{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_8653/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_8653","id":"gutenberg_8653","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8653","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Fairy tales -- Norway","Folklore -- Norway"],"text":"Produced by David Garcia, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nEAST O' THE SUN AND WEST O' THE MOON\nwith\nOTHER NORWEGIAN FOLK TALES\n\n\nRetold by Gudrun Thorne-Thomsen\n\nIllustrated by Frederick Richardson\n\n\n\n\nFOREWORD\n\n\nIn recent years there has been a wholesome revival of the ancient art\nof story-telling. The most thoughtful, progressive educators have come\nto recognize the culture value of folk and fairy stories, fables and\nlegends, not only as means of fostering and directing the power of the\nchild's imagination, but as a basis for literary interpretation and\nappreciation throughout life.\n\nThis condition has given rise to a demand for the best material in each\nof these several lines. Some editors have gleaned from one field; some\nfrom several. It is the aim of this little book to bring together only\nthe very best from the rich stores of Norwegian folk-lore. All these\nstories have been told many times by the editor to varied audiences of\nchildren and to those who are \"older grown.\" Each has proved its power\nto make the universal appeal.\n\nIn preparing the stories for publication, the aim has been to preserve,\nas much as possible, in vocabulary and idiom, the original folk-lore\nlanguage, and to retain the conversational style of the teller of tales,\nin order that the sympathetic young reader may, in greater or less\ndegree, be translated into the atmosphere of the old-time story-hour.\n\nGUDRUN THORNE-THOMSEN.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nEast o' the Sun and West o' the Moon\n\nThe Three Billy Goats Gruff\n\nTaper Tom\n\nWhy the Bear is Stumpy-Tailed\n\nReynard and the Cock\n\nBruin and Reynard Partners\n\nBoots and His Brothers\n\nThe Lad Who Went to the North Wind\n\nThe Giant Who Had No Heart in His Body\n\nThe Sheep and the Pig Who Set Up Housekeeping\n\nThe Parson and the Clerk\n\nFather Bruin\n\nThe Pancake\n\nWhy the Sea is Salt\n\nThe Squire's Bride\n\nPeik\n\nThe Princess Who Could Not Be Silenced\n\nThe Twelve Wild Ducks\n\nGudbrand-on-the-Hillside\n\nThe Princess on the Glass Hill\n\nThe Husband Who Was to Mind the House\n\nLittle Freddy with His Fiddle\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: \"Are you afraid?\"]\n\n\n\n\nEAST O' THE SUN AND WEST O' THE MOON\n\n\nOnce on a time there was a poor woodcutter who had so many children that\nhe had not much of either food or clothing to give them. Pretty children\nthey all were, but the prettiest was the youngest daughter, who was so\nlovely there was no end to her loveliness.\n\nIt was on a Thursday evening late in the fall of the year. The weather\nwas wild and rough outside, and it was cruelly dark. The rain fell and\nthe wind blew till the walls of the cottage shook. There they all sat\nround the fire busy with this thing and that. Just then, all at once,\nsomething gave three taps at the window pane. Then the father went out\nto see what was the matter, and, when he got out of doors, what should\nhe see but a great White Bear.\n\n\"Good evening to you!\" said the White Bear.\n\n\"The same to you,\" said the man.\n\n\"Will you give me your youngest daughter? If you will, I'll make you as\nrich as you are now poor,\" said the Bear.\n\nWell, the man would not be at all sorry to be so rich;--but give him his\nprettiest lassie, no, that he couldn't do, so he said \"No\" outright and\nclosed the door both tight and well. But the Bear called out, \"I'll give\nyou time to think; next Thursday night I'll come for your answer.\"\n\nNow, the lassie had heard every word that the Bear had said, and before\nthe next Thursday evening came, she had washed and mended her rags, made\nherself as neat as she could, and was ready to start. I can't say her\npacking gave her much trouble.\n\nNext Thursday evening came the White Bear to fetch her, and she got upon\nhis back with her bundle, and off they went. So when they had gone a bit\nof the way, the White Bear said, \"Are you afraid?\"\n\n\"No, not at all,\" said the lassie.\n\n\"Well! mind and hold tight by my shaggy coat, and then there's nothing\nto fear,\" added the Bear.\n\nSo she rode a long, long way, till they came to a great steep hill.\nThere on the face of it the White Bear gave a knock, and a door opened,\nand they came into a castle, where there were many rooms all lit up,\ngleaming with silver and gold, and there too was a table ready laid, and\nit was all as grand as grand could be. Then the White Bear gave her a\nsilver bell. When she wanted anything she had only to ring it, and she\nwould get what she wanted at once.\n\nWell, when she had had supper and evening wore on, she became sleepy\nbecause of her journey. She thought she would like to go to bed, so she\nrang the bell. She had scarce taken hold of it before she came into a\nchamber where there were two beds as fair and white as any one would\nwish to sleep in. But when she had put out the light and gone to bed\nsome one came into the room and lay down in the other bed. Now this\nhappened every night, but she never saw who it was, for he always came\nafter she had put out the light; and, before the day dawned, he was up\nand off again.\n\nSo things went on for a while, the lassie having everything she wanted.\nBut you must know, that no human being did she see from morning till\nnight, only the White Bear could she talk to, and she did not know what\nman or monster it might be who came to sleep in her room by night. At\nlast she began to be silent and sorrowful and would neither eat nor\ndrink.\n\nOne day the White Bear came to her and said: \"Lassie, why are you so\nsorrowful? This castle and all that is in it are yours, the silver bell\nwill give you anything that you wish. I only beg one thing of you--ask\nno questions, trust me and nothing shall harm you. So now be happy\nagain.\" But still the lassie had no peace of mind, for one thing she\nwished to know: Who it was who came in the night and slept in her room?\nAll day long and all night long she wondered and longed to know, and she\nfretted and pined away.\n\nSo one night, when she could not stand it any longer and she heard that\nhe slept, she got up, lit a bit of a candle, and let the light shine on\nhim. Then she saw that he was the loveliest Prince one ever set eyes on,\nand she bent over and kissed him. But, as she kissed him, she dropped\nthree drops of hot tallow on his shirt, and he woke up.\n\n\"What have you done?\" he cried; \"now you have made us both unlucky, for\nhad you held out only this one year, I had been freed. For I am the\nWhite Bear by day and a man by night. It is a wicked witch who has\nbewitched me; and now I must set off from you to her. She lives in a\ncastle which stands East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon, and there are\nmany trolls and witches there and one of those is the wife I must now\nhave.\"\n\nShe wept, but there was no help for it; go he must.\n\nThen she asked if she mightn't go with him?\n\nNo, she mightn't.\n\n\"Tell me the way then,\" she said, \"and I'll search you out; that,\nsurely, I may get leave to do.\"\n\n\"Yes, you may do that,\" he said, \"but there is no way to that place. It\nlies East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon and thither you can never find\nyour way.\" And at that very moment both Prince and castle were gone, and\nshe lay on a little green patch in the midst of the gloomy thick wood,\nand by her side lay the same bundle of rags she had brought with her\nfrom home.\n\nThen she wept and wept till she was tired, and all the while she thought\nof the lovely Prince and how she should find him.\n\nSo at last she set out on her way and walked many, many days and\nwhomever she met she asked: \"Can you tell me the way to the castle that\nlies East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon?\" But no one could tell her.\n\nAnd on she went a weary time. Both hungry and tired was she when she got\nto the East Wind's house one morning. There she asked the East Wind if\nhe could tell her the way to the Prince who dwelt East o' the Sun and\nWest o' the Moon. Yes, the East Wind had often heard tell of it, the\nPrince, and the castle, but he couldn't tell the way, for he had never\nblown so far.\n\n\"But, if you will, I'll go with you to my brother the West Wind. Maybe\nhe knows, for he's much stronger. So, if you will just get on my back,\nI'll carry you thither.\"\n\nYes, she got on his back, and I can tell you they went briskly along.\n\nSo when they got there, they went into the West Wind's house, and the\nEast Wind said that the lassie he had brought was the one who ought to\nmarry the Prince who lived in the castle East o' the Sun and West o' the\nMoon; and that she had set out to seek him, and would be glad to know if\nthe West Wind knew how to get to the castle.\n\n\"Nay,\" said the West Wind, \"so far I've never blown; but if you will,\nI'll go with you to our brother the South Wind, for he is much stronger\nthan either of us, and he has flapped his wings far and wide. Maybe\nhe'll tell you. You can get on my back and I'll carry you to him.\"\n\nYes, she got on his back, and so they travelled to the South Wind, and\nwere not long on the way, either.\n\nWhen they got there, the West Wind asked him if he could tell her the\nway to the castle that lay East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon, for it\nwas she who ought to marry the Prince who lived there.\n\n\"You don't say so. That's she, is it?\" said the South Wind.\n\n\"Well, I have blustered about in most places in my time, but that far I\nhave never blown; however, if you will, I'll take you to my brother the\nNorth Wind; he is the oldest and strongest of all of us, and if he\ndoesn't know where it is, you'll never find anyone in the world to tell\nyou. You can get on my back and I'll carry you thither.\"\n\nYes, she got on his back, and away he went from his house at a fine\nrate. And this time, too, she was not long on the way. When they got\nnear the North Wind's house he was so wild and cross that cold puffs\ncame from him.\n\n\"Heigh, there, what do you want?\" he bawled out to them ever so far off,\nso that it struck them with an icy shiver.\n\n\"Well,\" said the South Wind, \"you needn't be so put out, for here I am\nyour brother, the South Wind, and here is the lassie who ought to marry\nthe Prince who dwells in the castle that lies East o' the Sun and West\no' the Moon. She wants to ask you, if you ever were there, and can tell\nher the way, for she would be so glad to find him again.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know well enough where it is,\" said the North Wind. \"Once in my\nlife I blew an aspen leaf thither, but I was so tired I couldn't blow a\npuff for ever so many days after it. But if you really wish to go\nthither, and aren't afraid to come along with me, I'll take you on my\nback and see if I can blow you there.\"\n\n\"Yes! and thank you,\" she said, for she must and would get thither if it\nwere possible in any way; and as for fear, however madly he went, she\nwouldn't be at all afraid.\n\n\"Very well then,\" said the North Wind, \"but you must sleep here\nto-night, for we must have the whole day before us if we're to get\nthither at all.\"\n\nEarly next morning the North Wind woke her, and puffed himself up, and\nblew himself out, and made himself so stout and big, it was gruesome to\nlook at him. And so off she went, high on the back of the North Wind up\nthrough the air, as if they would never stop till they got to the\nworld's end.\n\nDown here below there was a terrible storm; it threw down long tracts of\nwoodland and many houses, and when it swept over the great sea ships\nfoundered by hundreds.\n\nSo they tore on and on,--no one can believe how far they went,--and all\nthe while they still went over the sea, and the North Wind got more and\nmore weary, and so out of breath he could scarce bring out a puff, and\nhis wings drooped and drooped, till at last he sunk so low that the\ncrests of the waves lashed over her heels.\n\n\"Are you afraid?\" said the North Wind.\n\nShe wasn't.\n\nBut they were not very far from land; and the North Wind had still so\nmuch strength left in him that he managed to throw her up on shore close\nby the castle which lay East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon; but then\nhe was so weak and worn out, that he had to stay there and rest many\ndays before he could get home again.\n\nAnd now the lassie began to look about her and to think of how she might\nfree the Prince, but nowhere did she see a sign of life.\n\nThen she sat herself down right under the castle windows, and as soon as\nthe sun went down, out they came, trolls and witches, red-eyed,\nlong-nosed, hunch-backed hags, tumbling over each other, scolding,\nhurrying and scurrying hither and thither.\n\nAt first they almost frightened the life out of her, but when she had\nwatched them awhile and they had not noticed her, she took courage and\nwalked up to one of them and said: \"Pray tell me what goes on here\nto-night that you are all so busy, and could I perhaps get something to\ndo for a night's lodging and a bit of food?\"\n\n\"Ha, ha, ha!\" laughed the horrid witch, \"and where do you come from that\nyou do not know that it is to-night that the Prince chooses his bride.\nWhen the moon stands high over the tree tops yonder we meet in the\nclearing by the old oak. There the caldrons are ready with boiling lye,\nfor don't you know?--he's going to choose for his bride the one who can\nwash three spots of tallow from his shirt, Ha, ha, ha!\"\n\nAnd the wicked witch hurried off again, laughing such a horrible laugh\nthat it made the lassie's blood run cold.\n\nBut now the trolls and witches came trooping out of the very earth, it\nseemed, and all turned their steps toward the clearing in the woods.\n\nSo the lassie went too, and found a place among the rest. Now the moon\nstood high above the tree tops, and there was the caldron in the middle\nand round about sat the trolls and witches;--such gruesome company I'm\nsure you were never in. Then came the Prince; he looked about from one\nto the other, and he saw the lassie, and his face grew white, but he\nsaid nothing.\n\n\"Now, let's begin,\" said a witch with a nose three ells long. She was\nsure she was going to have the Prince, and she began to wash away as\nhard as she could, but the more she rubbed and scrubbed, the bigger the\nspots grew.\n\n\"Ah!\" said an old hag, \"you can't wash, let me try.\"\n\nBut she hadn't long taken the shirt in hand, before it was far worse\nthan ever, and with all her rubbing and scrubbing and wringing, the\nspots grew bigger and blacker, and the darker and uglier was the shirt.\n\nThen all the other trolls began to wash, but the longer it lasted, the\nblacker and uglier the shirt grew, till at last it was as black all over\nas if it had been up the chimney.\n\n\"Ah!\" said the Prince, \"you're none of you worth a straw, you can't\nwash. Why there sits a beggar lassie, I'll be bound she knows how to\nwash better than the whole lot of you. Come here, lassie,\" he shouted.\n\n\"Can you wash the shirt clean, lassie?\" said he.\n\n\"I don't know,\" she said, \"but I think I can.\"\n\nAnd almost before she had taken it and dipped it in the water, it was as\nwhite as snow, and whiter still.\n\n\"Yes; you are the lassie for me,\" said the Prince.\n\nAt that moment the sun rose and the whole pack of trolls turned to\nstone.\n\nThere you may see them to this very day sitting around in a circle, big\nones and little ones, all hard, cold stone.\n\nBut the Prince took the lassie by the hand and they flitted away as far\nas they could from the castle that lay East o' the Sun and West o' the\nMoon.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THREE BILLY GOATS GRUFF\n\n\nOnce on a time there were three Billy Goats, who were to go up to the\nhillside to make themselves fat, and the family name of the goats was\n\"Gruff.\"\n\nOn the way up was a bridge, over a river which they had to cross, and\nunder the bridge lived a great ugly Troll with eyes as big as saucers,\nand a nose as long as a poker.\n\nFirst of all came the youngest Billy Goat Gruff to cross the bridge.\n\"Trip, trap; trip, trap!\" went the bridge.\n\n\"_Who's that tripping over my bridge?_\" roared the Troll.\n\n\"Oh, it is only I, the tiniest Billy Goat Gruff, and I'm going up to the\nhillside to make myself fat,\" said the Billy Goat, with such a small\nvoice.\n\n\"Now, I'm coming to gobble you up,\" said the Troll.\n\n\"Oh, no! pray do not take me, I'm too little, that I am,\" said the Billy\nGoat; \"wait a bit till the second Billy Goat Gruff comes, he's much\nbigger.\"\n\n\"Well! be off with you,\" said the Troll.\n\nA little while after came the second Billy Goat Gruff across the bridge.\n\n\"Trip, trap! trip, trap! trip, trap!\" went the bridge.\n\n\"_Who is that tripping over my bridge_?\" roared the Troll.\n\n\"Oh, it's the second Billy Goat Gruff, and I'm going up to the hillside\nto make myself fat,\" said the Billy Goat. Nor had he such a small voice,\neither.\n\n\"Now, I'm coming to gobble you up!\" said the Troll.\n\n\"Oh, no! don't take me, wait a little till the big Billy Goat comes,\nhe's much bigger.\"\n\n\"Very well! be off with you,\" said the Troll.\n\nBut just then up came the big Billy Goat Gruff.\n\n\"Trip, trap! trip, trap! trip, trap!\" went the bridge, for the Billy\nGoat was so heavy that the bridge creaked and groaned under him.\n\n\"_Who's that tramping on my bridge?_\" roared the Troll.\n\n\"It's I! the big Billy Goat Gruff,\" said the Billy Goat, and he had a\nbig hoarse voice.\n\n\"Now, I'm coming to gobble you up!\" roared the troll.\n\n  \"_Well come! I have two spears so stout,\n   With them I'll thrust your eyeballs out;\n   I have besides two great big stones,\n   With them I'll crush you body and bones!_\"\n\nThat was what the big Billy Goat said; so he flew at the Troll, and\nthrust him with his horns, and crushed him to bits, body and bones, and\ntossed him out into the river, and after that he went up to the\nhillside.\n\nThere the Billy Goats got so fat that they were scarcely able to walk\nhome again, and if they haven't grown thinner, why they're still fat;\nand so,--\n\n  \"Snip, snap, stout.\n   This tale's told out.\"\n\n\n\n\nTAPER TOM\n\n\nOnce on a time there was a King who had a daughter, and she was so\nlovely that her good looks were well known far and near. But she was so\nsad and serious she could never be got to laugh, and besides, she was so\nhigh and mighty that she said \"No\" to all who came to woo her. She would\nhave none of them, were they ever so grand--lords or princes,--it was\nall the same.\n\nThe King had long ago become tired of this, for he thought she might\njust as well marry; she, too, like all other people. There was no use in\nwaiting; she was quite old enough, nor would she be any richer, for she\nwas to have half the kingdom,--that came to her as her mother's heir.\n\nSo he had word sent throughout the kingdom, that anyone who could get\nhis daughter to laugh should have her for his wife and half the kingdom\nbesides. But, if there was anyone who tried and could not, he was to\nhave a sound thrashing. And sure it was that there were many sore backs\nin that kingdom, for lovers and wooers came from north and south, and\neast and west, thinking it nothing at all to make a King's daughter\nlaugh. And gay fellows they were, some of them too, but for all their\ntricks and capers there sat the Princess, just as sad and serious as she\nhad been before.\n\nNow, not far from the palace lived a man who had three sons, and they,\ntoo, had heard how the King had given it out that the man who could make\nthe Princess laugh was to have her to wife and half the kingdom.\n\nThe eldest was for setting off first. So he strode off, and when he came\nto the King's grange, he told the King he would be glad to try to make\nthe Princess laugh.\n\n\"All very well, my man,\" said the King, \"but it's sure to be of no use,\nfor so many have been here and tried. My daughter is so sorrowful it's\nno use trying, and it's not my wish that anyone should come to grief.\"\n\nBut the lad thought he would like to try. It couldn't be such a very\nhard thing for him to get the Princess to laugh, for so many had laughed\nat him, both gentle and simple, when he enlisted for a soldier and was\ndrilled by Corporal Jack.