n\nAnd from that time they called him King Thrushbeard. But the old king,\nwhen he saw that his daughter mocked every one, and scorned all the\nassembled suitors, swore in his anger that she should have the first\nbeggar that came to the door for a husband.\n\nA few days afterwards came a travelling ballad-singer, and sang under\nthe window in hopes of a small alms. When the king heard of it, he said\nthat he must come in. And so the ballad-singer entered in his dirty\ntattered garments, and sang before the king and his daughter; when he\nhad done, he asked for a small reward. But the king said,\n\n\"Thy song has so well pleased me, that I will give thee my daughter to\nwife.\"\n\nThe princess was horrified; but the king said,\n\n\"I took an oath to give you to the first beggar that came, and so it\nmust be done.\"\n\nThere was no remedy. The priest was fetched, and she had to be married\nto the ballad-singer out of hand. When all was done, the king said,\n\n\"Now, as you are a beggar-wife, you can stay no longer in my castle, so\noff with you and your husband.\"\n\nThe beggar-man led her away, and she was obliged to go forth with him on\nfoot. On the way they came to a great wood, and she asked,\n\n \"Oh, whose is this forest, so thick and so fine?\"\n\nHe answered,\n\n \"It is King Thrushbeard's, and might have been thine.\"\n\nAnd she cried,\n\n \"Oh, I was a silly young thing, I'm afeared,\n Would I had taken that good King Thrushbeard!\"\n\nThen they passed through a meadow, and she asked,\n\n \"Oh, whose is this meadow, so green and so fine?\"\n\nHe answered,\n\n \"It is King Thrushbeard's, and might have been thine.\"\n\nAnd she cried,\n\n \"I was a silly young thing, I'm afeared,\n Would I had taken that good King Thrushbeard!\"\n\nThen they passed through a great town, and she asked,\n\n \"Whose is this city, so great and so fine?\"\n\nHe answered,\n\n \"Oh, it is King Thrushbeard's, and might have been thine.\"\n\nAnd she cried,\n\n \"I was a silly young thing, I'm afeared,\n Would I had taken that good King Thrushbeard!\"\n\nThen said the beggar-man,\n\n\"It does not please me to hear you always wishing for another husband;\nam I not good enough for you?\"\n\nAt last they came to a very small house, and she said,\n\n \"Oh dear me! what poor little house do I see?\n And whose, I would know, may the wretched hole be?\"\n\nThe man answered,\n\n\"That is my house and thine, where we must live together.\"\n\nShe had to stoop before she could go in at the door.\n\n\"Where are the servants?\" asked the king's daughter.\n\n\"What servants?\" answered the beggar-man, \"what you want to have done\nyou must do yourself. Make a fire quick, and put on water, and cook me\nsome food; I am very tired.\"\n\nBut the king's daughter understood nothing about fire-making and\ncooking, and the beggar-man had to lend a hand himself in order to\nmanage it at all. And when they had eaten their poor fare, they went to\nbed; but the man called up his wife very early in the morning, in order\nto clean the house. For a few days they lived in this indifferent\nmanner, until they came to the end of their store.\n\n\"Wife,\" said the man, \"this will not do, stopping here and earning\nnothing; you must make baskets.\"\n\nSo he went out and cut willows, and brought them home; and she began to\nweave them, but the hard twigs wounded her tender hands.\n\n\"I see this will not do,\" said the man, \"you had better try spinning.\"\n\nSo she sat her down and tried to spin, but the harsh thread cut her soft\nfingers, so that the blood flowed.\n\n\"Look now!\" said the man, \"you are no good at any sort of work; I made a\nbad bargain when I took you. I must see what I can do to make a trade\nof pots and earthen vessels; you can sit in the market and offer them\nfor sale.\"\n\n\"Oh dear!\" thought she, \"suppose while I am selling in the market people\nbelonging to my father's kingdom should see me, how they would mock at\nme!\"\n\nBut there was no help for it; she had to submit, or else die of hunger.\n\nThe first day all went well; the people bought her wares eagerly,\nbecause she was so beautiful, and gave her whatever she asked, and some\nof them gave her the money and left the pots after all behind them. And\nthey lived on these earnings as long as they lasted; and then the man\nbought a number of new pots. So she seated herself in a corner of the\nmarket, and stood the wares before her for sale. All at once a drunken\nhorse-soldier came plunging by, and rode straight into the midst of her\npots, breaking them into a thousand pieces. She could do nothing for\nweeping.\n\n\"Oh dear, what will become of me,\" cried she; \"what will my husband\nsay?\" and she hastened home and told him her misfortune.\n\n\"Who ever heard of such a thing as sitting in the corner of the market\nwith earthenware pots!\" said the man; \"now leave off crying; I see you\nare not fit for any regular work. I have been asking at your father's\ncastle if they want a kitchen-maid, and they say they don't mind taking\nyou; at any rate you will get your victuals free.\"\n\nAnd the king's daughter became a kitchen-maid, to be at the cook's beck\nand call, and to do the hardest work. In each of her pockets she\nfastened a little pot, and brought home in them whatever was left, and\nupon that she and her husband were fed. It happened one day, when the\nwedding of the eldest prince was celebrated, the poor woman went\nupstairs, and stood by the parlour door to see what was going on. And\nwhen the place was lighted up, and the company arrived, each person\nhandsomer than the one before, and all was brilliancy and splendour, she\nthought on her own fate with a sad heart, and bewailed her former pride\nand haughtiness which had brought her so low, and plunged her in so\ngreat poverty. And as the rich and delicate dishes smelling so good were\ncarried to and fro every now and then, the servants would throw her a\nfew fragments, which she put in her pockets, intending to take home.\nAnd then the prince himself passed in clothed in silk and velvet, with a\ngold chain round his neck. And when he saw the beautiful woman standing\nin the doorway, he seized her hand and urged her to dance with him, but\nshe refused, all trembling, for she saw it was King Thrushbeard, who had\ncome to court her, whom she had turned away with mocking. It was of no\nuse her resisting, he drew her into the room; and all at once the band\nto which her pockets were fastened broke, and the pots fell out, and the\nsoup ran about, and the fragments were scattered all round. And when the\npeople saw that, there was great laughter and mocking, and she felt so\nashamed, that she wished herself a thousand fathoms underground. She\nrushed to the door to fly from the place, when a man caught her just on\nthe steps, and when she looked at him, it was King Thrushbeard again. He\nsaid to her in a kind tone,\n\n\"Do not be afraid, I and the beggar-man with whom you lived in the\nwretched little hut are one. For love of you I disguised myself, and it\nwas I who broke your pots in the guise of a horse-soldier. I did all\nthat to bring down your proud heart, and to punish your haughtiness,\nwhich caused you to mock at me.\" Then she wept bitterly, and said,\n\n\"I have done great wrong, and am not worthy to be your wife.\"\n\nBut he said,\n\n\"Take courage, the evil days are gone over; now let us keep our\nwedding-day.\"\n\nThen came the ladies-in-waiting and put on her splendid clothing; and\nher father came, and the whole court, and wished her joy on her marriage\nwith King Thrushbeard; and then the merry-making began in good earnest.\nI cannot help wishing that you and I could have been there too.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: SNOW-WHITE\n\n \"QUEEN THOU ART OF BEAUTY RARE\n BUT SNOW-WHITE LIVING IN THE GLEN,\n WITH THE SEVEN LITTLE MEN,\n IS A THOUSAND TIMES MORE FAIR.\"]\n\n\n\n\nSNOW-WHITE\n\n\nIT was the middle of winter, and the snow-flakes were falling like\nfeathers from the sky, and a queen sat at her window working, and her\nembroidery-frame was of ebony. And as she worked, gazing at times out on\nthe snow, she pricked her finger, and there fell from it three drops of\nblood on the snow. And when she saw how bright and red it looked, she\nsaid to herself, \"Oh that I had a child as white as snow, as red as\nblood, and as black as the wood of the embroidery frame!\"\n\nNot very long after she had a daughter, with a skin as white as snow,\nlips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony, and she was named\nSnow-white. And when she was born the queen died.\n\nAfter a year had gone by the king took another wife, a beautiful woman,\nbut proud and overbearing, and she could not bear to be surpassed in\nbeauty by any one. She had a magic looking-glass, and she used to stand\nbefore it, and look in it, and say,\n\n \"Looking-glass upon the wall,\n Who is fairest of us all?\"\n\nAnd the looking-glass would answer,\n\n \"You are fairest of them all.\"\n\nAnd she was contented, for she knew that the looking-glass spoke the\ntruth.\n\nNow, Snow-white was growing prettier and prettier, and when she was\nseven years old she was as beautiful as day, far more so than the queen\nherself. So one day when the queen went to her mirror and said,\n\n \"Looking-glass upon the wall,\n Who is fairest of us all?\"\n\nIt answered,\n\n \"Queen, you are full fair, 'tis true,\n But Snow-white fairer is than you.\"\n\nThis gave the queen a great shock, and she became yellow and green with\nenvy, and from that hour her heart turned against Snow-white, and she\nhated her. And envy and pride like ill weeds grew in her heart higher\nevery day, until she had no peace day or night. At last she sent for a\nhuntsman, and said,\n\n\"Take the child out into the woods, so that I may set eyes on her no\nmore. You must put her to death, and bring me her heart for a token.\"\n\nThe huntsman consented, and led her away; but when he drew his cutlass\nto pierce Snow-white's innocent heart, she began to weep, and to say,\n\n\"Oh, dear huntsman, do not take my life; I will go away into the wild\nwood, and never come home again.\"\n\nAnd as she was so lovely the huntsman had pity on her, and said,\n\n\"Away with you then, poor child;\" for he thought the wild animals would\nbe sure to devour her, and it was as if a stone had been rolled away\nfrom his heart when he spared to put her to death. Just at that moment a\nyoung wild boar came running by, so he caught and killed it, and taking\nout its heart, he brought it to the queen for a token. And it was salted\nand cooked, and the wicked woman ate it up, thinking that there was an\nend of Snow-white.\n\nNow, when the poor child found herself quite alone in the wild woods,\nshe felt full of terror, even of the very leaves on the trees, and she\ndid not know what to do for fright. Then she began to run over the sharp\nstones and through the thorn bushes, and the wild beasts after her, but\nthey did her no harm. She ran as long as her feet would carry her; and\nwhen the evening drew near she came to a little house, and she went\ninside to rest. Everything there was very small, but as pretty and clean\nas possible. There stood the little table ready laid, and covered with a\nwhite cloth, and seven little plates, and seven knives and forks, and\ndrinking-cups. By the wall stood seven little beds, side by side,\ncovered with clean white quilts. Snow-white, being very hungry and\nthirsty, ate from each plate a little porridge and bread, and drank out\nof each little cup a drop of wine, so as not to finish up one portion\nalone. After that she felt so tired that she lay down on one of the\nbeds, but it did not seem to suit her; one was too long, another too\nshort, but at last the seventh was quite right; and so she lay down upon\nit, committed herself to heaven, and fell asleep.\n\nWhen it was quite dark, the masters of the house came home. They were\nseven dwarfs, whose occupation was to dig underground among the\nmountains. When they had lighted their seven candles, and it was quite\nlight in the little house, they saw that some one must have been in, as\neverything was not in the same order in which they left it. The first\nsaid,\n\n\"Who has been sitting in my little chair?\"\n\nThe second said,\n\n\"Who has been eating from my little plate?\"\n\nThe third said,\n\n\"Who has been taking my little loaf?\"\n\nThe fourth said,\n\n\"Who has been tasting my porridge?\"\n\nThe fifth said,\n\n\"Who has been using my little fork?\"\n\nThe sixth said,\n\n\"Who has been cutting with my little knife?\"\n\nThe seventh said,\n\n\"Who has been drinking from my little cup?\"\n\nThen the first one, looking round, saw a hollow in his bed, and cried,\n\n\"Who has been lying on my bed?\"\n\nAnd the others came running, and cried,\n\n\"Some one has been on our beds too!\"\n\nBut when the seventh looked at his bed, he saw little Snow-white lying\nthere asleep. Then he told the others, who came running up, crying out\nin their astonishment, and holding up their seven little candles to\nthrow a light upon Snow-white.\n\n\"O goodness! O gracious!\" cried they, \"what beautiful child is this?\"\nand were so full of joy to see her that they did not wake her, but let\nher sleep on. And the seventh dwarf slept with his comrades, an hour at\na time with each, until the night had passed.\n\nWhen it was morning, and Snow-white awoke and saw the seven dwarfs, she\nwas very frightened; but they seemed quite friendly, and asked her what\nher name was, and she told them; and then they asked how she came to be\nin their house. And she related to them how her step-mother had wished\nher to be put to death, and how the huntsman had spared her life, and\nhow she had run the whole day long, until at last she had found their\nlittle house. Then the dwarfs said,\n\n\"If you will keep our house for us, and cook, and wash, and make the\nbeds, and sew and knit, and keep everything tidy and clean, you may stay\nwith us, and you shall lack nothing.