Tales of Laughter / A third fairy book

by Unknown

III. THE DEATH OF PARTLET

Partlet and Chanticleer went to the nut-hill on another occasion, and they arranged that whichever of them found a nut should share it with the other.

Partlet found a huge nut, but said nothing about it, and meant to eat it all herself; but the kernel was so big that she could not swallow it. It stuck in her throat, and she was afraid she would be choked. She shrieked: “Chanticleer, Chanticleer, run and fetch some water as fast as you can, or I shall choke!”

So Chanticleer ran as fast as he could to the well, and said: “Well, well, you must give me some water! Partlet is out on the nut-hill; she has swallowed a big nut, and is choking.”

The well answered: “First you must run to my bride, and tell her to give you some red silk.”

Chanticleer ran to the bride, and said: “Bride, bride, give me some red silk; I will give the silk to the well, and the well will give me some water to take to Partlet, for she has swallowed a big nut and is choking.”

The bride answered: “Run first and fetch me a wreath which I left hanging on a willow.”

So Chanticleer ran to the willow, pulled the wreath off the branch, and brought it to the bride. The bride gave him the red silk, which he took to the well, and the well gave him the water for it. Then Chanticleer took the water to Partlet; but as it happened, she had choked in the meantime, and lay there dead and stiff. Chanticleer’s grief was so great that he cried aloud, and all the animals came and condoled with him.

Six mice built a little car to draw Partlet to the grave; and when the car was ready they harnessed themselves to it and drew Partlet away.

On the way, Reynard the fox joined them. “Where are you going, Chanticleer?” said he.

“I’m going to bury my wife, Partlet.”

“May I go with you?”

“Well, yes, if ride you will, you must jump up behind,

To carry weight in front, my horses aren’t inclined.”

So the fox took a seat at the back, and he was followed by the wolf, the bear, the stag, the lion, and all the other animals of the forest. The procession went on till they came to a stream.

“How shall we ever get over?” said Chanticleer.

A straw was lying by the stream, and it said: “I will stretch myself across, and then you can pass over upon me.”

But when the six mice got on to the straw it collapsed, and the mice fell into the water with it, and they were all drowned. So the travelers’ difficulty was as great as ever. Then a coal came along and said: “I am big enough; I will lie down and you can pass over me.”

So the coal laid itself across the stream, but unfortunately it just touched the water, hissed, went out, and was dead. A stone, seeing this, had pity on them, and, wanting to help Chanticleer, laid itself over the water. Now Chanticleer drew the car himself, and he just managed to get across with Partlet. Next he wanted to pull the others over who were hanging on behind, but it was too much for him, and the car fell back and they all fell into the water and were drowned.

So Chanticleer was left alone with the dead hen, and he dug a grave himself and laid her in it. Then he made a mound over it, and seated himself upon it and grieved till he died; and then they were all dead.

The Golden Goose

There was once a man who had three sons. The youngest of them was called Simpleton; he was scorned and despised by the others, and kept in the background.

The eldest son was going into the forest to cut wood, and, before he started, his mother gave him a nice sweet cake and a bottle of wine to take with him, so that he might not suffer from hunger or thirst. In the wood he met a little, old, gray man, who bade him good day, and said: “Give me a bit of the cake in your pocket, and let me have a drop of your wine. I am so hungry and thirsty.”

But the clever son said: “If I give you my cake and wine, I shan’t have enough for myself. Be off with you!”

He left the little man standing there, and went on his way. But he had not been long at work, cutting down a tree, before he made a false stroke, and dug the ax into his own arm, and he was obliged to go home to have it bound up.

Now, this was no accident; it was brought about by the little gray man.

The second son now had to go into the forest to cut wood, and, like the eldest, his mother gave him a sweet cake and a bottle of wine. In the same way the little gray man met him, and asked for a piece of his cake and a drop of his wine. But the second son made the same sensible answer: “If I give you any, I shall have the less for myself. Be off out of my way!” and he went on.

His punishment, however, was not long delayed. After a few blows at the tree, he hit his own leg, and had to be carried home.

Then Simpleton said: “Let me go to cut the wood, father.”

But his father said: “Your brothers have only come to harm by it; you had better leave it alone. You know nothing about it.” But Simpleton begged so hard to be allowed to go that at last his father said: “Well, off you go then. You will be wiser when you have hurt yourself.”

His mother gave him a cake which was mixed with water only and baked in the ashes, and a bottle of sour beer. When he reached the forest, like the others, he met the little gray man, who greeted him, and said: “Give me a bit of your cake and a drop of your wine. I am so hungry and thirsty.”

Simpleton answered: “I have only a cake baked in the ashes, and some sour beer; but, if you like such fare, we will sit down and eat it together.”

So they sat down; but when Simpleton pulled out his cake, it was a sweet, nice cake, and his sour beer was turned into good wine. So they ate and drank, and the little man said: “As you have such a kind heart, and are willing to share your possessions, I will give you good luck. There stands an old tree; cut it down, and you will find something at the roots.”

So saying, he disappeared.

Simpleton cut down the tree, and when it fell, lo, and behold! a goose was sitting among the roots, and its feathers were of pure gold. He picked it up, and taking it with him, went to an inn, where he meant to stay the night. The landlord had three daughters, who saw the goose, and were very curious as to what kind of bird it could be, and wanted to get one of its golden feathers.

The eldest thought: “There will soon be some opportunity for me to pull out one of the feathers,” and when Simpleton went outside, she took hold of its wing to pluck out a feather; but her hand stuck fast, and she could not get away.

Soon after, the second sister came up, meaning also to pluck out one of the golden feathers; but she had hardly touched her sister when she found herself held fast.

Lastly, the third one came, with the same intention, but the others screamed out: “Keep away! For goodness sake, keep away!”

But she, not knowing why she was to keep away, thought, “Why should I not be there, if they are there?”

So she ran up, but as soon as she touched her sisters she had to stay hanging on to them, and they all had to pass the night like this.

In the morning, Simpleton took up the goose under his arm, without noticing the three girls hanging on behind, so they had to keep running after, dodging his legs right and left.

In the middle of the fields they met the parson, who, when he saw the procession, cried out: “For shame, you bold girls! Why do you run after the lad like that? Do you call that proper behavior?”

Then he took hold of the hand of the youngest girl to pull her away; but no sooner had he touched her than he felt himself held fast, and he, too, had to run behind.

Soon after the sexton came up, and, seeing his master the parson treading on the heels of the three girls, cried out in amazement: “Hallo, your Reverence! Whither away so fast? Don’t forget that we have a christening!”

So saying, he plucked the parson by the sleeve, and soon found that he could not get away either.

As this party of five, one behind the other, tramped on, two peasants came along the road, carrying their hoes. The parson called them, and asked them to set the sexton and himself free. But as soon as ever they touched the sexton they were held fast, so now there were seven people running behind Simpleton and his goose.

By and by they reached a town where a king ruled whose only daughter was so solemn that nothing and nobody could make her laugh. So the king had proclaimed that whoever could bring her laughter should marry her.

When Simpleton heard this he took his goose, with all his following, before her, and when she saw these seven people running, one behind another, she burst into fits of laughter, and seemed as if she could never stop.

Thereupon Simpleton asked her in marriage. But the king did not like him for a son-in-law, and he made all sorts of conditions. First, he said Simpleton must bring him a man who could drink up a cellar full of wine.

Then Simpleton at once thought of the little gray man, who might be able to help him, and he went out to the forest to look for him. On the very spot where the tree that he had cut down had stood, he saw a man sitting with a very sad face. Simpleton asked him what was the matter, and he answered:

“I am so thirsty, and I can’t quench my thirst. I hate cold water, and I have already emptied a cask of wine; but what is a drop like that on a burning stone?”

“Well, there I can help you,” said Simpleton. “Come with me, and you shall soon have enough to drink and to spare.”

He led him to the king’s cellar, and the man set to upon the great casks, and he drank and drank till his sides ached, and by the end of the day the cellar was empty.

Then again Simpleton demanded his bride. But the king was annoyed that a wretched fellow called “Simpleton” should have his daughter, and he made new conditions. He was now to find a man who could eat up a mountain of bread.

Simpleton did not reflect long, but went straight to the forest, and there in the self-same place sat a man tightening a strap round his body, and making a very miserable face. He said: “I have eaten up a whole oven-full of rolls, but what is the good of that when any one is as hungry as I am. I am never satisfied. I have to tighten my belt every day if I am not to die of hunger.”

Simpleton was delighted, and said: “Get up and come with me. You shall have enough to eat.”

Then he took him to the court, where the king had caused all the flour in the kingdom to be brought together, and a huge mountain of bread to be baked. The man from the forest sat down before it and began to eat, and at the end of the day the whole mountain had disappeared.

Now, for the third time, Simpleton asked for his bride. But again the king tried to find an excuse, and demanded a ship which could sail on land as well as at sea.

“As soon as you can furnish it, you shall have my daughter,” he said.

Simpleton went straight to the forest, and there sat the little gray man to whom he had given his cake. The little man said: “I have eaten and drunk for you, and now I will give you the ship, too. I do it all because you were merciful to me.”

Then he gave him the ship which could sail on land as well as at sea, and when the king saw it he could no longer withhold his daughter. The marriage was celebrated, and, at the king’s death, Simpleton inherited the kingdom, and lived long and happily with his wife.

The Young Giant

Once upon a time there lived a husbandman who had a son who, when he was born, was no bigger than the length of a thumb, and who for many years did not grow a hair’s breadth taller.

One morning, just as the countryman was about to set out to plow his field, little Thumbling said:

“Father, I want to go, too.”

“I dare say you do,” said the man; “but you are much better at home. If I took you out I should be sure to lose you.”

Thereupon Thumbling fell a-crying, and cried so much that at length his father picked him up and put him in his pocket and set forth to his work.

When they reached the fields the man took his son out and set him down on the ridge of a newly turned furrow, so that he might see the world around him. Then suddenly from over the mountains a great giant came striding toward them.

“See, son,” said the husbandman, “here is an ogre coming to fetch you away because you were naughty and cried this morning.”

And the words had scarcely passed his lips when, in two great strides, the giant had reached little Thumbling’s side and had picked him up in his great hands and carried him away without uttering a sound.

The poor father stood dumb with fear, for he thought he should never see his little son again.

The giant, however, treated little Thumbling very kindly in his house in the woods. He kept him warm in his pocket, and fed him so heartily and well that Thumbling became a young giant himself, tall, and broad.

At the end of two years the old giant took him out into the woods to try his strength.

“Pull up that birch-tree for a staff to lean upon,” he said, and the youth obeyed and pulled it up by the roots as if it had been a mere weed.

The old giant still thought he should like him to be stronger, so, after taking great care of him for another two years, they again went out into the wood. This time Thumbling playfully uprooted a stout old oak, and the old giant, well pleased, cried:

“Now you are a credit to me,” and took him back to the field where he first found him.

Here the young giant’s father happened to be just then plowing; so Thumbling went up to him and said:

“See, father, to what a great big man your son has grown!”

But the peasant was afraid.

“Be off with you! I don’t know you,” he cried.

“But really and truly, father, I am your son,” he said. “Let me take the plow, for I can guide it quite as well as you.”

The father very unwillingly let go of the plow, for he was afraid of the giant, and sat down to watch. Then Thumbling laid one hand on the plowshare and straightway drove it so deep into the ground that the peasant cried:

“Now you will do more harm than good, if you drive so deep into the earth.”

Thereupon the young giant unharnessed the horses and began to draw the plow himself, first saying:

“Now, father, get you home and tell mother to cook a hearty meal, while I just run round the field.”

And in a very short time he had done what the peasant would have taken two whole days to do.

When all was finished, he laid plow, horse, and harrow over his shoulders and carried them home as easily as though they were a truss of hay.

When he reached the house, he saw his mother sitting on a bench in the courtyard.

“Oh, who is this frightful monster of a man?” she cried.

“That is our son,” said her husband.

“I cannot believe that,” replied the woman, “for our child was a tiny little thing,” and she begged the young giant to go away.

However, he did not take any notice of what she said, for, after feeding the horse in the stable, he came into the kitchen and sat himself down upon the edge of the dresser.

“Mother, mother,” he said, “I am so hungry. Give me my dinner.”

“Here it is,” said his mother, and set two enormous dishes of smoking stew upon the table.

It would have been enough to last the husbandman and his wife for eight whole days, but the giant ate it all up in five minutes, and then asked if they could give him more. But the woman shook her head, and said they had no more in the house.

“Mother,” he said, “I am fainting with hunger. That was a mere bite.”

The woman was so frightened at this that she ran and made some more stew in the largest fish kettle.

“Ah,” sighed the young giant, “this is something like a meal!”

But when he had finished he still felt hungry, and said:

“Well, father, I can see I shall starve if I come here to live. I will go and seek my fortune in the wide world, if you can procure me a bar of iron so strong that I cannot break it across my knee.”