\n\nSo he went off to the courtyard, under the Princess's window, and began\nto go through his drill as Corporal Jack had taught him. But it was no\ngood, the Princess was just as sad and serious and did not so much as\nsmile at him once. So they took him and thrashed him well, and sent him\nhome again.\n\nWell, he had hardly got home before his second brother wanted to set\noff. He was a schoolmaster, and the funniest figure one ever laid eyes\nupon; he was lopsided, for he had one leg shorter than the other, and\none moment he was as little as a boy, and in another, when he stood on\nhis long leg, he was as tall and long as a Troll. Besides this he was a\npowerful preacher.\n\nSo when he came to the king's palace, and said he wished to make the\nPrincess laugh, the King thought it might not be so unlikely after all.\n\"But mercy on you,\" he said, \"if you don't make her laugh. We are for\nlaying it on harder and harder for every one that fails.\"\n\nThen the schoolmaster strode off to the courtyard, and put himself\nbefore the Princess's window, and read and preached like seven parsons,\nand sang and chanted like seven clerks, as loud as all the parsons and\nclerks in the country round.\n\nThe King laughed loud at him, and the Princess almost smiled a little,\nbut then became as sad and serious as ever, and so it fared no better\nwith Paul, the schoolmaster, than with Peter the soldier--for you must\nknow one was called Peter and the other Paul. So they took him and\nflogged him well, and then they sent him home again.\n\nThen the youngest, whose name was Taper Tom, was all for setting out.\nBut his brothers laughed and jeered at him, and showed him their sore\nbacks, and his father said it was no use for him to go for he had no\nsense. Was it not true that he neither knew anything nor could do\nanything? There he sat in the hearth, like a cat, and grubbed in the\nashes and split tapers. That was why they called him \"Taper Tom.\" But\nTaper Tom would not give in, and so they got tired of his growling; and\nat last he, too, got leave to go to the king's palace to try his luck.\n\nWhen he got there he did not say that he wished to try to make the\nPrincess laugh, but asked if he could get work there. No, they had no\nplace for him, but for all that Taper Tom would not give up. In such a\nbig palace they must want someone to carry wood and water for the\nkitchen maid,--that was what he said. And the king thought it might very\nwell be, for he, too, got tired of his teasing. In the end Taper Tom\nstayed there to carry wood and water for the kitchen maid.\n\nSo one day, when he was going to fetch water from the brook, he set eyes\nupon a big fish which lay under an old fir stump, where the water had\neaten into the bank, and he put his bucket softly under the fish and\ncaught it. But as he was gong home to the grange he met an old woman who\nled a golden goose by a string.\n\n\"Good-day, godmother,\" said Taper Tom, \"that's a pretty bird you have,\nand what fine feathers! If one only had such feathers one might leave\noff splitting fir tapers.\"\n\nThe goody was just as pleased with the fish Tom had in his bucket and\nsaid, if he would give her the fish, he might have the golden goose. And\nit was such a curious goose. When any one touched it he stuck fast to\nit, if Tom only said, \"If you want to come along, hang on.\" Of course,\nTaper Tom was willing enough to make the exchange. \"A bird is as good as\na fish any day,\" he said to himself, \"and, if it's such a bird as you\nsay, I can use it as a fish hook.\" That was what he said to the goody,\nand he was much pleased with the goose.\n\nNow, he had not gone far before he met another old woman. As soon as she\nsaw the lovely golden goose she spoke prettily, and coaxed and begged\nTom to give her leave to stroke his lovely golden goose.\n\n\"With all my heart,\" said Taper Tom, and just as she stroked the goose\nhe said, \"If you want to come along, hang on.\"\n\nThe goody pulled and tore, but she was forced to hang on whether she\nwould or not, and Taper Tom went on as though he alone were with the\ngolden goose.\n\nWhen he had gone a bit farther, he met a man who had had a quarrel with\nthe old woman for a trick she had played him. So, when he saw how hard\nshe struggled and strove to get free, and how fast she stuck, he thought\nhe would just pay her off the old grudge, and so he gave her a kick with\nhis foot.\n\n\"If you want to come along, hang on!\" called out Tom, and then the old\nman had to hop along on one leg, whether he would or not. When he tore\nand tugged and tried to get loose--it was still worse for him, for he\nall but fell flat on his back every step he took.\n\nIn this way they went on a good bit till they had nearly reached the\nKing's palace.\n\nThere they met the King's smith, who was going to the smithy, and had a\ngreat pair of tongs in his hand. Now you must know this smith was a\nmerry fellow, full of both tricks and pranks, and when he saw this\nstring come hobbling and limping along, he laughed so that he was almost\nbent double. Then he bawled out, \"Surely this is a new flock of geese\nthe Princess is going to have--Ah, here is the gander that toddles in\nfront. Goosey! goosey! goosey!\" he called, and with that he threw his\nhands about as though he were scattering corn for the geese.\n\nBut the flock never stopped--on it went and all that the goody and the\nman did was to look daggers at the smith for making fun of them. Then\nthe smith went on:\n\n\"It would be fine fun to see if I could hold the whole flock, so many as\nthey are,\" for he was a stout strong fellow. So he took hold with his\nbig tongs by the old man's coat tail, and the man all the while\nscreeched and wriggled. But Taper Tom only said:\n\n\"If you want to come along, hang on!\" So the smith had to go along too.\nHe bent his back and stuck his heels into the ground and tried to get\nloose, but it was all no good. He stuck fast, as though he had been\nscrewed tight with his own vise, and whether he would or not, he had to\ndance along with the rest.\n\nSo, when they came near to the King's palace, the dog ran out and began\nto bark as though they were wolves and beggars. And when the Princess,\nlooking out of the window to see what was the matter, set eyes on this\nstrange pack, she laughed softly to herself. But Taper Tom was not\ncontent with that:\n\n\"Bide a bit,\" he said, \"she will soon have to make a noise.\" And as he\nsaid that he turned off with his band to the back of the palace.\n\nWhen they passed by the kitchen the door stood open, and the cook was\njust stirring the porridge. But when she saw Taper Tom and his pack she\ncame running out at the door, with her broom in one hand and a ladle\nfull of smoking porridge in the other, and she laughed as though her\nsides would split. And when she saw the smith there too, she bent double\nand went off again in a loud peal of laughter. But when she had had her\nlaugh out, she too thought the golden goose so lovely she must just\nstroke it.\n\n\"Taper Tom! Taper Tom!\" she called out, and came running out with the\nladle of porridge in her fist, \"Give me leave to pet that pretty bird of\nyours'?\"\n\n\"Better come and pet me,\" said the smith. But when the cook heard that\nshe got angry.\n\n\"What is that you say?\" she cried and gave the smith a box on his ears\nwith the ladle.\n\n\"If you want to come along, hang on,\" said Taper Tom. So she stuck fast\ntoo, and for all her kicks and plunges, and all her scolding and\nscreaming, and all her riving and striving, she too had to limp along\nwith them.\n\n[Illustration: She opened her mouth wide and laughed]\n\nSoon the whole company came under the Princess's window. There she stood\nwaiting for them. And when she saw they had taken the cook too, with her\nladle and broom, she opened her mouth wide, and laughed so loud that the\nKing had to hold her upright.\n\nSo Taper Tom got the Princess and half the kingdom, and they say he kept\nher in high spirits with his tricks and pranks till the end of her days.\n\n\n\n\nWHY THE BEAR IS STUMPY-TAILED\n\n\nOne day the Bear met the Fox, who came slinking along with a string of\nfish he had stolen.\n\n\"Where did you get those?\" asked the Bear.\n\n\"Oh! my Lord Bruin, I've been out fishing and caught them,\" said the\nFox.\n\nSo the Bear had a mind to learn to fish too, and bade the Fox tell him\nhow he was to set about it.\n\n\"Oh! it is an easy craft for you,\" answered the Fox, \"and soon learned.\nYou've only to go upon the ice, cut a hole, stick your tail down into\nit, and hold it there as long as you can. You're not to mind if your\ntail smarts a little; that's when the fish bite. The longer you hold it\nthere the more fish you'll get; and then all at once out with it, with a\ncross pull sideways, and with a strong pull too.\"\n\nYes, the Bear did as the Fox had said, and held his tail a long, long\ntime down in the hole, till it was frozen in fast. Then he pulled it out\nwith a cross pull, and it snapped short off. That's why Bruin goes about\nwith a stumpy tail to this very day.\n\n\n\n\nREYNARD AND THE COCK\n\n\nOnce on a time there was a cock who stood on the barnyard fence and\ncrowed and flapped his wings. Then the fox came by.\n\n\"Good-day,\" said Reynard. \"I have heard you crowing so nicely, but can\nyou stand on one leg and crow, and wink your eyes?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" said the cock, \"I can do that very well.\" So he stood on one\nleg and crowed, but he winked only with one eye, and when he had done\nthat he made himself big and flapped his wings, as though he had done a\ngreat thing.\n\n\"Very pretty, to be sure,\" said Reynard. \"Almost as pretty as when the\nparson preaches in church, but can you stand on one leg and wink both\nyour eyes at once? I hardly think you can.\"\n\n\"Can't I though!\" said the cock, and stood on one leg, and winked both\nhis eyes and crowed. But Reynard caught hold of him, took him by the\nthroat, and threw him on his back, so that he was off to the wood before\nhe had crowed his crow out, as fast as Reynard could lay legs to the\nground.\n\nWhen they had come under an old spruce fir, Reynard threw the cock on\nthe ground, and set his paw on his breast, and was going to take a bite:\n\"You are a heathen, Reynard!\" said the cock. \"Good Christians say grace\nbefore they eat.\"\n\nBut Reynard would be no heathen, no indeed. So he let go his hold, and\nwas about to fold his paws over his breast, and say grace--but pop! up\nflew the cock into a tree.\n\n\"You shan't get off for all that,\" said Reynard to himself. So he went\naway, and came again with a few chips which the woodcutters had left.\nThe cock peeped and peered to see what they could be.\n\n\"What is that you have there?\" he asked.\n\n\"These are letters I have just got,\" said Reynard, \"won't you help me to\nread them, for I don't know how to read writing.\"\n\n\"I'd be so happy, but I dare not read them now,\" said the cock, \"for\nhere comes a hunter--I see him, I see him with his pouch and gun.\"\n\nWhen Reynard heard the cock chattering about a hunter, he took to his\nheels as fast as he could.\n\n\n\n\nBRUIN AND REYNARD PARTNERS\n\n\nOnce on a time Bruin and Reynard owned a field in common. They had\na little clearing up in the wood, and the first year they sowed rye.\n\n\"Now we must share the crop as is fair and right,\" said Reynard.\n\"If you like to have the root, I'll take the top.\"\n\nYes, Bruin was ready to do that; but when they had threshed out the\ncrop, Reynard got all the corn, but Bruin got nothing but roots and\nrubbish. He did not like that at all; but Reynard said that was how\nthey had agreed to share it.\n\n\"This year I have the gain,\" said Reynard, \"next year it will be your\nturn. Then you shall have the top, and I shall have to put up with the\nroot.\"\n\nBut when spring came, and it was time to sow, Reynard asked Bruin what\nhe thought of turnips.\n\n\"Aye, aye!\" said Bruin, \"that's better food than rye,\" and so Reynard\nthought also. But when harvest time came Reynard got the roots, while\nBruin got the turnip-tops. And then Bruin was so angry with Reynard\nthat he put an end at once to his partnership with him.\n\n\n\n\nBOOTS AND HIS BROTHERS\n\n\nOnce on a time there was a man who had three sons, Peter, Paul and\nEspen. Espen was Boots, of course, because he was the youngest. I can't\nsay the man had anything except these three sons, for he did not possess\none penny to rub against another; and so he told his sons over and over\nagain they must go out into the world to seek their fortune, for at home\nthere was nothing to be expected but to starve to death.\n\nNow, a short way from the man's cottage was the King's palace, and you\nmust know, just against the King's windows a great oak had sprung up,\nwhich was so stout and big that it took away all the light from the\nking's palace. The King had said he would give much gold to any man who\ncould fell the oak, but no one was man enough to do it, for as soon as\none chip of the oak's trunk flew off, two grew in its stead. The King\nwished also to have a well dug which was to hold water for the whole\nyear. All his neighbors had wells, but he had none, and he thought that\na shame.\n\nSo the King said he would give to any one who could dig him such a well\nas would hold water for the whole year round, both money and goods, but\nno one could do it, for the King's palace lay high, high up on a hill,\nand they could dig but a few inches before they would come upon rock.\n\nBut as the King had set his heart on having these two things done, he\nhad it given out in all the churches of his kingdom far and wide, that\nhe who could fell the big oak in the King's courtyard, and dig him a\nwell that would hold water the whole year round, should have the\nPrincess and half the kingdom. Well! you may easily know there was many\na man who came to try his luck; but all their hacking and hewing, and\nall their digging and delving were useless. The oak got bigger and\nstouter at every stroke, and the rock grew no softer either.\n\nOne day the three brothers thought they, too, would set off and try it.\nTheir father had not a word to say against it; for even if they did not\nget the Princess and half the kingdom, it might happen they would get a\nplace somewhere with a good master and that was all he wanted. So when\nthe brothers asked his permission, he consented at once, and Peter, Paul\nand Espen set forth.\n\nWell, they had not gone far before they came to a fir wood where at one\nside there rose a steep hill, and as they went along they heard\nsomething hewing and hacking away up on the hill among the trees.\n\n\"I wonder now what it is that is hewing away up yonder,\" said Boots.\n\n\"You're always so clever with your wondering,\" laughed Peter and Paul\nboth at once. \"What wonder is it, pray, that a wood cutter should stand\nand hack up on a hillside?\"\n\n\"Still, I'd like to see what it is, after all,\" said Boots, and up he\nwent.\n\n\"Oh, if you're such a child, 'twill do you good to go and take a\nlesson,\" called out his brothers after him.\n\nBut Boots didn't care for what they said; he climbed the steep hillside\ntowards the spot whence the noise came, and when he reached the place,\nwhat do you think he saw? Why, an axe that stood there hacking and\nhewing, all of itself, at the trunk of a fir tree.\n\n\"Good-day,\" said Boots. \"So you stand here all alone and hew, do you?\"\n\n\"Yes, here I've stood and hewed and hacked for hundreds of years,\nwaiting for you,\" said the axe.\n\n\"Well, here I am at last,\" said Boots, as he took the axe, pulled it off\nits haft, and stuffed both head and haft into his wallet.\n\nWhen he got down again to his brothers, they began to jeer and laugh at\nhim.\n\n\"And now, what strange thing was it you saw up yonder on the hillside?\"\nthey asked.\n\n\"Oh, it was only an axe we heard,\" said Boots.\n\nWhen they had gone on a bit farther, their road passed under a steep\nspur of rock, where they heard something digging and shovelling.\n\n[Illustration: A spade that stood digging and delving]\n\n\"I wonder now,\" said Boots, \"what is digging and shovelling up yonder at\nthe top of the rock.\"\n\n\"Ah, you're always so clever with your wondering,\" laughed Peter and\nPaul again, \"as if you'd never heard a woodpecker hacking and pecking at\na hollow tree.\"\n\n\"Well, well,\" said Boots, \"I just think it would be fun to see what it\nreally is.\"\n\nAnd so off he set to climb the rock, while the others laughed and made\nfun of him. But he did not care a bit for that; up he climbed, and when\nhe got near the top, what do you think he saw? Why, a spade that stood\nthere digging and delving.\n\n\"Good-day!\" said Boots. \"So you stand here all alone, and dig and delve,\ndo you?\"\n\n\"Yes, that's what I do,\" said the spade, \"and that's what I've done\nthese hundreds of years, waiting for you, Boots.\"\n\n\"Well, here I am,\" said Boots again, as he took the spade and knocked it\noff the handle, and put it into his wallet,--and then returned to his\nbrothers.\n\n\"Well, what was it, so rare and strange,\" said Peter and Paul, \"that you\nsaw up there at the top of the rock?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said Boots, \"nothing more than a spade; that was what we heard.\"\n\nSo they went on again a good bit until they came to a brook. They were\nthirsty, all three, after their long walk, and so they lay down beside\nthe brook to have a drink.\n\n\"I wonder now,\" said Boots, \"where all this water comes from.\"\n\n\"I wonder if you've lost the little sense you had,\" said Peter and Paul\nin one breath. \"Where the brook comes from indeed! Have you never heard\nhow water rises from a spring in the earth?\"\n\n\"Yes! but still I've a great fancy to see where this brook comes from,\"\nsaid Boots.\n\nSo along beside the brook he went, in spite of all that his brothers\ncried after him. Nothing could stop him. On he went, up and up, and the\nbrook got smaller and smaller, and at last, a little way farther on,\nwhat do you think he saw? Why, a great walnut, and out of that the water\ntrickled.\n\n\"Good-day!\" said Boots again. \"So you lie here, and trickle and run down\nall alone?\"\n\n\"Yes, I do,\" said the walnut, \"and here have I trickled and run these\nhundreds of years, waiting for you, Boots.\"\n\n\"Well, here I am,\" said Boots, as he took up a lump of moss, and plugged\nup the hole, that the water might not run out. Then he put the walnut\ninto his wallet, and ran down to his brothers.\n\n\"Well, now,\" said Peter and Paul, \"have you found out where the water\ncomes from? A rare sight it must have been!\"\n\n\"Oh, after all, it was only a hole it ran out of,\" said Boots; and so\nthe others laughed and made fun of him again, but Boots didn't mind that\na bit.\n\n\"After all, I had the fun of seeing it,\" said he.\n\nSo when they had gone a bit farther, they came to the King's palace; but\nas every one in the kingdom had heard how he might win the Princess and\nhalf the realm, if he could only fell the big oak and dig the King's\nwell, so many had come to try their luck that the oak was now twice as\nstout and big as it had been at first; for two chips grew for every one\nthey hewed out with their axes, as I dare say you remember I told you.\nSo the King had now laid down as a punishment, that if any one tried and\ncould not fell the oak, he should be put on a barren island, much like a\nprison.\n\nThe two brothers did not let themselves be scared by that, however, for\nthey were quite sure they could fell the oak, and Peter, as he was the\neldest, was to try his hand first. But it went with him as with all the\nrest who had hewn at the oak. For every chip he had cut out, two grew in\nits place. So the King's men seized him, bound him hand and foot, and\nput him out on the island.\n\nNow, Paul was to try his luck, but he fared just the same; when he had\nhewn two or three strokes, they began to see the oak grow, and so the\nKing's men seized him too, bound him hand and foot, and put him out on\nthe island.\n\nAnd now Boots was to try.\n\n\"You can save yourself the trouble, we'll bind you and send you off\nafter your brothers just as well first as last,\" laughed the King's men.\n\n\"Well, I'd just like to try first,\" said Boots, and so he got leave.\nThen he took his axe out of his wallet and fitted it to its haft.\n\n\"Hew away!