\"\n\n\"With all my heart,\" said Snow-white; and so she stayed, and kept the\nhouse in good order. In the morning the dwarfs went to the mountain to\ndig for gold; in the evening they came home, and their supper had to be\nready for them. All the day long the maiden was left alone, and the good\nlittle dwarfs warned her, saying,\n\n\"Beware of your step-mother, she will soon know you are here. Let no one\ninto the house.\"\n\nNow the queen, having eaten Snow-white's heart, as she supposed, felt\nquite sure that now she was the first and fairest, and so she came to\nher mirror, and said,\n\n \"Looking-glass upon the wall,\n Who is fairest of us all?\"\n\nAnd the glass answered,\n\n \"Queen, thou art of beauty rare,\n But Snow-white living in the glen\n With the seven little men\n Is a thousand times more fair.\"\n\nThen she was very angry, for the glass always spoke the truth, and she\nknew that the huntsman must have deceived her, and that Snow-white must\nstill be living. And she thought and thought how she could manage to\nmake an end of her, for as long as she was not the fairest in the land,\nenvy left her no rest. At last she thought of a plan; she painted her\nface and dressed herself like an old pedlar woman, so that no one would\nhave known her. In this disguise she went across the seven mountains,\nuntil she came to the house of the seven little dwarfs, and she knocked\nat the door and cried,\n\n\"Fine wares to sell! fine wares to sell!\"\n\nSnow-white peeped out of the window and cried,\n\n\"Good-day, good woman, what have you to sell?\"\n\n\"Good wares, fine wares,\" answered she, \"laces of all colours;\" and she\nheld up a piece that was woven of variegated silk.\n\n\"I need not be afraid of letting in this good woman,\" thought\nSnow-white, and she unbarred the door and bought the pretty lace.\n\n\"What a figure you are, child!\" said the old woman, \"come and let me\nlace you properly for once.\"\n\nSnow-white, suspecting nothing, stood up before her, and let her lace\nher with the new lace; but the old woman laced so quick and tight that\nit took Snow-white's breath away, and she fell down as dead.\n\n\"Now you have done with being the fairest,\" said the old woman as she\nhastened away.\n\nNot long after that, towards evening, the seven dwarfs came home, and\nwere terrified to see their dear Snow-white lying on the ground, without\nlife or motion; they raised her up, and when they saw how tightly she\nwas laced they cut the lace in two; then she began to draw breath, and\nlittle by little she returned to life. When the dwarfs heard what had\nhappened they said,\n\n\"The old pedlar woman was no other than the wicked queen; you must\nbeware of letting any one in when we are not here!\"\n\nAnd when the wicked woman got home she went to her glass and said,\n\n \"Looking-glass against the wall,\n Who is fairest of us all?\"\n\nAnd it answered as before,\n\n \"Queen, thou art of beauty rare,\n But Snow-white living in the glen\n With the seven little men\n Is a thousand times more fair.\"\n\nWhen she heard that she was so struck with surprise that all the blood\nleft her heart, for she knew that Snow-white must still be living.\n\n\"But now,\" said she, \"I will think of something that will be her ruin.\"\nAnd by witchcraft she made a poisoned comb. Then she dressed herself up\nto look like another different sort of old woman. So she went across the\nseven mountains and came to the house of the seven dwarfs, and knocked\nat the door and cried,\n\n\"Good wares to sell! good wares to sell!\"\n\nSnow-white looked out and said,\n\n\"Go away, I must not let anybody in.\"\n\n\"But you are not forbidden to look,\" said the old woman, taking out the\npoisoned comb and holding it up. It pleased the poor child so much that\nshe was tempted to open the door; and when the bargain was made the old\nwoman said,\n\n\"Now, for once your hair shall be properly combed.\"\n\nPoor Snow-white, thinking no harm, let the old woman do as she would,\nbut no sooner was the comb put in her hair than the poison began to\nwork, and the poor girl fell down senseless.\n\n\"Now, you paragon of beauty,\" said the wicked woman, \"this is the end of\nyou,\" and went off. By good luck it was now near evening, and the seven\nlittle dwarfs came home. When they saw Snow-white lying on the ground as\ndead, they thought directly that it was the step-mother's doing, and\nlooked about, found the poisoned comb, and no sooner had they drawn it\nout of her hair than Snow-white came to herself, and related all that\nhad passed. Then they warned her once more to be on her guard, and never\nagain to let any one in at the door.\n\nAnd the queen went home and stood before the looking-glass and said,\n\n \"Looking-glass against the wall,\n Who is fairest of us all?\"\n\nAnd the looking-glass answered as before,\n\n \"Queen, thou art of beauty rare,\n But Snow-white living in the glen\n With the seven little men\n Is a thousand times more fair.\"\n\nWhen she heard the looking-glass speak thus she trembled and shook with\nanger.\n\n\"Snow-white shall die,\" cried she, \"though it should cost me my own\nlife!\" And then she went to a secret lonely chamber, where no one was\nlikely to come, and there she made a poisonous apple. It was beautiful\nto look upon, being white with red cheeks, so that any one who should\nsee it must long for it, but whoever ate even a little bit of it must\ndie. When the apple was ready she painted her face and clothed herself\nlike a peasant woman, and went across the seven mountains to where the\nseven dwarfs lived. And when she knocked at the door Snow-white put her\nhead out of the window and said,\n\n\"I dare not let anybody in; the seven dwarfs told me not.\"\n\n\"All right,\" answered the woman; \"I can easily get rid of my apples\nelsewhere. There, I will give you one.\"\n\n\"No,\" answered Snow-white, \"I dare not take anything.\"\n\n\"Are you afraid of poison?\" said the woman, \"look here, I will cut the\napple in two pieces; you shall have the red side, I will have the white\none.\"\n\nFor the apple was so cunningly made, that all the poison was in the rosy\nhalf of it. Snow-white longed for the beautiful apple, and as she saw\nthe peasant woman eating a piece of it she could no longer refrain, but\nstretched out her hand and took the poisoned half. But no sooner had she\ntaken a morsel of it into her mouth than she fell to the earth as dead.\nAnd the queen, casting on her a terrible glance, laughed aloud and\ncried,\n\n\"As white as snow, as red as blood, as black as ebony! this time the\ndwarfs will not be able to bring you to life again.\"\n\nAnd when she went home and asked the looking-glass,\n\n \"Looking-glass against the wall,\n Who is fairest of us all?\"\n\nat last it answered,\n\n\"You are the fairest now of all.\"\n\nThen her envious heart had peace, as much as an envious heart can have.\n\nThe dwarfs, when they came home in the evening, found Snow-white lying\non the ground, and there came no breath out of her mouth, and she was\ndead. They lifted her up, sought if anything poisonous was to be found,\ncut her laces, combed her hair, washed her with water and wine, but all\nwas of no avail, the poor child was dead, and remained dead. Then they\nlaid her on a bier, and sat all seven of them round it, and wept and\nlamented three whole days. And then they would have buried her, but that\nshe looked still as if she were living, with her beautiful blooming\ncheeks. So they said,\n\n\"We cannot hide her away in the black ground.\" And they had made a\ncoffin of clear glass, so as to be looked into from all sides, and they\nlaid her in it, and wrote in golden letters upon it her name, and that\nshe was a king's daughter. Then they set the coffin out upon the\nmountain, and one of them always remained by it to watch. And the birds\ncame too, and mourned for Snow-white, first an owl, then a raven, and\nlastly, a dove.\n\nNow, for a long while Snow-white lay in the coffin and never changed,\nbut looked as if she were asleep, for she was still as white as snow,\nas red as blood, and her hair was as black as ebony. It happened,\nhowever, that one day a king's son rode through the wood and up to the\ndwarfs' house, which was near it. He saw on the mountain the coffin, and\nbeautiful Snow-white within it, and he read what was written in golden\nletters upon it. Then he said to the dwarfs,\n\n\"Let me have the coffin, and I will give you whatever you like to ask\nfor it.\"\n\nBut the dwarfs told him that they could not part with it for all the\ngold in the world. But he said,\n\n\"I beseech you to give it me, for I cannot live without looking upon\nSnow-white; if you consent I will bring you to great honour, and care\nfor you as if you were my brethren.\"\n\nWhen he so spoke the good little dwarfs had pity upon him and gave him\nthe coffin, and the king's son called his servants and bid them carry it\naway on their shoulders. Now it happened that as they were going along\nthey stumbled over a bush, and with the shaking the bit of poisoned\napple flew out of her throat. It was not long before she opened her\neyes, threw up the cover of the coffin, and sat up, alive and well.\n\n\"Oh dear! where am I?\" cried she. The king's son answered, full of joy,\n\"You are near me,\" and, relating all that had happened, he said,\n\n\"I would rather have you than anything in the world; come with me to my\nfather's castle and you shall be my bride.\"\n\nAnd Snow-white was kind, and went with him, and their wedding was held\nwith pomp and great splendour.\n\nBut Snow-white's wicked step-mother was also bidden to the feast, and\nwhen she had dressed herself in beautiful clothes she went to her\nlooking-glass and said,\n\n \"Looking-glass upon the wall,\n Who is fairest of us all?\"\n\nThe looking-glass answered,\n\n \"O Queen, although you are of beauty rare,\n The young bride is a thousand times more fair.\"\n\nThen she railed and cursed, and was beside herself with disappointment\nand anger. First she thought she would not go to the wedding; but then\nshe felt she should have no peace until she went and saw the bride. And\nwhen she saw her she knew her for Snow-white, and could not stir from\nthe place for anger and terror. For they had ready red-hot iron shoes,\nin which she had to dance until she fell down dead.\n\n\n\n\nThe KNAPSACK, the HAT, and the HORN\n\n\nONCE there were three brothers, and they grew poorer and poorer, until\nat last their need was so great that they had nothing left to bite or to\nbreak. Then they said, \"This will not do; we had better go out into the\nworld and seek our fortune.\"\n\nSo they set out, and went some distance through many green fields, but\nthey met with no good fortune. One day they came to a great wood, in the\nmidst of which was a hill, and when they came near to it, they saw that\nit was all of silver. Then said the eldest,\n\n\"Now here is good fortune enough for me, and I desire no better.\"\n\nAnd he took of the silver as much as he could carry, turned round, and\nwent back home. But the other two said,\n\n\"We must have something better than mere silver,\" and they would not\ntouch it, but went on farther. After they had gone on a few days longer,\nthey came to a hill that was all of gold. The second brother stood still\nand considered, and was uncertain.\n\n\"What shall I do?\" said he; \"shall I take of the gold enough to last me\nmy life, or shall I go farther?\"\n\nAt last, coming to a conclusion, he filled his pockets as full as they\nwould hold, bid good-bye to his brother, and went home. But the third\nbrother said to himself,\n\n\"Silver and gold do not tempt me; I will not gainsay fortune, who has\nbetter things in store for me.\"\n\nSo he went on, and when he had journeyed for three days, he came to a\nwood still greater than the former ones, so that there was no end to it;\nand in it he found nothing to eat or to drink, so that he was nearly\nstarving. He got up into a high tree, so as to see how far the wood\nreached, but as far as his eyes could see, there was nothing but the\ntops of the trees. And as he got down from the tree, hunger pressed him\nsore, and he thought,\n\n\"Oh that for once I could have a good meal!\"\n\nAnd when he reached the ground he saw to his surprise a table beneath\nthe tree richly spread with food, and that smoked before him.\n\n\"This time at least,\" said he, \"I have my wish,\" and without stopping to\nask who had brought the meal there, and who had cooked it, he came close\nto the table and ate with relish, until his hunger was appeased. When he\nhad finished, he thought,\n\n\"It would be a pity to leave such a good table-cloth behind in the\nwood,\" so he folded it up neatly and pocketed it. Then he walked on, and\nin the evening, when hunger again seized him, he thought he would put\nthe table-cloth to the proof, and he brought it out and said,\n\n\"Now I desire that thou shouldst be spread with a good meal,\" and no\nsooner were the words out of his mouth, than there stood on it as many\ndishes of delicious food as there was room for.\n\n\"Now that I see,\" said he, \"what sort of a cook thou art, I hold thee\ndearer than the mountains of silver and of gold,\" for he perceived that\nit was a wishing-cloth. Still he was not satisfied to settle down at\nhome with only a wishing-cloth, so he determined to wander farther\nthrough the world and seek his fortune. One evening, in a lonely wood,\nhe came upon a begrimed charcoal-burner at his furnace, who had put some\npotatoes to roast for his supper.\n\n\"Good evening, my black fellow,\" said he, \"how do you get on in this\nlonely spot?\"\n\n\"One day is like another,\" answered the charcoal-burner: \"every evening\nI have potatoes; have you a mind to be my guest?\"\n\n\"Many thanks,\" answered the traveller, \"I will not deprive you; you did\nnot expect a guest; but if you do not object, you shall be the one to be\ninvited.\"\n\n\"How can that be managed?\" said the charcoal-burner; \"I see that you\nhave nothing with you, and if you were to walk two hours in any\ndirection, you would meet with no one to give you anything.\"\n\n\"For all that,\" answered he, \"there shall be a feast so good, that you\nhave never tasted the like.