The peasant quickly harnessed his two horses to the wagon, and from the smithy in the village he fetched an iron bar so heavy that the horses could hardly drag it. This the giant tried across his knee. Snap! it cracked in half, like a twig.

Then the peasant took his wagon and four horses to the smithy and brought back as heavy a bar as they could carry. But in a second the giant had broken it into two pieces and tossed them each aside.

“Father,” he said, “I need a stronger one yet. Take the wagon and eight horses to the smithy, and fetch me back as heavy a one as they can draw.”

This the countryman did, and again the youth broke it in two as easily as if he had cracked a nut.

“Well, father, I see you cannot get me anything strong enough. I must go and try my fortune without it.”

So he turned blacksmith and journeyed for many miles, until he came to a village, where dwelt a very grasping smith, who earned a great deal of money, but who gave not a penny of it away.

The giant stepped into his forge and asked if by any chance he were in want of help.

“What wages do you ask?” said the smith, looking the young man up and down; for, thought he: “Here is a fine, powerful fellow, who surely will be worth his salt.”

“I don’t want money,” replied the giant. “But here’s a bargain: every fortnight, when you give your workmen their wages, I will give you two strokes across your shoulders. It will be just a little amusement for me.”

The cunning smith agreed very willingly, for, he thought, in this way he would save a great deal of money.

However, next morning when the new journeyman started work, with the very first stroke he gave the red-hot iron, it shivered into a thousand pieces, and the anvil buried itself so deep in the earth that he could not pull it out again.

“Here, fellow,” cried his master, “you won’t suit me; you are far too clumsy. I must put an end to our bargain.”

“Just as you please,” said the other, “but you must pay me for the work I have done, so I will just give you one little tap on the shoulder.”

With that he gave the greedy smith such a blow that it knocked him flying over four hay-ricks. Then, picking up the stoutest iron bar he could find for a walking-stick, he set forth once more on his travels.

Presently he came to a farmhouse, where he inquired if they were in need of a bailiff. Now, the farmer just happened to need a head man, so he was engaged at once upon the same terms as he had arranged with the old blacksmith.

Next morning the farm servants were to go and fell trees in the wood, but just as they were ready to start they found the new bailiff was still in bed and fast asleep.

They shook him and shouted at him, but he would not open his eyes; he only grumbled at them and told them to be gone.

“I shall have done my work and reached home long before you,” he said.

So he stayed in bed for another two hours, then arose, and after eating a hearty breakfast he started with his cart and horses for the wood.

There was a narrow pathway through which he had to pass just before entering the wood, and after he had led his horses through this he went back and built up a barrier of brambles and furze and branches so thick that no horse could possibly force its way through.

Then he drove on and met his fellow-servants just leaving the wood on their way home.

“Drive on, my friends,” he said, “and I will be home before you even now.”

Then he pulled up a giant elm by its roots just on the border of the woods, and laying it on his cart, he turned and quickly overtook the others.

There they were, staring helplessly at the great barricade which barred their path, just as he had expected to find them.

“Ha, ha!” he chuckled, “you might just as well have slept an hour or two longer, for I told you you would not get home before me.”

Then, shouldering the tree, the horse and the cart, he pushed a way through the barrier as easily as if he had been carrying a bag of feathers.

When he got back to the farm he showed his new walking-stick, as he called the tree, to his master.

“Wife,” said the farmer, “we have indeed found a capital bailiff, and if he does need more sleep than the others, he works much better.”

So the months rolled by, until a whole year had come and gone, and the time had arrived to pay the servants their wages. But the farmer was overcome with fright when he remembered the blows the giant had to give him. So he begged him to change his mind and accept his whole farm and lands instead.

“No,” said the giant, “I am a bailiff, and a bailiff I intend to remain, so you must pay me the wages we agreed upon.”

The farmer now obtained a promise that he would give him a fortnight to think the matter over, and he secretly assembled all his friends and neighbors to discuss what he should do.

The only thing they could suggest was to slay the bailiff, and it was arranged that he should be told to bring a cartload of millstones to the edge of the well, and then the farmer was to send him down to the bottom to clean it out. When the giant was safely at the bottom, all the friends and neighbors would come and roll the millstones down upon him.

Everything happened as had been planned, and when the bailiff was at the bottom of the well the millstones were rolled in. As each one fell, the water splashed over the top in a great wave.

It seemed impossible that the bailiff should not be crushed to death, but suddenly the neighbors heard him call out:

“I say, you up there, shoo away the chickens; they are scattering the gravel in my eyes!”

Then he quickly finished his task, and presently jumped out of the well with one of the millstones hanging round his neck.

“Have not I got a handsome collar?” he said.

Again the farmer was overcome with fear, and again he called together all his friends and relations. The only thing they could think of was to advise the farmer to send the bailiff to the haunted mill by night, and order him to grind eight bushels of corn. “For,” said they, “no man who has spent a night there has ever come out alive.”

So the bailiff went and fetched the corn from the loft. He put two bushels in his right-hand pocket, and two in his left, and the rest he carried in a sack across his shoulders.

When he reached the mill the miller told him it was haunted, and he had best come to grind his corn in the daytime if he did not wish to lose his life.

“Tush, tush!” said the giant. “Make haste and leave me alone. Come back in the morning, and I promise you will find me all safe and sound.”

Then he entered the mill and emptied his sacks into the hopper, and by twelve o’clock he had finished his work. Feeling a little weary, he sat down to rest, but noticed with great interest the door opening very slowly, all by itself.

Then a table laden with rich food and wines came and set itself before him. Still there was no living creature to be seen. Next the chairs came and placed themselves round the festive board, and then he noticed fingers handling the knives and forks and placing food upon the plates.

The giant soon got tired of watching this, and as he felt quite ready for a meal himself, he drew up his chair to the table and partook of a hearty repast.

Just as he finished he felt a breath of air blow out all the lights, and then a thundering blow fell upon his head.

“Well, I’m not going to put up with this,” he said. “If I feel any more taps like that one I will just tap back.”

Then a great battle raged, and blows fell thickly all around, but he never let himself feel any fear, but only gave back as many as he could.

When morning came the miller hastened to the mill expecting to find the giant dead, but he was greeted with a hearty laugh.

“Well, miller,” said the giant, “somebody has been slapping me in the night, but I guess they have had as good blows as they have given, and I have managed to eat a hearty supper into the bargain.”

The miller was overjoyed to find the evil spell had been broken, and begged the giant to accept some money as reward, but this he refused. Slinging the meal on his shoulders, he went back to ask his wages from the farmer.

The farmer was furious to see his bailiff safe and sound again, and paced his floor to and fro, shivering and shaking like a leaf. He felt he could not breathe, so he threw the window open, and before he knew what had happened the giant had sent him flying out of the window straight over the hills into Nowhere Land. And as the farmer had not waited to receive the second stroke, the giant gave it to his wife, and she flew out to join her husband, and for aught I know they are flying through the air still.

The Sweet Soup

Once on a time there was a poor but very good little girl, who lived alone with her mother, and when my story begins, they had nothing in the house to eat. So the child went out into the forest, and there she met an old woman, who already knew her distress, and who presented her with a pot which had the following power. If one said to it, “Boil, little pot!” it would cook sweet soup; and when one said: “Stop, little pot!” it would immediately cease to boil. The little girl took the pot home to her mother, and now their poverty and distresses were at an end, for they could have sweet broth as often as they pleased.

One day, however, the little girl went out, and in her absence the mother said: “Boil, little pot!” So it began to cook, and she soon ate all she wished; but when the poor woman wanted to have the pot stop, she found she did not know the word. Away, therefore, the pot boiled, and very quickly was over the edge; and as it boiled and boiled the kitchen presently became full, then the house, and the next house, and soon the whole street. It seemed likely to satisfy all the world, for, though there was the greatest necessity to do so, nobody knew how to stop it. At last, when only a very small cottage of all the village was left unfilled with soup, the child returned and said at once: “Stop, little pot!”

Immediately it ceased to boil; but whoever wishes to enter the village now must eat his way through the soup!!!

Seven at one Blow

A tailor sat in his workroom one morning, stitching away busily at a coat for the Lord Mayor. He whistled and sang so gaily that all the little boys who passed the shop on their way to school thought what a fine thing it was to be a tailor, and told one another that when they grew to be men they’d be tailors, too.

“How hungry I feel, to be sure!” cried the little man, at last; “but I’m far too busy to trouble about eating. I must finish his lordship’s coat before I touch a morsel of food,” and he broke once more into a merry song.

“Fine new jam for sale,” sang out an old woman, as she walked along the street.

“Jam! I can’t resist such a treat,” said the tailor; and, running to the door, he shouted: “This way for jam, dame; show me a pot of your very finest.”

The woman handed him jar after jar, but he found fault with all. At last he hit upon some to his liking.

“And how many pounds will you take, sir?”

“I’ll take four ounces,” he replied, in a solemn tone, “and mind you give me good weight.”

The old woman was very angry, for she had expected to sell several pounds, at least; and she went off grumbling, after she had weighed out the four ounces.

“Now for a feed!” cried the little man, taking a loaf from the cupboard as he spoke. He cut off a huge slice, and spread the jam on quite half an inch thick; then he suddenly remembered his work.

“It will never do to get jam on the Lord Mayor’s coat, so I’ll finish it off before I take even one bite,” said he. So he picked up his work once more, and his needle flew in and out like lightning.

I am afraid the Lord Mayor had some stitches in his garment that were quite a quarter of an inch long.

The tailor glanced longingly at his slice of bread and jam once or twice, but when he looked the third time it was quite covered with flies, and a fine feast they were having off it.

This was too much for the little fellow. Up he jumped, crying:

“So you think I provide bread and jam for you, indeed! Well, we’ll very soon see! Take that!” and he struck the flies such a heavy blow with a duster that no fewer than seven lay dead upon the table, while the others flew up to the ceiling in great haste.

“Seven at one blow!” said the little man with great pride. “Such a brave deed ought to be known all over the town, and it won’t be my fault if folks fail to hear of it.”

So he cut out a wide belt, and stitched on it in big golden letters the words “Seven at one blow.” When this was done he fastened it round him, crying:

“I’m cut out for something better than a tailor, it’s quite clear. I’m one of the world’s great heroes, and I’ll be off at once to seek my fortune.”

He glanced round the cottage, but there was nothing of value to take with him. The only thing he possessed in the world was a small cheese.

“You may as well come, too,” said he, stowing away the cheese in his pocket, “and now I’m off.”

When he got into the street the neighbors all crowded round him to read the words on his belt.

“Seven at one blow!” said they to one another. “What a blessing he’s going; for it wouldn’t be safe to have a man about us who could kill seven of us at one stroke.”

You see, they didn’t know that the tailor had only killed flies; they took it to mean men.

He jogged along for some miles until he came to a hedge, where a little bird was caught in the branches.

“Come along,” said the tailor; “I’ll have you to keep my cheese company”; so he caught the bird and put it carefully into his pocket with the cheese.

Soon he reached a lofty mountain, and he made up his mind to climb it and see what was going on at the other side. When he reached the top, there stood a huge giant, gazing down into the valley below.

“Good day,” said the tailor.

The giant turned round, and seeing nobody but the little tailor there, he cried with scorn:

“And what might you be doing here, might I ask? You’d best be off at once.”

“Not so fast, my friend,” said the little man; “read this.”

“Seven at one blow,” read the giant, and he began to wish he’d been more civil.

“Well, I’m sure nobody would think it to look at you,” he replied; “but since you are so clever, do this,” and he picked up a stone and squeezed it until water ran out.

“Do that! Why, it’s mere child’s play to me,” and the man took out his cheese and squeezed it until the whey ran from it. “Now who is cleverer?” asked the tailor. “You see, I can squeeze milk out, while you only get water.”

The giant was too surprised to utter a word for a few minutes; then, taking up another stone, he threw it so high into the air that for a moment they couldn’t see where it went; then down it fell to the ground again.

“Good!” said the tailor; “but I’ll throw a stone that won’t come back again at all.”

Taking the little bird from his pocket, he threw it into the air, and the bird, glad to get away, flew right off and never returned.

This sort of thing didn’t suit the giant at all, for he wasn’t used to being beaten by any one.

“Here’s something that you’ll never manage,” said he to the little man. “Just come and help me to carry this fallen oak-tree for a few miles.”

“Delighted!” said the tailor, “and I’ll take the end with the branches, for it’s sure to be heavier.”

“Agreed,” replied the giant, and he lifted the heavy trunk on to his shoulder, while the tailor climbed up among the branches at the other end, and sang with all his might, as though carrying a tree was nothing to him.

The poor giant, who was holding the tree-trunk and the little tailor as well, soon grew tired.

“I’m going to let it fall!” he shouted, and the tailor jumped down from the branches, and pretended he had been helping all the time.

“The idea of a man your size finding a tree too heavy to carry!” laughed the little tailor.

“You are a clever little fellow, and no mistake,” replied the giant, “and if you’ll only come and spend the night in our cave, we shall be delighted to have you.”