\" said he to his axe; and away it hewed, making the chips fly,\nso that it wasn't long before down came the oak.\n\nWhen that was done Boots pulled out his spade and fitted it to its\nhandle.\n\n\"Dig away!\" said he to the spade; and the spade began to dig and delve\ntill the earth and rock flew out in splinters, and he had the well soon\ndug out, as you may believe.\n\nAnd when he had got it as big and deep as he chose, Boots took out his\nwalnut and laid it in one corner of the well, and pulled the plug of\nmoss out.\n\n\"Trickle and run,\" said Boots; and so the water trickled and ran, till\nit gushed out of the hole in a stream, and in a short time the well was\nbrimful.\n\nThen Boots had felled the oak which shaded the King's palace, and dug a\nwell that held water all the year around, and so he got the princess and\nhalf the kingdom, as the King had said. And it was lucky for Peter and\nPaul that they were on the barren island, else they had heard each day\nand hour how every one said: \"Well, after all, Boots did not wonder\nabout things for nothing.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE LAD WHO WENT TO THE NORTH WIND\n\n\nOnce on a time there was an old widow who had one son, and as she was\nfeeble and weak, she asked her son to go out to the storehouse and fetch\nmeal for cooking. But when he got outside the storehouse, and was just\ngoing down the steps, there came the North Wind, puffing and blowing,\ncaught up the meal, and away with it through the air. Then the lad went\nback into the storehouse for more; but when he came out again on the\nsteps, the North Wind came again and carried off the meal with a puff;\nand more than that, he did it the third time. At this the lad got very\nangry; and as it seemed hard that the North Wind should behave so, he\nthought he would go in search of him and ask him to give up his meal.\n\nSo off he went, but the way was long, and he walked and walked. At last\nhe came to the North Wind's house.\n\n\"Good-day!\" said the lad, \"and thank you for coming to see us.\"\n\n\"Good-day,\" answered the North Wind, and his voice was loud and gruff,\n\"and thanks for coming to see me. What do you want?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" answered the lad, \"I only wished to ask you to be so good as to\nlet me have back the meal you took from me on the storehouse steps, for\nwe haven't much to live on; and if you're to go on snapping up the\nmorsel we have, there'll be nothing for it but to starve.\"\n\n\"I haven't your meal,\" said the North Wind; \"but since you are in such\nneed, I'll give you a table cloth which will get you everything you\nwant. You need only say, 'Cloth, spread yourself, and serve up all kinds\nof good dishes!'\"\n\nWith this the lad was well content. But, as the way was long he could\nnot get home in one day, so he turned into an inn on the way; and when\nthey were going to sit down to supper he laid the cloth on the table\nwhich stood in the corner, and said,--\n\n\"Cloth, spread yourself, and serve up all kinds of good dishes.\"\n\nHe had scarcely said this before the cloth did as it was bid, and all\nwho stood by thought it a fine thing, but most of all the landlord. So,\nwhen all were fast asleep, at dead of night, he took the lad's cloth,\nand put another like it in its stead. But this could not so much as\nserve up a bit of dry bread.\n\nWhen the lad woke he took the cloth and went off with it, and that day\nhe got home to his mother.\n\n\"Now,\" said he, \"I've been to the North Wind's house, and a good fellow\nhe is, for he gave me this cloth and when I only say to it, 'Cloth,\nspread yourself, and serve up all kinds of good dishes,' I get every\nsort of food I please.\"\n\n\"All very true, I dare say,\" said the mother, \"but seeing is believing.\"\n\nSo the lad made haste, drew out a table, laid the cloth on it, and\nsaid,--\n\n\"Cloth, spread yourself, and serve up all kinds of good dishes.\"\n\nBut not even a bit of dry bread did the cloth serve up.\n\n\"Well!\" said the lad, \"there's no help for it but to go to the North\nWind again,\" and away he went.\n\nSo, late in the afternoon, he came to where the North Wind lived.\n\n\"Good evening!\" said the lad.\n\n\"Good evening!\" said the North Wind.\n\n\"I want my rights for that meal of ours which you took,\" said the lad,\n\"for, as for that cloth I got, it isn't worth a penny.\"\n\n\"I have no meal,\" said the North Wind; \"but you may have the ram yonder\nwhich will coin gold ducats when you say to it,--\n\n\"Ram, ram! make money!\"\n\nThe lad thought this a fine thing; but as it was too far to get home\nthat day, he turned in for the night to the same inn where he had slept\nthe first time.\n\nBefore he called for anything, he tried what the North Wind had said of\nthe ram, and found it all true. When the landlord saw this, he thought\nit a fine ram, and when the lad had fallen asleep, he took another which\ncould not coin even a penny, and exchanged the two.\n\nNext morning off went the lad, and when he got home to his mother, he\nsaid,--\n\n\"After all, the North Wind is a jolly fellow, for now he has given me a\nram, which will coin golden ducats if I only say, 'Ram, ram! make\nmoney!'\"\n\n\"All very true, I dare say,\" said his mother, \"but I shan't believe it\nuntil I see the ducats made.\"\n\n\"Ram, ram! make money!\" said the lad; but not even a penny did the ram\ncoin.\n\nSo the lad went back to the North Wind and scolded him, and said the ram\nwas worth nothing, and he must have his rights for the meal.\n\n\"Well!\" said the North Wind, \"I've nothing else to give you but that old\nstick in the corner yonder; but it's a stick of such a kind that if you\nsay, 'Stick, stick! lay on! it lays on till you say,--'Stick, stick! now\nstop!'\"\n\nSo the lad thanked the North Wind and went his way, and as the road was\nlong, he turned in this night also to the landlord; but as he could\nguess pretty well how things stood as to the cloth and the ram, he lay\ndown at once on the bench and began to snore, as if he were asleep. Now\nthe landlord who thought surely the stick must be worth something,\nhunted up one which was like it, and when he heard the lad snore he was\ngoing to exchange the two; but, just as the landlord was about to take\nit, the lad called out,--\n\n\"Stick, stick! lay on!\"\n\nSo the stick began to beat the landlord, till he jumped over chairs and\ntables and benches, and yelled and roared,--\n\n\"Oh my, oh my! bid the stick be still, else it will beat me to death.\nYou shall have back both your cloth and your ram.\"\n\nWhen the lad thought the landlord had had enough, he said, \"Stick,\nstick! now stop!\"\n\nThen he took the cloth and put it into his pocket, and went home with\nhis stick in his hand, leading the ram by a cord tied around its horns;\nand so he got his rights for the meal he had lost.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GIANT WHO HAD NO HEART IN HIS BODY\n\n\nOnce on a time there was a King who had seven sons. Six of them were\nstout, brave lads, but the youngest was the cinderlad, you must know;\nand he went about by himself neither saying nor doing much. Best of all\nhe liked to sit by the hearth and watch the glowing cinders, so they\ncalled him Boots, and thought little of him.\n\nNow, when the Princes were grown up, the six were to set off to fetch\nbrides for themselves. As for Boots, they would not be seen with him, so\nhe was to stay at home; but the others were to bring back a bride for\nhim, if any could be found willing to marry such a one. The King gave\nthe six the finest clothes you ever set eyes upon, so fine that the\nlight gleamed from them a long way off; and each had his horse, which\ncost many, many hundred dollars, and so they set off. Now, when they had\nbeen to many palaces, and seen many princesses, they came to a king who\nhad six daughters. Such lovely king's daughters they had never seen, and\nso they asked them to be their brides, and when they had got them, they\nset off home again. But they quite forgot that they were to bring back a\nbride for Boots, their brother, who was staying at home.\n\nWhen they had gone a good bit on their way, they passed close by a steep\nhillside, like a wall, where was a giant's house. Out came the giant and\nset his eyes upon them, and turned them all into stone, princes,\nprincesses and all. Now, the king waited and waited for his six sons,\nbut so long as he waited so long they stayed away; so he fell into great\ngrief, and said he would never know what it was to be happy again.\n\nOne day Boots said to the King,--\n\n\"I've been thinking to ask your leave to set out and find my brothers.\"\n\n\"Nay, nay!\" said his father, \"that would be of no use, for you are not\nclever enough. Better stay and dig in the ashes all your life.\"\n\nBut Boots had set his heart upon it. Go he would; and he begged and\npleaded so long that the King was forced to let him go. He gave Boots an\nold broken-down nag; but Boots did not care a pin for that, he sprang up\non his sorry old steed.\n\n\"Farewell, Father,\" he said, \"I'll come back, never fear, and likely\nenough I shall bring my six brothers back with me,\" and with that he\nrode off.\n\nWhen he had ridden a while he came to a raven, which lay in the road and\nflapped its wings, and was not able to get out of the way, it was so\nstarved.\n\n\"Oh, dear friend,\" said the raven, \"give me a little food, and I'll help\nyou again at your utmost need.\"\n\n\"I haven't much food,\" said the Prince, \"and I don't see how you'll ever\nbe able to help me; but still I can spare you a little. I see you need\nit.\"\n\nSo he gave the raven some of the food he had brought with him.\n\nNow, when he had gone a little farther, he came to a brook, and in the\nbrook lay a great salmon which had got upon a dry place and dashed\nitself about, and could not get into the water again.\n\n\"Oh, dear friend,\" said the salmon to the Prince; \"help me out into the\nwater again, and I'll help you at your utmost need.\"\n\n\"Well!\" said the Prince, \"the help you'll give me will not be great, I\ndaresay, but it's a pity you should be there and choke;\" and with that\nhe shot the fish out into the stream again.\n\nAfter that he went on a long, long way, and there met him a wolf, which\nwas so famished that it lay and crawled along the road.\n\n\"Dear friend, do let me have some food,\" said the wolf, \"I'm so hungry\nthat the wind whistles through my ribs. I've had nothing to eat these\ntwo years. When I have eaten, you can ride upon my back, and I'll help\nyou again in your utmost need.\"\n\n\"Well, the help I shall get from you will not be great, I'll be bound,\"\nsaid the Prince; \"but you may take all I have, since you are in such\ngreat need.\"\n\n[Illustration: Never had the prince had such a ride in his life]\n\nSo when the wolf had eaten the food. Boots took the bit and put it\nbetween the wolf's jaws, and laid the saddle on his back; and away they\nwent like the wind. Never had the Prince had such a ride before.\n\n\"When we have gone still farther,\" said Graylegs, \"I'll show you the\nGiant's house.\"\n\nAnd after a while they came to it.\n\n\"See, here is the Giant's house,\" said the Wolf; \"and see, here are your\nsix brothers whom the Giant has turned to stone; and see, here are their\nsix brides. Yonder is the door, and in at that door you must go. When\nyou get in you'll find a princess, and she'll tell you what to do to\nmake an end of the Giant. Only mind you do as she bids you.\"\n\nWell! Boots went in, but, truth to say, he was very much afraid. The\nGiant was away, but in one of the rooms sat the Princess, just as the\nwolf had said, and so lovely a princess Boots had never set eyes upon.\n\n\"Oh, heaven help you! whence have you come?\" said the Princess, as she\nsaw him; \"it will surely be your death. No one can make an end of the\nGiant who lives here. He is a most cruel monster, and he has no heart in\nhis body.\"\n\n\"Well! well!\" said Boots; \"but now that I am here, I may as well try\nwhat I can do with him, and I will see if I can't free my brothers, who\nhave been turned to stone; and you, too, I will try to save, that I\nwill.\"\n\n\"Well, if you must, you must,\" said the Princess; \"so let us see if we\ncan't hit upon a plan. Just creep under the bed yonder, and mind you\nlisten to what he and I talk about. But, pray, do lie as still as a\nmouse.\"\n\nSo he crept under the bed, and he had scarce got well underneath, before\nthe Giant came.\n\n\"Ha!\" roared the Giant, \"what a smell of Christian blood there is in the\nhouse.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know there is,\" said the Princess, \"for there came a crow flying\nwith a man's bone, and let it fall down the chimney. I made all the\nhaste I could to get it out, but all one can do the smell doesn't go so\nsoon.\"\n\nSo the Giant said no more about it, and when night came they went to\nbed. After they had lain a while the Princess said, \"There is one thing\nI'd be glad to ask you about, if I only dared.\"\n\n\"What thing is that?\" asked the Giant.\n\n\"Only this, where do you keep your heart, since you don't carry it about\nyou,\" said the Princess.\n\n\"Ah! that's a thing you've no business to ask about: but if you must\nknow, it lies under the door sill.\" said the Giant.\n\n\"Ho, ho!\" said Boots to himself under the bed. \"Then we'll soon see if\nwe can't find it.\"\n\nNext morning the Giant got up very early, and strode off to the wood;\nbut he was hardly out of the house before Boots and the Princess set to\nwork to look under the door sill for this heart; but the more they dug\nand the more they hunted the more they couldn't find it.\n\n\"He has balked us this time,\" said the Princess, \"but we'll try him once\nmore.\"\n\nSo she picked all the prettiest flowers she could find, and strewed them\nover the door sill, which they had laid in its right place again; and\nwhen the time came for the Giant to come home, Boots crept under the\nbed. Just as he was well under back came the Giant.\n\nSnuff-snuff went the Giant's nose. \"My eyes and limbs, what a smell of\nChristian blood there is in here,\" said he.\n\n\"I know there is,\" said the Princess, \"for there came a crow flying with\na man's bone in his bill, and let it fall down the chimney. I made as\nmuch haste as I could to get it out, but I dare say it's that you\nsmell.\"\n\nSo the Giant held his peace and said no more about it. A little while\nafter, he asked who it was that had strewed flowers about the door sill.\n\n\"Oh, I, of course,\" said the Princess.\n\n\"And, pray, what is the meaning of all this? said the Giant.\n\n\"Ah!\" said the Princess, \"I strewed them there when I knew your heart\nlay under there.\"\n\n\"You don't say so,\" said the Giant; \"but after all it doesn't lie there\nat all.\"\n\nSo when they went to bed in the evening, the Princess asked the Giant\nagain where his heart was, for she said she would so much like to know.\n\n\"Well,\" said the Giant, \"if you must know, it lies away yonder in the\ncupboard against the wall.\"\n\n\"So, so!\" thought Boots and the Princess; \"then we will soon find it.\"\n\nNext morning the Giant was away early, and strode off to the wood. As\nsoon as he was gone, Boots and the Princess were in the cupboard hunting\nfor the heart, but the more they looked for it the less they found it.\n\n\"Well,\" said the Princess, \"we'll just try him once more.\"\n\nSo she decked the cupboard with flowers and garlands, and when the time\ncame for the Giant to come home, Boots crept under the bed again.\n\nThen back came the Giant.\n\nSnuff-snuff! \"My eyes and limbs, what a smell of Christian blood there\nis in here!\"\n\n\"I know there is,\" said the Princess, \"for a little while since there\ncame a crow flying with a man's bone in his bill, and let it fall down\nthe chimney. I made all the haste I could to get it out of the house;\nbut after all my pains I dare say it's that you smell.\"\n\nWhen the Giant heard that he said no more about it, but after a while he\nsaw how the cupboard was all decked about with flowers and garlands; and\nhe asked who it was that had done that. Who could it be but the\nPrincess?\n\n\"And, pray what's the meaning of all this foolishness?\" asked the Giant.\n\n\"Oh, I couldn't help doing it when I knew your heart lay there,\" said\nthe Princess.\n\n\"How can you be so silly as to believe any such thing?\" said the Giant.\n\n\"How can I help believing it, when you say it?\" said the Princess.\n\n\"You're a goose,\" said the Giant; \"where my heart is, you will never\ncome.\"\n\n\"Yet for all that,\" said the Princess, \"it would be such a pleasure to\nknow where it really lies.\"\n\nThen the poor Giant could hold out no longer, but said,--\n\n\"Far, far away in a lake lies an island; on that island stands a church;\nin that church is a well; in that well swims a duck; in that duck there\nis an egg, and in that egg there lies my heart.\"\n\nIn the morning early, while it was still gray dawn, the Giant strode off\nto the wood.\n\n\"Now I must set off too,\" said Boots; \"if I only knew how to find the\nway.\" He took a long farewell of the Princess, and when he slipped out\nof the Giant's door, there stood the Wolf waiting for him. Boots told\nhim all that had happened, and said now he wished to ride to the well\ninside the church, if only he knew the way. The Wolf bade him jump on\nhis back, and away they went, over hill and dale, over hedge and field,\ntill the wind whistled after them. After they had travelled many, many\ndays, they came at last to the lake. Then the Prince did not know how to\nget across, but the Wolf bade him not to be afraid, but to hold fast. So\nhe jumped into the lake with the Prince on his back, and swam over to\nthe island. When they came to the church, the church keys hung high,\nhigh up on the top of the tower, and the Prince knew not how to get them\ndown.\n\n\"Call upon the raven,\" said the Wolf.\n\nSo the Prince called upon the raven, and immediately the raven came, and\nflew up and fetched the keys, and so the Prince got into the church.\nWhen he came to the well, there was the duck, which swam about forward\nand backward, just as the Giant had said. So the Prince stood and coaxed\nit and coaxed it, till finally it came to him, and he grasped it in his\nhand; but just as he lifted it up from the water the duck dropped the\negg in the well, and then Boots was beside himself to know how to get it\nout again.\n\n\"Now call upon the salmon,\" said the Wolf, and Boots called upon the\nsalmon, and the salmon came and fetched up the egg from the bottom of\nthe well.\n\nThen the Wolf told him to squeeze the egg, and as soon as he squeezed\nthe egg, the Giant screamed and begged and prayed to be spared, saying\nhe would do all that the Prince wished if he would only not squeeze his\nheart in two.\n\n\"Tell him to restore to life again your six brothers and their brides,\nwhom he has turned to stone,\" said the Wolf. Yes, the Giant was ready to\ndo that, and he turned the six brothers into king's sons again, and\ntheir brides into king's daughters.\n\nThen Boots left the Giant's heart on the altar of the church. That took\nall the evil power from the cruel Giant, and I have never heard of him\nsince.\n\nAnd now, Boots rode back again on the Wolf to the Giant's house, and\nthere stood all his six brothers alive and merry with their brides. Then\nBoots went into the hillside after his bride, and they all set off home\nagain to their father's house. And you may fancy how glad the old King\nwas when he saw his seven sons come back, each with his bride;--\"But the\nloveliest bride is the bride of Boots, after all,\" said the King, \"and\nhe shall sit highest at the table, with her by his side.\"\n\nSo they had a great wedding feast, and the mirth was both loud and long,\nand if they have not done feasting, why they are at it still.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SHEEP AND THE PIG WHO SET UP HOUSEKEEPING\n\n\nOnce on a time there was a sheep who stood in the pen to be fattened.\n\nSo he lived well and was stuffed and crammed with everything that was\ngood, till one day the dairymaid came to give him still more food. Then\nshe said, \"Eat away, sheep, you won't be here much longer, we are going\nto kill you to-morrow.\"\n\nThe sheep thought over this for a while, and then he ate till he was\nready to burst; and when he was crammed full, he butted out the door of\nthe pen, and took his way to the neighboring farm. There he went to see\na pig whom he had known out on the common, and with whom he had always\nbeen very friendly.