\"\n\nThen he took out the table-cloth from his knapsack, and spreading it on\nthe ground, said,\n\n\"Cloth, be covered,\" and immediately there appeared boiled and roast\nmeat, quite hot, as if it had just come from the kitchen. The\ncharcoal-burner stared, but did not stay to be asked twice, and fell to,\nfilling his black mouth with ever bigger and bigger pieces. When they\nhad finished eating, the charcoal-burner smiled, and said,\n\n\"Look here, I approve of your table-cloth; it would not be a bad thing\nfor me to have here in the wood, where the cooking is not first-rate. I\nwill strike a bargain with you. There hangs a soldier's knapsack in the\ncorner, which looks old and unsightly, but it has wonderful qualities;\nas I have no further occasion for it, I will give it to you in exchange\nfor the table-cloth.\"\n\n\"First, I must know what these wonderful qualities are,\" returned the\nother.\n\n\"I will tell you,\" answered the charcoal-burner; \"if you strike it with\nyour hand, there will appear a corporal and six men with swords and\nmuskets, and whatever you wish to have done, that will they do.\"\n\n\"Well, for my part,\" said the other, \"I am quite willing to make the\nexchange.\" And he gave the table-cloth to the charcoal-burner, took down\nthe knapsack from its hook, slung it over his shoulder, and took his\nleave. Before he had gone far he began to want to make a trial of his\nwonderful knapsack, so he struck it a blow. At once seven soldiers\nappeared before him, and the corporal said,\n\n\"What does my lord and master please to want?\"\n\n\"March in haste to the charcoal-burner and demand my wishing-cloth\nback,\" said the man. They wheeled round to the left, and were not long\nbefore they had accomplished his desire, and taken away, without wasting\nmany words, the wishing-cloth from the charcoal-burner. Having dismissed\nthem, he wandered on, expecting still more wonderful luck. About sunset\nhe fell in with another charcoal-burner, who was getting his supper\nready at the fire.\n\n\"Will you join me?\" said this black fellow; \"potatoes and salt, without\nbutter; sit down to it with me.\"\n\n\"No,\" answered he, \"this time you shall be my guest.\" And he spread out\nhis table-cloth, and it was directly covered with the most delicious\nvictuals. So they ate and drank together and were merry. After the meal\nwas over the charcoal-burner said,\n\n\"Over there, on the bench, lies an old worn-out hat, which has wonderful\nproperties: if you put it on and draw it well over your head it is as if\na dozen field-pieces went off, one after the other, shooting everything\ndown, so that no one can stand against them. This hat is of no use to\nme, and I will give it to you in exchange for the table-cloth.\"\n\n\"All right,\" answered the other, taking the hat and carrying it off, and\nleaving the table-cloth behind him. Before he had gone far he struck\nupon the knapsack, and summoned his soldiers to fetch back the\ntable-cloth again.\n\n\"First one thing, and then another,\" thought he, \"just as if my luck\nwere never to end.\" And so it seemed, for at the end of another day's\njourney he came up to another charcoal-burner, who was roasting his\npotatoes just like the others. He invited him to eat with him off his\nwishing-cloth, to which the charcoal-burner took such a fancy, that he\ngave him for it a horn, which had different properties still from the\nhat. If a man blew on it down fell all walls and fortresses, and finally\ntowns and villages in heaps. So the man gave the table-cloth in exchange\nfor it to the charcoal-burner, afterwards sending his men to fetch it\nback, so that at last he had in his possession knapsack, hat, and horn,\nall at one time.\n\n\"Now,\" said he, \"I am a made man, and it is time to go home again and\nsee how my brothers are faring.\"\n\nWhen he reached home he found that his brothers had built themselves a\nfine house with their silver and gold, and lived in clover. He went to\nsee them, but because he wore a half-worn-out coat, a shabby hat, and\nthe old knapsack on his back, they would not recognise him as their\nbrother. They mocked him and said,\n\n\"It is of no use your giving yourself out to be our brother; he who\nscorned silver and gold, seeking for better fortune, will return in\ngreat splendour, as a mighty king, not as a beggar-man.\" And they drove\nhim from their door. Then he flew into a great rage, and struck upon his\nknapsack until a hundred and fifty men stood before him, rank and file.\nHe ordered them to surround his brothers' house, and that two of them\nshould take hazel-rods, and should beat the brothers until they knew who\nhe was. And there arose a terrible noise; the people ran together and\nwished to rescue the brothers in their extremity, but they could do\nnothing against the soldiers. It happened at last that the king of the\ncountry heard of it, and he was indignant, and sent a captain with his\ntroops to drive the disturber of the peace out of the town: but the man\nwith his knapsack soon assembled a greater company, who beat back the\ncaptain and his people, sending them off with bleeding noses. Then the\nking said,\n\n\"This vagabond fellow must be put down,\" and he sent the next day a\nlarger company against him, but they could do nothing: for he assembled\nmore men than ever, and in order to bring them more quickly, he pulled\nhis hat twice lower over his brows; then the heavy guns came into play,\nand the king's people were beaten and put to flight.\n\n\"Now,\" said he, \"I shall not make peace until the king gives me his\ndaughter to wife, and lets me rule the whole kingdom in his name.\"\n\nThis he caused to be told to the king, who said to his daughter,\n\n\"This is a hard nut to crack; there is no choice but for me to do as he\nasks; if I wish to have peace and keep the crown on my head, I must give\nin to him.\"\n\nSo the wedding took place, but the king's daughter was angry that the\nbridegroom should be a common man, who wore a shabby hat, and carried an\nold knapsack. She wished very much to get rid of him, and thought day\nand night how to manage it. Then it struck her that perhaps all his\nwonder-working power lay in the knapsack, and she pretended to be very\nfond of him, and when she had brought him into a good humour she\nsaid,--\"Pray lay aside that ugly knapsack; it misbecomes you so much\nthat I feel ashamed of you.\"\n\n\"My dear child,\" answered he, \"this knapsack is my greatest treasure; so\nlong as I keep it I need not fear anything in the whole world,\" and then\nhe showed her with what wonderful qualities it was endowed. Then she\nfell on his neck as if she would have kissed him, but, by a clever\ntrick, she slipped the knapsack over his shoulder and ran away with it.\nAs soon as she was alone she struck upon it and summoned the soldiers,\nand bade them seize her husband and bring him to the king's palace. They\nobeyed, and the false woman had many more to follow behind, so as to be\nready to drive him out of the country. He would have been quite done for\nif he had not still kept the hat. As soon as he could get his hands free\nhe pulled it twice forward on his head; and then the cannon began to\nthunder and beat all down, till at last the king's daughter had to come\nand to beg pardon. And as she so movingly prayed and promised to behave\nbetter, he raised her up and made peace with her. Then she grew very\nkind to him, and seemed to love him very much, and he grew so deluded,\nthat one day he confided to her that even if he were deprived of his\nknapsack nothing could be done against him as long as he should keep the\nold hat. And when she knew the secret she waited until he had gone to\nsleep; then she carried off the hat, and had him driven out into the\nstreets. Still the horn remained to him, and in great wrath he blew a\ngreat blast upon it, and down came walls and fortresses, towns and\nvillages, and buried the king and his daughter among their ruins. If he\nhad not set down the horn when he did, and if he had blown a little\nlonger, all the houses would have tumbled down, and there would not have\nbeen left one stone upon another. After this no one dared to withstand\nhim, and he made himself king over the whole country.\n\n\n\n\nRUMPELSTILTSKIN\n\n\nTHERE was once a miller who was poor, but he had one beautiful daughter.\nIt happened one day that he came to speak with the king, and, to give\nhimself consequence, he told him that he had a daughter who could spin\ngold out of straw. The king said to the miller,\n\n\"That is an art that pleases me well; if thy daughter is as clever as\nyou say, bring her to my castle to-morrow, that I may put her to the\nproof.\"\n\nWhen the girl was brought to him, he led her into a room that was quite\nfull of straw, and gave her a wheel and spindle, and said,\n\n\"Now set to work, and if by the early morning thou hast not spun this\nstraw to gold thou shalt die.\" And he shut the door himself, and left\nher there alone.\n\nAnd so the poor miller's daughter was left there sitting, and could not\nthink what to do for her life; she had no notion how to set to work to\nspin gold from straw, and her distress grew so great that she began to\nweep. Then all at once the door opened, and in came a little man, who\nsaid,\n\n\"Good evening, miller's daughter; why are you crying?\"\n\n\"Oh!\" answered the girl, \"I have got to spin gold out of straw, and I\ndon't understand the business.\"\n\nThen the little man said,\n\n\"What will you give me if I spin it for you?\"\n\n\"My necklace,\" said the girl.\n\nThe little man took the necklace, seated himself before the wheel, and\nwhirr, whirr, whirr! three times round and the bobbin was full; then he\ntook up another, and whirr, whirr, whirr! three times round, and that\nwas full; and so he went on till the morning, when all the straw had\nbeen spun, and all the bobbins were full of gold. At sunrise came the\nking, and when he saw the gold he was astonished and very much rejoiced,\nfor he was very avaricious. He had the miller's daughter taken into\nanother room filled with straw, much bigger than the last, and told her\nthat as she valued her life she must spin it all in one night. The girl\ndid not know what to do, so she began to cry, and then the door opened,\nand the little man appeared and said,\n\n\"What will you give me if I spin all this straw into gold?\"\n\n\"The ring from my finger,\" answered the girl.\n\nSo the little man took the ring, and began again to send the wheel\nwhirring round, and by the next morning all the straw was spun into\nglistening gold. The king was rejoiced beyond measure at the sight, but\nas he could never have enough of gold, he had the miller's daughter\ntaken into a still larger room full of straw, and said,\n\n\"This, too, must be spun in one night, and if you accomplish it you\nshall be my wife.\" For he thought, \"Although she is but a miller's\ndaughter, I am not likely to find any one richer in the whole world.\"\n\nAs soon as the girl was left alone, the little man appeared for the\nthird time and said,\n\n\"What will you give me if I spin the straw for you this time?\"\n\n\"I have nothing left to give,\" answered the girl.\n\n\"Then you must promise me the first child you have after you are queen,\"\nsaid the little man.\n\n\"But who knows whether that will happen?\" thought the girl; but as she\ndid not know what else to do in her necessity, she promised the little\nman what he desired, upon which he began to spin, until all the straw\nwas gold. And when in the morning the king came and found all done\naccording to his wish, he caused the wedding to be held at once, and the\nmiller's pretty daughter became a queen.\n\nIn a year's time she brought a fine child into the world, and thought\nno more of the little man; but one day he came suddenly into her room,\nand said,\n\n\"Now give me what you promised me.\"\n\nThe queen was terrified greatly, and offered the little man all the\nriches of the kingdom if he would only leave the child; but the little\nman said,\n\n\"No, I would rather have something living than all the treasures of the\nworld.\"\n\nThen the queen began to lament and to weep, so that the little man had\npity upon her.\n\n\"I will give you three days,\" said he, \"and if at the end of that time\nyou cannot tell my name, you must give up the child to me.\"\n\nThen the queen spent the whole night in thinking over all the names that\nshe had ever heard, and sent a messenger through the land to ask far and\nwide for all the names that could be found. And when the little man came\nnext day, (beginning with Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar) she repeated all\nshe knew, and went through the whole list, but after each the little man\nsaid,\n\n\"That is not my name.\"\n\nThe second day the queen sent to inquire of all the neighbours what the\nservants were called, and told the little man all the most unusual and\nsingular names, saying,\n\n\"Perhaps you are called Roast-ribs, or Sheepshanks, or Spindleshanks?\"\nBut he answered nothing but\n\n\"That is not my name.\"\n\nThe third day the messenger came back again, and said,\n\n\"I have not been able to find one single new name; but as I passed\nthrough the woods I came to a high hill, and near it was a little house,\nand before the house burned a fire, and round the fire danced a comical\nlittle man, and he hopped on one leg and cried,\n\n \"To-day do I bake, to-morrow I brew,\n The day after that the queen's child comes in;\n And oh! I am glad that nobody knew\n That the name I am called is Rumpelstiltskin!\"\n\nYou cannot think how pleased the queen was to hear that name, and soon\nafterwards, when the little man walked in and said, \"Now, Mrs. Queen,\nwhat is my name?\" she said at first,\n\n\"Are you called Jack?\"\n\n\"No,\" answered he.\n\n\"Are you called Harry?\" she asked again.\n\n\"No,\" answered he. And then she said,\n\n\"Then perhaps your name is Rumpelstiltskin!\"\n\n\"The devil told you that! the devil told you that!