“I shall have great pleasure in coming, my friend,” answered the little tailor, and together they set off for the giant’s home.

There were seven more giants in the cave, and each one of them was eating a roasted pig for his supper. They gave the little man some food, and then showed him a bed in which he might pass the night. It was so big that, after tossing about for half an hour in it, the tailor thought he would be more comfortable if he slept in the corner, so he crept out without being noticed.

In the middle of the night the giant stole out of bed and went up to the one where he thought the little man was fast asleep. Taking a big bar of iron, he struck such a heavy blow at it that he woke up all the other giants.

“Keep quiet, friends,” said he. “I’ve just killed the little scamp.”

The tailor made his escape as soon as possible, and he journeyed on for many miles, until he began to feel very tired, so he lay down under a tree, and was soon fast asleep. When he awoke, he found a big crowd of people standing round him. Up walked one very wise-looking old man, who was really the king’s prime minister.

“Is it true that you have killed seven at one blow?” he asked.

“It is a fact,” answered the little tailor.

“Then come with me to the king, my friend, for he’s been searching for a brave man like you for some time past. You are to be made captain of his army, and the king will give you a fine house to live in.”

“That I will,” replied the little man. “It is just the sort of thing that will suit me, and I’ll come at once.”

He hadn’t been in the king’s service long before every one grew jealous of him. The soldiers were afraid that, if they offended him, he would make short work of them all, while the members of the king’s household didn’t fancy the idea of making such a fuss over a stranger.

So the soldiers went in a body to the king and asked that another captain should be put over them, for they were afraid of this one.

The king didn’t like to refuse, for fear they should all desert, and yet he didn’t dare get rid of the captain, in case such a strong and brave man should try to have his revenge.

At last the king hit upon a plan. In some woods close by there lived two giants, who were the terror of the country side; they robbed all the travelers, and if any resistance was offered they killed the men on the spot.

Sending for the little tailor, he said:

“Knowing you to be the bravest man in my kingdom, I want to ask a favor of you. If you will kill these two giants, and bring me back proof that they are dead, you shall marry the princess, my daughter, and have half my kingdom. You shall also take one hundred men to help you, and you are to set off at once.”

“A hundred men, your majesty! Pray, what do I want with a hundred men? If I can kill seven at one blow, I needn’t be afraid of two. I’ll kill them fast enough, never fear.”

The tailor chose ten strong men, and told them to await him on the border of the wood, while he went on quite alone. He could hear the giants snoring for quite half an hour before he reached them, so he knew in which direction to go.

He found the pair fast asleep under a tree, so he filled his pockets with stones and climbed up into the branches over their heads. Then he began to pelt one of the giants with the missiles, until after a few minutes one of the men awoke. Giving the other a rough push, he cried:

“If you strike me like that again, I’ll know the reason why.”

“I didn’t touch you,” said the other giant crossly, and they were soon fast asleep once more.

Then the tailor threw stones at the other man, and soon he awoke as the first had done.

“What did you throw that at me for?” said he.

“You are dreaming,” answered the other, “I didn’t throw anything.”

No sooner were they fast asleep again, than the little man began to pelt them afresh.

Up they both sprang, and seizing each other, they began to fight in real earnest. Not content with using their fists, they tore up huge trees by the roots, and beat each other until very soon the pair lay dead on the ground.

Down climbed the little tailor, and taking his sword in his hand he plunged it into each giant, and then went back to the edge of the forest where the ten men were waiting for him.

“They are as dead as two door nails,” shouted the little man. “I don’t say that I had an easy task, for they tore up trees by their roots to try to protect themselves with, but, of course, it was no good. What were two giants to a man who has slain seven at one blow?”

But the men wouldn’t believe it until they went into the forest and saw the two dead bodies, lying each in a pool of blood, while the ground was covered with uprooted trees.

Back they went to the king, but instead of handing over half his kingdom, as he had promised, his majesty told the little tailor that there was still another brave deed for him to do before he got the princess for his bride.

“Just name it, then; I’m more than ready,” was the man’s reply.

“You are to kill the famous unicorn that is running wild in the forest and doing so much damage. When this is done you shall have your reward at once.”

“No trouble at all, your majesty. I’ll get rid of him in a twinkling.”

He made the ten men wait for him at the entrance to the wood, as they had done the first time, and taking a stout rope and a saw he entered the forest alone.

Up came the unicorn, but just as it was about to rush at the man he darted behind a big tree.

The unicorn dashed with such force against the tree that its horn was caught quite fast and it was kept a prisoner.

Taking his rope, he tied it tightly round the animal, and, after sawing off the horn, back he went to the palace, leading the unicorn by his side.

But even then the king was not satisfied, and he made the little tailor catch a wild boar that had been seen wandering in the woods.

He took a party of huntsmen with him, but again he made them wait on the outskirts of the forest while he went on by himself.

The wild boar made a dash at the little tailor, but the man was too quick for it. He slipped into a little building close by, with the animal at his heels. Then, catching sight of a small window, he forced his way out into the forest again, and while the boar, who was too big and clumsy to follow, stood gazing at the spot where he had disappeared, the tailor ran round and closed the door, keeping the animal quite secure inside. Then he called the hunters, who shot the boar and carried the body back to the palace.

This time the king was obliged to keep his promise; so the little tailor became a prince, and a grand wedding they had, too.

When they had been married for about a couple of years, the princess once overheard her husband talking in his sleep.

“Boy, if you have put a patch on that waistcoat, take the Lord Mayor’s coat home at once, or I’ll box your ears,” he said.

“Oh, dear,” cried the princess, “to think that I’ve married a common tailor! Whatever can I do to get rid of him?”

So she told her father the story, and the king said she need not worry, for he would find a way out of the difficulty. She was to leave the door open that night, and while the tailor was sleeping, the king’s servants should steal into the room, bind the tailor, and take him away to be killed.

The princess promised to see that everything was in readiness, and she tripped about all day with a very light heart.

She little knew that one of the tailor’s servants had overheard their cruel plot, and carried the news straight to his master.

That night, when the princess thought her husband was sleeping fast, she crept to the door and opened it.

To her great terror, the tailor began to speak.

“Boy, take the Lord Mayor’s coat home, or I’ll box your ears. Haven’t I killed seven at one blow? Haven’t I slain two giants, a unicorn, and a wild boar? What do I care for the men who are standing outside my door at this moment?”

At these words off flew the men as though they had been shot from a gun, and no more attempts were ever made on his life. So the princess had to make the best of a bad job.

He lived on, and when the old king died he ascended the throne in his stead. So the brave little tailor became ruler over the whole kingdom; and his motto throughout his whole life was, “Seven at one blow.”

The Cat and the Mouse in Partnership

A cat having made the acquaintance of a mouse, told her so much of the great love and affection that he had for her, that the mouse at last consented to live in the same house with him, and to have their domestic affairs in common. “But we must provide for the winter,” said the cat, “or we shall be starved; you, little mouse, cannot go everywhere looking for food, or you will meet with an accident.”

This advice was followed, and a pot was brought with some grease in it. However, when they had got it, they could not imagine where it should be put; but at last, after a long consideration, the cat said: “I know no better place to put it than in the church, for there no one dares to steal anything; we will set it beneath the organ, and not touch it till we really want it.”

So the pot was put away in safety; but not long afterward the cat began to wish for it again, so he spoke to the mouse and said: “I have to tell you that I am asked by my aunt to stand godfather to a little son, white with brown marks, whom she has just brought into the world, and so I must go to the christening. Let me go out to-day, and do you stop at home and keep house.”

“Certainly,” answered the mouse; “pray, go; and if you eat anything nice, think of me; I would also willingly drink a little of the sweet red christening-wine.”

But, alas! it was all a story; for the cat had no aunt, and had not been asked to stand godfather to any one. He went straight to the church, crept up to the grease pot, and licked it till he had eaten off the top; then he took a walk on the roofs of the houses in the town, thinking over his situation, and now and then stretching himself in the sun and stroking his whiskers as often as he thought of his meal. When it was evening he went home again, and the mouse said: “So you have come at last; what a charming day you must have had!”

“Yes,” answered the cat; “it went off very well!”

“What have you named the kitten?” asked the mouse.

“Top-off!” said the cat very quickly.

“Top-off!” replied the mouse; “that is a curious and remarkable name; is it common in your family?”

“What does that matter?” said the cat; “it is not worse than Crumb-stealer, as your children are called.”

Not long afterward the cat felt the same longing as before, and said to the mouse: “You must oblige me by taking care of the house once more by yourself; I am again asked to stand godfather, and, since the youngster has a white ring round his neck, I cannot get off the invitation.” So the good little mouse consented, and the cat crept away behind the wall to the church again, and ate half the contents of the grease-pot. “Nothing tastes better than what one eats by one’s self,” said he, quite contented with his day’s work; and when he came home the mouse asked how this child was named.

“Half-out,” answered the cat.

“Half-out! What do you mean? I never heard such a name before in my life; I will wager anything it is not in the calendar,” but the cat replied nothing.

Pussy’s mouth soon began to water again at the recollection of the feasting. “All good things come in threes,” said he to the mouse. “I am again required to be godfather; this child is quite black, and has little white claws, but not a single white hair on his body; such a thing only happens once in two years, so pray excuse me this time.”

“Top-off! Half-out!” answered the mouse; “those are such curious names, they make me a bit suspicious.”

“Ah!” replied the cat, “there you sit in your gray coat and long tail, thinking nonsense. That comes of never going out.”

The mouse busied herself during the cat’s absence in putting the house in order, but meanwhile greedy puss licked the grease-pot clean out. “When it is all done one will rest in peace,” thought he to himself, and as soon as night came he went home fat and tired. The mouse, however, again asked what name the third child had received. “It will not please you any better,” answered the cat, “for he is called All-out.”

“All-out!” exclaimed the mouse; “well, that is certainly the most curious name by far. I have never yet seen it in print. All-out! What can that mean?” and, shaking her head, she rolled herself up and went to sleep.

After that nobody else asked the cat to stand godfather; but the winter had arrived, and nothing more was to be picked up out of doors; so the mouse bethought herself of their store of provision, and said, “Come, friend cat, we will go to our grease-pot which we laid by; it will taste well now.”

“Yes, indeed,” replied the cat; “it will taste as well as if you stroked your tongue against the window.”

So they set out on their journey, and when they arrived at the church the pot stood in its old place—but it was empty! “Ah,” said the mouse, “I see what has happened; now I know you are indeed a faithful friend. You have eaten the whole as you stood godfather; first Top-off, then Half-out, then——”

“Will you be quiet?” cried the cat. “Not a word, or I’ll eat you.” But the poor mouse had “All-out” at her tongue’s end, and had scarcely uttered it when the cat made a spring, seized her in his mouth, and swallowed her.

This happens every day in the world.

Old Sultan

A certain peasant had a trusty dog called Sultan, who had grown quite old in his service, and had lost all his teeth, so that he could not hold anything fast. One day the peasant stood with his wife at the house door and said: “This morning I shall shoot old Sultan, for he is no longer of any use.” His wife, however, compassionating the poor animal, replied: “Well, since he has served us so long and so faithfully, I think we may very well afford him food for the rest of his life.” “Eh, what?” replied her husband; “you are not very clever; he has not a tooth in his head, and never a thief is afraid of him, so he must trot off. If he has served us, he has also received his dinner every day.”

The poor dog, lying stretched out in the sun not far from his master, heard all he said, and was much troubled at learning that the morrow would be his last day. He had one good friend, the wolf in the forest, to whom he slipped at evening, and complained of the sad fate which awaited him. “Be of good courage, my father,” said the wolf; “I will help you out of your trouble. I have just thought of something. Early to-morrow morning your master goes haymaking with his wife, and they will take with them their child, because no one will be left in the house, and while they are at work they will put him behind the hedge in the shade, and set you by to watch him. I will then spring out of the wood and steal away the child, and you must run after me hotly as if you were pursuing me. I will let it fall, and you shall take it back to its parents, who will then believe you have saved it, and they will be too thankful to do you any injury; and so you will come into great favor, and they will never let you want again.”

This plan pleased the dog, and it was carried out exactly as proposed. The father cried out when he saw the wolf running off with the child, but as old Sultan brought it back he was highly pleased, and stroked him, and said: “Not a hair of your head shall be touched; you shall eat your meals in comfort to the end of your days.” He then told his wife to go home and cook old Sultan some bread and broth, which would not need biting, and also to bring the pillow out of his bed, that he might give it to him for a resting-place. Henceforth old Sultan had as much as he could wish for himself; and soon afterward the wolf visited him and congratulated him on his prosperous circumstances. “But, my father,” said he slyly, “you will close your eyes if I by accident steal away a fat sheep from your master.” “Reckon not on that,” replied the dog; “my master believes me faithful; I dare not give you what you ask.” The wolf, however, thought he was not in earnest, and by night came slinking into the yard to fetch away the sheep. But the peasant, to whom the dog had communicated the design of the wolf, caught him and gave him a sound thrashing with the flail. The wolf was obliged to scamper off, but he cried out to the dog: “Wait a bit, you rascal, you shall pay for this!”