\n\n\"Good-day,\" said the sheep, \"do you know why it is you are so well off,\nand why it is they fatten you and take such pains with you?\"\n\n\"No, I don't,\" said the pig.\n\n\"Well, I know; they are going to kill and eat you,\" said the sheep.\n\n\"Are they?\" said the pig, \"and what is there to be done about it?\"\n\n\"If you will do as I do,\" said the sheep, \"we'll go off to the wood,\nbuild us a house, and set up for ourselves.\"\n\nYes, the pig was willing enough. \"Good company is such a comfort,\" he\nsaid, and so the two set off.\n\nWhen they had gone a bit they met a goose.\n\n\"Good-day, good sirs, and whither away so fast to-day?\" said the goose.\n\n\"Good-day, good-day,\" said the sheep, \"we are going to set up for\nourselves in the wood, for you know every man's house is his castle.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the goose, \"I should so much like a home of my own, too.\nMay I go with you?\"\n\n\"With gossip and gabble is built neither house nor stable,\" said the\npig, \"let us know what you can do.\"\n\n\"I can pluck moss and stuff it into the seams between the planks, and\nthe house will be tight and warm.\"\n\nYes, they would give him leave, for, above all things, piggy wished to\nbe warm and comfortable.\n\nSo, when they had gone a bit farther--the goose had hard work to walk so\nfast--they met a hare, who came frisking out of the wood.\n\n\"Good-day, good sirs,\" she said, \"how far are you trotting to-day?\"\n\n\"Good-day, good-day,\" said the sheep, \"we're going to the wood to build\nus a house and set up for ourselves, for, you know, try all the world\naround, there's nothing like home.\"\n\n\"As for that,\" said the hare, \"I have a house in every bush, but yet, I\nhave often said in winter, 'If I only live till summer I'll build me a\nhouse,' and so I have half a mind to go with you and build one, after\nall.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the pig, \"if we ever get into trouble we might use you to\nscare away the dogs, for I don't fancy you could help us in\nhouse-building.\"\n\n\"Don't make fun of me. I have teeth to gnaw pegs and paws to drive them\ninto the wall, so I can very well set up to be carpenter,\" said the\nhare.\n\nSo he too got leave to go with them and help to build their house, and\nthere was nothing more to be said about it.\n\nWhen they had gone a bit farther they met a cock.\n\n\"Good-day, good sirs,\" said the cock, \"whither are you going to-day,\ngentlemen?\"\n\n\"Good-day, good-day,\" said the sheep, \"we are going off to the wood to\nbuild a house and set up for ourselves, for you know, ''Tis good to\ntravel east and west, but after all a home is best.'\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the cock, \"if I might have leave to join such a gallant\ncompany, I also would like to go to the wood and build a house.\"\n\n\"Ay, ay!\" said the pig, \"but how can you help us build a house?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said the cock, \"what would you do without a cock? I am up early,\nand I wake every one.\"\n\n\"Very true,\" said the pig, \"let him come with us. Sleep is the biggest\nthief,\" he said, \"he thinks nothing of stealing half one's life.\"\n\nSo they all set off to the wood together, and built a house.\n\nThe pig hewed the timber, and the sheep drew it home; the hare was\ncarpenter, and gnawed pegs and bolts and hammered them into the walls\nand roof; the goose plucked moss and stuffed it into the seams; the cock\ncrew, and looked out that they did not oversleep themselves in the\nmorning; and when the house was ready, and the roof lined with birch\nbark and thatched with turf, there they lived by themselves and were\nmerry and well.\n\nBut you must know that a bit farther on in the wood was a wolf's den,\nand there lived two graylegs. When they saw that a new house had been\nbuilt near by, they wanted to become acquainted with their neighbors.\nOne of them made up an errand and went into the new house and asked for\na light for his pipe. But as soon as he got inside the door the sheep\ngave him such a butt that he fell head foremost into the hearth. Then\nthe pig began to bite him, and the goose to nip and peck him, and the\ncock upon the roost to crow and chatter, and as for the hare, he was so\nfrightened that he ran about aloft and on the floor and scratched and\nscrambled in every corner of the house.\n\nSo after a time the wolf came out.\n\n\"Well,\" said the one who waited for him outside, \"you must have been\nwell received since you stayed so long. But what became of the light?\nYou have neither pipe nor smoke.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" said the other, \"a pleasant company indeed. As soon as I got\ninside the door, the shoemaker began to beat me with his last, so that I\nfell head foremost into the open fire, and there sat two smiths who blew\nthe bellows, and made the sparks fly, and struck and punched me with\nred-hot tongs and pincers. As for the hunter, he went scrambling about\nlooking for his gun, and it was good luck he did not find it. And all\nthe while there was another who sat up under the roof and slapped his\narms and cried out, 'Drag him hither, drag him hither!' That was what he\nscreamed, and if he had only got hold of me, I should never have come\nout alive.\"\n\nThe wolves never went calling on their neighbors any more.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PARSON AND THE CLERK\n\n\nThere was once a parson who was such a bully that whenever he met anyone\ndriving on the king's highway, he called out, ever so far off--\"Out of\nthe way! Out of the way! Here comes the parson!\"\n\nOne day when he was driving along and behaving so, he met the king. \"Out\nof the way! Out of the way!\" he bawled a long way off. But the king\ndrove on and held his own; so it was the parson who had to turn his\nhorse aside that time, and when the king came up beside him, he said,\n\"To-morrow you shall come to me at the palace, and if you can't answer\nthree questions which I shall ask you, you shall lose your office for\nyour pride's sake.\"\n\nThis was something quite different from what the parson was wont to\nhear. He could bawl and bully, shout and scold. All that he could do,\nbut question and answer were not in his line. So he set off to the\nclerk, who was said to be worth more than the parson, and told him he\nhad no mind to go to the king. \"For one fool can ask more than ten wise\nmen can answer;\" and the end was, he got the clerk to go in his place.\n\nYes, the clerk set off and came to the palace in the parson's clothes.\nThere the king met him out on the porch with crown and sceptre, and he\nwas so grand he fairly glittered and gleamed. \"Well, are you there?\"\nsaid the king.\n\n\"Tell me first,\" said the king, \"how far the east is from the west?\"\n\n\"Just a day's journey,\" said the clerk.\n\n\"How is that?\" asked the king.\n\n\"Don't you know,\" said the clerk, \"that the sun rises in the east and\nsets in the west, and he does it just nicely in a day?\"\n\n\"Very well!\" said the king, \"but tell me now what you think I am worth,\nas you see me stand here?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the clerk, \"our Lord was valued at thirty pieces of silver,\nso I don't think I can set your price higher than twenty-nine.\"\n\n\"All very fine!\" said the king, \"but, as you are so wise, perhaps you\ncan tell me what I am thinking about now?\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said the clerk, \"you are thinking it's the parson who stands\nbefore you, but there's where you are mistaken, for I am the clerk.\"\n\n\"Be off home with you,\" said the king, \"and be you parson, and let him\nbe clerk.\" And so it was.\n\n\n\n\nFATHER BRUIN\n\n\nOnce on a time there was a man who lived far, far away in the wood. He\nhad many, many goats and sheep, but never a one could he keep because of\nGreylegs, the wolf.\n\nAt last he said, \"I'll soon trap Greyboots,\" and so he set to work to\ndig a pitfall. When he had dug it deep enough, he put a pole down in the\nmidst of the pit, and on the top of the pole he set a board, and on the\nboard he put a little dog. Over the pit itself he spread boughs and\nbranches and leaves, and other rubbish, and a-top of all he strewed\nsnow, so that Greylegs might not see that there was a pit underneath.\n\nSo when night came on, the little dog grew weary of sitting there:\n\"Bow-wow, bow-wow,\" he said, and bayed at the moon. Just then up came a\nfox, prowling and sneaking, and thought here was a fine time for\nmarketing, and with that gave a jump,--head over heels down into the\npitfall.\n\nAnd when it got a little farther on in the night, the little dog grew so\nweary and so hungry, and it fell to yelping and howling: \"Bow-wow,\nbow-wow,\" he cried out. Just at that very moment up came Greylegs,\ntrotting and trotting. He, too, thought he should get a fat steak, and\nhe, too, made a spring--head over heels down into the pitfall.\n\nWhen it was getting on towards grey dawn in the morning, down fell the\nsnow, with a north wind, and it grew so cold that the little dog stood\nand shivered and shook, he was so weary and hungry, \"Bow-wow, bow-wow,\nbow-wow,\" he called out, and barked and yelped and howled. Then up came\na bear, tramping and tramping along, and thought to himself how he could\nget a morsel for breakfast at the very top of the morning, and so he\nthought and thought among the boughs and branches, till he, too, went\nbump--head over heels down into the pitfall.\n\nSo when it got a little farther on in the morning, an old beggar wife\ncame walking by, who toddled from farm to farm with a bag on her back.\nWhen she set eyes on the little dog that stood there and howled, she\ncould not help going near to look and see if any wild beasts had fallen\ninto the pit during the night. So she crawled up on her knees and peeped\ndown into it.\n\n\"Art thou come into the pit at last, Reynard?\" she said to the fox, for\nhe was the first she saw; \"a very good place, too, for such a hen-roost\nrobber as thou; and thou, too, Grey-paw,\" she said to the wolf; \"many a\ngoat and sheep hast thou torn and rent, and now thou shalt be plagued\nand punished to death. Bless my heart! Thou, too, Bruin! Art thou, too,\nsitting in this room, thou horse killer? Thee, too, will we strip, and\nthee shall we flay, and thy skull shall be nailed up on the wall.\" All\nthis the old lass screeched out as she bent over towards the bear. But\njust then her bag fell over her ears and dragged her down, and slap!\ndown went the old woman--head over heels into the pitfall.\n\nSo there they all four sat and glared at one another, each in a\ncorner--Reynard in one, Greylegs in another, Bruin in a third, and the\nold woman in a fourth.\n\nBut as soon as it was broad daylight, Reynard began to peep and peer,\nand to twist and turn about, for he thought he might as well try to get\nout.\n\nBut the old lass cried out, \"Canst thou not sit still, thou whirligig\nthief, and not go twisting and turning? Only look at Father Bruin\nhimself in the corner, how he sits as grave as a judge,\" for now she\nthought she might as well make friends with the bear.\n\nBut just then up came the man who owned the pitfall.\n\nFirst he drew up the old woman, and after that he slew all the beasts,\nand neither spared Father Bruin himself in the corner, nor Grey-legs,\nnor Reynard the whirligig thief. That night, at least, he thought he had\nmade a good haul.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PANCAKE\n\n\nOnce on a time there was a woman who had seven hungry children, and she\nwas frying a pancake for them. It was a sweet milk pancake, and there it\nlay in the pan, bubbling and frizzling so thick and good, it was a\ndelight to look at it. And the children stood round about, and the old\nfather sat by and looked on.\n\n\"Oh, give me a bit of pancake, mother, dear, I am so hungry,\" said one\nchild.\n\n\"Oh, darling mother,\" said the second.\n\n\"Oh, darling, good mother,\" said the third.\n\n\"Oh, darling, good, sweet mother,\" said the fourth.\n\n\"Oh, darling, pretty, good, sweet mother,\" said the fifth.\n\n\"Oh, darling, pretty, good, sweet, clever mother,\" said the sixth.\n\n\"Oh, darling, pretty, good, sweet, clever, kindest little mother,\" said\nthe seventh.\n\nSo they begged for the pancake all around, the one more prettily than\nthe other, for they were so hungry and so good.\n\n\"Yes, yes, children, only bide a bit till it turns itself\"--she ought to\nhave said, 'till I can get it turned,'--\"and then you shall have some\nlovely sweet milk pancake. Only look how fat and happy it lies there.\"\n\nWhen the pancake heard all this it became afraid, and in a trice it\nturned itself and tried to jump out of the pan, but it fell back into it\nagain, the other side up. When it had been fried a little on the other\nside too, till it got firm and stiff, it jumped out of the pan to the\nfloor and rolled off like a wheel through the door and down the hill.\n\n\"Holloa! Stop, pancake!\" and away ran the mother after it, with the\nfrying pan in one hand and the ladle in the other, as fast as she could,\nand all the children behind her, while the old father on crutches limped\nafter them last of all.\n\n\"Hi! Won't you stop? Catch it! Stop, pancake!\" they all screamed out,\none after another, and tried to catch it on the run and hold it. But the\npancake rolled on and on, and in a twinkling of an eye it was so far\nahead that they couldn't see it.\n\nSo when it had rolled awhile it met a man.\n\n\"Good-day, pancake,\" said the man.\n\n\"Good-day, Manny Panny!\" said the pancake.\n\n\"Dear pancake,\" said the man, \"don't roll so fast; stop a little and let\nme eat you.\"\n\n\"No, no; I have run away from the mother, and the father, and seven\nhungry children. I'll run away from you, Manny Panny,\" said the pancake,\nand it rolled and rolled till it met a hen.\n\n\"Good-day, pancake,\" said the hen.\n\n\"The same to you, Henny Penny,\" said the pancake.\n\n\"Pancake, dear, don't roll so fast. Bide a bit and let me eat you up,\"\nsaid the hen.\n\n\"No, no; I have run away from the mother, and the father, and seven\nhungry children, and Manny Panny. I'll run away from you, too, Henny\nPenny,\" said the pancake, and it rolled on like a wheel down the road.\n\nJust then it met a cock.\n\n\"Good-day, pancake,\" said the cock.\n\n\"The same to you, Cocky Locky,\" said the pancake.\n\n\"Pancake, dear, don't roll so fast, but bide a bit and let me eat you\nup.\"\n\n\"No, no; I have run away from the mother, and the father, seven hungry\nchildren, Manny Panny, and Henny Penny. I'll run away from you too,\nCocky Locky,\" said the pancake, and it rolled and rolled as fast as it\ncould. Bye and bye it met a duck.\n\n\"Good-day, pancake,\" said the duck.\n\n\"The same to you, Ducky Lucky.\"\n\n\"Pancake, dear, don't roll away so fast; bide a bit and let me eat you\nup.\"\n\n\"No, no; I have run away from the mother, and the father, and seven\nhungry children, Manny Panny, Henny Penny, and Cocky Locky. I'll run\naway from you, too, Ducky Lucky,\" said the pancake, and with that it\ntook to rolling and rolling faster than ever; and when it had rolled a\nlong, long while, it met a goose.\n\n\"Good-day, pancake,\" said the goose.\n\n\"The same to you, Goosey Poosey.\"\n\n\"Pancake, dear, don't roll so fast; bide a bit and let me eat you up.\"\n\n\"No, no; I have run away from the mother, the father, seven hungry\nchildren, Manny Panny, Henny Penny, Cocky Locky, and Ducky Lucky. I'll\nrun away from you, too, Goosey Poosey,\" said the pancake, and off it\nrolled.\n\nSo when it had rolled a long way off, it met a gander.\n\n\"Good-day, pancake,\" said the gander.\n\n\"The same to you, Gander Pander,\" said the pancake.\n\n\"Pancake, dear, don't roll so fast; bide a bit and let me have a bite.\"\n\n\"No, no; I've run away from the mother, the father, seven hungry\nchildren, Manny Panny, Henny Penny, Cocky Locky, Ducky Lucky, and Goosey\nPoosey. I'll run away from you, too, Gander Pander,\" said the pancake,\nand it rolled and rolled as fast as ever.\n\nSo when it had rolled a long, long time, it met a pig.\n\n\"Good-day, pancake,\" said the pig.\n\n\"The same to you, Piggy Wiggy,\" said the pancake, and without a word\nmore it began to roll and roll for dear life.\n\n\"Nay, nay,\" said the pig, \"you needn't be in such a hurry; we two can go\nside by side through the wood; they say it is not too safe in there.\"\n\nThe pancake thought there might be something in that, and so they kept\ncompany. But when they had gone a while, they came to a brook. As for\nPiggy, he was so fat he could swim across. It was nothing for him, but\nthe poor pancake could not get over.\n\n\"Seat yourself on my snout,\" said the pig, \"and I'll carry you over.\"\n\nSo the pancake did that.\n\n\"Ouf, ouf,\" said the pig, and swallowed the pancake at one gulp, and\nthen, as the poor pancake could go no farther, why--this story can go no\nfarther either.\n\n\n\n\nWHY THE SEA IS SALT\n\n\nOnce on a time, but it was a long, long time ago, there were two\nbrothers, one rich and one poor.\n\nNow, one Christmas eve, the poor one had not so much as a crumb in the\nhouse, either of meat or bread, so he went to his brother to ask him for\nsomething with which to keep Christmas. It was not the first time his\nbrother had been forced to help him, and, as he was always stingy, he\nwas not very glad to see him this time, but he said, \"I'll give you a\nwhole piece of bacon, two loaves of bread, and candles into the bargain,\nif you'll never bother me again--but mind you don't set foot in my house\nfrom this day on.\"\n\nThe poor brother said he wouldn't, thanked his brother for the help he\nhad given him, and started on his way home.\n\nHe hadn't gone far before he met an old, old man with a white beard, who\nlooked so thin and worn and hungry that it was pitiful to see him.\n\n\"In heaven's name give a poor man a morsel to eat,\" said the old man.\n\n\"Now, indeed, I have been begging myself,\" said the poor brother, \"but\nI'm not so poor that I can't give you something on the blessed Christmas\neve.\" And with that he handed the old man a candle, a loaf of bread, and\nhe was just going to cut off a slice of bacon, when the old man stopped\nhim--\"That is enough and to spare,\" said he. \"And now, I'll tell you\nsomething. Not far from here is the entrance to the home of the\nunderground folks. They have a mill there which can grind out anything\nthey wish for except bacon; now mind you go there. When you get inside\nthey will all want to buy your bacon, but don't sell it unless you get\nin return the mill which stands behind the door. When you come out I'll\nteach you how to handle the mill.\"\n\nSo the man with the bacon thanked the other for his good advice and\nfollowed the directions which the old man had given him, and soon he\nstood outside the door of the hillfolk's home.\n\nWhen he got in, everything went just as the old man had said. All the\nhillfolk, great and small, came swarming up to him, like ants around an\nant-hill, and each tried to outbid the other for the bacon.\n\n\"Well!\" said the man, \"by rights, my old dame and I ought to have this\nbacon for our Christmas dinner; but, since you have all set your hearts\non it, I suppose I must give it up to you. Now, if I sell it at all,\nI'll have for it that mill behind the door yonder.\"\n\nAt first the hillfolk wouldn't hear of such a bargain and higgled and\nhaggled with the man, but he stuck to what he said, and at last they\ngave up the mill for the bacon.\n\nWhen the man got out of the cave and into the woods again, he met the\nsame old beggar and asked him how to handle the mill. After he had\nlearned how to use it, he thanked the old man and went off home as fast\nas he could; but still the clock had struck twelve on Christmas eve\nbefore he reached his own door.\n\n\"Wherever in the world have you been?\" said his old dame. \"Here have I\nsat hour after hour, waiting and watching, without so much as two sticks\nto lay together under the Christmas porridge.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said the man, \"I could not get back before, for I had to go a long\nway first for one thing and then for another; but now you shall see what\nyou shall see.