\" cried the little\nman, and in his anger he stamped with his right foot so hard that it\nwent into the ground above his knee; then he seized his left foot with\nboth his hands in such a fury that he split in two, and there was an end\nof him.\n\n\n\n\nROLAND\n\n\nTHERE was once a woman who was a witch, and she had two daughters, one\nugly and wicked, whom she loved the best, because she was her very own\ndaughter, and one pretty and good, whom she hated because she was her\nstep-daughter. One day the step-daughter put on a pretty apron, which\nthe other daughter liked so much that she became envious, and said to\nher mother that she must and should have the apron.\n\n\"Be content, my child,\" said the old woman, \"thou shalt have it. Thy\nstep-sister has long deserved death, and to-night, while she is asleep,\nI shall come and cut off her head. Take care to lie at the farthest side\nof the bed, and push her to the outside.\"\n\nAnd it would have been all over with the poor girl, if she had not been\nstanding in a corner near and heard it all. She did not dare to go\noutside the door the whole day long, and when bed-time came the other\none got into bed first, so as to lie on the farthest side; but when she\nhad gone to sleep, the step-daughter pushed her towards the outside, and\ntook the inside place next the wall. In the night the old woman came\nsneaking; in her right hand she held an axe, and with her left she felt\nfor the one who was lying outside, and then she heaved up the axe with\nboth hands, and hewed the head off her only daughter.\n\nWhen she had gone away, the other girl got up and went to her\nsweetheart's, who was called Roland, and knocked at his door. When he\ncame to her, she said,\n\n\"Listen, dear Roland, we must flee away in all haste; my step-mother\nmeant to put me to death, but she has killed her only child instead.\nWhen the day breaks, and she sees what she has done, we are lost.\"\n\n\"But I advise you,\" said Roland, \"to bring away her magic wand with you;\notherwise we cannot escape her when she comes after to overtake us.\" So\nthe maiden fetched the magic wand, and she took up the head of her\nstep-sister and let drop three drops of blood on the ground,--one by the\nbed, one in the kitchen, and one on the steps. Then she hastened back to\nher sweetheart.\n\nWhen the old witch got up in the morning, she called out to her\ndaughter, to give her the apron, but no daughter came. Then she cried\nout, \"Where art thou?\"\n\n\"Here, at the steps, sweeping!\" answered one of the drops of blood.\n\nThe old woman went out, but she saw nobody at the steps, and cried\nagain, \"Where art thou?\"\n\n\"Here in the kitchen warming myself,\" cried the second drop of blood.\n\nSo she went into the kitchen and found no one. Then she cried again,\n\"Where art thou?\"\n\n\"Oh, here in bed fast asleep!\" cried the third drop of blood.\n\nThen the mother went into the room, and up to the bed, and there lay her\nonly child, whose head she had cut off herself. The witch fell into a\ngreat fury, rushed to the window, for from it she could see far and\nwide, and she caught sight of her step-daughter, hastening away with her\ndear Roland.\n\n\"It will be no good to you,\" cried she, \"if you get ever so far away,\nyou cannot escape me.\" Then she put on her boots, which took her an\nhour's walk at every stride, and it was not long before she had\novertaken them. But the maiden, when she saw the old woman striding up,\nchanged, by means of the magic wand, her dear Roland into a lake, and\nherself into a duck swimming upon it. The witch stood on the bank and\nthrew in crumbs of bread, and took great pains to decoy the duck towards\nher, but the duck would not be decoyed, and the old woman was obliged\nto go back in the evening disappointed. Then the maiden and her dear\nRoland took again their natural shapes, and travelled on the whole night\nthrough until daybreak. Then the maiden changed herself into a beautiful\nflower, standing in the middle of a hedge of thorns, and her dear Roland\ninto a fiddle-player. It was not long before the witch came striding up,\nand she said to the musician,\n\n\"Dear musician, will you be so kind as to reach that pretty flower for\nme?\"\n\n\"Oh yes,\" said he, \"I will strike up a tune to it.\"\n\nThen as she crept quickly up to the hedge to break off the flower, for\nshe knew well who it was, he began to play, and whether she liked it or\nnot, she was obliged to dance, for there was magic in the tune. The\nfaster he played the higher she had to jump, and the thorns tore her\nclothes, and scratched and wounded her, and he did not cease playing\nuntil she was spent, and lay dead.\n\nSo now they were saved, and Roland said,\n\n\"I will go to my father and prepare for the wedding.\"\n\n\"And I will stay here,\" said the maiden, \"and wait for you, and so that\nno one should know me, I will change myself into a red milestone.\" So\naway went Roland, and the maiden in the likeness of a stone waited in\nthe field for her beloved.\n\nBut when Roland went home he fell into the snares of another maiden, who\nwrought so, that he forgot his first love.\n\nAnd the poor girl waited a long time, but at last, seeing that he did\nnot come, she was filled with despair, and changed herself into a\nflower, thinking \"Perhaps some one in passing will put his foot upon me\nand crush me.\"\n\nBut it happened that a shepherd, tending his flock, saw the flower, and\nas it was so beautiful, he gathered it, took it home with him, and put\nit in his chest. From that time everything went wonderfully well in the\nshepherd's house. When he got up in the morning, all the work was\nalready done; the room was swept, the tables and benches rubbed, fire\nkindled on the hearth, and water ready drawn; and when he came home in\nthe middle of the day, the table was laid, and a good meal spread upon\nit. He could not understand how it was done, for he never saw anybody in\nhis house, and it was too little for anybody to hide in. The good\nserving pleased him well; but in the end he became uneasy, and went to a\nwise woman to take counsel of her. The wise woman said,\n\n\"There is magic in it: get up early some morning, and if you hear\nsomething moving in the room, be it what it may, throw a white cloth\nover it, and the charm will be broken.\"\n\nThe shepherd did as she told him, and the next morning at daybreak he\nsaw the chest open, and the flower come out. Then he jumped up quickly\nand threw a white cloth over it. So the spell was broken, and a lovely\nmaiden stood before him; and she told him that she had been the flower,\nand had until now cared for his household matters. She told him all that\nhad happened to her, and she pleased him so much that he asked her to\nmarry him, but she answered \"No,\" because she still remained true to her\ndear Roland, though he had forsaken her; but she promised not to leave\nthe shepherd, but to go on taking care of his house.\n\nNow the time came when Roland's wedding was to be held; and there was an\nold custom in that country that all the girls should be present, and\nshould sing in honour of the bride and bridegroom. The faithful maiden,\nwhen she knew this, was so sorrowful that she felt as if her heart would\nbreak; and she would not go, until the others came and fetched her. And\nwhen her turn came to sing she slipped behind, so that she stood alone,\nand so began to sing: and as soon as her song reached Roland's ear he\nsprang up and cried,\n\n\"I know that voice! that is the right bride, and no other will I have.\"\nAnd everything that he had forgotten, and that had been swept out of his\nmind, came suddenly home to him in his heart. And the faithful maiden\nwas married to her dear Roland; her sorrow came to an end and her joy\nbegan.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOLDEN BIRD\n\n\nIN times gone by there was a king who had at the back of his castle a\nbeautiful pleasure-garden, in which stood a tree that bore golden\napples. As the apples ripened they were counted, but one morning one was\nmissing. Then the king was angry, and he ordered that watch should be\nkept about the tree every night. Now the king had three sons, and he\nsent the eldest to spend the whole night in the garden; so he watched\ntill midnight, and then he could keep off sleep no longer, and in the\nmorning another apple was missing. The second son had to watch the\nfollowing night; but it fared no better, for when twelve o'clock had\nstruck he went to sleep, and in the morning another apple was missing.\nNow came the turn of the third son to watch, and he was ready to do so;\nbut the king had less trust in him, and believed he would acquit himself\nstill worse than his brothers, but in the end he consented to let him\ntry. So the young man lay down under the tree to watch, and resolved\nthat sleep should not be master. When it struck twelve something came\nrushing through the air, and he saw in the moonlight a bird flying\ntowards him, whose feathers glittered like gold. The bird perched upon\nthe tree, and had already pecked off an apple, when the young man let\nfly an arrow at it. The bird flew away, but the arrow had struck its\nplumage, and one of its golden feathers fell to the ground: the young\nman picked it up, and taking it next morning to the king, told him what\nhad happened in the night. The king called his council together, and\nall declared that such a feather was worth more than the whole kingdom.\n\n[Illustration: THE GOLDEN BIRD\n\n \"THE FOX SAID,\n NOW WHAT WILL YOU GIVE ME\n FOR MY REWARD?\"]\n\n\"Since the feather is so valuable,\" said the king, \"one is not enough\nfor me; I must and will have the whole bird.\"\n\nSo the eldest son set off, and relying on his own cleverness he thought\nhe should soon find the golden bird. When he had gone some distance he\nsaw a fox sitting at the edge of a wood, and he pointed his gun at him.\nThe fox cried out,\n\n\"Do not shoot me, and I will give you good counsel. You are on your way\nto find the golden bird, and this evening you will come to a village, in\nwhich two taverns stand facing each other. One will be brightly lighted\nup, and there will be plenty of merriment going on inside; do not mind\nabout that, but go into the other one, although it will look to you very\nuninviting.\"\n\n\"How can a silly beast give one any rational advice?\" thought the king's\nson, and let fly at the fox, but missed him, and he stretched out his\ntail and ran quick into the wood. Then the young man went on his way,\nand towards evening he came to the village, and there stood the two\ntaverns; in one singing and dancing was going on, the other looked quite\ndull and wretched. \"I should be a fool,\" said he, \"to go into that\ndismal place, while there is anything so good close by.\" So he went into\nthe merry inn, and there lived in clover, quite forgetting the bird and\nhis father, and all good counsel.\n\nAs time went on, and the eldest son never came home, the second son set\nout to seek the golden bird. He met with the fox, just as the eldest\ndid, and received good advice from him without attending to it. And when\nhe came to the two taverns, his brother was standing and calling to him\nat the window of one of them, out of which came sounds of merriment; so\nhe could not resist, but went in and revelled to his heart's content.\n\nAnd then, as time went on, the youngest son wished to go forth, and to\ntry his luck, but his father would not consent.\n\n\"It would be useless,\" said he; \"he is much less likely to find the bird\nthan his brothers, and if any misfortune were to happen to him he would\nnot know how to help himself; his wits are none of the best.\"\n\nBut at last, as there was no peace to be had, he let him go. By the side\nof the wood sat the fox, begged him to spare his life, and gave him good\ncounsel. The young man was kind, and said,\n\n\"Be easy, little fox, I will do you no harm.\"\n\n\"You shall not repent of it,\" answered the fox, \"and that you may get\nthere all the sooner, get up and sit on my tail.\"\n\nAnd no sooner had he done so than the fox began to run, and off they\nwent over stock and stone, so that the wind whistled in their hair. When\nthey reached the village the young man got down, and, following the\nfox's advice, went into the mean-looking tavern, without hesitating, and\nthere he passed a quiet night. The next morning, when he went out into\nthe field, the fox, who was sitting there already, said,\n\n\"I will tell you further what you have to do. Go straight on until you\ncome to a castle, before which a great band of soldiers lie, but do not\ntrouble yourself about them, for they will be all asleep and snoring;\npass through them and forward into the castle, and go through all the\nrooms, until you come to one where there is a golden bird hanging in a\nwooden cage. Near at hand will stand empty a golden cage of state, but\nyou must beware of taking the bird out of his ugly cage and putting him\ninto the fine one; if you do so you will come to harm.\"\n\nAfter he had finished saying this the fox stretched out his tail again,\nand the king's son sat him down upon it; then away they went over stock\nand stone, so that the wind whistled through their hair. And when the\nking's son reached the castle he found everything as the fox had said:\nand he at last entered the room where the golden bird was hanging in a\nwooden cage, while a golden one was standing by; the three golden apples\ntoo were in the room. Then, thinking it foolish to let the beautiful\nbird stay in that mean and ugly cage, he opened the door of it, took\nhold of it, and put it in the golden one. In the same moment the bird\nuttered a piercing cry. The soldiers awaked, rushed in, seized the\nking's son and put him in prison. The next morning he was brought before\na judge, and, as he confessed everything, condemned to death. But the\nking said he would spare his life on one condition, that he should bring\nhim the golden horse whose paces were swifter than the wind, and that\nthen he should also receive the golden bird as a reward.\n\nSo the king's son set off to find the golden horse, but he sighed, and\nwas very sad, for how should it be accomplished? And then he saw his old\nfriend the fox sitting by the roadside.