The next morning the wolf sent the boar to challenge the dog, that they might settle their affair in the forest. Old Sultan, however, could find no other second than a cat, who had only three legs, and, as they went out together, the poor cat limped along, holding her tail high in the air from pain. The wolf and his second were already on the spot selected, but as they saw their opponent coming they thought he was bringing a great sabre with him, because they saw in front the erect tail of the cat; and, whenever the poor animal hopped on its three legs, they thought nothing else than that he was going to take up a great stone to throw at them. Both of them, thereupon, became very nervous, and the boar crept into a heap of dead leaves, and the wolf climbed up a tree. As soon as the dog and cat arrived on the spot they wondered what had become of their adversary. The wild boar, however, had not quite concealed himself, for the tips of his ears were sticking out; and, while the cat was considering them attentively, the boar twitched one of them, and the cat took it for a mouse, and, making a spring, gave it a good bite. At this the boar shook himself with a great cry, and ran away, calling out, “There sits the guilty one, up in the tree!” The dog and the cat looked up and saw the wolf, who was ashamed at himself for being so fearful, and, begging the dog’s pardon, entered into treaty with him.

The Nail

A tradesman had once transacted a good day’s business at a fair, disposed of all his goods, and filled his purse with gold and silver. He prepared afterward to return, in order to reach home by the evening, so he strapped his portmanteau, with the money in it, upon his horse’s back, and rode off. At noon he baited in a small town, and as he was about to set out again, the stable-boy who brought his horse said to him: “Sir, a nail is wanting in the shoe on the left hind foot of your animal.”

“Let it be wanting,” replied the tradesman; “I am in a hurry and the iron will doubtless hold the six hours I have yet to travel.”

Late in the afternoon he had to dismount again, and feed his horse, and at this place also the boy came and told him that a nail was wanting in one of the shoes, and asked him whether he should take the horse to a farrier. “No, no, let it be!” replied the master; “it will last out the couple of hours that I have now to travel; I am in haste.” So saying he rode off; but his horse soon began to limp, and from limping it came to stumbling, and presently the beast fell down and broke its leg. Thereupon the tradesman had to leave his unfortunate horse lying on the road, to unbuckle the portmanteau, and to walk home with it upon his shoulder, where he arrived at last late at night.

“And all this misfortune,” said he to himself, “is owing to the want of a nail. More haste, the less speed!”

The Fox and the Horse

There was once a farmer who had a horse which served him faithfully till he was too old to work any longer, and then his master would not give him anything to eat, but said: “I cannot really find any use for you now, but still I mean you well, and so, if you will show yourself strong enough to bring home a lion, I will requite you; but now you must make yourself scarce in this stable!” So saying, the farmer drove the poor horse out; and he went with drooping head toward the forest to shelter himself there from the weather. In among the trees he met a fox, who asked him why he looked so careworn and walked so downcast.

“Alas!” said the horse, “avarice and fidelity dwell not in the same house together; my master has forgotten all the services which I have rendered him for so many years, and, because I am unable now to work any longer, he will not give me any fodder, but has driven me out of the stable.”

“Without any hope?” inquired the fox.

“The hope is slight enough,” replied the horse; “he said that if I could manage to bring him back a lion he would receive me; but he knows well I cannot do that.”

“Then I will help you,” replied the fox; “now lie down and stretch yourself out, and do not stir, so that you may appear dead.”

The horse, accordingly, did as he was bid, and the fox went to the lion, whose den was not very far off, and said to him, “Near here lies a dead horse; come with me and you may make a capital meal.” The lion accompanied the fox, and when they came to the horse the fox said: “Hist! listen to what I am about to say; you can have this beast at your convenience; I will bind it to you by the tail, and you shall then drag it away to your den, and devour it at your leisure.” This advice pleased the lion, and, in order that the fox might knot the horse’s tail fast to him, he stood with his back toward it, quite still. The fox, however, cunningly tied the lion’s legs together with the hairs of the horse’s tail, and pulled and knotted all so carefully that no strength could have divided it. As soon as his work was finished the fox tapped the horse on the shoulder, and cried, “Drag, my friend, drag!” The horse jumped up at once and drew the lion away with him. The beast soon began to roar, so that all the birds in the forest flew away in terror, but the horse let him roar while he quietly dragged him to his master’s door. Now, when the farmer saw this proof of the fidelity of his horse, he thought better of his former resolution, and said to the faithful animal: “You shall remain with me now, and live at your ease.” And so the good horse had good meals and good treatment till he died.

The Giant and the Tailor

A certain tailor, who was a large boaster but a very small performer, took it once into his head to go and look about him in the world. As soon as he could, he left his workshop, and traveled away over hills and valleys, now on this road, and now on that; but still onward. After he had gone some way, he perceived in the distance a steep mountain, and behind it a lofty tower, which rose from the midst of a wild, dense forest. “Good gracious!” cried the tailor, “what is this?” and driven by his curiosity, he went rapidly toward the place. But he opened his mouth and eyes wide enough when he got nearer; for the tower had legs, and sprang in a trice over the steep hill, and stood up, a mighty giant, before the tailor. “What are you about here, you puny fly-legs?” asked the giant in a voice which rumbled on all sides like thunder.

“I am trying to earn a piece of bread in this forest,” whispered the tailor.

“Well, then, it is time you entered my service,” said the giant fiercely.

“If it must be so, why not?” said the tailor humbly; “but what wage shall I have?” “What wage shall you have?” repeated the giant contemptuously; “listen and I will tell you: every year, three hundred and sixty-five days, and one besides, if it be leap-year. Is that right?”

“Quite,” said the tailor; but thought to himself: “One must cut according to his cloth; I will seek to make myself free very soon.”

“Go, little rascal, and fetch me a glass of water!” cried the giant.

“Why not the whole well, and its spring, too?” said the tailor, but fetched as he was bid. “What! the well and its spring, too?” bellowed the giant, who was rather cowardly and weak, and so began to be afraid, thinking to himself: “This fellow can do more than roast apples; he has a heap of courage. I must take care, or he will be too much of a servant for me!” So, when the tailor returned with the water, the giant sent him to fetch a couple of bundles of faggots from the forest, and bring them home. “Why not the whole forest at one stroke, every tree, young and old, knotty and smooth?” asked the tailor, and went away. “What! the whole forest, and the well, too, and its spring!” murmured the frightened giant in his beard; and he began to be still more afraid, and believed that the tailor was too great a man for him, and not fit for his servant. However, when the tailor returned with his load of faggots, the giant told him to shoot two or three wild boars for their supper. “Why not rather a thousand at one shot, and the rest afterward?” cried the boaster. “What, what!” gasped the cowardly giant, terribly frightened. “Oh, well! that is enough for to-day; you may go to sleep now!”

The poor giant, however, was so very much afraid of the little tailor that he could not close his eyes all the night, but tossed about thinking how to get rid of his servant, whom he regarded as an enchanter conspiring against his life. With time comes counsel. The following morning the giant and the dwarf went together to a marsh where a great many willow-trees were growing. When they got there the giant said: “Seat yourself on one of these willow rods, tailor; on my life I only wish to see if you are in a condition to bend it down.”

The boasting tailor climbed the tree, and perched himself on a bough, and then, holding his breath, he made himself heavy enough thereby, to bend the tree down. Soon, however, he had to take breath again, and immediately, having been unfortunate enough to come without his goose in his pocket, the bough flew up, and to the great joy of the giant, carried the tailor with it so high into the air that he went out of sight. And whether he has since fallen down again, or is yet flying about in the air, I am unable to tell you satisfactorily.

The Spider and the Flea

A spider and a Flea dwelt together in one house, and brewed their beer in an egg-shell. One day, when the Spider was stirring it up, she fell in and scalded herself. Thereupon the Flea began to scream. And then the door asked: “Why are you screaming, Flea?”

“Because little Spider has scalded herself in the beer-tub,” replied she.

Thereupon the door began to creak as if it were in pain; and a broom, which stood in the corner, asked, “What are you creaking for, door?”

“May I not creak?” it replied:

“The little Spider’s scalt herself,

And the Flea weeps.”

So the broom began to sweep industriously, and presently a little cart came by, and asked the reason. “May I not sweep?” replied the broom:

“The little Spider’s scalt herself,

And the Flea weeps;

The little door creaks with the pain,”—

Thereupon the little cart said: “So will I run,” and began to run very fast, past a heap of ashes, which cried out: “Why do you run, little cart?”

“Because,” replied the cart:

“The little Spider’s scalt herself,

And the Flea weeps;

The little door creaks with the pain,

And the broom sweeps.”

“Then,” said the ashes, “I will burn furiously.” Now, next the ashes there grew a tree, which asked: “Little heap, why do you burn?”

“Because,” was the reply:

“The little Spider’s scalt herself,

And the Flea weeps;

The little door creaks with the pain,

And the broom sweeps;

The little cart runs on so fast,”—

Thereupon the tree cried, “I will shake myself!” and went on shaking till all its leaves fell off.

A little girl passing by with a water-pitcher saw it shaking, and asked: “Why do you shake yourself, little tree?”

“Why may I not?” said the tree:

“The little Spider’s scalt herself,

And the Flea weeps;

The little door creaks with the pain,

And the broom sweeps;

The little cart runs on so fast,

And the ashes burn.”

Then the maiden said: “If so, I will break my pitcher”; and she threw it down and broke it.

At this the streamlet, from which she drew the water, asked: “Why do you break your pitcher, my little girl?”

“Why may I not?” she replied; for

“The little Spider’s scalt herself,

And the Flea weeps;

The little door creaks with the pain,

And the broom sweeps;

The little cart runs on so fast,

And the ashes burn;

The little tree shakes down its leaves—

Now it is my turn!”

“Ah, then,” said the streamlet, “now must I begin to flow.” And it flowed and flowed along, in a great stream, which kept getting bigger and bigger, until at last it swallowed up the little girl, the little tree, the ashes, the cart, the broom, the door, the Flea, and, last of all, the Spider, all together.

The Little Shepherd Boy

Once upon a time there was a little shepherd boy who was famed far and wide for the wise answers which he gave to all questions. Now the king of the country heard of this lad, but he would not believe what was said about him, so the boy was ordered to come to court. When he arrived the king said to him: “If you can give me answers to each of the three questions which I will now put to you, I will bring you up as my own child, and you shall live here with me in my palace.”

“What are these three questions?” asked the boy.

“The first is, How many drops of water are there in the sea?”

“My lord king,” replied the shepherd boy, “let all the waters be stopped up on the earth, so that not one drop shall run into the sea before I count it, and then I will tell you how many drops there are in the sea!”

“The second question,” said the king, “is: How many stars are there in the sky?”

“Give me a large sheet of paper,” said the boy; and then he made in it with a pin so many minute holes that they were far too numerous to see or to count, and dazzled the eyes of whomsoever looked at them. This done, he said: “So many stars are there in the sky as there are holes in this paper; now count them.” But nobody was able. Thereupon the king said: “The third question is: How many seconds are there in eternity?”

“In Lower Pomerania is situate the adamantine mountain, one mile in height, one mile in breadth, and one mile deep; and thither comes a bird once in every thousand years which rubs its beak against the hill, and, when the whole shall be rubbed away, then will the first second of eternity be gone by.”

“You have answered the three questions like a sage,” said the king, “and from henceforward you shall live with me in my palace, and I will treat you as my own child.”

The Seven Swabians

There were once seven Swabians in company, the first of whom was named Schulz, the second Jacky, the third Marli, the fourth Jergli, the fifth Michael, the sixth Hans, and the seventh Veitli; and they all were traveling in search of adventures, and for the performance of mighty deeds. In order that they might not be without protection, they thought fit to carry along with them a very long and strong pole. Upon this they all seven held, and in front the boldest and most courageous man, who was Schulz, walked, while the others followed behind, and Veitli was last.

One day in July, after they had traveled some distance, and had nearly entered the village where they intended to pass the night, it happened that just as they came to a large meadow a hornet or dragon-fly flew out from behind a bush and hummed about the travelers in a warlike manner. Schulz was frightened and almost let go the pole, and the perspiration stood all over his body from terror. “Listen, listen!” he cried to his companions; “I hear a trumpeting!” Jacky, who was last but one in the row, and had got I know not what into his nose, exclaimed: “Something certainly is at hand, for I can smell brimstone and powder!” At these words Schulz sprang over a hedge, in a trice, in his haste to escape, and, happening to alight on the prongs of a rake which was left in the field by the haymakers, the handle sprang up and gave him an awkward blow on the forehead. “Oh! oh! oh! woe is me!” cried Schulz; “take me prisoner, I give myself up, I surrender!” The six others thereupon jumped over the hedge too, and cried likewise: “We surrender if you surrender! we surrender if you surrender!”