\"\n\nSo he put the mill on the table, and bade it first of all grind lights,\nthen a tablecloth, then meat, then ale, and so on till they had\neverything that was nice for Christmas fare. He had only to speak the\nword and the mill ground out whatever he wanted. The old dame stood by\nblessing her stars, and kept on asking where he had got this wonderful\nmill, but he wouldn't tell her.\n\n\"It's all the same where I got it. You see the mill is a good one, and\nthe mill stream never freezes. That's enough.\"\n\nSo he ground meat and drink and all good things to last out the whole of\nChristmas holidays, and on the third day he asked all his friends and\nkin to his house and gave them a great feast. Now, when his rich brother\nsaw all that was on the table and all that was in the cupboards, he grew\nquite wild with anger, for he could not bear that his brother should\nhave anything.\n\n\"'Twas only on Christmas eve,\" he said to the rest, \"he was so poorly\noff that he came and begged for a morsel of food, and now he gives a\nfeast as if he were count or a king.\" and he turned to his brother and\nsaid, \"But where in the world did you get all this wealth?\"\n\n\"From behind the door,\" answered the owner of the mill, for he did not\ncare to tell his brother much about it. But later in the evening, when\nhe had gotten a little too merry, he could keep his secret no longer,\nand he brought out the mill and said:\n\n\"There you see what has gotten me all this wealth,\" and so he made the\nmill grind all kinds of things.\n\nWhen his brother saw it, he set his heart on having the mill, and, after\nsome talk, it was agreed that the rich brother was to get it at\nhay-harvest time, when he was to pay three hundred dollars for it. Now,\nyou may fancy the mill did not grow rusty for want of work, for while he\nhad it the poor brother made it grind meat and drink that would last for\nyears. When hay-harvest came, the rich brother got it, but he was in\nsuch a hurry to make it grind that he forgot to learn how to handle it.\n\nIt was evening when the rich brother got the mill home, and next morning\nhe told his wife to go out into the hayfield and toss hay while the\nmowers cut the grass, and he would stay at home and get the dinner\nready. So, when dinner time drew near, he put the mill on the kitchen\ntable and said:\n\n\"Grind herrings and broth, and grind them good and fast.\"\n\nAnd the mill began to grind herrings and broth; first of all the dishes\nfull, then all the tubs full, and so on till the kitchen floor was quite\ncovered. The man twisted and twirled at the mill to get it to stop, but\nfor all his fiddling and fumbling the mill went on grinding, and in a\nlittle while the broth rose so high that the man was nearly drowning. So\nhe threw open the kitchen door and ran into the parlor, but it was not\nlong before the mill had ground the parlor full too, and it was only at\nthe risk of his life that the man could get hold of the latch of the\nhouse door through the stream of broth. When he got the door open, he\nran out and set off down the road, with the stream of herrings and broth\nat his heels, roaring like a waterfall over the whole farm.\n\nNow, his old dame, who was in the field tossing hay, thought it a long\ntime to dinner, and at last she said:\n\n\"Well! though the master doesn't call us home, we may as well go. Maybe\nhe finds it hard work to boil the broth, and will be glad of my help.\"\n\nThe men were willing enough, so they sauntered homewards. But just as\nthey had got a little way up the hill, what should they meet but\nherrings and broth, all running and dashing and splashing together in a\nstream, and the master himself running before them for his life, and as\nhe passed them he called out: \"Eat, drink! eat, drink! but take care\nyou're not drowned in the broth.\"\n\nAway he ran as fast as his legs would carry him to his brother's house,\nand begged him in heaven's name to take back the mill, and that at once,\nfor, said he, \"If it grinds only one hour more, the whole parish will be\nswallowed up by herrings and broth.\"\n\nSo the poor brother took back the mill, and it wasn't long before it\nstopped grinding herrings and broth.\n\n[Illustration: With the herrings and broth at his heels]\n\nAnd now he set up a farmhouse far finer than the one in which his\nbrother lived, and with the mill he ground so much gold that he covered\nit with plates of gold. And, as the farm lay by the seaside, the golden\nhouse gleamed and glistened far away over the sea. All who sailed by put\nashore to see the rich man in the golden house, and to see the wonderful\nmill the fame of which spread far and wide, till there was nobody who\nhadn't heard of it.\n\nSo one day there came a skipper who wanted to see the mill, and the\nfirst thing he asked was if it could grind salt.\n\n\"Grind salt!\" said the owner, \"I should just think it could. It can\ngrind anything.\"\n\nWhen the skipper heard that, he said he must have the mill, for if he\nonly had it, he thought, he need not take his long voyages across stormy\nseas for a lading of salt. He much preferred sitting at home with a pipe\nand a glass. Well, the man let him have it, but the skipper was in such\na hurry to get away with it that he had no time to ask how to handle the\nmill. He got on board his ship as fast as he could and set sail. When he\nhad sailed a good way off, he brought the mill on deck and said, \"Grind\nsalt, and grind both good and fast.\"\n\nAnd the mill began to grind salt so that it poured out like water, and\nwhen the skipper had got the ship full he wished to stop the mill, but\nwhichever way he turned it, and however much he tried, it did no good;\nthe mill kept on grinding, and the heap of salt grew higher and higher,\nand at last down sank the ship.\n\nThere lies the mill at the bottom of the sea, and grinds away to this\nvery day, and that is the reason why the sea is salt--so some folks say.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SQUIRE'S BRIDE\n\n\nThere was once a very rich squire who owned a large farm, had plenty of\nsilver at the bottom of his chest, and money in the bank besides; but\nthere was something he had not, and that was a wife.\n\nOne day a neighbor's daughter was working for him in the hayfield. The\nsquire liked her very much and, as she was a poor man's daughter, he\nthought that if he only mentioned marriage she would be more than glad\nto take him at once. So he said to her, \"I've been thinking I want to\nmarry.\"\n\n\"Well, one may think of many things,\" said the lassie, as she stood\nthere and smiled slyly. She really thought the old fellow ought to be\nthinking of something that behooved him better than getting married at\nhis time of life.\n\n\"Now, you see,\" he said, \"I was thinking that you should be my wife!\"\n\n\"No, thank you,\" said she, \"and much obliged for the honor.\"\n\nThe squire was not used to being gainsaid, and the more she refused him\nthe more he wanted her. But the lassie would not listen to him at all.\nSo the old man sent for her father and told him that, if he could talk\nhis daughter over and arrange the whole matter for him, he would forgive\nhim the money he had lent him, and would give him the piece of land\nwhich lay close to his meadow into the bargain.\n\n\"Yes, yes, be sure I'll bring the lass to her senses,\" said the father.\n\"She is only a child and does not know what is best for her.\"\n\nBut all his coaxing, all his threats and all his talking, went for\nnaught. She would not have the old miser, if he sat buried in gold up to\nhis ears, she said.\n\nThe squire waited and waited, but at last he got angry and told the\nfather that he had to settle the matter at once if he expected him to\nstand by his bargain, for now he would wait no longer.\n\nThe man knew no other way out of it, but to let the squire get\neverything ready for the wedding; then, when the parson and the wedding\nguests had arrived, the squire would send for the lassie as if she were\nwanted for some work on the farm. When she got there they would marry\nher right away, in such a hurry that she would have no time to think it\nover.\n\nWhen the guests had arrived the squire called one of his farm lads, told\nhim to run down to his neighbor and ask him to send up immediately what\nhe had promised.\n\n\"But if you are not back with her in a twinkling,\" he said, shaking his\nfist at him, \"I'll----\"\n\nHe did not finish, for the lad ran off as if he had been shot at.\n\n\"My master has sent me to ask for that which you promised him,\" said the\nlad, when he got to the neighbor, \"but, pray, lose no time, for master\nis terribly busy to-day.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes! Run down in the meadow and take her with you--there she\ngoes,\" answered the neighbor.\n\nThe lad ran off and when he came to the meadow he found the daughter\nthere raking the hay.\n\n\"I am to fetch what your father has promised my master,\" said the lad.\n\n\"Ah, ha!\" thought she, \"is that what they are up to?\" And with a wicked\ntwinkle of the eye, she said, \"Oh, yes, it's that little bay mare of\nours, I suppose. You had better go and take her. She stands tethered on\nthe other side of the pea field.\"\n\nThe boy jumped on the back of the bay mare and rode home at full gallop.\n\n\"Have you got her with you?\" asked the squire.\n\n\"She is down at the door,\" said the lad.\n\n\"Take her up to the room my mother had,\" said the squire.\n\n\"But, master, how can I?\" said the lad.\n\n\"Do as I tell you,\" said the squire. \"And if you can't manage her alone,\nget the men to help you,\" for he thought the lassie might be stubborn.\n\nWhen the lad saw his master's face he knew it would be no use to argue.\nSo he went and got all the farm hands together to help him. Some pulled\nat the head and the forelegs of the mare and others pushed from behind,\nand at last they got her upstairs and into the room. There lay all the\nwedding finery ready.\n\n\"Well, that's done, master!\" said the lad, while he wiped his wet brow,\n\"but it was the worst job I have ever had here on the farm.\"\n\n\"Never mind, never mind, you shall not have done it for nothing,\" said\nhis master, and he pulled a bright silver coin out of his pocket and\ngave it to the lad. \"Now send the women up to dress her.\"\n\n\"But, I say--master!--\"\n\n\"None of your talk!\" cried the squire. \"Tell them to hold her while they\ndress her, and mind not to forget either wreath or crown.\"\n\nThe lad ran into the kitchen:\n\n\"Listen, here, lasses,\" he called out, \"you are to go upstairs and dress\nup the bay mare as a bride--I suppose master wants to play a joke on his\nguests.\"\n\nThe women laughed and laughed, but ran upstairs and dressed the bay mare\nin everything that was there. And then the lad went and told his master\nthat now she was all ready, with wreath and crown and all.\n\n\"Very well, bring her down. I will receive her at the door myself,\" said\nthe squire.\n\nThere was a clatter and a thumping on the stairs, for that bride, you\nknow, had no silken slippers on.\n\nWhen the door was opened and the squire's bride entered the room, you\ncan imagine there was laughing and tittering and grinning enough.\n\nAnd as for the squire, they say he never went courting again.\n\n\n\n\nPEIK\n\n\nOnce on a time there was a man, and he had a wife. They had a son and a\ndaughter who were twins, and these were so alike that no one could tell\none from the other except by their clothing. The boy they called Peik.\nHe was of little use while his father and mother lived, for he cared to\ndo naught else than to befool folk, and he was so full of tricks and\npranks that no one was left in peace. When the parents died, matters\ngrew still worse and worse. He would not turn his hand to anything. All\nhe would do was to squander what they left behind them.\n\nHis sister toiled and moiled all she could, but it helped little; so at\nlast she told him how silly it was to do naught for the house.\n\n\"What shall we have to live on when you have wasted everything?\"\nshe said.\n\n\"Oh, I'll go out and befool somebody,\" said Peik.\n\n\"Yes, Peik, I'll be bound you'll do that soon enough,\" said the sister.\n\n\"Well, I'll try,\" said Peik.\n\nAt last they had indeed nothing more. There was an end of everything;\nand Peik started off, and walked and walked till he came to the King's\npalace.\n\nNow, I must tell you, this King and his queen and eldest daughter were\nlittle better than trolls,--mean and hateful and very foolish,--so there\nwas no love lost between them and the people.\n\nWhen Peik came to the King's palace, there stood the King in the porch,\nand as soon as he set eyes on the lad he said,\n\n\"Whither away, to-day, Peik?\"\n\n\"Oh, I was going out to see if I could befool anybody,\" said Peik.\n\n\"Can't you befool me now?\" said the King.\n\n\"No, I'm sure I can't,\" said Peik, \"for I've forgotten my fooling rods.\"\n\n\"Can't you go home and fetch them?\" said the King, \"I should be very\nglad to see if you are such a trickster as folks say.\"\n\n\"I've no strength to walk,\" said Peik.\n\n\"I'll lend you a horse and saddle,\" said the King\n\n\"But I can't ride either,\" said Peik.\n\n\"We'll lift you up,\" said the King, \"then you'll be able to stick on.\"\n\nWell, Peik stood and scratched his head as though he would pull the hair\noff, and he let them lift him up into the saddle. There he sat, swinging\nthis side and that, so long as the King could see him, and the King\nlaughed till the tears came into his eyes, for such a tailor on\nhorseback he had never seen. But when Peik was come well into the wood\nbehind the hill, so that he was out of the King's sight, he sat as\nthough he were tied to the horse, and off he rode as fast as the horse\ncould carry him. But when he got to the town he sold both horse and\nsaddle.\n\nAll the while the King walked up and down, and loitered, and waited for\nPeik to come tottering back again with his fooling rods. And every now\nand then he laughed when he called to mind how wretched the lad looked\nas he sat swinging about on the horse like a sack of corn, not knowing\non which side to fall off. This lasted for seven lengths and seven\nbreaths, but no Peik came, and so at last the King saw that he was\nfooled and cheated out of his horse and saddle, even though Peik had not\nhad his fooling rods with him. Then there was another story, for the\nKing got wroth, and was all for setting off to kill Peik.\n\nBut Peik had found out the day he was coming, and told his sister she\nmust put on the big boiling-pot with a little water in it. Just as the\nKing came in, Peik dragged the pot off the fire and ran off with it to\nthe chopping-block, and so boiled the porridge on the block.\n\nThe King wondered at that, and wondered on and on, so much that he quite\nforgot what brought him there.\n\n\"What do you want for that pot?\" said he.\n\n\"I can't spare it,\" said Peik.\n\n\"Why not?\" said the King; \"I'll pay what you ask.\"\n\n\"No, no!\" said Peik. \"It saves me time and money, wood hire and chopping\nhire, carting and carrying.\"\n\n\"Never mind,\" said the King, \"I'll give you a hundred dollars. It's true\nyou've fooled me out of a horse and saddle, and bridle besides, but all\nthat shall go for nothing if I can only get the pot.\"\n\n\"Well, if you must have it, you must,\" said Peik.\n\nWhen the King got home he asked guests and made a feast, but the meat\nwas to be boiled in the new pot, and so he took it up and set it in the\nmiddle of the floor. The guests thought the King had lost his wits, and\nwent about elbowing one another, and laughing at him. But he walked\nround and round the pot and cackled and chattered, saying all in a\nbreath--\n\n\"Well, well! bide a bit, bide a bit! 'Twill boil in a minute.\"\n\nBut there was no boiling. So he saw that Peik had been out with his\nfooling rods and had cheated him again, and now he would set off at once\nand slay him.\n\nWhen the King came, Peik stood out by the barn door. \"Wouldn't it boil?\"\nhe asked.\n\n\"No, it would not, and you shall smart for it,\" said the King, about to\nunsheath his knife.\n\n\"I can well believe that,\" said Peik, \"for you did not take the block,\ntoo.\"\n\n\"I wish I thought,\" said the King, \"you weren't telling me a pack of\nlies.\"\n\n\"I tell you it's because of the block it stands on; it won't boil\nwithout it,\" said Peik.\n\n\"Well, what do you want for it?\"\n\nIt was well worth three hundred dollars; but for the King's sake it\nshould go for two. So the King got the block and traveled home with it.\nHe bade guests again, made a feast, and set the pot on the\nchopping-block in the middle of the room. The guests thought he was both\ndaft and mad, and they went about making game of him, while he cackled\nand chattered around the pot, calling out, \"Bide a bit! Now it boils,\nnow it boils in a trice.\"\n\nBut it wouldn't boil a bit more on the block than on the bare floor. So\nhe saw that Peik had been out with his fooling rods this time, too. Then\nhe fell a-tearing his hair, and said he would set off at once and slay\nthe lad. He wouldn't spare him this time, whether or no.\n\nBut Peik was ready for him. He had filled a leather bag with blood and\nstuffed it into his sister's bosom, and told her what to say and do.\n\n\"Where's Peik?\" screamed out the King. He was in such a rage that he\nstuttered and stammered.\n\n\"He is so poorly that he can't stir hand or foot,\" she said, \"and now\nhe's trying to get a nap.\"\n\n\"Wake him up!\" said the King.\n\n\"Nay, I daren't, he will be so angry,\" said the sister.\n\n\"Well, I am angrier still,\" said the King, \"and if you don't wake him, I\nwill,\" and with that he tapped his side where his knife hung.\n\n\"Well, she would go and wake him,\" but Peik turned hastily in his bed,\ndrew out a knife and ripped open the leather bag in her bosom, so that\nthe blood gushed out, and down she fell on the floor as though she were\ndead.\n\n\"What an awful fellow you are, Peik,\" said the King; \"you have killed\nyour sister right before my eyes!\"\n\n\"Oh, there's no trouble with her so long as there's breath in my\nnostrils,\" said Peik, and with that he pulled out a ram's horn and began\nto toot on it.\n\n\"Toot-e-too-too,\" he blew, with one end of the horn to her body, and up\nshe rose as though there was nothing the matter with her.\n\n\"Dear me, Peik! Can you kill folk and blow life into them again? Can you\ndo that?\" said the King.\n\n\"Why!\" said Peik, \"how could I get on at all if I couldn't? I am always\nkilling every one I come near; don't you know I have a terrible temper?\"\n\n\"I am hot-tempered, too,\" said the King, \"and that horn I must have.\nI'll give you a hundred dollars for it, and besides I'll forgive you for\ncheating me out of my horse and for fooling me about the pot and the\nblock, and all else.\"\n\nPeik was loth to part with it, but for his sake he would let him have\nit. And so the King went off home with it, and he hardly got back before\nhe must try it.\n\nSo he fell a-wrangling and quarreling with the queen and his eldest\ndaughter, and they paid him back in the same coin; but before they knew\nwhat was happening he had whipped out his knife and cut their throats.\nThey fell down stone dead and the other two daughters ran from the\nhouse, they were so afraid.\n\nThe King walked about the floor for a while and kept chattering that\nthere was no harm done so long as there was breath in him, and then he\npulled out the horn and began to blow \"Toot-e-too-too! Toot-e-too-too!\"\nbut, though he blew and tooted as hard as he could all that day and the\nnext, too, he could not blow life into them again. Dead they were, and\ndead they stayed. But the people in the kingdom were only glad to get\nrid of such troll-folk, and were wishing some one might make an end of\nthe King, too, so that they might have a good King in his place.\n\nBut the King was now angrier than ever, and must go right off to kill\nPeik.\n\nBut Peik knew that he was coming and then he said to his sister--\n\n\"Now, you must change clothes with me and set off. If you will do that,\nyou may have all we own.\"\n\nSo, she changed clothes with him, packed up and started off as fast as\nshe could; but Peik sat all alone in his sister's clothes.\n\n\"Where is that Peik?\" roared the King, as as he came, in a towering\nrage, through the door.\n\n\"He has run away,\" said Peik. \"He knew that your Majesty was coming, so\nhe left me all alone without a morsel of bread or a penny in my purse,\"\nand he made himself as gentle and sweet as a young lady.\n\n\"Come along, then, to the King's palace, and you shall have enough to\nlive on. There's no good sitting here and starving in this cabin by\nyourself,\" said the King.