\n\n\"Now, you see,\" said the fox, \"all this has happened, because you would\nnot listen to me. But be of good courage, I will bring you through, and\nwill tell you how you are to get the golden horse. You must go straight\non until you come to a castle, where the horse stands in his stable;\nbefore the stable-door the grooms will be lying, but they will all be\nasleep and snoring; and you can go and quietly lead out the horse. But\none thing you must mind--take care to put upon him the plain saddle of\nwood and leather, and not the golden one, which will hang close by;\notherwise it will go badly with you.\"\n\nThen the fox stretched out his tail, and the king's son seated himself\nupon it, and away they went over stock and stone until the wind whistled\nthrough their hair. And everything happened just as the fox had said,\nand he came to the stall where the golden horse was: and as he was about\nto put on him the plain saddle, he thought to himself,\n\n\"Such a beautiful animal would be disgraced were I not to put on him the\ngood saddle, which becomes him so well.\" However, no sooner did the\nhorse feel the golden saddle touch him than he began to neigh. And the\ngrooms all awoke, seized the king's son and threw him into prison. The\nnext morning he was delivered up to justice and condemned to death, but\nthe king promised him his life, and also to bestow upon him the golden\nhorse, if he could convey thither the beautiful princess of the golden\ncastle.\n\nWith a heavy heart the king's son set out, but by great good luck he\nsoon met with the faithful fox.\n\n\"I ought now to leave you to your own ill-luck,\" said the fox, \"but I am\nsorry for you, and will once more help you in your need. Your way lies\nstraight up to the golden castle: you will arrive there in the evening,\nand at night, when all is quiet, the beautiful princess goes to the\nbath. And as she is entering the bathing-house, go up to her and give\nher a kiss, then she will follow you, and you can lead her away; but do\nnot suffer her first to go and take leave of her parents, or it will go\nill with you.\"\n\nThen the fox stretched out his tail; the king's son seated himself upon\nit, and away they went over stock and stone, so that the wind whistled\nthrough their hair. And when he came to the golden castle, all was as\nthe fox had said. He waited until midnight, when all lay in deep sleep,\nand then as the beautiful princess went to the bathing-house he went up\nto her and gave her a kiss, and she willingly promised to go with him,\nbut she begged him earnestly, and with tears, that he would let her\nfirst go and take leave of her parents. At first he denied her prayer,\nbut as she wept so much the more, and fell at his feet, he gave in at\nlast. And no sooner had the princess reached her father's bedside than\nhe, and all who were in the castle, waked up, and the young man was\nseized and thrown into prison.\n\nThe next morning the king said to him,\n\n\"Thy life is forfeit, but thou shalt find grace if thou canst level that\nmountain that lies before my windows, and over which I am not able to\nsee: and if this is done within eight days thou shalt have my daughter\nfor a reward.\"\n\nSo the king's son set to work, and dug and shovelled away without\nceasing, but when, on the seventh day, he saw how little he had\naccomplished, and that all his work was as nothing, he fell into great\nsadness, and gave up all hope. But on the evening of the seventh day the\nfox appeared, and said,\n\n\"You do not deserve that I should help you, but go now and lie down to\nsleep, and I will do the work for you.\"\n\nThe next morning when he awoke, and looked out of the window, the\nmountain had disappeared. The young man hastened full of joy to the\nking, and told him that his behest was fulfilled, and, whether the king\nliked it or not, he had to keep to his word, and let his daughter go.\n\nSo they both went away together, and it was not long before the faithful\nfox came up to them.\n\n\"Well, you have got the best first,\" said he; \"but you must know the\ngolden horse belongs to the princess of the golden castle.\"\n\n\"But how shall I get it?\" asked the young man.\n\n\"I am going to tell you,\" answered the fox. \"First, go to the king who\nsent you to the golden castle, and take to him the beautiful princess.\nThere will then be very great rejoicing; he will willingly give you the\ngolden horse, and they will lead him out to you; then mount him without\ndelay, and stretch out your hand to each of them to take leave, and last\nof all to the princess, and when you have her by the hand swing her up\non the horse behind you, and off you go! nobody will be able to overtake\nyou, for that horse goes swifter than the wind.\"\n\nAnd so it was all happily done, and the king's son carried off the\nbeautiful princess on the golden horse. The fox did not stay behind, and\nhe said to the young man,\n\n\"Now, I will help you to get the golden bird. When you draw near the\ncastle where the bird is, let the lady alight, and I will take her under\nmy care; then you must ride the golden horse into the castle-yard, and\nthere will be great rejoicing to see it, and they will bring out to you\nthe golden bird; as soon as you have the cage in your hand, you must\nstart off back to us, and then you shall carry the lady away.\"\n\nThe plan was successfully carried out; and when the young man returned\nwith the treasure, the fox said,\n\n\"Now, what will you give me for my reward?\"\n\n\"What would you like?\" asked the young man.\n\n\"When we are passing through the wood, I desire that you should slay me,\nand cut my head and feet off.\"\n\n\"That were a strange sign of gratitude,\" said the king's son, \"and I\ncould not possibly do such a thing.\"\n\nThen said the fox,\n\n\"If you will not do it, I must leave you; but before I go let me give\nyou some good advice. Beware of two things: buy no gallows-meat, and sit\nat no brook-side.\" With that the fox ran off into the wood.\n\nThe young man thought to himself, \"That is a wonderful animal, with most\nsingular ideas. How should any one buy gallows-meat? and I am sure I\nhave no particular fancy for sitting by a brook-side.\"\n\nSo he rode on with the beautiful princess, and their way led them\nthrough the village where his two brothers had stayed. There they heard\ngreat outcry and noise, and when he asked what it was all about, they\ntold him that two people were going to be hanged. And when he drew near\nhe saw that it was his two brothers, who had done all sorts of evil\ntricks, and had wasted all their goods. He asked if there were no means\nof setting them free.\n\n\"Oh yes! if you will buy them off,\" answered the people; \"but why should\nyou spend your money in redeeming such worthless men?\"\n\nBut he persisted in doing so; and when they were let go they all went on\ntheir journey together.\n\nAfter a while they came to the wood where the fox had met them first,\nand there it seemed so cool and sheltered from the sun's burning rays\nthat the two brothers said,\n\n\"Let us rest here for a little by the brook, and eat and drink to\nrefresh ourselves.\"\n\nThe young man consented, quite forgetting the fox's warning, and he\nseated himself by the brook-side, suspecting no evil. But the two\nbrothers thrust him backwards into the brook, seized the princess, the\nhorse, and the bird, and went home to their father.\n\n\"Is not this the golden bird that we bring?\" said they; \"and we have\nalso the golden horse, and the princess of the golden castle.\"\n\nThen there was great rejoicing in the royal castle, but the horse did\nnot feed, the bird did not chirp, and the princess sat still and wept.\n\nThe youngest brother, however, had not perished. The brook was, by good\nfortune, dry, and he fell on soft moss without receiving any hurt, but\nhe could not get up again. But in his need the faithful fox was not\nlacking; he came up running, and reproached him for having forgotten his\nadvice.\n\n\"But I cannot forsake you all the same,\" said he; \"I will help you back\nagain into daylight.\" So he told the young man to grasp his tail, and\nhold on to it fast, and so he drew him up again.\n\n\"Still you are not quite out of all danger,\" said the fox; \"your\nbrothers, not being certain of your death, have surrounded the wood with\nsentinels, who are to put you to death if you let yourself be seen.\"\n\nA poor beggar-man was sitting by the path, and the young man changed\nclothes with him, and went clad in that wise into the king's courtyard.\nNobody knew him, but the bird began to chirp, and the horse began to\nfeed, and the beautiful princess ceased weeping.\n\n\"What does this mean?\" said the king, astonished.\n\nThe princess answered,\n\n\"I cannot tell, except that I was sad, and now I am joyful; it is to me\nas if my rightful bridegroom had returned.\"\n\nThen she told him all that happened, although the two brothers had\nthreatened to put her to death if she let out anything. The king then\nordered every person who was in the castle to be brought before him, and\nwith the rest came the young man like a beggar in his wretched garments;\nbut the princess knew him, and greeted him well, falling on his neck and\nkissing him. The wicked brothers were seized and put to death, and the\nyoungest brother was married to the princess, and succeeded to the\ninheritance of his father.\n\nBut what became of the poor fox? Long afterwards the king's son was\ngoing through the wood, and the fox met him and said,\n\n\"Now, you have everything that you can wish for, but my misfortunes\nnever come to an end, and it lies in your power to free me from them.\"\nAnd once more he prayed the king's son earnestly to slay him, and cut\noff his head and feet. So, at last, he consented, and no sooner was it\ndone than the fox was changed into a man, and was no other than the\nbrother of the beautiful princess; and thus he was set free from a spell\nthat had bound him for a long, long time.\n\nAnd now, indeed, there lacked nothing to their happiness as long as they\nlived.\n\n\n\n\nThe DOG and the SPARROW\n\n\nTHERE was once a sheep-dog whose master behaved ill to him and did not\ngive him enough to eat, and when for hunger he could bear it no longer,\nhe left his service very sadly. In the street he was met by a sparrow,\nwho said,\n\n\"Dog, my brother, why are you so sad?\"\n\nAnd the dog answered,\n\n\"I am hungry and have nothing to eat.\"\n\nThen said the sparrow,\n\n\"Dear brother, come with me into the town; I will give you plenty.\"\n\nThen they went together into the town, and soon they came to a butcher's\nstall, and the sparrow said to the dog,\n\n\"Stay here while I reach you down a piece of meat,\" and he perched on\nthe stall, looked round to see that no one noticed him, and pecked,\npulled, and dragged so long at a piece that lay near the edge of the\nboard that at last it slid to the ground. The dog picked it up, ran with\nit into a corner, and ate it up. Then said the sparrow,\n\n\"Now come with me to another stall, and I will get you another piece, so\nthat your hunger may be satisfied.\"\n\nWhen the dog had devoured a second piece the sparrow asked,\n\n\"Dog, my brother, are you satisfied now?\"\n\n\"Yes, as to meat I am,\" answered he, \"but I have had no bread.\"\n\nThen said the sparrow,\n\n\"That also shall you have; come with me.\" And he led him to a baker's\nstall and pecked at a few little rolls until they fell to the ground,\nand as the dog still wanted more, they went to another stall farther on\nand got more bread. When that was done the sparrow said,\n\n\"Dog, my brother, are you satisfied yet?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered he, \"and now we will walk a little outside the town.\"\n\nAnd they went together along the high road. It was warm weather, and\nwhen they had gone a little way the dog said,\n\n\"I am tired, and would like to go to sleep.\"\n\n\"Well, do so,\" said the sparrow; \"in the meanwhile I will sit near on a\nbough.\" The dog laid himself in the road and fell fast asleep, and as he\nlay there a waggoner came up with a waggon and three horses, laden with\ntwo casks of wine; the sparrow, seeing that he was not going to turn\naside but kept in the beaten track, just where the dog lay, cried out,\n\n\"Waggoner, take care, or you shall suffer for it!\"\n\nBut the waggoner, muttering, \"What harm can you do to me?\" cracked his\nwhip and drove his waggon over the dog, and he was crushed to death by\nthe wheels. Then the sparrow cried,\n\n\"Thou hast killed the dog my brother, and it shall cost thee horses and\ncart!\"\n\n\"Oh! horses and cart!\" said the waggoner, \"what harm can you do me, I\nshould like to know?\" and drove on. The sparrow crept under the covering\nof the waggon and pecked at the bung-hole of one of the casks until the\ncork came out, and all the wine ran out without the waggoner noticing.\nAfter a while, looking round, he saw that something dripped from the\nwaggon, and on examining the casks he found that one of them was empty,\nand he cried out,\n\n\"I am a ruined man!\"\n\n\"Not ruined enough yet!\" said the sparrow, and flying to one of the\nhorses he perched on his head and pecked at his eyes. When the waggoner\nsaw that he took out his axe to hit the sparrow, who at that moment flew\naloft, and the waggoner missing him struck the horse on the head, so\nthat he fell down dead.\n\n\"Oh, I am a ruined man!\" cried he.\n\n\"Not ruined enough yet!\" said the sparrow, and as the waggoner drove on\nwith the two horses that were left the sparrow crept again under the\nwaggon-covering and pecked the cork out of the second cask, so that all\nthe wine leaked out. When the waggoner became aware of it, he cried out\nagain,\n\n\"Oh! I am a ruined man!\" But the sparrow answered, \"Not ruined enough\nyet!\" and perched on the second horse's head and began pecking at his\neyes. Back ran the waggoner and raised his axe to strike, but the\nsparrow flying aloft, the stroke fell on the horse, so that he was\nkilled.\n\n\"Oh! I am a ruined man!\" cried the waggoner.