At length, when they found no enemy came to bind and take them away, they saw they were deceived, and in order that the tale might not be told of them among the villagers, and they get laughed at and mocked, they took an oath among themselves never to say anything about it unless any one of them should open his mouth unawares.

After this adventure they went farther, but the second danger they met with must not be compared with the first. For after several days had elapsed their road chanced to lead them through an unplowed field where a hare was lying prone in the sun, with his ears pricked up to catch every sound, and his large, glossy eyes wide open. The seven Swabians were terribly frightened at the sight of this frightful, ferocious animal, and they took counsel together what would be the least dangerous plan to adopt, for if they fled away it was to be feared that the monster would pursue them and cut them to pieces. So they resolved to stand and have a great battle; for, said they, “Bravely dared is half won!” All seven, therefore, grasped hold of their spear, Schulz being among the foremost and Veitli hindmost. But Schulz wanted to have the spear himself, whereupon Veitli flew into a passion and broke away.

Then the rest advanced together upon the dragon, but first Schulz crossed himself devoutly and invoked the assistance of Heaven. Then he marched on, but as he approached the enemy he felt very fearful and cried in great terror: “Han! hurlehau! han! hauhel!” This awoke the hare, who sprang away quite frightened, and when Schulz saw it flee, he jumped for joy and shouted:

“Zounds, friends, what fools we are!

The frightful beast is but a hare!”

After they had recovered from their fright the seven Swabians sought new adventures, and by and by they arrived at the River Moselle, a smooth and deep water, over which there are not many bridges; so that one must cross in boats to the other side. The seven Swabians, however, were ignorant of this, and they therefore shouted to a man who was working on the other side of the river and asked him how they were to pass over. But the man did not understand what they said on account of the distance and his ignorance of their language, and so he asked in his dialect: “Wat? wat?” With this Schulz imagined the man said, “Wade, wade through the stream”; and, being foremost on the bank, he jumped into the river and began to walk across. Soon he got out of his depth and sank in the deep, driving current; but his hat was carried by the wind to the opposite shore. As it reached there a frog perched himself on it, and croaked: “Wat! wat! wat!” This noise the six other Swabians, who then reached the bank, heard, and they said to one another: “Listen! does not Schulz call us? Well, if he could wade across we can also.” With these words each one jumped into the river, but they also all sank; and so it happened that the frog caused the death of six Swabians, for nobody has heard of or seen them ever since.

The Shreds

Once upon a time there was a maiden who was very pretty, but lazy and careless. When she used to spin, she was so impatient that, if there chanced to be a little knot in the thread, she snapped off a long bit with it and threw the pieces down on the ground near her. Now she had a servant girl, who was industrious, and used to gather together the shreds of thread, clean them, and weave them, till she made herself a dress with them.

A certain young man had fallen in love with this lazy maiden; and their wedding-day was appointed. On the evening before, the industrious servant girl kept dancing about in her fine dress, till the bride exclaimed:

“Ah! how the girl does jump about,

Dressed in my shreds and leavings!”

When the bridegroom heard this, he asked the bride what she meant, and she told him that the maid had worked herself a dress with the shreds of thread which she had thrown away. As soon as the bridegroom heard this, and saw the difference between the laziness of his intended and the industry of her servant, he gave up the mistress and chose the maid for his wife.

The Wolf and the Seven Kids

There was once an old nanny-goat who had seven kids, and she was just as fond of them as a mother of her children. One day she was going into the woods to fetch some food for them, so she called them all up to her, and said:

“My dear children, I am going out into the woods. Beware of the wolf! If once he gets into the house, he will eat you up, skin, and hair, and all. The rascal often disguises himself, but you will know him by his rough voice and his black feet.”

The kids said: “Oh, we will be very careful, dear mother. You may be quite happy about us.”

Bleating tenderly, the old goat went off to her work. Before long, some one knocked at the door, and cried:

“Open the door, dear children! Your mother has come back and brought something for each of you.”

But the kids knew quite well by the voice that it was the wolf.

“We won’t open the door!” they cried. “You are not our mother. She has a soft, gentle voice; but yours is rough, and we are quite sure that you are the wolf.”

So he went away to a shop and bought a lump of chalk, which he ate, and it made his voice quite soft. He went back, knocked at the door again, and cried:

“Open the door, dear children. Your mother has come back and brought something for each of you.”

But the wolf had put one of his paws on the window-sill, where the kids saw it, and cried:

“We won’t open the door. Our mother has not got a black foot as you have; you are the wolf.”

Then the wolf ran to a baker and said: “I have bruised my foot; please put some dough on it.” And when the baker had put some dough on his foot, he ran to the miller and said: “Strew some flour on my foot.”

The miller thought, “The old wolf is going to take somebody in,” and refused.

But the wolf said: “If you don’t do it, I will eat you up.”

So the miller was frightened, and whitened the wolf’s paws. People are like that, you know.

Now the wretch went for the third time to the door, and knocked and said:

“Open the door, children. Your dear mother has come home, and has brought something for each of you out of the wood.”

The kids cried: “Show us your feet first, that we may be sure you are our mother.”

He put his paws on the window-sill, and when the kids saw that these were white, they believed all he said and opened the door.

Alas! it was the wolf who walked in. They were terrified, and tried to hide themselves. One ran under the table, the second jumped into bed, the third into the oven, the fourth ran into the kitchen, the fifth got into the cupboard, the sixth into the washtub, and the seventh hid in the tall clock-case. But the wolf found them all but one, and made short work of them. He swallowed one after the other, except the youngest one in the clock-case, whom he did not find. When he had satisfied his appetite, he took himself off, and lay down in a meadow outside, where he soon fell asleep.

Not long after the old nanny-goat came back from the woods. Oh, what a terrible sight met her eyes! The house door was wide open, table, chairs, and benches were overturned, the washing-bowl was smashed to atoms, the covers and pillows torn from the bed. She searched all over the house for her children, but nowhere were they to be found. She called them by name, one by one, but no one answered. At last, when she came to the youngest, a tiny voice cried:

“I am here, dear mother, hidden in the clock-case.”

She brought him out, and he told her that the wolf had come and devoured all the others.

You may imagine how she wept over her children.

At last, in her grief, she went out, and the youngest kid ran by her side. When they went into the meadow, there lay the wolf under a tree, making the branches shake with his snores. They examined him from every side, and they could plainly see movements within his distended body.

“Ah, heavens!” thought the goat, “is it possible that my poor children, whom he ate for his supper, should be still alive?”

She sent the kid running to the house to fetch scissors, needles, and thread. Then she cut a hole in the monster’s side, and, hardly had she begun, when a kid popped out its head, and as soon as the hole was big enough, all six jumped out, one after the other, all alive, and without having suffered the least injury, for, in his greed, the monster had swallowed them whole. You may imagine the mother’s joy. She hugged them, and skipped about like a tailor on his wedding day. At last she said:

“Go and fetch some big stones, children, and we will fill up the greedy beast’s body while he is asleep.”

Then the seven kids brought a lot of stones, as fast as they could carry them, and stuffed the wolf with them till he could hold no more. The old mother quickly sewed him up, without his having noticed anything, or even moved.

At last, when the wolf had had his sleep out, and got upon his legs, he found he was very thirsty, and wished to go to the spring to drink. But as soon as he began to move, the stones began to tumble about in his body, and he cried out:

“What rattles, what rattles

Against my poor bones?

Surely not little goats,

But only big stones!”

And when he came to the brook he stooped down to drink, and the heavy stones made him lose his balance so that he fell, and sank beneath the water.

As soon as the seven little goats saw this, they came running up, singing aloud, “The wolf is dead! the wolf is dead!” and they danced for joy around their mother by the side of the brook.

The Elves and the Shoemaker

There was once a shoemaker who, through no fault of his own, had become so poor that at last he had only leather enough left for one pair of shoes. At evening he cut out the shoes which he intended to begin upon the next morning, and since he had a good conscience, he lay down quietly, said his prayers, and fell asleep.

In the morning when he had prayed, as usual, and was preparing to sit down to work, he found the pair of shoes standing finished on his table. He was amazed, and could not understand it in the least.

He took the shoes in his hand to examine them more closely. They were so neatly sewn that not a stitch was out of place, and were as good as the work of a master-hand.

Soon after a purchaser came in, and as he was much pleased with the shoes, he paid more than the ordinary price for them, so that the shoemaker was able to buy leather for two pairs with the money.

He cut them out in the evening, and next day, with fresh courage was about to go to work; but he had no need to, for when he got up, the shoes were finished, and buyers were not lacking. These gave him so much money that he was able to buy leather for four pairs of shoes.

Early next morning he found the four pairs finished, and so it went on; what he cut out at evening was finished in the morning, so that he was soon again in comfortable circumstances, and became a well-to-do man.

Now it happened one evening, not long before Christmas, when he had cut out shoes as usual, that he said to his wife: “How would it be if we were to sit up to-night to see who it is that lends us such a helping hand?”

The wife agreed, lighted a candle, and they hid themselves in the corner of the room behind the clothes which were hanging there.

At midnight came two little naked men, who sat down at the shoemaker’s table, took up the cut-out work, and began with their tiny fingers to stitch, sew, and hammer so neatly and quickly, that the shoemaker could not believe his eyes. They did not stop till everything was quite finished, and stood complete on the table; then they ran swiftly away.

The next day the wife said: “The little men have made us rich, and we ought to show our gratitude. They run about with nothing on, and must freeze with cold. Now I will make them little shirts, coats, waistcoats, and hose, and will even knit them stout stockings, and you shall make them each a pair of shoes.”

The husband agreed, and at evening, when they had everything ready, they laid out the presents on the table, and hid themselves to see how the little men would behave.

At midnight they came skipping in, and were about to set to work; but, instead of the leather ready cut out, they found the charming little clothes.

At first they were surprised, then excessively delighted. With the greatest speed they put on and smoothed down the pretty clothes, singing:

“Now we’re dressed so fine and neat,

Why cobble more for others’ feet?”

Then they hopped and danced about, and leaped over chairs and tables and out at the door. Henceforward, they came back no more, but the shoemaker fared well as long as he lived, and had good luck in all his undertakings.

King Wren

Once upon a time the cuckoo gave a big tea-party. It was a grand affair, I can tell you. Every bird of note was present, from the eagle down to the sparrow. All the finches were there, the larks, crows, and swallows; so how they managed to seat them all is more than I can tell.

Now, the cuckoo was a wise old bird, and she never took a step of this sort without a reason. You sometimes hear people say, “As silly as a cuckoo,” but you may take my word for it, it is only because they know nothing at all about her.

Well, a bright idea had occurred to the cuckoo, and it was just this: She thought it was high time the birds chose a king of their own. If they had a king, you see, they might in time be able to have a “Court Circular,” which would sound very grand. Besides, who knew but that in the future some of her own family might even marry royalty? Yes, it was a good idea, she thought, but the other birds would have to be consulted first.

So she gave a big tea-party, and fed them all up with the finest worms and dainties to be had, just to put them into a good temper.

Even the hungry sparrow finished eating at last—and you have no idea what his appetite was like!—and then the cuckoo broke the news gently that she thought they ought to have a king to manage their affairs for them.

Now this caused no end of commotion. And there they sat—fathers, mothers, uncles, and cousins, all talking away at the same time.

Just then the cock and hen passed by, taking a little airing.

You must know that they had heard nothing about the teaparty. They were just the cock and hen, and it did not matter much what they thought; so they did not get an invitation.

“Wat! wat!” cried the hen, when she heard the dreadful din. Of course the cock understood her language, and knew that she was asking what was going on.

“I’ll find out, my dear,” he answered, and he inquired from a fat, green frog.

“They want to choose a king over the birds,” he told the hen, a minute after.

“Stuff and nonsense!” clucked the hen; only it did not sound quite like that, because she spoke in her own language, you see.

Well, the end of it all was that everybody was in favor of a king, save the plover, and he cried: “I have been free all my life, and I’ll die free!” Then away he flew to a dismal swamp, and was seen no more.

So they agreed to meet again next morning, if it was fine. Their king was to be the bird who could fly higher than all the rest, and they wanted a fine day so that nobody could say afterward, “I could have flown much higher, only it was so windy,” or something of the sort.

The next day was perfect, so they all gathered together in a big meadow. When the cuckoo had counted “Three,” they all rose up with one accord into the air, making such a cloud of dust that for a moment you could not see a thing.

Higher and higher they flew, but one by one the little birds had to give up, and in the end the eagle was the only bird left flying, and he looked as though he had reached the sun itself.

But a tiny little bird had joined them unasked, and he had not even a name.

Nobody noticed him hide himself among the feathers in the eagle’s back; so when the cuckoo had counted three, up he went with the rest, although they did not know it.

Now, when the eagle saw that all the others had given up, he, too, began to descend. Then out flew the little bird without a name, and up he went, much higher still.

“I am king! I am king!” cried the eagle, when he reached the ground.

“Not at all,” replied the little bird without a name, “for I have flown higher still,” and then down he came.

“I am king! I am king!” he chirped, as soon as he got his breath again.