\n\nSo Peik went home with the King, and there he was treated as the King's\nown daughter, for Miss Peik sewed and stitched and sang and played with\nthe others, and was with them early and late.\n\nBut one day a man came to the King and told him that Peik's sister was\nat a farm in the neighborhood, and that it was Peik he had brought up in\nhis own house. Now, Peik had heard all that the man told the King, so he\nran away from the King's palace, out into the wide world.\n\nThe King got into a terrible rage then, and called for Peik, but he was\nnowhere to be found. Then he mounted his horse to go out to look for\nPeik.\n\nHe had not gone far before he came to a ploughed field and there sat\nPeik on a stone, playing on a mouth organ.\n\n\"What! Are you sitting there, Peik?\" said the King.\n\n\"Here I sit, sure enough,\" said Peik; \"where else should I sit?\"\n\n\"You have cheated me foully time after time,\" said the King, \"but now\nyou must come along home with me, and I'll kill you.\"\n\n\"Well, well,\" said Peik, \"if it can't be helped, it can't; I suppose I\nmust go along with you.\"\n\nWhen they got home to the King's palace they got ready a barrel which\nPeik was to be put in, and when it was ready they carted it up a high\nmountain. There he was to lie three days, thinking on all the evil he\nhad done, then they were to roll him down the mountain into the sea.\n\nThe third day a rich man passed by and when he heard Peik's story he was\nready to help him out of his trouble.\n\nThey made a stuffed man and put him with some stones into the\nbarrel--but the rich man gave Peik horses and cows, sheep and swine, and\nmoney beside.\n\nNow, the King came to roll Peik down the mountain. \"A happy journey!\"\nsaid the King, \"and now it is all over with you and your fooling rods.\"\n\nBefore the barrel was halfway down the mountain there was not a whole\nstave of it left, nor would there have been a whole limb on Peik, had he\nbeen there. But when the King came back to the palace, Peik was there\nbefore him, and sat in the court-yard playing on his mouth organ.\n\n\"What! You sitting here, you, Peik?\"\n\n\"Yes! Here I sit, sure enough. Where else should I sit?\" said Peik.\n\"Maybe I can get room here for all my horses and sheep and money.\"\n\n\"But whither was it that I rolled you that you got all this wealth?\"\nasked the King.\n\n\"Oh, you rolled me into the sea,\" said Peik, \"and when I got to the\nbottom there was more than enough and to spare, both of horses and\nsheep, and of gold and silver. The cattle went about in great flocks,\nand the gold and silver lay in large heaps as big as houses.\"\n\n\"What will you take to roll me down the same way?\" asked the King.\n\n\"Oh,\" said Peik, \"it costs little or nothing to do it. Besides, you took\nnothing from me, and so I'll take nothing from you either.\"\n\nSo he stuffed the King into a barrel and rolled him over, and when he\nhad given him a ride down to the sea for nothing, he went home to the\nKing's palace.\n\n[Illustration: So he stuffed the King into the barrel and rolled him over]\n\nThen he began to hold his bridal feast with the youngest princess, and\nafterwards he ruled the land both well and long. But he kept his fooling\nrods to himself, and kept them so well that nothing was ever heard of\nPeik and his tricks, but only of \"Ourself the King.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE PRINCESS WHO COULD NOT BE SILENCED\n\n\nThere was once a King, and he had a daughter who was so cross and\ncrooked in her words that no one could silence her, and so he gave it\nout that he who could do it should marry the princess and have half the\nkingdom, too. There were plenty of those who wanted to try it, I can\ntell you, for it is not every day that you can get a princess and half a\nkingdom. The gate to the King's palace did not stand still a minute.\nThey came in great crowds from the East and the West, both riding and\nwalking. But there was not one of them who could silence the princess.\n\nAt last the king had it given out that those who tried, and failed,\nshould have both ears marked with the big redhot iron with which he\nmarked his sheep. He was not going to have all that flurry and worry for\nnothing.\n\nWell, there were three brothers, who had heard about the princess, and,\nas they did not fare very well at home, they thought they had better set\nout to try their luck and see if they could not win the princess and\nhalf the kingdom. They were friends and good fellows, all three of them,\nand they set off together.\n\nWhen they had walked a bit of the way, Boots picked up something.\n\n\"I've found--I've found something!\" he cried.\n\n\"What did you find!\" asked the brothers.\n\n\"I found a dead crow,\" said he.\n\n\"Ugh! Throw it away! What would you do with that?\" said the brothers,\nwho always thought they knew a great deal.\n\n\"Oh, I haven't much to carry, I might as well carry this,\" said Boots.\n\nSo when they had walked on a bit, Boots again picked up something.\n\n\"I've found--I've found something!\" he cried.\n\n\"What have you found now?\" said the brothers.\n\n\"I found a willow twig,\" said he.\n\n\"Dear, what do you want with that? Throw it away!\" said they.\n\n\"Oh, I haven't much to carry, I might as well carry that,\" said Boots.\n\nSo when they had walked a bit, Boots picked up something again. \"Oh,\nlads, I've found--I've found something!\" he cried.\n\n\"Well, well, what did you find this time?\" asked the brothers.\n\n\"A piece of a broken saucer,\" said he.\n\n\"Oh, what is the use of that? Throw it away!\" said they.\n\n\"Oh, I haven't much to carry, I might as well carry that,\" said Boots.\n\nAnd when they had walked a bit further, Boots stooped down again and\npicked up something else.\n\n\"I've found--I've found something, lads!\" he cried.\n\n\"And what is it now?\" said they.\n\n\"Two goat horns,\" said Boots.\n\n\"Oh! Throw them away. What could you do with them?\" said they.\n\n\"Oh, I haven't much to carry, I might as well carry them,\" said Boots.\n\nIn a little while he found something again.\n\n\"Oh, lads, see, I've found--I've found something,\" he cried.\n\n\"Dear, dear, what wonderful things you do find! What is it now?\" said\nthe brothers.\n\n\"I've found a wedge,\" said he.\n\n\"Oh, throw it away. What do you want with that?\" said they.\n\n\"Oh, I haven't much to carry, I might as well carry that,\" said Boots.\n\nAnd now, as they walked over the fields close up to the King's palace,\nBoots bent down again and held something in his fingers.\n\n\"Oh, lads, lads, see what I've found!\" he cried.\n\n\"If you only found a little common sense, it would be good for you,\"\nsaid they. \"Well, let's see what it is now.\"\n\n\"A worn-out shoe sole,\" said he.\n\n\"Pshaw! Well, that was something to pick up! Throw it away! What do you\nwant with that?\" said the brothers.\n\n\"Oh, I haven't much to carry, I might as well carry that, if I am to win\nthe princess and half the kingdom,\" said Boots.\n\n\"Yes, you are likely to do that--you,\" said they.\n\nAnd now they came to the King's palace. The eldest one went in first.\n\n\"Good-day,\" said he.\n\n\"Good-day to you,\" said the princess, and she twisted and turned.\n\n\"It's awfully hot here,\" said he.\n\n\"It is hotter over there in the hearth,\" said the princess. There lay\nthe red-hot iron ready awaiting. When he saw that he forgot every word\nhe was going to say, and so it was all over with him.\n\nAnd now came the next oldest one.\n\n\"Good-day,\" said he.\n\n\"Good-day to you,\" said she, and she turned and twisted herself.\n\n\"It's awfully hot here,\" said he.\n\n\"It's hotter over there in the hearth,\" said she. And when he looked at\nthe red-hot iron he, too, couldn't get a word out, and so they marked\nhis ears and sent him home again.\n\nThen it was Boots' turn.\n\n\"Good-day,\" said he.\n\n\"Good-day to you,\" said she, and she twisted and turned again.\n\n\"It's nice and warm in here,\" said Boots.\n\n\"It's hotter in the hearth,\" said she, and she was no sweeter, now the\nthird one had come.\n\n\"That's good, I may bake my crow there, then?\" asked he.\n\n\"I'm afraid she'll burst,\" said the princess.\n\n\"There's no danger; I'll wind this willow twig around,\" said the lad.\n\n\"It's too loose,\" said she.\n\n\"I'll stick this wedge in,\" said the lad, and took out the wedge.\n\n\"The fat will drop off,\" said the princess.\n\n\"I'll hold this under,\" said the lad, and pulled out the broken bit of\nthe saucer.\n\n\"You are crooked in your words, that you are,\" said the princess.\n\n\"No, I'm not crooked, but this is crooked,\" said the lad, and he showed\nher the goat's horn.\n\n\"Well, I never saw the equal to that!\" cried the princess.\n\n\"Oh, here is the equal to it,\" said he, and pulled out the other.\n\n\"Now, you think you'll wear out my soul, don't you?\" said she.\n\n\"No, I won't wear out your soul, for I have a sole that's worn out\nalready,\" said the lad, and pulled out the shoe sole.\n\nThen the princess hadn't a word to say.\n\n\"Now, you're mine,\" said Boots.\n\nAnd so she was.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWELVE WILD DUCKS\n\n\nOnce on a time there was a Queen who had twelve sons but no daughter.\n\nOne day she was out driving in the woods and met the prettiest little\nlassie one ever did see, and so the Queen stopped her horses, lifted the\nchild up in her arms, kissed her on both cheeks, all the while thinking:\n\n\"I wish I had a little girl of my own, oh, how long I've waited and\nwished for one.\"\n\nJust then an old witch of the trolls came up to her, but you wouldn't\nhave known it was a witch at all, she looked so kind and good.\n\n\"A daughter you shall have,\" she said, \"and she shall be the prettiest\nchild in twelve kingdoms, if you will give to me what ever comes to meet\nyou at the bridge.\"\n\nNow the Queen had a little snow white dog of which she was very fond,\nand it always ran to meet her when she had been away. She thought, of\ncourse, it was the dog the old dame wanted, so the Queen said, \"Yes, you\nmay have what comes to meet me on the bridge.\" With that she hurried\nhome as fast as she could.\n\nBut, who should come to meet her on the bridge but her twelve sons; and\nbefore the mother could cry out to them the wicked witch threw her spell\nupon them and turned them into twelve ducks which flapped their wings\nand flew away. Away they went and away they stayed.\n\nBut the Queen had a daughter, and she was the loveliest child one ever\nset eyes upon. The Princess grew up, and she was both tall and fair, but\nshe was often quiet and sorrowful, and no one could understand what it\nwas that ailed her. The Queen, too, was often sorrowful, as you may\nbelieve, for she had many strange fears when she thought of her sons.\nAnd one day she said to her daughter, \"Why are you so sorrowful, lassie\nmine? Is there anything you want? If so, only say the word, and you\nshall have it.\"\n\n\"Oh, it seems so dull and lonely here,\" said the daughter, \"every one\nelse has brothers and sisters, but I am all alone; I have none. That's\nwhy I'm so sorrowful.\"\n\n\"But you had brothers, my daughter,\" said the Queen; \"I had twelve sons,\nstout, brave lads, but I lost them all when you came;\" and so she told\nher the whole story.\n\nWhen the Princess heard that she had no rest; for she thought it was all\nher fault, and in spite of all the Queen could say or do, though she\nwept and prayed, the lassie would set off to seek her brothers. On and\non she walked into the wide world, so far you would never have thought\nher small feet could have had strength to carry her so far.\n\nFinally, one day, when she was walking through a great, great wood, she\nfelt tired, and sat down on a mossy tuft and fell asleep. Then she\ndreamt that she went deeper and deeper into the wood, till she came to a\nlittle wooden hut, and there she found her brothers. Just then she\nawoke, and straight before her she saw a worn path in the green moss.\nThis path went deeper into the wood, so she followed it, and after a\nlong time she came to just such a little wooden house as that she had\nseen in her dream.\n\nNow, when she went into the room there was no one at home, but there\nwere twelve beds, and twelve chairs, and twelve spoons,--in short, a\ndozen of everything. When she saw that she was very glad; she had not\nbeen so glad for many a long year, for she could guess at once that her\nbrothers lived there, and that they owned the beds and chairs and\nspoons. So she began to make up the fire, and sweep the room and make\nthe beds and cook the dinner, and to make the house as tidy as she\ncould.\n\nAnd when she had done all the work and the dinner was on the table she\nsuddenly heard something flapping and whirling in the air, and she\nslipped behind the door. Then all the twelve ducks came sweeping in; but\nas soon as ever they crossed the threshold they became Princes.\n\n\"Oh, how nice and warm it is here,\" they said, \"Heaven bless him who\nmade up the fire and cooked such a nice dinner for us.\"\n\n\"But who can it be?\" said the youngest Prince, and they all hunted both\nhigh and low until they found the lassie behind the door. And she threw\nher arms around their necks and said, \"I'm your sister; I've gone about\nseeking you these three years, and if I could set you free, I'd\nwillingly give my life.\"\n\nThen all the brothers looked sorrowfully, one at the other, and they\nshook their heads.\n\n\"No, it's too hard,\" said the eldest Prince, looking at the pretty young\nPrincess, \"it's too hard,\" and again they sighed and shook their heads.\n\n\"Oh, tell me, only tell me,\" said the Princess, \"how can it be done, and\nI'll do it, whatever it be.\" And as she begged and pleaded for them to\ntell her, the youngest brother said at last, \"You must pick thistledown,\nand you must card it, and spin it, and weave it. After you have done\nthat, you must cut out and make twelve shirts, one for each of us, and\nwhile you do that, you must neither talk, nor laugh, nor weep. If you\ncan do that we are free.\"\n\n\"But where shall I ever get thistledown enough for so many shirts?\"\nasked the sister.\n\n\"Well, that is the hardest thing of all,\" said the eldest brother. \"You\nmust go to the witches' moor at midnight and gather it there,\" and big\ntears stood in his eyes, \"and you must go alone, all alone.\"\n\nBut the sister smiled and nodded her head, and when midnight came, and\nthe moon was high in the sky she said good-bye to her brothers, and went\nto the great, wide moor, where the witches lived. There stood a great\ncrop of thistles, all nodding and nodding in the breeze, while the down\nfloated and glistened like gossamer through the air in the moonbeams.\nThe Princess began to pluck and gather it as fast as she could, but she\nsaw long skinny arms outstretched toward her, and, among the thistles,\nshe saw a host of wicked faces all looking at her. Her heart stood still\nthen and she grew icy cold, but never a sound did she utter, only\nplucked and gathered until her bag was full; and when she got home at\nbreak of day she set to work carding and spinning yarn from the down.\n\n[Illustration: The Princess began to pluck and gather as fast as she\ncould]\n\nSo she went on a long, long time picking down on the witches' moor,\ncarding and spinning, and all the while keeping the house of the\nPrinces, cooking, and making their beds. But she never talked, nor\nlaughed, nor wept.\n\nAt evening home the brothers came, flapping and whirring like wild\nducks, and all night they were Princes, but in the morning off they flew\nagain, and were wild ducks the whole day.\n\nBut, it happened one night when she was out on the moor picking\nthistledown, that the young King who ruled that land was out hunting,\nand had lost his way. He had become separated from his companions, and\nnow, as he came riding across the moor, he saw her. He stopped and\nwondered who the lovely lady could be that walked alone on the moor\npicking thistledown in the dead of the night; and he asked her name.\nGetting no answer, he was still more astonished, but he liked her so\nmuch, that at last nothing would do but he must take her home to his\ncastle and marry her. So he took her and put her upon his horse. The\nPrincess wrung her hands, and made signs to him, and pointed to the bags\nin which her work was, and when the King saw she wished to have them\nwith her he took the bags and placed them behind them.\n\nWhen that was done the Princess, little by little, came to herself, for\nthe King was both a wise man and a handsome man, and he was as gentle\nand kind to her as a mother. But when they reached the palace an old\nwoman met them. She was the King's guardian, and when she set eyes on\nthe Princess she became so cross and jealous of her, because she was so\nlovely, that she said to the King:\n\n\"Can't you see now, that this thing whom you have picked up, and whom\nyou are going to marry, is a witch? Why, she can neither talk nor laugh\nnor weep!\"\n\nBut the King did not care a straw for what she said. He held to the\nwedding and married the Princess, and they lived in great joy and glory.\nBut the Princess didn't forget to go on working on her shirts, and she\nneither talked nor laughed nor wept. However, when she had spun and\nwoven and cut, she found that she still had not enough cloth for the\ntwelve shirts, and she needs must go to the witches' moor again.\n\nSo that night while all the palace slept she quietly slipped out and\nwalked off to pick her thistledown, but the old woman who was the King's\nguardian saw her, and she knew well where the young Queen was going, for\nI must tell you she was the same wicked witch who had changed the twelve\nPrinces into wild ducks. She hurried to the King's chamber, woke him and\nsaid, \"Now, come with me and I'll prove to you that your lovely Queen is\na witch, who joins the wicked company on the moor at midnight.\" The King\nwould not listen to her at first, but when he saw that the Queen's bed\nwas empty, he got up and went with the old woman.\n\nAnd there upon the edge of the moor they stopped, but in the clear\nmoonlight they could see the Queen among the horrid hags and trolls. The\nKing turned away sadly and said not a word, for he loved his quiet Queen\nvery much.\n\nBut the wicked old woman began to whisper and tell abroad about the\nQueen's nightly visit to the moor, and at last the King's best men came\nto him and said, \"We will not have a Queen who is a witch; the people\ndemand of you that she be burnt alive.\"\n\nThen the King was so sad that there was no end to his sadness, for now\nhe saw that he could not save her. He was obliged to order her to be\nburnt alive on a pile of wood. When the pile was all ablaze, and they\nwere about to put her on it, she made signs to them to take twelve\nboards and lay them around the pile.\n\nOn these she laid the shirts for her brothers all completed but that for\nthe youngest, which lacked its left sleeve; she had not had time to\nfinish it. And as soon as ever she had done that, they heard a flapping\nand whirring in the air, and down came twelve wild ducks from over the\nforest, and each snapped up his shirt in his bill and flew off with it.\n\n\"See now!\" said the old woman to the King, \"wasn't I right when I told\nyou she was a witch! Make haste and burn her before the pile burns low.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said the King, \"we've wood enough and to spare, and so I'll wait a\nbit, for I have a mind to see what the end of this will be.\"\n\nAs he spoke up came the twelve Princes riding along, as handsome\nwell-grown lads as you'd wish to see; but the youngest Prince had a wild\nduck's wing instead of his left arm. \"What's all this about?\" asked the\nPrinces.\n\n\"My Queen is to be burnt,\" said the King, \"because she is a witch, so\nthe people say, and I can't save her.\"\n\n\"Speak now, sister,\" said the Princes, \"you have set us free and saved\nus, now save yourself.\"\n\nThen the young Queen spoke and told the whole story, and the King and\nall the people listened with wonder and joy. Only the wicked old woman\nstood trembling with fear. And when the Queen had finished her story,\nthe people took the old witch and bound her and burned her on the pile.\n\nBut the King took his wife and the twelve Princes and went home with\nthem to their father and mother, and told all that had befallen them.