\n\n\"Not ruined enough yet!\" said the sparrow, and perching on the third\nhorse began pecking at his eyes. The waggoner struck out in his anger at\nthe sparrow without taking aim, and missing him, he laid his third horse\ndead.\n\n\"Oh! I am a ruined man!\" he cried.\n\n\"Not ruined enough yet!\" answered the sparrow, flying off; \"I will see\nto that at home.\"\n\nSo the waggoner had to leave his waggon standing, and went home full of\nrage.\n\n\"Oh!\" said he to his wife, \"what ill-luck I have had! the wine is spilt,\nand the horses are all three dead.\"\n\n\"O husband!\" answered she, \"such a terrible bird has come to this house;\nhe has brought with him all the birds of the air, and there they are in\nthe midst of our wheat devouring it.\" And he looked and there were\nthousands upon thousands of birds sitting on the ground, having eaten up\nall the wheat, and the sparrow in the midst, and the waggoner cried,\n\n\"Oh! I am a ruined man!\"\n\n\"Not ruined enough yet!\" answered the sparrow; \"Waggoner, it shall cost\nthee thy life!\" and he flew away.\n\nNow the waggoner, having lost everything he possessed, went in-doors and\nsat down angry and miserable behind the stove. The sparrow was perched\noutside on the window-sill, and cried, \"Waggoner, it shall cost thee thy\nlife!\" Then the waggoner seized his axe and threw it at the sparrow, but\nit broke the window sash in two and did not touch the sparrow, who now\nhopped inside, perched on the stove, and cried.\n\n\"Waggoner it shall cost thee thy life!\" and he, mad and blind with rage,\nbeat in the stove, and as the sparrow flew from one spot to another,\nhacked everything in pieces, furniture, looking-glasses, benches, table,\nand the very walls of his house, and yet did not touch the sparrow.\n\nAt last he caught and held him in his hand.\n\n\"Now,\" said his wife, \"shall I not kill him?\"\n\n\"No!\" cried he, \"that were too easy a death; I will swallow him,\" and as\nthe bird was fluttering in the man's mouth, it stretched out its head,\nsaying,\n\n\"Waggoner, it shall cost thee thy life!\"\n\nThen the waggoner reached the axe to his wife saying,\n\n\"Wife, strike me this bird dead.\"\n\nThe wife struck, but missed her aim, and the blow fell on the waggoner's\nhead, and he dropped down dead.\n\nBut the sparrow flew over the hills and away.\n\n\n\n\nFRED and KATE\n\n\nTHERE were once a young husband and wife, and their names were Fred and\nKate. One day said Fred,\n\n\"I must go now to my work in the fields, Kate, and when I come back you\nmust have on the table some roast meat to satisfy my hunger, and some\ncool drink to quench my thirst.\"\n\n\"All right, Fred,\" answered Kate; \"be off with you, I will see to it.\"\n\nWhen dinner-time began to draw near, she took down a sausage from the\nchimney, put it in a frying-pan with some butter, and stood it over the\nfire. The sausage began to frizzle and fry, and Kate stood holding the\nhandle of the pan, and fell into deep thought; at last she said to\nherself,\n\n\"While the sausage is cooking I might as well be drawing the beer in the\ncellar.\"\n\nSo she saw that the frying-pan was standing firmly, and then took a can\nand went down into the cellar to draw the beer. Now, while Kate was\nwatching the beer run into the can, a sudden thought came into her mind.\n\n\"Holloa! the dog is not fastened up; he may perhaps get at the sausage,\"\nand in a trice she was up the cellar steps: but already the dog had it\nin his mouth, and was making off with it. Then Kate, with all haste,\nfollowed after him and chased him a good way into the fields, but the\ndog was quicker than Kate, and, never letting slip the sausage, was soon\nat a great distance.\n\n\"Well, it can't be helped!\" said Kate turning back, and as she had\ntired herself with running, she took her time about going home, and\nwalked slowly to cool herself. All this time the beer was running out of\nthe cask, for Kate had not turned off the tap, and as the can was soon\nfull, it began to run over on the cellar floor, and ran, and ran, until\nthe cask was empty. Kate stood on the steps and saw the misfortune.\n\n\"Dear me!\" cried she, \"what am I to do to prevent Fred from noticing\nit!\"\n\nShe considered for a while, and then remembered that there was remaining\nin the loft from the last fair time a sack of fine wheat-flour; she\ndetermined to bring it down, and strew it over the beer.\n\n\"To be sure,\" said she, \"those who know how to save have somewhat in\ntime of necessity.\"\n\nAnd going up to the loft, she dragged the sack down and threw it right\nupon the can full of beer, so that Fred's drink ran about the cellar\nwith the rest.\n\n\"It is all right,\" said Kate; \"where some goes the rest must follow,\"\nand she strewed the meal all over the cellar. When all was done, she was\nhighly pleased, and thought how clean and neat it looked.\n\nAt dinner-time home came Fred.\n\n\"Now, wife, what have you got for me?\" said he.\n\n\"O Fred,\" answered she, \"I was going to cook a sausage for you, but\nwhile I was drawing the beer the dog got it out of the pan, and while I\nwas running after the dog the beer all ran away, and as I was going to\nstop up the beer with the wheat-meal I knocked over the can: but it is\nall right now; the cellar is quite dry again.\" But said Fred,\n\n\"O Kate, Kate! what have you been about, letting the sausage be carried\noff, and the beer run out of the cask, and then to waste all our good\nmeal into the bargain?\"\n\n\"Well, Fred, I did not know; you should have told me,\" said Kate. So the\nhusband thought to himself,\n\n\"If my wife is like this, I must look after things a little better.\"\n\nNow he had saved a very pretty sum of money, and he changed it all to\ngold, and said to Kate,\n\n\"Do you see these yellow counters? I am going to make a hole in the\nstable underneath the cows' manger and bury them; see that you do not\nmeddle with them, or it will be the worse for you.\"\n\nAnd she said, \"Oh no, Fred, certainly I won't.\"\n\nNow, one day when Fred was away, there came some pedlars to the village,\nwith earthen pots and basins to sell, and they asked the young wife if\nshe had nothing to give in exchange for them.\n\n\"O my good men,\" said Kate, \"I have no money to buy anything with, but\nif you had any use for yellow counters, I might do some business with\nyou.\"\n\n\"Yellow counters! why not? we might as well see them,\" said they.\n\n\"Then go into the stable and dig under the cows' manger, and you will\nfind them; but I dare not go near the place.\"\n\nSo those rogues went and dug, and found the gold accordingly. And they\nseized it quickly, and ran off with it, leaving the pots and pans behind\nthem in the house. Kate thought she must make some use of her new\npossessions, so, as she had no need of them in the kitchen, she spread\nthem out on the ground, and then stuck them, one after another, for\nornament, on the fence which ran round the house. When Fred came home\nand saw the new decorations, he said, \"Kate, what have you been doing?\"\n\n\"I bought them every one, Fred, with those yellow counters that were\nburied under the manger, and I did not go there myself; the pedlars had\nto dig them up for themselves.\"\n\n\"O wife!\" cried Fred, \"what have you done? they were not counters, but\npure gold, and all our capital; you should not have done so.\"\n\n\"Well, Fred, I did not know; you should have told me that before,\"\nanswered Kate.\n\nThen Kate stood still a little while to consider, and at last she said,\n\"Listen, Fred, we may be able to get the gold back again. Let us run\nafter the thieves.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Fred, \"we will try; only let us take some bread and\ncheese with us, that we may have something to eat on the way.\"\n\n\"All right,\" she answered. So they set out, and as Fred was a better\nwalker than Kate, she was soon left behind.\n\n\"All the better for me,\" said she, \"for when we turn back I shall have\nso much the less distance to go.\"\n\nAnd they came to a mountain, where, on both sides of the road, there\nwere deep cart-ruts. And Kate said to herself,\n\n\"How sad to see the poor earth torn, and vexed, and oppressed in this\nway! it will never be healed again in all its life.\"\n\nAnd with a compassionate heart, she took out her butter and smeared the\ncart-ruts right and left, so that they might not be so cut by the\nwheels; and as she was stooping to perform this merciful act a cheese\nfell out of her pocket and rolled down the mountain. And Kate said,\n\n\"I have walked over the ground once, and I am not going to do it again,\nbut another shall run after that cheese, and bring it back.\" So saying,\nshe took another cheese, and rolled it after the first one: and as it\ndid not seem to be coming back again, she sent a third racing after\nthem, thinking, \"Perhaps they are waiting for company, and are not used\nto travelling alone.\" But when they all three delayed coming, she said,\n\n\"I can't think what this means! perhaps it is that the third one has\nlost his way, so I will send a fourth that he may call out to him as he\ngoes by.\" But it went no better with the fourth than with the third. And\nKate lost all patience and threw down the fifth and sixth, and that was\nall. A long while she stood and waited for them to come up, but as still\nthey did not come, she said,\n\n\"Oh, it's like sending good money after bad; there is no getting you\nback again. If you suppose I am going to wait for you any longer, you\nare very much mistaken: I shall go on my way and you may overtake me;\nyour legs are younger than mine.\" Kate then went on until she overtook\nFred, who was standing still and waiting, as he wanted something to eat.\n\n\"Now, be quick,\" he said, \"and hand over what you have brought.\" And she\nhanded him the dry bread.\n\n\"Now for the butter and the cheese,\" said the man.\n\n\"O Fred,\" said Kate, \"I anointed the cart-ruts with the butter, and the\ncheeses will soon be here, they are upon the road; one of them ran away,\nand I sent the others to fetch it back.\"\n\nThen said Fred,\n\n\"It was very wrong of you, Kate, to waste the butter, and roll the\ncheeses down the hill.\"\n\nAnd Kate answered, \"Well then, you should have told me so.\"\n\nAs they were eating the dry bread together, Fred said,\n\n\"Kate, did you lock up the house before leaving?\"\n\n\"No, Fred; you ought to have told me that before.\"\n\nAnd her husband answered,\n\n\"Well, you must go home at once and lock up the house before we go any\nfarther, and you might as well bring something more to eat with you, and\nI will wait for you here.\"\n\nSo Kate went, and she thought to herself,\n\n\"As Fred wants something more to eat, and he does not care much about\nbutter and cheese, I will bring some dried apples and a jug of vinegar\nback with me.\"\n\nThen she bolted the front door, but the back door she took off its\nhinges, and lifted it on her shoulders, thinking that if she had the\ndoor all safe no harm could come to the house. And she took her time on\nthe way back, and thought to herself, \"Fred will have so much the longer\nto rest.\" So when she got back to him, she called out,\n\n\"Fred, if the house-door is safe, no harm can come to the house!\"\n\n\"Oh dear!\" cried he, \"what a prudent wife have I! to carry away the\nback-door, so that any one may get in, and to bolt the front door! It is\ntoo late now to go home, but as you have brought the door so far, you\nmay carry it on farther.\"\n\n\"All right, I will carry the door, Fred,\" said she, \"but the dried\napples and the vinegar will be too heavy for me; I will hang them on the\ndoor and make it carry them.\"\n\nNow they went into the wood to look for the thieves, but they could not\nfind them. When it grew dark they got up into a tree to pass the night\nthere. No sooner had they settled down when up came the pedlars, some of\nthose fellows who carry away what should not go with them, and who find\nthings before they are lost. They laid themselves down directly under\nthe tree where Fred and Kate were, and they made a fire, and began to\ndivide their spoil. Then Fred got down on the farther side of the tree\nand gathered together some stones, and then got up again, intending to\nstone the robbers to death with them. The stones, however, did not hit\nthem, and they said,\n\n\"It will soon be morning; the wind is rising and shaking down the\nfir-cones.\"\n\nNow all the time Kate had the door on her shoulder, and as it weighed\nupon her heavily, she thought it must be the dried apples, and she said,\n\n\"Fred, I must throw down the dried apples.\"\n\n\"No, Kate, not now,\" answered he; \"we might be discovered.\"\n\n\"Oh dear, Fred, but I must! they weigh me down so!\" said she.\n\n\"Well then, do it, if you must, in the name of all that's tormenting!\"\ncried he; and down rolled the apples between the boughs, and the robbers\ncried,\n\n\"There are birds in this tree!\"\n\nAfter a while, as the door still weighed her down heavily, Kate said, \"O\nFred, I must pour away the vinegar;\" and he answered,\n\n\"No, Kate, you must not do that; we might be discovered.\"\n\n\"Oh dear me, Fred, but I must! it weighs me down so!\"\n\n\"Then do it, if you must, in the name of all that's tormenting!\"\n\nAnd she poured out the vinegar, so that the men were all besprinkled.\n\nAnd they said one to another,\n\n\"The morning dew is beginning to fall already.\"\n\nAt last Kate began to think that it must really be the door that weighed\nso heavy, and she said,\n\n\"Fred, I must throw down the door!\" and he answered,\n\n\"No, Kate, not now; we might be discovered.\"\n\n\"Oh dear me, Fred, but I must! it weighs me down so.\"\n\n\"No, Kate, you must hold it fast.\"\n\n\"O Fred, it's slipping, it's falling!\"\n\n\"Well then, let it fall in the name of torment!\" cried Fred in a\npassion. And so it fell with a great crash, and the thieves below cried,\n\n\"There is something wrong about this tree!\" and they got up in a great\nhurry and ran off, leaving their spoil behind them. And early in the\nmorning when Fred and Kate came down from the tree they got all their\ngold again and carried it home.