“You crafty little creature!” they shouted, with one voice. “We will have another test, and a fair one this time.”

So the bird who could fall deepest into the earth was to be their king, they said.

Well, the cock set to work and began to grub a hole in the ground, while the duck jumped down into a grave; but unluckily she sprained her foot, and she waddled off, saying: “Bad work! Bad work!”

But the little bird without a name crept right into a mouse-hole, and cried shrilly:

“I am king! I am king!”

“Then we will show you how we treat our royalty!” cried the angry birds. “We will keep you in the mouse-hole and starve you.”

So they set the owl to keep watch over the hole during the night, and if he let the bird go he was to be put to death on the spot. The others were all so tired and weary that they flew home and went to bed.

Now, when he had stared into the hole for two whole hours, the poor owl began to feel very sleepy. So he went to sleep with one eye and watched intently with the other, and all went well for a time. But as luck would have it, when he shut one eye, after a while, he forgot to open the other, and you may be sure the little bird without a name soon made his escape from his prison.

After that the poor owl never dared show his face again by day, for fear the birds should put him to death. He flies about all night long, and he is a great enemy of the little mice because they make such—to him—unfortunate holes.

As for that little bird without a name, he did not feel very safe either, so he always hid in the hedges, and when he felt pretty secure he would cry out: “I am king! I am king!”

In time the other birds grew to call him the “Hedge king,” just for scorn, and that means “Wren.” That is how he came by his name.

Why the Bear has a Stumpy Tail

One winter’s day the bear met the fox, who came slinking along with a string of fish he had stolen.

“Hi! stop a minute! Where did you get those from?” demanded the bear.

“Oh, my lord Bruin, I’ve been out fishing and caught them,” said the fox.

So the bear had a mind to learn to fish, too, and bade the fox tell him how he was to set about it.

“Oh, it is quite easy,” answered the fox, “and soon learned. You’ve only got to go upon the ice, and cut a hole and stick your tail down through it, and hold it there as long as you can. You’re not to mind if it smarts a little; that’s when the fish bite. The longer you hold it there, the more fish you’ll get; and then all at once out with it, with a cross pull sideways and a strong pull, too.”

Well, the bear did as the fox said, and though he felt very cold, and his tail smarted very much, he kept it a long, long time down in the hole, till at last it was frozen in, though of course he did not know that. Then he pulled it out with a strong pull, and it snapped short off, and that’s why Bruin goes about with a stumpy tail to this day!

Three Ways to Build a House

There was once upon a time a pig who lived with her three children in a large, comfortable, old-fashioned farmyard. The eldest of the little pigs was called Browny, the second Whity, and the youngest and best-looking, Blacky. Now, Browny was a very dirty little pig, and I am sorry to say spent most of his time rolling and wallowing about in the mud. He was never so happy as on a wet day, when the mud in the farmyard was soft and thick and smooth. Then he would steal away from his mother’s side, and finding the muddiest place in the yard, would roll about in it and thoroughly enjoy himself. His mother often found fault with him for this and would shake her head sadly and say: “Ah, Browny! some day you will be sorry that you did not obey your old mother.” But no words of advice or warning could cure Browny of his bad habits.

Whity was quite a clever little pig, but she was greedy. She was always thinking of her food and looking forward to her dinner; and when the farm girl was seen carrying the pails across the yard, she would rise up on her hind legs and dance and caper with excitement. As soon as the food was poured into the trough she jostled Blacky and Browny out of the way in her eagerness to get the best and biggest bits for herself. Her mother often scolded her for her selfishness, and told her that some day she would suffer for being so greedy.

Blacky was a nice little pig, neither dirty nor greedy. He had nice dainty ways, for a pig, and his skin was always as smooth and shining as black satin. He was much cleverer than either Browny or Whity, and his mother’s heart used to swell with pride when she heard the farmer’s friends say to each other that some day the little black fellow would be a prize pig.

Now, the time came when the mother pig felt old and feeble and near her end. One day she called the three little pigs around her and said:

“My children, I feel that I am growing old and weak and that I shall not live long. Before I die I should like to build a house for each of you, as this dear old sty in which we have lived so happily will be given to a new family of pigs, and you will have to turn out. Now, Browny, what sort of a house would you like to have?”

“A house of mud,” replied Browny, looking longingly at a wet puddle in the corner of the yard.

“And you, Whity?” said the mother pig in rather a sad voice, for she was disappointed that Browny had made so foolish a choice.

“A house of cabbage,” answered Whity, with a mouth full, and scarcely raising her snout out of the trough in which she was grubbing for some potato parings.

“Foolish, foolish child!” said the mother pig, looking quite distressed. “And you, Blacky,” turning to her youngest son, “what sort of a house shall I order for you?”

“A house of brick, please, mother, as it will be warm in winter, cool in summer, and safe all the year round.”

“That is a sensible little pig,” replied his mother, looking fondly at him. “I will see that the three houses are made ready at once. And now one last piece of advice. You have heard me talk of our old enemy, the fox. When he hears that I am dead he is sure to try and get hold of you, to carry you off to his den. He is very sly, and will no doubt disguise himself and pretend to be a friend, but you must promise me not to let him enter your houses on any pretext whatever,” and the little pigs readily promised, for they had always had a great fear of the fox, of whom they had heard many terrible tales.

A short time afterward the old pig died, and the little pigs went to live in their own houses. Browny was quite delighted with his soft mud walls and with the clay floor, which soon looked like nothing but a big mud pie. But that was what Browny enjoyed, and he was as happy as possible, rolling about all day and making himself exceedingly dirty. One day, as he was lying half asleep in the mud, he heard a soft knock at his door and a gentle voice said:

“May I come in, Master Browny? I want to see your beautiful new house.”

“Who are you?” said Browny, starting up in great fright, for though the voice sounded gentle, he felt sure it was a feigned voice and he feared it was the fox.

“I am a friend come to call on you,” answered the voice.

“No, no,” replied Browny, “I don’t believe you are a friend. You are the wicked fox, against whom our mother warned us. I won’t let you in.”

“Oho! is that the way you answer me?” said the fox, speaking very roughly in his natural voice. “We shall soon see who is master here,” and with his paws he set to work and scraped a large hole in the soft mud walls. A moment later he had jumped through it, and catching Browny by the neck, flung him on his shoulders and trotted off with him to his den.

The next day, as Whity was munching a few leaves of cabbage out of the corner of her house, the fox stole up to her door, determined to carry her off to join her brother in his den. He began speaking to her in the same feigned, gentle voice in which he had spoken to Browny; but it frightened her very much when he said:

“I am a friend come to visit you and to have some of your good cabbage for my dinner.”

“Please don’t touch it,” cried Whity in great distress. “The cabbages are the walls of my house, and if you eat them you will make a hole, and the wind and rain will come in and give me a cold. Do go away. I am sure you are not a friend, but our wicked enemy the fox.” And poor Whity began to whine and to whimper, and to wish that she had not been such a greedy little pig and had chosen a more solid material than cabbages for her house. But it was too late now, and in another minute the fox had eaten his way through the cabbage walls and had caught the trembling, shivering Whity and carried her off to his den.

The next day the fox started off for Blacky’s house, because he had made up his mind that he would get the three little pigs together in his den, then kill them, and invite all his friends to a feast. But when he reached the brick house he found that the door was bolted and barred, so in his sly manner he began: “Do let me in, dear Blacky. I have brought you a present of some eggs that I picked up in a farmyard on my way here.”

“No, no, Mr. Fox,” replied Blacky, “I am not going to open my door to you. I know your cunning ways. You have carried off poor Browny and Whity, but you are not going to get me.”

At this the fox was so angry that he dashed with all his force against the wall and tried to knock it down. But it was too strong and well built; and though the fox scraped and tore at the bricks with his paws he only hurt himself, and at last he had to give it up and limp away with his fore paws all bleeding and sore.

“Never mind!” he cried angrily as he went off. “I’ll catch you another day, see if I don’t; and won’t I grind your bones to powder when I have got you in my den!” And he snarled fiercely and showed his teeth.

Next day Blacky had to go into the neighboring town to do some marketing and to buy a big kettle. As he was walking home with it slung over his shoulder he heard a sound of steps stealthily creeping after him. For a moment his heart stood still with fear, and then a happy thought came to him. He had just reached the top of a hill, and could see his own little house nestling at the foot of it among the trees. In a moment he had snatched the lid off the kettle and had jumped in himself. Coiling himself round he lay quite snug in the bottom of the kettle, while with his foreleg he managed to put the lid on, so that he was entirely hidden. With a little kick from the inside he started the kettle off, and down the hill it rolled full tilt; and when the fox came up, all that he saw was a large black kettle spinning over the ground at a great pace. Very much disappointed, he was just going to turn away when he saw the kettle stop close to the little brick house, and in a moment Blacky jumped out of it and escaped with it safely inside, when he barred and bolted the door and put the shutter up over the window.

“Oho!” exclaimed the fox to himself, “you think you will escape me that way, do you? We shall soon see about that, my friend,” and very quietly and stealthily he prowled round the house looking for some way to climb on to the roof.

In the mean time Blacky had filled the kettle with water, and having put it on the fire, sat down quietly waiting for it to boil. Just as the kettle was beginning to sing and steam to come out of the spout he heard a sound like a soft, muffled step, patter, patter, patter overhead, and the next moment the fox’s head and forepaws were seen coming down the chimney. But Blacky very wisely had not put the lid on the kettle, and with a yelp of pain the fox fell into the boiling water, and before he could escape Blacky had popped the lid on and the fox was scalded to death.

As soon as he was sure that their wicked enemy was really dead and could do them no further harm, Blacky started off to rescue Browny and Whity. As he approached the den he heard piteous grunts and squeals from his poor little brother and sister, who lived in constant terror of the fox killing and eating them, but when they saw Blacky appear at the entrance to the den their joy knew no bounds. He quickly found a sharp stone and cut the cords by which they were tied to a stake in the ground, and then all three started off together for Blacky’s house, where they lived happily ever after; and Browny quite gave up rolling in the mud and Whity ceased to be greedy, for they never forgot how nearly these faults had brought them to an untimely end.

How to Tell a True Princess

There was once upon a time a prince who wanted to marry a princess, but she must be a true princess. So he traveled through the whole world to find one, but there was always something against each. There were plenty of princesses, but he could not find out if they were true princesses. In every case there was some little defect, which showed the genuine article was not yet found. So he came home again in very low spirits, for he had wanted very much to have a true princess. One night there was a dreadful storm; it thundered and lightened and the rain streamed down in torrents. It was fearful! There was a knocking heard at the palace gate, and the old king went to open it.

There stood a princess outside the gate; but oh, in what a sad plight she was from the rain and the storm! The water was running down from her hair and her dress into the points of her shoes and out at the heels again. And yet she said she was a true princess!

“Well, we shall soon find that!” thought the old queen. But she said nothing and went into the sleeping-room, took off all the bedclothes, and laid a pea on the bottom of the bed. Then she put twenty mattresses on top of the pea and twenty eider-down quilts on the top of the mattresses. And this was the bed in which the princess was to sleep.

The next morning she was asked how she had slept.

“Oh, very badly!” said the princess. “I scarcely closed my eyes all night! I am sure I don’t know what was in the bed. I lay on something so hard that my whole body is black and blue. It is dreadful!”

Now they perceived that she was a true princess, because she had felt the pea through the twenty mattresses and the twenty eider-down quilts.

No one but a true princess could be so sensitive.

So the prince married her, for now he knew that at last he had got hold of a true princess. And the pea was put into the Royal Museum, where it is still to be seen if no one has stolen it. Now, this is a true story.

The Five Servants

Once upon a time, in a country far away, there lived and ruled an old queen who had such a wicked heart that she was not happy unless she was working evil to others. She had one daughter who was very beautiful, and whom she made use of to further her own evil plans; for, whenever a suitor came to apply for her hand, the old queen set him an impossible task, and chopped off his head without any pity when he could not perform it.

Now, in another country there lived a young prince who had heard of this lovely girl, and he begged his father to let him go and try his luck.

“Not a bit of it,” said the king. “You would only lose your head like the rest.”

But the prince was very anxious to go, and when he found his father was firm, he fell ill and took to his bed for seven years, and not all the doctors in the land could make him well again or restore his fallen spirits. Then the father knew that the lad must die, unless he was allowed to have his own way, so he said:

“Get up, my son, and try your fate.”

At these joyful words the boy jumped out of bed, quite recovered, and you may be sure it was not long before he was ready for his journey and on the road.

One day, as he was swinging along over hill and dale, and fern and brake, he saw a great big thing lying by the roadside. At first he thought it was a huge animal, but as he drew nearer he saw that it was really an enormously fat man, who was as round and jolly as you can imagine. Seeing the traveler, he rose to his feet, and I do believe the earth trembled as he did so.

“If you are in need of a servant, take me, and you will not repent,” he said, pulling off his cap and bowing.

“Why, whatever should I do with such a fat fellow as you?” answered the prince.