\nThen there was joy and gladness over the whole kingdom, because the\nwicked witch was dead and the Princes saved and set free, and because\nthe lovely Princess had set free her twelve brothers.\n\n\n\n\nGUDBRAND-ON-THE-HILLSIDE\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a man whose name was Gudbrand. He had a farm\nwhich lay far, far away upon a hillside, and so they called him\nGudbrand-on-the-Hillside.\n\nNow, you must know this man and his good wife lived so happily together,\nand understood one another so well, that all the husband did the wife\nthought so well done there was nothing like it in the world, and she was\nalways pleased at whatever he turned his hand to. The farm was their own\nland, and they had a hundred dollars lying at the bottom of their chest\nand two cows tethered up in a stall in their farmyard.\n\nSo one day his wife said to Gudbrand, \"Do you know, dear, I think we\nought to take one of our cows into town and sell it; that's what I\nthink; for then we shall have some money in hand, and such well-to-do\npeople as we ought to have ready money as other folks have. As for the\nhundred dollars in the chest yonder, we can't make a hole in our\nsavings, and I'm sure I don't know what we want with more than one cow.\n\n\"Besides, we shall gain a little in another way, for then I shall get\noff with only looking after one cow, instead of having, as now, to feed\nand litter and water two.\"\n\nWell, Gudbrand thought his wife talked right good sense, so he set off\nat once with the cow on the way to town to sell her; but when he got to\nthe town, there was no one who would buy his cow.\n\n\"Well, well, never mind,\" said Gudbrand, \"at the worst, I can only go\nback home with my cow. I've both stable and tether for her, and the road\nis no farther out than in.\" And with that he began to toddle home with\nhis cow.\n\nBut when he had gone a bit of the way, a man met him who had a horse to\nsell. Gudbrand thought 'twas better to have a horse than a cow, so he\ntraded with the man. A little farther on he met a man walking along and\ndriving a fat pig before him, and he thought it better to have a fat pig\nthan a horse, so he traded with the man. After that he went a little\nfarther, and a man met him with a goat, so he thought it better to have\na goat than a pig, and he traded with the man who owned the goat. Then\nhe went on a good bit till he met a man who had a sheep, and he traded\nwith him too, for he thought it always better to have a sheep than a\ngoat. After a while he met a man with a goose, and he traded away the\nsheep for the goose; and when he had walked a long, long time, he met a\nman with a cock, and he traded with him, for he thought in this wise,\n\"Tis surely better to have a cock than a goose.\"\n\nThen he went on till the day was far spent, and he began to get very\nhungry, so he sold the cock for a shilling, and bought food with the\nmoney, for, thought Gudbrand-on-the-Hillside, \"Tis always better to save\none's life than to have a cock.\"\n\nAfter that he went on homeward till he reached his nearest neighbor's\nhouse, where he turned in.\n\n\"Well,\" said the owner of the house, \"how did things go with you in\ntown?\"\n\n\"Rather so-so,\" said Gudbrand, \"I can't praise my luck, nor do I blame\nit either,\" and with that he told the whole story from first to last.\n\n\"Ah!\" said his friend, \"you'll get nicely hauled over the coals, when\nyou go home to your wife. Heaven help you, I wouldn't stand in your\nshoes for anything.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Gudbrand-on-the-Hillside, \"I think things might have gone\nmuch worse with me; but now, whether I have done wrong or not, I have so\nkind a good wife she never has a word to say against anything that I\ndo.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" answered his neighbor, \"I hear what you say, but I don't believe\nit for all that.\"\n\n\"And so you doubt it?\" asked Gudbrand-on-the-Hillside.\n\n\"Yes,\" said the friend, \"I have a hundred crowns, at the bottom of my\nchest at home, I will give you if you can prove what you say.\"\n\nSo Gudbrand stayed there till evening, when it began to get dark, and\nthen they went together to his house, and the neighbor was to stand\noutside the door and listen, while the man went in to his wife.\n\n\"Good evening!\" said Gudbrand-on-the Hillside.\n\n\"Good evening!\" said the good wife. \"Oh! is that you? Now, I am happy.\"\n\nThen the wife asked how things had gone with him in town.\n\n\"Oh, only so-so,\" answered Gudbrand; \"not much to brag of. When I got to\ntown there was no one who would buy the cow, so you must know I traded\nit away for a horse.\"\n\n\"For a horse,\" said his wife; \"well that is good of you; thanks with all\nmy heart. We are so well to do that we may drive to church, just as well\nas other people, and if we choose to keep a horse we have a right to get\none, I should think.\" So, turning to her child she said, \"Run out,\ndeary, and put up the horse.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said Gudbrand, \"but you see I have not the horse after all, for\nwhen I got a bit farther on the road, I traded it for a pig.\"\n\n\"Think of that, now!\" said the wife. \"You did just as I should have done\nmyself; a thousand thanks! Now I can have a bit of bacon in the house to\nset before people when they come to see me, that I can. What do we want\nwith a horse? People would only say we had got so proud that we couldn't\nwalk to church. Go out, child, and put up the pig in the sty.\"\n\n\"But I have not the pig either,\" said Gudbrand, \"for when I got a little\nfarther on, I traded it for a goat.\"\n\n\"Dear me!\" cried the wife, \"how well you manage everything! Now I think\nit over, what should I do with a pig? People would only point at us and\nsay 'Yonder they eat up all they have.' No, now I have a goat, and I\nshall have milk and cheese, and keep the goat too. Run out, child, and\nput up the goat.\"\n\n\"Nay, but I haven't the goat either,\" said Gudbrand, \"for a little\nfarther on I traded it away and got a fine sheep instead!\"\n\n\"You don't say so!\" cried his wife, \"why, you do everything to please\nme, just as if I had been with you. What do we want with a goat? If I\nhad it I should lose half my time in climbing up the hills to get it\ndown. No, if I have a sheep, I shall have both wool and clothing, and\nfresh meat in the house. Run out, child, and put up the sheep.\"\n\n\"But I haven't the sheep any more than the rest,\" said Gudbrand, \"for\nwhen I got a bit farther, I traded it away for a goose.\"\n\n\"Thank you, thank you, with all my heart,\" cried his wife, \"what should\nI do with a sheep? I have no spinning wheel or carding comb, nor should\nI care to worry myself with cutting, and shaping, and sewing clothes. We\ncan buy clothes now as we have always done; and now I shall have roast\ngoose, which I have longed for so often; and, besides, down with which\nto stuff my little pillow. Run out, child, and put up the goose.\n\n\"Well!\" said Gudbrand, \"I haven't the goose either; for when I had gone\na bit farther I traded it for a cock.\"\n\n\"Dear me!\" cried his wife, \"how you think of everything! just as I\nshould have done myself. A cock! think of that! Why it's as good as an\neight day clock, for every day the cock crows at four o'clock, and we\nshall be able to stir our stiff legs in good time. What should we do\nwith a goose? I don't know how to cook it; and as for my pillow, I can\nstuff it with cotton grass. Run out, child, and put up the cock.\"\n\n\"But after all, I haven't the cock either,\" said Gudbrand, \"for when I\nhad gone a bit farther, I became as hungry as a hunter, so I was forced\nto sell the cock for a shilling, for fear I should starve.\"\n\n\"Now, God be praised that you did so!\" cried his wife, \"whatever you do,\nyou do it always just after my own heart. What should we do with the\ncock? We are our own masters, I should think, and can lie abed in the\nmorning as long as we like. Heaven be thanked that I have you safe back\nagain; you who do everything so well, that I want neither cock nor\ngoose; neither pigs nor kine.\"\n\nThen Gudbrand opened the door and said,--\n\n\"Well, what do you say now? Have I won the hundred crowns?\" and his\nneighbor was forced to admit that he had.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PRINCESS ON THE GLASS HILL\n\n\nOnce on a time, there was a man who had a meadow, which lay high upon\nthe hillside, and in the meadow was a barn, which he had built to keep\nhis hay in. Now, I must tell you there hadn't been much in the barn for\nthe last year or two, for every St. John's night, when the grass stood\ngreenest and deepest, the meadow was eaten down to the very ground the\nnext morning, just as if a whole drove of sheep had been there feeding\non it over night. This happened once, and it happened twice; so at last\nthe man grew weary of losing his crop of hay, and said to his sons--for\nhe had three of them, and the youngest was nicknamed Boots, of\ncourse--that now one of them must just go and sleep in the barn in the\noutlying field when St. John's night came, for it was no joke that his\ngrass should be eaten, root and blade, this year, as it had been the\nlast two years. So whichever of them went must keep a sharp look-out;\nthat was what their father said.\n\nWell, the eldest son was ready to go and watch the meadow; trust him for\nlooking after the grass. So, when evening came, he set off to the barn,\nand lay down to sleep. But a little on in the night came such a clatter,\nand such an earthquake, that walls and roof shook, and groaned, and\ncreaked. Then up jumped the lad, and took to his heels as fast as ever\nhe could; nor dared he once look around until he reached home; and as\nfor the hay, why it was eaten up this year just as it had been twice\nbefore.\n\nThe next St. John's night, the man said again it would never do to lose\nall the grass in the outlying field year after year in this way, so one\nof his sons must just trudge off to watch it, and watch it well too.\nWell, the next oldest son was ready to try his luck, so he set off and\nsat down to watch in the barn as his brother had done before him. But as\nthe night wore on, there came on a rumbling and quaking of the earth,\nworse even than on the last St. John's night, and when the lad heard it,\nhe got frightened, and took to his heels as though he were running a\nrace.\n\nNext year the turn came to Boots; but when he made ready to go the other\ntwo began to laugh and to make game of him, saying,--\n\n\"You're just the man to watch the hay, that you are; you, who have done\nnothing all your life but sit in the ashes and toast yourself by the\nfire.\"\n\nBut Boots did not care a pin for their chattering, and as evening drew\non, he walked up the hillside to the outlying field. There he went\ninside the barn and sat down; but in about an hour's time the barn began\nto groan and creak, so that it was dreadful to hear.\n\n\"Well,\" said Boots to himself, \"if it isn't worse than this, I can stand\nit well enough.\"\n\nA little while after came another creak and an earthquake, so that the\nlitter in the barn flew about the lad's ears.\n\n\"Oh!\" said Boots to himself, \"if it isn't worse than this, I daresay I\ncan stand it out.\"\n\nBut just then came a third rumbling and a third earthquake, so that the\nlad thought walls and roof were coming down on his head; but it passed\noff, and all was still as death about him.\n\n\"It'll come again, I'll be bound,\" thought Boots; but no, it didn't come\nagain; still it was, and still it stayed. But after he had sat a little\nwhile, he heard a noise as if a horse were standing just outside the\nbarn door, and feeding on the grass. He stole to the door, and peeped\nthrough a chink, and there stood a horse feeding away. So big, and fat,\nand grand a horse, Boots had never set eyes on. By his side on the grass\nlay a saddle and bridle, and a full set of armor for a knight, all of\nbrass, so bright that the light gleamed from it.\n\n\"Ho, ho!\" thought the lad; \"it's you, is it, that eats up our hay?\"\n\nSo he lost no time, but took the steel out of his tinder box and threw\nit over the horse; then it had no power to stir from the spot, and\nbecame so tame that the lad could do what he liked with it. Then he got\non its back, and rode off with it to a place which no one knew of, and\nthere he put up the horse. When he got home, his brothers laughed, and\nasked how he had fared.\n\n\"You didn't sit long in the barn, even if you had the heart to go as far\nas the field.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Boots, \"all I can say is, I sat in the barn till the sun\nrose.\"\n\n\"A pretty story,\" said his brothers; \"but we'll soon see how you have\nwatched the meadow;\" so they set off; but when they reached it, there\nstood the grass as deep and thick as it had been over night.\n\nWell, the next St. John's eve it was the same story over again; neither\nof the elder brothers dared to go out to the outlying field to watch the\ncrop; but Boots, he had the heart to go, and everything happened just as\nit had the year before. First a clatter and an earthquake, then a\ngreater clatter and another earthquake, and so on a third time; only\nthis year the earthquakes were far worse than the year before. Then all\nat once everything was still as death, and the lad heard how something\nwas cropping the grass outside the barn door, so he stole to the door,\nand peeped through a chink; and what do you think he saw? Why, another\nhorse standing right up against the wall, and chewing and champing with\nmight and main. It was far larger and finer than that which came the\nyear before, and it had a saddle on its back, and a bridle on its head,\nand a full suit of mail for a knight lay by its side, all of silver, and\nas splendid as you would wish to see.\n\n\"Ho, ho!\" said Boots to himself; \"it's you that gobbles up our hay, is\nit?\" And with that he took the steel out of his tinder box, and threw it\nover the horse's crest; then it stood as still as a lamb. Well, the lad\nrode this horse, too, to the hiding place where he kept the other one,\nand after that, he went home.\n\n\"I suppose you'll tell us,\" said one of his brothers, \"there's a fine\ncrop this year too, up in the hay field.\"\n\n\"Well, so there is,\" said Boots; and off ran the others to see, and\nthere stood the grass thick and deep, as it was the year before; but\nthey didn't give Boots softer words for all that.\n\nNow, when the third St. John's eve came, the two elder still hadn't the\nheart to sit out in the barn and watch the grass, for they had got so\nscared at heart the night they sat there before, that they couldn't get\nover the fright. But Boots dared to go; and the very same thing happened\nthis time that had happened twice before. Three earthquakes came, one\nafter the other, each worse than the one which went before, and when the\nlast came, the lad danced about with the shock from one barn wall to the\nother; and after that, all at once, it was still as death. Now, when he\nhad sat a little while, he heard something cropping away at the grass\noutside the barn, so he stole again to the door chink, and peeped out,\nand there stood a horse outside--far, far bigger and more beautiful than\nthe two he had taken before. It had a saddle on its back, a bridle on\nits head, and a full suit of mail for a knight lay by its side--all of\ngold, all more splendid than anything you ever saw.\n\n[Illustration: So he caught up the steel and threw it over the horse]\n\n\"Ho, ho!\" said the lad to himself, \"it's you, is it, that comes here\neating up our hay? I'll soon stop that.\" So he caught up his steel, and\nthrew it over the horse's neck, and in a trice it stood as if it were\nnailed to the ground, and Boots could do as he pleased with it. Then he\nrode off with it to the hiding place, where he kept the other two, and\nthen went home. When he got home, his two brothers made game of him as\nthey had done before, saying, they could see he had watched the grass\nwell, for he looked for all the world as if he were walking in his\nsleep, and many other spiteful things they said, but Boots gave no heed\nto them, only asking them to go and see for themselves; and when they\nwent, there stood the grass as fine and deep this time as it had been\ntwice before.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow you must know that the king of the country where Boots lived had a\ndaughter, whom he would only give to the man who could ride up over the\nhill of glass, for there was a high, high hill, all of glass, as smooth\nand slippery as ice, close by the king's palace. Upon the tip top of the\nhill the king's daughter was to sit, with three golden apples in her\nlap, and the man who could ride up and carry off the three golden apples\nwas to have half the kingdom, and the Princess to wife. This offer the\nking had posted on all the church doors in his realm; and had given it\nout in many other kingdoms besides. Now, this Princess was so lovely,\nthat all who set eyes on her loved her. So I needn't tell you how all\nthe princes and knights who heard of her were eager to win her to wife,\nand half the kingdom besides; and how they came riding from all parts of\nthe world on high prancing horses, and clad in the grandest clothes, for\nthere wasn't one of them who hadn't made up his mind that he, and he\nalone, was to win the Princess.\n\nSo when the day of trial came, which the king had fixed, there was such\na crowd of princes and knights under the glass hill, that it made one's\nhead whirl to look at them; and every one in the country who could even\ncrawl along was off to the hill, for they all were eager to see the man\nwho was to win the Princess. Thus the two elder brothers set off with\nthe rest; but as for Boots, they said outright he shouldn't go with\nthem, for if they were seen with such a dirty fellow, all begrimed with\nsmut from cleaning their shoes, and sifting cinders in the dust-hole,\nthey said folk would make game of them.\n\n\"Very well,\" said Boots; \"it's all one to me. I can go alone.\"\n\nNow, when the two brothers came to the hill of glass, the knights and\nprinces were all hard at it, riding their horses till they were all in a\nfoam; but it was no good; for as soon as ever the horses set foot on the\nhill, down they slipped, and there wasn't one who could get a yard or\ntwo up; and no wonder, for the hill was as smooth as a sheet of glass,\nand as steep as a house-wall. But all were eager to have the Princess\nand half the kingdom. So they rode and slipped, and slipped and rode,\nand still it was the same story over again. At last all their horses\nwere so weary that they could scarce lift a leg, and so the knights had\nto give up trying any more.\n\nThe king was just thinking that he would proclaim a new trial for the\nnext day, to see if they would have better luck, when all at once a\nknight came riding up on so brave a steed, that no one had ever seen the\nlike of it in his born days, and the knight had a mail of brass, and the\nhorse a brass bit in his mouth, so bright that the sunbeams shone from\nit. Then all the others called out to him that he might just as well\nspare himself the trouble of riding at the hill, for it would lead to no\ngood; but he gave no heed to them, and put his horse at the hill, and\nwent up it for a good way, about a third of the height; and when he had\ngot so far, he turned his horse round and rode down again. So lovely a\nknight the Princess thought she had never yet seen; and while he was\nriding, she sat and thought to herself,--\n\n\"Ah, how I wish that he might come up and go down the other side.\"\n\nAnd when she saw him turning back, she threw down one of the golden\napples after him, and it rolled down into his shoe. But when he got to\nthe bottom of the hill he rode off so fast that no one could tell what\nhad become of him. That evening all the knights and princes were to go\nbefore the king, that he who had ridden so far up the hill might show\nthe apple which the Princess had thrown, but there was no one who had\nanything to show. One after the other they all came, but not a man of\nthem could show the apple.