\n\nAnd when they reached their house again Fred said,\n\n\"Now, Kate, you must fall to and be very industrious and work hard.\"\n\n\"All right, Fred, I will go into the field and cut corn,\" said she.\n\nAnd when she came into the field she said to herself,\n\n\"Shall I eat before I cut, or shall I sleep before I cut? well, I will\neat first.\" And so she ate, and after that she felt sleepy, but she\nbegan to cut and went on half asleep cutting her own clothes, skirts,\ngown, and all, and when she at last woke up and found herself in rags,\nshe said to herself,\n\n\"Is this really I or not? oh dear, it is not I!\"\n\nAfter a while night came on, and Kate ran into the village and knocked\nat her husband's door calling out, \"Fred!\"\n\n\"What is it?\" said he.\n\n\"I want to know if Kate is at home,\" said she.\n\n\"Oh yes,\" he answered, \"she is lying here fast asleep.\"\n\nSo she said to herself, \"All right then, I am certainly at home,\" and\nshe ran on farther.\n\nSoon she came upon some thieves who were looking about for something to\nsteal, and she went up to them and offered to help them, and the thieves\nthought she knew of a good place and opportunity, and were glad of her\noffer. But Kate walked in front of the houses calling out,\n\n\"Good people, what have you for us to steal?\"\n\nSo the thieves thought to themselves, \"This will never do,\" and wished\nthemselves quit of her. At last they said to her,\n\n\"Just at the end of the village there are some turnips in the parson's\nfield; go and fetch us some.\"\n\nSo Kate went into the field and began to pull some up, but very lazily,\nand never raised herself. Presently came by a man who saw her, and\nthought she was some evil thing grubbing for the turnips. So he ran\nquickly into the village and said to the parson,\n\n\"O parson, some evil creature is grubbing in your turnip-field!\"\n\n\"Oh dear!\" answered the parson, \"I have a lame foot, I cannot go to\ndrive it away.\"\n\nAnd the man at once offered to take him on his back, and he did so.\n\nJust as they reached the field Kate got up and stood upright.\n\n\"Oh, the devil!\" cried the parson, and both took to their heels, and the\nparson was able, out of his great fear, to run faster with his lame foot\nthan the man who had carried him on his back with both legs sound.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LITTLE FARMER\n\n\nTHERE was a certain village where lived many rich farmers and only one\npoor one, whom they called the Little Farmer. He had not even a cow, and\nstill less had he money to buy one; and he and his wife greatly wished\nfor such a thing. One day he said to her,\n\n\"Listen, I have a good idea; it is that your godfather the joiner shall\nmake us a calf of wood and paint it brown, so as to look just like any\nother; and then in time perhaps it will grow big and become a cow.\"\n\nThis notion pleased the wife, and godfather joiner set to work to saw\nand plane, and soon turned out a calf complete, with its head down and\nneck stretched out as if it were grazing.\n\nThe next morning, as the cows were driven to pasture, the Little Farmer\ncalled out to the drover,\n\n\"Look here, I have got a little calf to go, but it is still young and\nmust be carried.\"\n\n\"All right!\" said the drover, and tucked it under his arm, carried it\ninto the meadows, and stood it in the grass. So the calf stayed where it\nwas put, and seemed to be eating all the time, and the drover thought to\nhimself,\n\n\"It will soon be able to run alone, if it grazes at that rate!\"\n\nIn the evening, when the herds had to be driven home, he said to the\ncalf, \"If you can stand there eating like that, you can just walk off on\nyour own four legs; I am not going to lug you under my arm again!\"\n\nBut the Little Farmer was standing by his house-door, and waiting for\nhis calf; and when he saw the cow-herd coming through the village\nwithout it, he asked what it meant. The cow-herd answered, \"It is still\nout there eating away, and never attended to the call, and would not\ncome with the rest.\"\n\nThen the Little Farmer said,\n\n\"I will tell you what, I must have my beast brought home.\"\n\nAnd they went together through the fields in quest of it, but some one\nhad stolen it, and it was gone. And the drover said,\n\n\"Most likely it has run away.\"\n\nBut the Little Farmer said \"Not it!\" and brought the cow-herd before the\nbailiff, who ordered him for his carelessness to give the Little Farmer\na cow for the missing calf.\n\nSo now the Little Farmer and his wife possessed their long-wished-for\ncow; they rejoiced with all their hearts, but unfortunately they had no\nfodder for it, and could give it nothing to eat, so that before long\nthey had to kill it. Its flesh they salted down, and the Little Farmer\nwent to the town to sell the skin and buy a new calf with what he got\nfor it. On the way he came to a mill, where a raven was sitting with\nbroken wings, and he took it up out of pity and wrapped it in the skin.\nThe weather was very stormy, and it blew and rained, so he turned into\nthe mill and asked for shelter. The miller's wife was alone in the\nhouse, and she said to the Little Farmer,\n\n\"Well, come in and lay thee down in the straw,\" and she gave him a piece\nof bread and cheese. So the Little Farmer ate, and then lay down with\nhis skin near him, and the miller's wife thought he was sleeping with\nfatigue. After a while in came another man, and the miller's wife\nreceived him very well, saying,\n\n\"My husband is out; we will make good cheer.\"\n\nThe Little Farmer listened to what they said, and when he heard good\ncheer spoken of, he grew angry to think he had been put off with bread\nand cheese. For the miller's wife presently brought out roast meat,\nsalad, cakes, and wine.\n\nNow as the pair were sitting down to their feast, there came a knock at\nthe door.\n\n\"Oh dear,\" cried the woman, \"it is my husband!\" In a twinkling she\npopped the roast meat into the oven, the wine under the pillow, the\nsalad in the bed, the cakes under the bed, and the man in the\nlinen-closet. Then she opened the door to her husband, saying,\n\n\"Thank goodness, you are here! what weather it is, as if the world were\ncoming to an end!\"\n\nWhen the miller saw the Little Farmer lying in the straw, he said,\n\n\"What fellow have you got there?\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said the wife, \"the poor chap came in the midst of the wind and\nrain and asked for shelter, and I gave him some bread and cheese and\nspread some straw for him.\"\n\nThe husband answered, \"Oh well, I have no objection, only get me\nsomething to eat at once.\"\n\nBut the wife said, \"There is nothing but bread and cheese.\"\n\n\"Anything will do for me,\" answered the miller, \"bread and cheese for\never!\" and catching sight of the Little Farmer, he cried,\n\n\"Come along, and keep me company!\" The Little Farmer did not wait to be\nasked twice, but sat down and ate. After a while the miller noticed the\nskin lying on the ground with the raven wrapped up in it, and he said,\n\"What have you got there?\"\n\nThe Little Farmer answered, \"A fortune-teller.\"\n\nAnd the miller asked \"Can he tell my fortune?\"\n\n\"Why not?\" answered the Little Farmer. \"He will tell four things, and\nthe fifth he keeps to himself.\" Now the miller became very curious, and\nsaid, \"Ask him to say something.\"\n\nAnd the Little Farmer pinched the raven, so that it croaked, \"Crr, crr.\"\n\"What does he say?\" asked the miller. And the Little Farmer answered,\n\n\"First he says that there is wine under the pillow.\"\n\n\"That would be jolly!\" cried the miller, and he went to look, and found\nthe wine, and then asked, \"What next?\"\n\nSo the Little Farmer made the raven croak again, and then said,\n\n\"He says, secondly, that there is roast meat in the oven.\"\n\n\"That would be jolly!\" cried the miller, and he went and looked, and\nfound the roast meat. The Little Farmer made the fortune-teller speak\nagain, and then said,\n\n\"He says, thirdly, that there is salad in the bed.\"\n\n\"That would be jolly!\" cried the miller, and went and looked, and found\nthe salad. Once more the Little Farmer pinched the raven, so that he\ncroaked, and said,\n\n\"He says, fourthly and lastly, that there are cakes under the bed.\"\n\n\"That would be jolly!\" cried the miller, and he went and looked, and\nfound the cakes.\n\nAnd now the two sat down to table, and the miller's wife felt very\nuncomfortable, and she went to bed and took all the keys with her. The\nmiller was eager to know what the fifth thing could be, but the Little\nFarmer said,\n\n\"Suppose we eat the four things in peace first, for the fifth thing is a\ngreat deal worse.\"\n\nSo they sat and ate, and while they ate, they bargained together as to\nhow much the miller would give for knowing the fifth thing; and at last\nthey agreed upon three hundred dollars. Then the Little Farmer pinched\nthe raven, so that he croaked aloud. And the miller asked what he said,\nand the Little Farmer answered,\n\n\"He says that there is a demon in the linen-closet.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said the miller, \"that demon must out of the linen-closet,\" and\nhe unbarred the house-door, while the Little Farmer got the key of the\nlinen-closet from the miller's wife, and opened it. Then the man rushed\nforth, and out of the house, and the miller said,\n\n\"I saw the black rogue with my own eyes; so that is a good riddance.\"\n\nAnd the Little Farmer took himself off by daybreak next morning with the\nthree hundred dollars.\n\nAnd after this the Little Farmer by degrees got on in the world, and\nbuilt himself a good house, and the other farmers said,\n\n\"Surely the Little Farmer has been where it rains gold pieces, and has\nbrought home money by the bushel.\"\n\nAnd he was summoned before the bailiff to say whence his riches came.\nAnd all he said was,\n\n\"I sold my calf's skin for three hundred dollars.\"\n\nWhen the other farmers heard this they wished to share such good luck,\nand ran home, killed all their cows, skinned them in order to sell them\nalso for the same high price as the Little Farmer. And the bailiff\nsaid, \"I must be beforehand with them.\" So he sent his servant into the\ntown to the skin-buyer, and he only gave her three dollars for the skin,\nand that was faring better than the others, for when they came, they did\nnot get as much as that, for the skin-buyer said,\n\n\"What am I to do with all these skins?\"\n\nNow the other farmers were very angry with the Little Farmer for\nmisleading them, and they vowed vengeance against him, and went to\ncomplain of his deceit to the bailiff. The poor Little Farmer was with\none voice sentenced to death, and to be put into a cask with holes in\nit, and rolled into the water. So he was led to execution, and a priest\nwas fetched to say a mass for him, and the rest of the people had to\nstand at a distance. As soon as the Little Farmer caught sight of the\npriest he knew him for the man who was hid in the linen-closet at the\nmiller's. And he said to him,\n\n\"As I let you out of the cupboard, you must let me out of the cask.\"\n\nAt that moment a shepherd passed with a flock of sheep, and the Little\nFarmer knowing him to have a great wish to become bailiff himself,\ncalled out with all his might,\n\n\"No, I will not, and if all the world asked me, I would not!\"\n\nThe shepherd, hearing him, came up and asked what it was he would not\ndo. The Little Farmer answered,\n\n\"They want to make me bailiff, if I sit in this cask, but I will not do\nit!\"\n\nThe shepherd said,\n\n\"If that is all there is to do in order to become bailiff I will sit in\nthe cask and welcome.\" And the Little Farmer answered,\n\n\"Yes, that is all, just you get into the cask, and you will become\nbailiff.\" So the shepherd agreed, and got in, and the Little Farmer\nfastened on the top; then he collected the herd of sheep and drove them\naway. The priest went back to the parish-assembly, and told them the\nmass had been said. Then they came and began to roll the cask into the\nwater, and as it went the shepherd inside called out, \"I consent to be\nbailiff!\"\n\nThey thought that it was the Little Farmer who spoke, and they\nanswered,\n\n\"All right; but first you must go down below and look about you a\nlittle,\" and they rolled the cask into the water.\n\nUpon that the farmers went home, and when they reached the village,\nthere they met the Little Farmer driving a flock of sheep, and looking\nquite calm and contented. The farmers were astonished and cried,\n\n\"Little Farmer, whence come you? how did you get out of the water?\"\n\n\"Oh, easily,\" answered he, \"I sank and sank until I came to the bottom;\nthen I broke through the cask and came out of it, and there were\nbeautiful meadows and plenty of sheep feeding, so I brought away this\nflock with me.\"\n\nThen said the farmers, \"Are there any left?\"\n\n\"Oh yes,\" answered the Little Farmer, \"more than you can possibly need.\"\n\nThen the farmers agreed that they would go and fetch some sheep also,\neach man a flock for himself; and the bailiff said, \"Me first.\" And they\nall went together, and in the blue sky there were little fleecy clouds\nlike lambkins, and they were reflected in the water; and the farmers\ncried out,\n\n\"There are the sheep down there at the bottom.\"\n\nWhen the bailiff heard that he pressed forward and said,\n\n\"I will go first and look about me, and if things look well, I will call\nto you.\"\n\nAnd he jumped plump into the water, and they all thought that the noise\nhe made meant \"Come,\" so the whole company jumped in one after the\nother. So perished all the proprietors of the village, and the Little\nFarmer, as sole heir, became a rich man.\n\n\n\n\nTHE QUEEN BEE\n\n\nTWO king's sons once started to seek adventures, and fell into a wild,\nreckless way of living, and gave up all thoughts of going home again.