“If I were three thousand times as fat it would not matter, so long as I served you well,” said the man.

“Hum! well, that is very true,” replied the prince. “You may come along, and I dare say I shall be able to put you to some use.”

So they journeyed on together, and presently they came upon a man lying with his ear pressed to the ground.

“What are you doing?” asked the prince.

“I am listening,” answered the man. “I can hear everything that is going on in the world, even the growing of the grass.”

“Ah,” said the prince, “then you can tell me what you hear in the palace of the old queen.”

“I hear the cutting off of a suitor’s head.”

“Come with me, then,” said the prince, “for I can see that you will be useful.”

A little farther on they came upon a pair of legs lying stretched on the grass, but they were so long that the travelers had to walk an hour before they came to the body, and then nearly another hour before they reached the head.

“Well, what a long strip of a chap you are!” said the prince.

“Why, master, you have only seen me when I am lying down,” replied the man. “Just you wait till I stand up. I am thrice as tall as the highest mountain you have ever seen on your travels. Just let me come and be your servant, and I promise that you will find me useful.”

“Willingly,” answered the prince.

Then they all went on their way again till they came to a wood, and here they found a man who, though he was lying in the full heat of the sun, was shivering and shaking so that it was a wonder his teeth did not fall out of his head.

“Why, my good man,” said the prince, “what makes you shiver so on this hot day?”

“Alas!” groaned the man, “the hotter the day the colder I am; the sun freezes the very marrow in my bones; and when it is what you call cold, I begin to grow hot, so that I nearly burn to death. I cannot bear cold because it is so hot, nor heat because it is so cold.”

“Well, you are an odd fellow,” said the prince. “Suppose you get up and join my train?” So the man agreed.

The next man they met was standing in a field turning his head from side to side in a way that made your neck ache to watch him.

“What are you looking for?” asked the prince.

“I am looking for nothing,” answered the man. “But I have such keen sight that I can see all over the world, through woods and forests, and hills and mountains; nothing can escape my eyes.”

“Well,” said the prince, “if you are willing to take service, join my train, for I have need of such as you.”

Then they all journeyed on together in a very merry fashion, for the prince was light-hearted at the thought of his beautiful bride that was to be. You see, he had quite made up his mind to get the better of the wicked queen. Soon they reached the palace, and the prince presented himself to the queen, and said:

“I am come to ask the hand of your daughter in marriage. Set me what task you like, so long as I may marry her when it is done.”

“Three tasks I will set you,” said the queen, “and when they are done you shall be her husband. First, you must find me the ring that I have dropped in the sea near the palace.”

The prince went home to his servants, and said:

“Now is your chance to prove your worth. You must find me a ring that lies at the bottom of the sea.”

“I will see where it lies,” said the keen-sighted one; and suddenly he shouted: “There it is; it lies on a rock at the bottom of the waves!”

“I would soon fetch it, if I could see it,” said the long man.

“I can arrange that,” chimed in the fat one, and he lay down beside the sea and began to drink.

And he drank and drank till the sea disappeared, and the bottom lay stretched out before them as dry as a meadow. Then the long man took one stride, and picked up the ring and brought it to the prince.

The old queen was very much surprised to see the ring, but she concealed her annoyance, and, leading the youth to the window, said:

“In yonder field a hundred fat oxen are feeding. You must eat them all before noon, and, in case you are thirsty, you must drink the contents of the hundred casks of wine that are in the cellar.”

“Certainly,” said the youth, cheerfully. “But I should like to invite a friend to eat with me.”

“Oh, by all means,” replied the old hag, with a smile.

So the prince went to his friends and told them the news.

“You will help me to-day?” he said, turning to the fat man; “and for once you will have a good meal.”

So they went straightway to the field where the oxen were, and in no time at all the fat man had gobbled up every one, and still looked hungry. Then the prince took him down to the cellar, and he quenched his thirst with the hundred casks of wine.

Again the youth presented himself to the witch, and astonished her with the news that the task was done.

“Oho! my fine fellow,” she grumbled to herself, “I will catch you yet.

“To-night,” she added aloud, “I will bring the princess and leave her to sit with you; but beware lest you fall asleep, for if I come at twelve and find the princess gone, you are a lost man!”

“That does not sound difficult,” thought the prince. “Surely I can keep awake, if I want to.”

So he told his servants what the third task was to be, and they all agreed that a watch had better be kept, lest the old woman should play some trick.

At nightfall the old queen brought her daughter to the prince’s house and returned to the palace. As soon as she was gone, the long man wound himself around the house; the listener lay with his ear to the ground; the fat one stood in the doorway, completely blocking the entrance, and the keen-eyed one kept watch. Within sat the princess, silent as a statue, the moonlight lighting up her beautiful face with a radiant glory, so that the prince could only gaze at her in awe and wonder. So far it was well; but at half past eleven a spell, cast by the old queen, fell on them all, and they slept, and immediately the princess was spirited away.

At a quarter to twelve the spell lost its power, and they awoke to discover what a calamity had fallen upon them.

“Oh, woe is me! woe is me!” cried the prince. “What can save us now?” and the faithful servants wept in unison.

Suddenly the listener said:

“Hark! be still, and I will listen.”

They were quiet at once, and he listened for a moment.

“I hear her bewailing her fate!” he cried.

Then the keen-sighted man turned his head from side to side and cried joyfully:

“I see her sitting on a rock, three hundred miles away. Our long friend can reach her in two strides.”

“Willingly,” cried the man, and he was up and at the foot of the rock before the others could look round. He took the princess in his arms, and she was back in the prince’s house just one moment before twelve, and they all sat down together and rejoiced.

As the clock struck twelve, the old queen came creeping along, looking very spiteful, as she thought she had really won this time; for was not her daughter three hundred miles away? She was not, as we know, and when the queen saw this she felt so angry she would like to have ordered all their heads to be chopped off.

“There must be some one here who is cleverer than I!” she screamed, and then she fell to crying, but it was of no use. The prince was firm as a rock, and she had to consent to the wedding; but she whispered to her daughter:

“His servants have done everything for him. Aren’t you ashamed to have a husband who can do nothing at all for himself?”

The daughter had a proud and haughty temper, and her pride began to rise up angrily. So next day she commanded three hundred loads of wood to be brought and piled up in the palace yard and set alight. Then she told the prince that he had performed the tasks only by the help of his servants, and before she would marry him some one must sit upon the woodpile and stay there till it was burned out; for she thought no servant would do so much for him, and he surely would have to do this himself. However, she was wrong, for the freezing man claimed this as his share of the work, and he mounted the woodpile without delay.

For three days and three nights it blazed away, till only ashes were left, and there stood the freezing man shivering like a jelly.

“If it had burned much longer, I should have been benumbed with the cold,” he said, with chattering teeth.

Now, the princess saw that she could delay no longer, so they set off to the church, but the queen made yet another attempt to prevent the wedding. She called her attendants, and sent them to waylay the party and kill every one but the princess. However, the listener had been keeping his ears open, and he heard this order; so they put on more speed and reached the church first, and were married. At the church door the five servants took leave of their master and went out into the world to try their fortune alone.

The prince and his wife set forth on their homeward journey, and at the end of the first day they came upon a village where a swineherd stood feeding his pigs.

“Do you know who I am?” said the prince to his wife. “Yonder man is my father, and our duty now is to tend the pigs with him.”

They went into the cottage, and during the night the prince took away her splendid clothes, so that in the morning she had to put on an old dress and shoes belonging to the swineherd’s wife.

These were given to her grudgingly, and only for her husband’s sake, as the woman told her. So the princess was now very miserable, and believed that her husband was really a swineherd; but she determined to make the best of it, and turn to and do her share of the work, and said to herself:

“It is a punishment for all my pride.”

This went on for a week, and then she was so worn out that she sat down by the wayside and burst into tears. Some kindly villagers asked her what was the matter, and if she knew what her husband was?

“He is a swineherd,” she answered, “and has just gone to market with some of his pigs.”

“Come with us, and we will show you where he is,” they said; and they took her away over the hill to the king’s palace, and there in the hall stood her husband surrounded by courtiers, and so richly dressed that she did not know him, till he fell upon her neck, saying:

“We have borne much for each other, now let us be happy.”

Then there was great rejoicing, and the marriage-feast was celebrated, and all I can say is, that I wish we had been there to share the merrymaking.

The Hare and the Fox

A hare and a Fox were traveling together. It was winter time. Not a blade of grass was to be seen, not a bird or mouse stirred in the fields.

“It’s hungry weather,” said the Fox to the Hare. “I feel as hollow as an egg-shell.”

“And so do I,” replied the Hare. “I’m hungry enough to eat my own ears, if only I could reach them.”

When they had gone a little way they spied a peasant girl coming toward them. She carried a basket, and out of the basket came a very pleasant smell—the smell of hot rolls.

“I tell you what,” said the Fox. “You lie down and pretend to be dead. The girl will put down her basket to take you up for the sake of your skin, for out of hare-skins they make gloves; then I’ll snatch the rolls, and we shall have a splendid meal!”

The Hare did as the Fox told him, fell down, and pretended to be dead, while the Fox hid behind a snow-drift. The girl came along, saw the Hare with his legs stretched out stiff and stark, put down her basket sure enough, and stooped over the Hare. The Fox snatched up the basket and scampered off with it. The Hare in a twinkling came to life, and followed his companion. But he ran on ahead, and showed quite plainly that he meant to keep the rolls all to himself.

But that was not what the Hare had bargained for, you may guess. So when they came to a little lake, he called out to the Fox:

“What do you say to catching a dish of fish? Then we should have fish and rolls to eat like any lord. Just dangle your tail down in the water; the fish haven’t much to bite these days, so they’re bound to hang on to your tail. You must make haste, though, before the lake freezes over.”

Well, the Fox thought that a good idea. So he went to the lake, which was just beginning to freeze, and dangled his tail in the water. In a very short time the tail was frozen in.

Now, the Hare took the basket and gobbled up the rolls one after the other as comfortably as you please, right before the Fox’s face.

“Wait till it thaws,” he said to the Fox. “Wait till the spring. Wait till it thaws!” and then he ran away.

And the Fox was so angry at the way he had been caught that he barked and barked like a savage dog on a chain.

The Story of Zirac

Once upon a time a raven, a rat, and a tortoise, having agreed to be friends together, were having a pleasant chat when they saw a wild goat making its way toward them with surprising swiftness. They took it for granted by her speed that she was pursued by some hunter, and they at once without ceremony separated, every one to take care of himself. The tortoise slipped into the water, the rat crept into a hole, which he fortunately found near at hand, and the raven hid himself among the boughs of a very high tree. In the mean time the goat stopped quite suddenly, and stood to rest herself by the side of a fountain, when the raven, who had looked all round and perceived no one, called to the tortoise, who immediately peeped above the water, and seeing the goat afraid to drink, said: “Drink boldly, my friend, for the water is very clear.”

After the goat had done so, the tortoise continued: “Pray tell me what is the reason you appear in such distress?”

“Reason enough,” said the goat; “for I have just made my escape out of the hands of a hunter, who pursued me with an eager chase.”

“Come,” said the tortoise, “I am glad you are safe. I have an offer to make you. If you like our company, stay here and be one of our friends; you will find our hearts honest and our company useful to you. The sages say that a number of friends lessens trouble.”

After this short speech the raven and the rat joined in the invitation, so that the goat at once promised to become one of them, each promising the other to prove himself a real and true friend whatever might happen in days to come. After this agreement these four friends lived in perfect harmony for a very long time, and spent their time pleasantly together. But one day, as the tortoise, the rat, and the raven were met, as they used to do, by the side of the fountain, the goat was missing. This gave great trouble to them, as they knew not what had happened. They very soon came to a resolution, however, to seek for and assist the goat, so the raven at once mounted into the air to see what discoveries he could make; and looking round about him, at length, to his great sorrow, saw at a distance the poor goat entangled in a hunter’s net. He immediately dropped down in order to acquaint the rat and tortoise with what he had seen; and you may be sure that these ill tidings caused great grief.

“What shall we do?” said they.

“We have promised firm friendship to one another and lived very happily together so long,” said the tortoise, “that it would be shameful to break the bond and not act up to all we said. We cannot leave our innocent and good-natured companion in this dire distress and great danger. No! we must find some way to deliver our poor friend goat out of captivity.”

Said the raven to the rat, who was nicknamed Zirac: “Remember, O excellent Zirac, there is none but thyself able to set our friend at liberty; and the business must be quickly done for fear the huntsman should lay his hands upon her.”

“Doubt not,” replied Zirac, “but that I will do my best, so let us go at once that no time may be lost.”

On this the raven took up Zirac in his bill, and flew with him to the place where the poor goat was confined in the net. No sooner had he arrived than he at once commenced to gnaw the meshes of the net that held the goat’s foot and had almost set him at liberty when the tortoise arrived.

As soon as the goat saw the tortoise she cried out with a loud voice: “Oh, why have you ventured to come hither, friend tortoise?”