\n\nThe next day, all the princes and knights began to ride again, and you\nmay fancy they had taken care to shoe their horses well; but it was no\nuse,--they rode and slipped, and slipped and rode, just as they had done\nthe day before; and there was not one who could get so far as a yard up\nthe hill. And when they had worn out their horses, so that they could\nnot stir a leg, they were all forced to give it up. So the king thought\nhe might as well proclaim that the riding should take place the day\nafter for the last time, just to give them one chance more; but all at\nonce it came across his mind that he might as well wait a little longer,\nto see if the knight in brass mail would come this day too. Well! they\nsaw nothing of him; but all at once came one riding on a steed, far, far\nbraver and finer than that on which the knight in brass had ridden, and\nhe had silver mail, and a silver saddle and bridle, all so bright that\nthe sunbeams gleamed and glanced from them far away. Then the others\nshouted out to him again, saying he might as well stop, and not try to\nride up the hill, for all his trouble would be thrown away. But the\nknight paid no heed to them, and rode straight at the hill, and right up\nit, till he had gone two-thirds of the way, and then he wheeled his\nhorse around and rode down again. To tell the truth, the Princess liked\nhim still better than the knight in brass, and she sat and wished he\nmight be able to come right up to the top, and down the other side; but\nwhen she saw him turning back, she threw the second apple after him, and\nit rolled down and fell into his shoe. But as soon as ever he had come\ndown the hill of glass, he rode off so fast that no one could see what\nbecame of him.\n\nAt even, all were to go in before the king and the Princess, that he who\nhad the golden apple might show it. In they went, one after the other,\nbut there was no one who had any apple to show.\n\nThe third day everything happened as it had happened the two days\nbefore. There was no one who could get so much as a yard up the hill;\nand now all waited for the knight in silver mail, but they neither saw\nnor heard of him. At last came one riding on a steed, so brave that no\none had ever seen his match; and the knight had a suit of golden mail,\nand a golden saddle and bridle, so wondrous bright that the sunbeams\ngleamed from them a mile off. The other knights and princes could not\nfind time to call out to him not to try his luck, for they were amazed\nto see how grand he was. So he rode at the hill, and tore up it like\nnothing, so that the Princess hadn't even time to wish that he might get\nup the whole way. As soon as ever he reached the top, he took the third\ngolden apple from the Princess's lap, and then turned his horse and rode\ndown again. As soon as he got down he rode off at full speed, and was\nout of sight in no time.\n\nNow, when the two brothers got home at even, you may fancy what long\nstories they told, how the riding had gone off that day; and amongst\nother things, they had a deal to say about the knight in golden mail.\n\n\"He just was a chap to ride,\" they said; \"so grand a knight isn't to be\nfound in this wide world.\"\n\nNext day all the knights and princes were to pass before the king and\nthe Princess--that he who had the gold apple might bring it forth; but\none came after another, first the princes, then the knights, and still\nno one could show the gold apple.\n\n\"Well,\" said the king, \"some one must have it, for it was something that\nwe all saw with our own eyes, how a man came and rode up and bore it\noff.\"\n\nSo he commanded that everyone who was in the kingdom should come up to\nthe palace and see if he could show the apple. Well, they all came one\nafter another, but no one had the golden apple, and after a long time\nthe two brothers of Boots came. They were the last of all, so the king\nasked them if there was no one else in the kingdom who hadn't come.\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" said they; \"we have a brother, but he never carried off the\ngolden apple. He hasn't stirred out of the dust-hole on any of the three\ndays.\"\n\n\"Never mind that,\" said the king; \"he may as well come up to the palace\nlike the rest.\" So he came.\n\n\"How, now,\" said the king; \"have you the golden apple? Speak out.\"\n\n\"Yes, I have,\" said Boots; \"here is the first, and here is the second,\nand here is the third, too;\" and with that he pulled all three golden\napples out of his pocket, and at the same time threw off his sooty rags,\nand stood before them in his gleaming golden mail.\n\n\"Yes,\" said the king; \"you shall have my daughter, and half my kingdom,\nfor you well deserve both her and it.\"\n\nSo they got ready for the wedding, and Boots got the Princess to wife,\nand there was great merry-making at the bridal-feast, you may fancy, for\nthey could all be merry though they couldn't ride up the hill of glass;\nand all I can say is, if they haven't left off their merry-making yet,\nwhy, they're still at it.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HUSBAND WHO WAS TO MIND THE HOUSE\n\n\nOnce on a time there was a man so mean and cross that he never thought\nhis wife did anything right in the house. So one evening in hay-making\ntime he came home scolding and tearing, and showing his teeth and making\na fuss.\n\n\"Dear love, don't be so angry; there's a good man,\" said his goody;\n\"to-morrow let's change our work. I'll go out with the mowers and mow,\nand you shall mind the house at home.\"\n\nThe husband thought that would do very well. He was quite willing, he\nsaid.\n\nSo, early next morning his goody took a scythe on her shoulders, and\nwent out into the hayfield with the mowers, and began to mow; but the\nman was to mind the house and do the work at home.\n\nFirst of all he wanted to churn the butter; but when he had churned a\nwhile, he grew thirsty and went down to the cellar to tap a barrel of\nale. So, just when he was putting the tap into the cask, he heard\noverhead the pig come into the kitchen. Then off he ran up the cellar\nsteps, with the tap in his hand, as fast as he could to look after the\npig, lest it should upset the churn. But when he got up, and saw the pig\nhad already knocked the churn over and stood there grunting and rooting\nin the cream which was running all over the floor, he became so wild\nwith rage, that he quite forgot the ale barrel, and ran at the pig as\nhard as he could.\n\nHe caught it, too, just as it ran out of doors, and gave it such a kick\nthat piggy died on the spot. Then all at once he remembered he had the\ntap in his hand; but when he got down to the cellar, every drop of ale\nhad run out of the cask.\n\nThen he went into the dairy and found enough cream left to fill the\nchurn again, and so he began to churn, for butter they must have at\ndinner. When he had churned a bit, he remembered that their milking cow\nwas still shut up in its stall, and had not had a mouthful to eat or a\ndrop to drink all the morning, though the sun was high. Then he thought\nit was too far to take her down to the meadow, so he'd just get her up\non the house top, for the house, you must know, was thatched with sods,\nand a fine crop of grass was growing there. Now their house lay close up\nagainst a steep rock, and he thought if he laid a plank across to the\nroof at the back, he'd easily get the cow up.\n\nBut still he could not leave the churn, for there was their little babe\ncrawling about the floor, and, \"If I leave it,\" he thought, \"the child\nis sure to upset it.\"\n\nSo he took the churn on his back and went out with it. Then he thought\nhe'd better water the cow before he turned her out on the thatch, and he\ntook up a bucket to draw water out of the well. But, as he stooped down\nat the brink of the well, all the cream ran out of the churn over his\nshoulders, about his neck, and down into the well.\n\nNow it was near dinner time, and he had not even got butter yet. So he\nthought he'd best boil the porridge, and he filled the pot with water,\nand hung it over the fire. When he had done that, he thought the cow\nmight perhaps fall off the thatch and break her legs or her neck. So he\ngot up on the house to tie her up. One end of the rope he made fast to\nthe cow's neck, and the other he slipped down the chimney and tied round\nhis own waist. He had to make haste, for the water now began to boil in\nthe pot, and he had still to grind the oatmeal.\n\nSo he began to grind away; but while he was hard at it, down fell the\ncow off the housetop after all, and as she fell she dragged the man up\nthe chimney by the rope. There he stuck fast. And as for the cow, she\nhung halfway down the wall, swinging between heaven and earth, for she\ncould neither get down nor up.\n\nAnd now the goody had waited seven lengths and seven breadths for her\nhusband to come and call them home to dinner, but never a call they had.\nAt last she thought she'd waited long enough and went home.\n\nWhen she got there and saw the cow hanging in such an ugly place, she\nran up and cut the rope in two with her scythe. But as she did this,\ndown came her husband out of the chimney, and so when his old dame came\ninside the kitchen, there she found him standing on his head in the\nporridge pot.\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE FREDDY WITH HIS FIDDLE\n\n\nOnce there was a farmer who had an only son. The lad had had very poor\nhealth so he could not go out to work in the field.\n\nHis name was Freddy, but, since he remained such a wee bit of a fellow,\nthey called him Little Freddy. At home there was but little to eat and\nnothing at all to burn, so his father went about the country trying to\nget the boy a place as cowherd or errand boy; but there was no one who\nwould take the weakly little lad till they came to the sheriff. He was\nready to take him, for he had just sent off his errand boy, and there\nwas no one who would fill his place, for everybody knew the sheriff was\na great miser.\n\nBut the farmer thought it was better there than nowhere; he would get\nhis food, for all the pay he was to get was his board--there was nothing\nsaid about wages or clothes. When the lad had served three years he\nwanted to leave, and the sheriff gave him all his wages at one time. He\nwas to have a penny a year. \"It couldn't well be less,\" said the\nsheriff. And so he got three pence in all.\n\nAs for Little Freddy, he thought it was a great sum, for he had never\nowned so much; but, for all that, he asked if he wasn't to have anything\nfor clothes, for those he had on were worn to rags. He had not had any\nnew ones since he came to the sheriff's three years ago.\n\n\"You have what we agreed on,\" said the sheriff, \"and three whole pennies\nbesides. I have nothing more to do with you. Be off!\"\n\nSo Little Freddy went into the kitchen and got a little food in his\nknapsack, and after that he set off on the road to buy himself more\nclothes. He was both merry and glad, for he had never seen a penny\nbefore, and every now and then he felt in his pockets as he went along\nto see if he had them all three. So, when he had gone far and farther\nthan far, he got up on top of the mountains. He was not strong on his\nlegs, and had to rest every now and then, and then he counted and\ncounted how many pennies he had. And now he came to a great plain\novergrown with moss. There he sat down and began to see if his money was\nall right. Suddenly a beggarman appeared before him, so tall and big\nthat when he got a good look at him and saw his height and length, the\nlad began to scream and screech.\n\n\"Don't you be afraid,\" said the beggarman, \"I'll do you no harm, I came\nonly to beg you for a penny.\"\n\n\"Dear me!\" said the lad, \"I have only three pennies, and with them I was\ngoing to town to buy clothes.\"\n\n\"It is worse for me than for you,\" said the beggarman, \"I have not one\npenny, and I am still more ragged than you.\"\n\n\"Well, that is so; you shall have it,\" said the lad.\n\nWhen he had walked on a while, he grew weary again, and sat down to\nrest. Suddenly another beggarman stood before him, and this one was\nstill taller and uglier than the first. When the lad saw how very tall\nand ugly and long he was, he began to scream again.\n\n\"Now, don't you be afraid of me,\" said the beggar, \"I'll do you no harm.\nI came only to beg for a penny.\"\n\n\"Oh dear, oh dear!\" said the lad. \"I have only two pennies, and with\nthem I was going to the town to buy clothes. If I had only met you\nsooner, then--\"\n\n\"It's worse for me than for you,\" said the beggarman. \"I have no penny,\nand a bigger body and less clothing.\"\n\n\"Well, you may have it,\" said the lad. So he went away farther, till he\ngot weary, and then he sat down to rest; but he had scarcely sat down\nwhen a third beggarman came to him. This one was so tall and ugly and\nlong that the lad had to look up and up, right up to the sky. And when\nhe took him all in with his eyes, and saw how very, very tall and ugly\nand ragged he was, he fell a-screeching and screaming again.\n\n[Illustration: The lad had to look up, right up into the sky]\n\n\"Now, don't you be afraid of me, my lad,\" said the beggarman, \"I'll do\nyou no harm, for I am only a beggarman, who begs you for a penny.\"\n\n\"Oh dear, oh dear!\" said the lad. \"I have only one penny left, and with\nit I was going to the town to buy clothes. If I had only met you sooner,\nthen--\"\n\n\"As for that,\" said the beggarman, \"I have no penny at all, that I\nhaven't, and a bigger body and less clothes, so it is worse for me than\nfor you.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Little Freddy, \"he must have the penny then--there was no\nhelp for it; for so each beggarman would have one penny, and he would\nhave nothing.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the beggarman, \"since you have such a good heart that you\ngave away all that you had in the world, I will give you a wish for each\npenny.\" For you must know it was the same beggarman who had got them all\nthree; he had only changed his shape each time, that the lad might not\nknow him again.\n\n\"I have always had such a longing to hear a fiddle go, and see folk so\nmerry and glad that they couldn't help dancing,\" said the lad; \"and so\nif I may wish what I choose, I will wish myself such a fiddle, that\neverything that has life must dance to its tune.\"\n\n\"That you may have,\" said the beggarman, \"but it is a sorry wish. You\nmust wish something better for the other two pennies.\"\n\n\"I have always had such a love for hunting and shooting,\" said Little\nFreddy; \"so if I may wish what I choose, I will wish myself such a gun\nthat I shall hit everything I aim at, were it ever so far off.\"\n\n\"That you may have,\" said the beggarman, \"but it is a sorry wish too.\nYou must wish better for the last penny.\"\n\n\"I have always had a longing to be in company with folks who were kind\nand good,\" said Little Freddy; \"and so, if I could get what I wish, I\nwould wish it to be so that no one can say 'Nay' to the first thing I\nask.\"\n\n\"That wish is not so sorry,\" said the beggarman; and off he strode\nbetween the hills, and Freddy saw him no more.\n\nSo the lad lay down to sleep, and the next day he came down from the\nmountain with his fiddle and his gun. First he went to the storekeeper\nand asked for clothes. Next at a farm he asked for a horse, and at a\nsecond for a sleigh; and at another place he asked for a fur coat. No\none said him \"Nay\"--even the stingiest folk were all forced to give him\nwhat he asked for. At last he went through the country as a fine\ngentleman, and had his horse and his sleigh. When he had gone a bit he\nmet the sheriff whose servant he had been.\n\n\"Good day, master,\" said Little Freddy, as he pulled up and took off his\nhat.\n\n\"Good day,\" said the sheriff, \"but when was I ever your master?\"\n\n\"Oh yes,\" said Little Freddy, \"don't you remember how I served you three\nyears for three pence?\"\n\n\"My goodness, now!\" said the sheriff, \"you have grown rich in a hurry,\nand pray, how was it that you got to be such a fine gentleman?\"\n\n\"Oh, that is a long story,\" said Little Freddy.\n\n\"And are you so full of fun that you carry a fiddle about with you?\"\nasked the sheriff.\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" said Freddy. \"I have always had such a longing to get folk\nto dance. But the funniest thing of all is this gun, for it brings down\nalmost anything that I aim at, however far it may be off. Do you see\nthat magpie yonder, sitting in the spruce fir? What will you give me if\nI hit it as we stand here?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the sheriff, and he laughed when he said it, \"I'll give you\nall the money I have in my pocket, and I'll go and fetch it when it\nfalls,\" for he never thought it possible for any gun to carry so far.\n\nBut as the gun went off down fell the magpie, and into a great bramble\nthicket; and away went the sheriff up into the bramble after it, and he\npicked it up and held it up high for the lad to see. But just then\nLittle Freddy began to play his fiddle, and the sheriff began to dance,\nand the thorns to tear him; but still the lad played on, and the sheriff\ndanced, and cried, and begged, till his clothes flew to tatters, and he\nscarce had a thread to his back.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Little Freddy, \"now I think you're about as ragged as I was\nwhen I left your service; so now you may get off with what you have.\"\n\nBut first the sheriff had to pay him all the money that he had in his\npocket.\n\nSo when the lad came to town he turned into an inn, and there he began\nto play, and all who came danced and laughed and were merry, and so the\nlad lived without any care, for all the folks liked him and no one would\nsay \"Nay\" to anything he asked.\n\nBut one evening just as they were all in the midst of their fun, up came\nthe watchmen to drag the lad off to the town hall; for the sheriff had\nlaid a charge against him, and said he had waylaid him and robbed him\nand nearly taken his life. And now he was to be hanged. The people would\nhear of nothing else. But Little Freddy had a cure for all trouble, and\nthat was his fiddle. He began to play on it, and the watchmen fell\na-dancing and they danced and they laughed till they gasped for breath.\n\nSo soldiers and the guard were sent to take him, but it was no better\nwith them than with the watchmen. When Little Freddy played his fiddle,\nthey were all bound to dance; and dance as long as he could lift a\nfinger to play a tune; but they were half dead long before he was tired.\n\nAt last they stole a march on him, and took him while he lay asleep by\nnight. Now that they had caught him they could condemn him to be hanged\non the spot, and away they hurried him to the gallows tree.\n\nThere a great crowd of people flocked together to see this wonder, and\nthe sheriff too was there. He was glad to get even at last for the money\nand the clothes he had lost, and to see the lad hanged with his own\neyes.\n\nAnd here came Little Freddy, carrying his fiddle and his gun. Slowly he\nmounted the steps of the gallows,--and when he got to the top he sat\ndown, and asked if they could deny him a wish, and if he might have\nleave to do one thing? He had such a longing, he said, to scrape a tune\nand play a bar on his fiddle before they hanged him.\n\n\"No, no,\" they said; \"it were sin and shame to deny him that.\" For you\nknow, no one could say \"Nay\" to what he asked.\n\nBut the sheriff begged them not to let him have leave to touch a string,\nelse it would be all over with them altogether. If the lad leave, he\nbegged them to bind him to the birch that stood there.\n\nLittle Freddy was not slow in getting his fiddle to speak, and all that\nwere there fell a-dancing at once, those who went on two legs, and those\nwho went on four. Both the dean and the parson, the lawyer and the\nsheriff, masters and men, dogs and pigs--they all danced and laughed and\nbarked and squealed at one another. Some danced till they lay down and\ngasped, some danced till they fell in a swoon. It went badly with all of\nthem, but worst of all with the sheriff; for there he stood bound to the\nbirch, and he danced till he scraped the clothes off his back. I dare\nsay it was a sorry looking sight and a sore back.\n\nBut there was not one of them who thought of doing anything to Little\nFreddy, and away he went with his fiddle and his gun, whither he chose,\nand he lived merrily and happily all his days, for there was no one who\ncould say \"Nay\" to the first thing he asked for.","title":"East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon : $b with other Norwegian folk tales","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":31572}