\nTheir third and youngest brother, who was called Witling, and had\nremained behind, started off to seek them; and when at last he found\nthem, they jeered at his simplicity in thinking that he could make his\nway in the world, while they who were so much cleverer were\nunsuccessful. But they all three went on together until they came to an\nant-hill, which the two eldest brothers wished to stir up, that they\nmight see the little ants hurry about in their fright and carrying off\ntheir eggs, but Witling said,\n\n\"Leave the little creatures alone, I will not suffer them to be\ndisturbed.\"\n\nAnd they went on farther until they came to a lake, where a number of\nducks were swimming about. The two eldest brothers wanted to catch a\ncouple and cook them, but Witling would not allow it, and said, \"Leave\nthe creatures alone, I will not suffer them to be killed.\"\n\nAnd then they came to a bee's-nest in a tree, and there was so much\nhoney in it that it overflowed and ran down the trunk. The two eldest\nbrothers then wanted to make a fire beneath the tree, that the bees\nmight be stifled by the smoke, and then they could get at the honey. But\nWitling prevented them, saying,\n\n\"Leave the little creatures alone, I will not suffer them to be\nstifled.\"\n\nAt last the three brothers came to a castle where there were in the\nstables many horses standing, all of stone, and the brothers went\nthrough all the rooms until they came to a door at the end secured with\nthree locks, and in the middle of the door a small opening through which\nthey could look into the room. And they saw a little grey-haired man\nsitting at a table. They called out to him once, twice, and he did not\nhear, but at the third time he got up, undid the locks, and came out.\nWithout speaking a word he led them to a table loaded with all sorts of\ngood things, and when they had eaten and drunk he showed to each his\nbed-chamber. The next morning the little grey man came to the eldest\nbrother, and beckoning him, brought him to a table of stone, on which\nwere written three things directing by what means the castle could be\ndelivered from its enchantment. The first thing was, that in the wood\nunder the moss lay the pearls belonging to the princess--a thousand in\nnumber--and they were to be sought for and collected, and if he who\nshould undertake the task had not finished it by sunset,--if but one\npearl were missing,--he must be turned to stone. So the eldest brother\nwent out, and searched all day, but at the end of it he had only found\none hundred; just as was said on the table of stone came to pass and he\nwas turned into stone. The second brother undertook the adventure next\nday, but it fared with him no better than with the first; he found two\nhundred pearls, and was turned into stone.\n\nAnd so at last it was Witling's turn, and he began to search in the\nmoss; but it was a very tedious business to find the pearls, and he grew\nso out of heart that he sat down on a stone and began to weep. As he was\nsitting thus, up came the ant-king with five thousand ants, whose lives\nhad been saved through Witling's pity, and it was not very long before\nthe little insects had collected all the pearls and put them in a heap.\n\nNow the second thing ordered by the table of stone was to get the key of\nthe princess's sleeping-chamber out of the lake.\n\nAnd when Witling came to the lake, the ducks whose lives he had saved\ncame swimming, and dived below, and brought up the key from the bottom.\nThe third thing that had to be done was the most difficult, and that was\nto choose out the youngest and loveliest of the three princesses, as\nthey lay sleeping. All bore a perfect resemblance each to the other, and\nonly differed in this, that before they went to sleep each one had eaten\na different sweetmeat,--the eldest a piece of sugar, the second a little\nsyrup, and the third a spoonful of honey. Now the Queen-bee of those\nbees that Witling had protected from the fire came at this moment, and\ntrying the lips of all three, settled on those of the one that had eaten\nhoney, and so it was that the king's son knew which to choose. Then the\nspell was broken; every one awoke from stony sleep, and took their right\nform again.\n\nAnd Witling married the youngest and loveliest princess, and became king\nafter her father's death. But his two brothers had to put up with the\ntwo other sisters.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOLDEN GOOSE\n\n\nTHERE was a man who had three sons, the youngest of whom was called the\nSimpleton, and was despised, laughed at, and neglected, on every\noccasion. It happened one day that the eldest son wished to go into the\nforest to cut wood, and before he went his mother gave him a delicious\npancake and a flask of wine, that he might not suffer from hunger or\nthirst. When he came into the forest a little old grey man met him, who\nwished him good day, and said,\n\n\"Give me a bit of cake out of your pocket, and let me have a drink of\nyour wine; I am so hungry and thirsty.\"\n\nBut the prudent youth answered,\n\n\"Give you my cake and my wine? I haven't got any; be off with you.\"\n\nAnd leaving the little man standing there, he went off. Then he began to\nfell a tree, but he had not been at it long before he made a wrong\nstroke, and the hatchet hit him in the arm, so that he was obliged to go\nhome and get it bound up. That was what came of the little grey man.\n\nAfterwards the second son went into the wood, and the mother gave to\nhim, as to the eldest, a pancake and a flask of wine. The little old\ngrey man met him also, and begged for a little bit of cake and a drink\nof wine. But the second son spoke out plainly, saying,\n\n\"What I give you I lose myself, so be off with you.\"\n\nAnd leaving the little man standing there, he went off. The punishment\nfollowed; as he was chopping away at the tree, he hit himself in the leg\nso severely that he had to be carried home.\n\nThen said the Simpleton,\n\n\"Father, let me go for once into the forest to cut wood;\" and the father\nanswered, \"Your brothers have hurt themselves by so doing; give it up,\nyou understand nothing about it.\"\n\nBut the Simpleton went on begging so long, that the father said at last,\n\n\"Well, be off with you; you will only learn by experience.\"\n\nThe mother gave him a cake (it was only made with water, and baked in\nthe ashes), and with it a flask of sour beer. When he came into the\nforest the little old grey man met him, and greeted him, saying,\n\n\"Give me a bit of your cake, and a drink from your flask; I am so hungry\nand thirsty.\"\n\nAnd the Simpleton answered, \"I have only a flour and water cake and sour\nbeer; but if that is good enough for you, let us sit down together and\neat.\" Then they sat down, and as the Simpleton took out his flour and\nwater cake it became a rich pancake, and his sour beer became good wine;\nthen they ate and drank, and afterwards the little man said,\n\n\"As you have such a kind heart, and share what you have so willingly, I\nwill bestow good luck upon you. Yonder stands an old tree; cut it down,\nand at its roots you will find some thing,\" and thereupon the little man\ntook his departure.\n\nThe Simpleton went there, and hewed away at the tree, and when it fell\nhe saw, sitting among the roots, a goose with feathers of pure gold. He\nlifted it out and took it with him to an inn where he intended to stay\nthe night. The landlord had three daughters who, when they saw the\ngoose, were curious to know what wonderful kind of bird it was, and\nended by longing for one of its golden feathers. The eldest thought, \"I\nwill wait for a good opportunity, and then I will pull out one of its\nfeathers for myself;\" and so, when the Simpleton was gone out, she\nseized the goose by its wing--but there her finger and hand had to stay,\nheld fast. Soon after came the second sister with the same idea of\nplucking out one of the golden feathers for herself; but scarcely had\nshe touched her sister, than she also was obliged to stay, held fast.\nLastly came the third with the same intentions; but the others screamed\nout,\n\n\"Stay away! for heaven's sake stay away!\"\n\nBut she did not see why she should stay away, and thought, \"If they do\nso, why should not I?\" and went towards them. But when she reached her\nsisters there she stopped, hanging on with them. And so they had to\nstay, all night. The next morning the Simpleton took the goose under his\narm and went away, unmindful of the three girls that hung on to it. The\nthree had always to run after him, left and right, wherever his legs\ncarried him. In the midst of the fields they met the parson, who, when\nhe saw the procession, said,\n\n\"Shame on you, girls, running after a young fellow through the fields\nlike this,\" and forthwith he seized hold of the youngest by the hand to\ndrag her away, but hardly had he touched her when he too was obliged to\nrun after them himself. Not long after the sexton came that way, and\nseeing the respected parson following at the heels of the three girls,\nhe called out,\n\n\"Ho, your reverence, whither away so quickly? You forget that we have\nanother christening to-day;\" and he seized hold of him by his gown; but\nno sooner had he touched him than he was obliged to follow on too. As\nthe five tramped on, one after another, two peasants with their hoes\ncame up from the fields, and the parson cried out to them, and begged\nthem to come and set him and the sexton free, but no sooner had they\ntouched the sexton than they had to follow on too; and now there were\nseven following the Simpleton and the goose.\n\nBy and by they came to a town where a king reigned, who had an only\ndaughter who was so serious that no one could make her laugh; therefore\nthe king had given out that whoever should make her laugh should have\nher in marriage. The Simpleton, when he heard this, went with his goose\nand his hangers-on into the presence of the king's daughter, and as soon\nas she saw the seven people following always one after the other, she\nburst out laughing, and seemed as if she could never stop. And so the\nSimpleton earned a right to her as his bride; but the king did not like\nhim for a son-in-law and made all kinds of objections, and said he must\nfirst bring a man who could drink up a whole cellar of wine. The\nSimpleton thought that the little grey man would be able to help him,\nand went out into the forest, and there, on the very spot where he\nfelled the tree, he saw a man sitting with a very sad countenance. The\nSimpleton asked him what was the matter, and he answered,\n\n\"I have a great thirst, which I cannot quench: cold water does not agree\nwith me; I have indeed drunk up a whole cask of wine, but what good is a\ndrop like that?\"\n\nThen said the Simpleton,\n\n\"I can help you; only come with me, and you shall have enough.\"\n\nHe took him straight to the king's cellar, and the man sat himself down\nbefore the big vats, and drank, and drank, and before a day was over he\nhad drunk up the whole cellar-full. The Simpleton again asked for his\nbride, but the king was annoyed that a wretched fellow, called the\nSimpleton by everybody, should carry off his daughter, and so he made\nnew conditions. He was to produce a man who could eat up a mountain of\nbread. The Simpleton did not hesitate long, but ran quickly off to the\nforest, and there in the same place sat a man who had fastened a strap\nround his body, making a very piteous face, and saying,\n\n\"I have eaten a whole bakehouse full of rolls, but what is the use of\nthat when one is so hungry as I am? My stomach feels quite empty, and I\nam obliged to strap myself together, that I may not die of hunger.\"\n\nThe Simpleton was quite glad of this, and said,\n\n\"Get up quickly, and come along with me, and you shall have enough to\neat.\"\n\nHe led him straight to the king's courtyard, where all the meal in the\nkingdom had been collected and baked into a mountain of bread. The man\nout of the forest settled himself down before it and hastened to eat,\nand in one day the whole mountain had disappeared.\n\nThen the Simpleton asked for his bride the third time. The king,\nhowever, found one more excuse, and said he must have a ship that should\nbe able to sail on land or on water.\n\n\"So soon,\" said he, \"as you come sailing along with it, you shall have\nmy daughter for your wife.\"\n\nThe Simpleton went straight to the forest, and there sat the little old\ngrey man with whom he had shared his cake, and he said,\n\n\"I have eaten for you, and I have drunk for you, I will also give you\nthe ship; and all because you were kind to me at the first.\"\n\nThen he gave him the ship that could sail on land and on water, and when\nthe king saw it he knew he could no longer withhold his daughter. The\nmarriage took place immediately, and at the death of the king the\nSimpleton possessed the kingdom, and lived long and happily with his\nwife.\n\n____________________\n\nTranscriber's Notes:\n\nThere are 225 illustrations and illustrated drop-caps in the original\nbook. In this text version, I have only indicated those illustrations\nhaving captions. The html version contains many beautiful and intricate\ndrawings and woodcuts.\n\nThere are several inconsistencies in hyphenation. The following words\nappear in the text both with and without a hyphen: bed-chamber,\nbed-time, egg-shell, god-father, house-door, in-doors, mill-stone,\nsea-side, step-mother, up-stairs.\n\nI have changed or added wrong or missing punctuation in the following\nphrases:\n\n --\"Little sister, let me out, I must go[added .]\"\n\n --stood a maiden more beautiful than any he had seen before[added .]\n\n --put a cap on her, and laid her in the bed in the Queen's place.\n [changed . to ,]\n\n --So Kate went, and she thought to herself.[changed . to ,]\n\n --as it weighed upon her heavily, she thought it must be the the\n [deleted repeated word] dried apples, and she said,\n\n --neck is in danger'[changed ' to ? and added \"] answered the cat.\n\n --\"Father, let me go for once into the forest to cut wood;[added \"]","title":"Household Stories by the Brothers Grimm","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":88759}