“Because I could no longer bear your absence,” replied the tortoise.

“Dear friend,” said the goat, “your coming to this place troubles me as much as the loss of my own liberty; for if the hunter should happen to come, what would you do to make your escape? For my part I am almost free, and my being able to run will prevent me from falling into his hands again; our friend the raven can find safety in flight, and Zirac can run into any hole. Only you, who are so slow of foot, will become the hunter’s prey.” No sooner had the goat thus spoken, when sure enough the hunter appeared; but the goat, being free, swiftly ran away; the raven mounted into the air, and Zirac slipped into a hole, and true enough, as the goat had said, only the slow-paced tortoise remained without help.

When the hunter arrived he was a little surprised to see his net broken and the goat missing. This was no small vexation to him, and caused him to look closely around, to see if he could discover who had done the mischief; and unfortunately, in thus searching, he spied the tortoise.

“Oh! Oh!” said he. “Very good; I am glad to see you here. I find I shall not go home empty-handed after all; here is a plump tortoise, and that is worth something, I’m sure.” Thus saying, he took up the tortoise, put it in a sack, threw the sack over his shoulder, and was soon trudging home.

After he had gone the three friends came out from their several hiding-places, and met together, when, missing the tortoise, they at once judged what had become of him. Then, uttering bitter cries and lamentations, they shed torrents of tears. At length the raven broke the silence, and said: “Dear friends, our moans and sorrow do not help the tortoise. We must, if it be at all possible, devise some means of saving his life. Our sages have often told us that there are three persons that are never well known but on special occasions—men of courage in fight, men of honesty in business, and a true friend in extreme necessity. We find, alas! our dear companion the tortoise is in a sad condition, and therefore we must, if possible, help him.”

“It is first-class advice,” replied Zirac. “Now I think I know how it can be done. Let our friend the goat go and show herself to the hunter, who will then be certain to lay down the sack to run after her.”

“All right,” said the goat, “I will pretend to be lame, and run limping at a little distance before him, which will encourage him to follow me, and thus draw him a good way from his sack, which will give Zirac time to set our friend at liberty.”

This plan appeared such a good one that it was at once approved of, and immediately the goat ran halting before the hunter, and appeared to be so feeble and faint that her pursuer thought he had her safe in his clutches again, and so, laying down his sack, ran after the goat with all his might. That cunning creature suffered him now and again almost to come up to her, and then led him another wild-goose chase till at last she had lured him out of sight; which Zirac seeing, began gnawing the string that tied the mouth of the sack, and soon set free the tortoise, who went at once and hid himself in a thick bush.

At length the hunter, tired of running after his prey, gave up the chase, and returned to take up his sack.

“Here,” said he, “I have something safe; thou art not quite so swift as that plaguing goat; and if thou wert, art too well confined here to find the way to make thy little legs any use to thee.” So saying, he went to the bag, but not finding the tortoise he was amazed, and thought himself in a region of hobgoblins and spirits, since he had by some mysterious means lost two valuable objects, a goat and a tortoise! He did not know, you see, what wonders true friendship can work when all are pledged to help one another.

The four friends soon met together again, congratulated one another on their escapes, made afresh their vows of friendship, and declared that they would never separate until death parted them.

Johnny-Cake

Once upon a time there was an old man, and an old woman, and a little boy. One morning the old woman made a Johnny-cake, and put it in the oven to bake. “You watch the Johnny-cake while your father and I go out to work in the garden,” she said, so the old man and the old woman went out and began to hoe potatoes, and left the little boy to tend the oven. But he didn’t watch it all the time, and all of a sudden he heard a noise, and he looked up and the oven door popped open, and out of the oven jumped Johnny-cake, and went rolling along end over end, toward the open door of the house. The little boy ran to shut the door, but Johnny-cake was too quick for him and rolled through the door, down the steps, and out into the road long before the little boy could catch him. The little boy ran after him as fast as he could clip it, crying out to his father and mother, who heard the uproar, and threw down their hoes and gave chase too. But Johnny-cake outran all three a long way, and was soon out of sight, while they had to sit down, all out of breath, on a bank to rest.

On went Johnny-cake, and by and by he came to two well-diggers, who looked up from their work and called out: “Where ye going, Johnny-cake?”

He said: “I’ve outrun an old man, and an old woman, and a little boy, and I can outrun you too-o-o!”

“Ye can, can ye? We’ll see about that,” said they; and they threw down their picks and ran after him, but couldn’t catch up with him, and soon they had to sit down by the roadside to rest.

On ran Johnny-cake, and by and by he came to two ditch-diggers who were digging a ditch. “Where ye going, Johnny-cake?” said they. He said: “I’ve outrun an old man, and an old woman, and a little boy, and two well-diggers, and I can outrun you too-o-o!”

“Ye can, can ye? We’ll see about that!” said they; and they threw down their spades, and ran after him too. But Johnny-cake soon outstripped them also, and seeing they could never catch him, they gave up the chase and sat down to rest.

On went Johnny-cake, and by and by he came to a bear. The bear said: “Where are ye going, Johnny-cake?”

He said: “I’ve outrun an old man, and an old woman, and a little boy, and two well-diggers, and two ditch-diggers, and I can outrun you too-o-o!”

“Ye can, can ye?” growled the bear. “We’ll see about that!” and trotted as fast as his legs could carry him after Johnny-cake, who never stopped to look behind him. Before long the bear was left so far behind that he saw he might as well give up the hunt first as last, so he stretched himself out by the roadside to rest.

On went Johnny-cake, and by and by he came to a wolf. The wolf said: “Where ye going, Johnny-cake?”

He said: “I’ve outrun an old man, and an old woman, and a little boy, and two well-diggers, and two ditch-diggers, and a bear, and I can outrun you too-o-o!”

“Ye can, can ye?” snarled the wolf. “We’ll see about that!” And he set into a gallop after Johnny-cake, who went on and on so fast that the wolf saw there was no hope of overtaking him, and he too lay down to rest.

On went Johnny-cake, and by and by he came to a fox that lay quietly in a corner of the fence. The fox called out in a sharp voice, but without getting up: “Where ye going, Johnny-cake?”

He said: “I’ve outrun an old man, and an old woman, and a little boy, and two well-diggers, and two ditch-diggers, a bear, and a wolf, and I can outrun you too-o-o!”

The Fox said: “I can’t quite hear you, Johnny-cake. Won’t you come a little closer?” turning his head a little to one side.

Johnny-cake stopped his race for the first time, and went a little closer, and called out in a very loud voice: “I’ve outrun an old man, and an old woman, and a little boy, and two well-diggers, and two ditch-diggers, and a bear, and a wolf, and I can outrun you too-o-o!”

“Can’t quite hear you; won’t you come a little closer?” said the fox in a feeble voice, as he stretched out his neck toward Johnny-cake, and put one paw behind his ear.

Johnny-cake came up close, and leaning toward the fox screamed out: “I’ve outrun an old man, and an old woman, and a little boy, and two well-diggers, and two ditch-diggers, and a bear, and a wolf, and i can outrun you too-o-o!”

“You can, can you?” yelped the fox, and he snapped up the Johnny-cake in his sharp teeth in the twinkling of an eye.

The Wee, Wee Mannie

Once upon a time, when all big folks were wee ones and all lies were true, there was a wee, wee Mannie that had a big, big coo. And out he went to milk her of a morning, and said:

“Hold still, my coo, my hinny,

Hold still, my hinny, my coo,

And ye shall have for your dinner

What but a milk white doo.”

But the big, big coo wouldn’t hold still. “Hout!” said the wee, wee Mannie:

“Hold still, my coo, my dearie,

And fill my bucket wi’ milk,

And if ye’ll be no contrairy

I’ll gi’e ye a gown o’ silk.”

But the big, big coo wouldn’t hold still. “Look at that, now!” said the wee, wee Mannie:

“What’s a wee, wee Mannie to do,

Wi’ such a big contrairy coo?”

So off he went to his mother at the house. “Mither,” said he, “coo won’t stand still, and wee, wee Mannie can’t milk big, big coo.”

“Hout!” said his mother, “take stick and beat coo.”

So off he went to get a stick from the tree, and said:

“Break, stick, break,

And I’ll gi’e ye a cake.”

But the stick wouldn’t break, so back he went to the house.

“Mither,” said he, “coo won’t hold still, stick won’t break, wee, wee Mannie can’t beat big, big coo.”

“Hout!” said his mother, “go to the butcher and bid him kill coo.”

So off he went to the butcher, and said:

“Butcher, kill the big, big coo,

She’ll gi’e us no more milk noo.”

But the butcher wouldn’t kill the coo without a silver penny, so back the Mannie went to the house. “Mither,” said he, “coo won’t hold still, stick won’t break, butcher won’t kill without a silver penny, and wee, wee Mannie can’t milk big, big coo.”

“Well,” said his mother, “go to the coo and tell her there’s a weary, weary lady with long yellow hair weeping for a cup o’ milk.”

So off he went and told the coo, but she wouldn’t hold still, so back he went and told his mother.

“Well,” said she, “tell the coo there’s a fine, fine laddie from the wars sitting by the weary, weary lady with golden hair, and she weeping for a sup o’ milk.”

So off he went and told the coo, but she wouldn’t hold still, so back he went and told his mother.

“Well,” said his mother, “tell the big, big coo there’s a sharp, sharp sword at the belt of the fine, fine laddie from the wars who sits beside the weary, weary lady with the golden hair, and she weeping for a sup o’ milk.”

And he told the big, big coo, but she wouldn’t hold still.

Then said his mother: “Run quick and tell her that her head’s going to be cut off by the sharp, sharp sword in the hands of the fine, fine laddie, if she doesn’t give the sup o’ milk the weary, weary lady weeps for.”

And wee, wee Mannie went off and told the big, big coo.

And when coo saw the glint of the sharp, sharp sword in the hand of the fine, fine laddie come from the wars, and the weary, weary lady weeping for a sup o’ milk, she reckoned she’d better hold still; so wee, wee Mannie milked big, big coo, and the weary, weary lady with the golden hair hushed her weeping and got her sup o’ milk, and the fine, fine laddie new come from the wars put by his sharp, sharp sword, and all went well that didn’t go ill.

Sir Gammer Vans

Last Sunday morning at six o’clock in the evening as I was sailing over the tops of the mountains in my little boat, I met two men on horseback riding on one mare: So I asked them: “Could they tell me whether the little old woman was dead yet who was hanged last Saturday week for drowning herself in a shower of feathers?” They said they could not inform me positively, but if I went to Sir Gammer Vans he could tell me all about it.

“But how am I to know the house?” said I.

“Ho, ‘tis easy enough,” said they, “for ‘tis a brick house built entirely of flints, standing alone by itself in the middle of sixty or seventy others just like it.”

“Oh, nothing in the world is easier,” said I.

“Nothing can be easier,” said they: so I went on my way. Now this Sir G. Vans was a giant, and a bottle-maker. And as all giants who are bottle-makers usually pop out of a little thumb-bottle from behind the door, so did Sir G. Vans.

“How d’ye do?” says he.

“Very well, I thank you,” says I.

“Have some breakfast with me?”

“With all my heart,” says I.

So he gave me a slice of beer, and a cup of cold veal; and there was a little dog under the table that picked up all the crumbs.

“Hang him,” says I.

“No, don’t hang him,” says he; “for he killed a hare yesterday. And if you don’t believe me, I’ll show you the hare alive in a basket.”

So he took me into his garden to show me the curiosities. In one corner there was a fox hatching eagle’s eggs; in another there was an iron apple-tree, entirely covered with pears and lead; in the third there was the hare which the dog killed yesterday alive in the basket; and in the fourth there were twenty-four hipper switches threshing tobacco, and at the sight of me they threshed so hard that they drove the plug through the wall, and through a little dog that was passing by on the other side. I, hearing the dog howl, jumped over the wall; and turned it as neatly inside out as possible, when it ran away as if it had not an hour to live. Then he took me into the park to show me his deer; and I remembered that I had a warrant in my pocket to shoot venison for his majesty’s dinner. So I set fire to my bow, poised my arrow, and shot among them. I broke seventeen ribs on one side, and twenty-one and a half on the other; but my arrow passed clean through without ever touching it, and the worst was I lost my arrow. However, I found it again in the hollow of a tree. I felt it; it felt clammy. I smelt it; it smelt honey. “Oh, ho,” said I, “here’s a bees’ nest,” when out sprang a covey of partridges. I shot at them; some say I killed eighteen; but I am sure I killed thirty-six, besides a dead salmon which was flying over the bridge, of which I made the best apple-pie I ever tasted.

Tom Tit Tot

Once upon a time there was a woman, and she baked five pies. And when they came out of the oven, they were that over-baked the crusts were too hard to eat. So she says to her daughter:

“Darter,” says she, “put you them there pies on the shelf, and leave ‘em there a little, and they’ll come again.” She meant, you know, the crust would get soft.

But the girl, she says to herself: “Well, if they’ll come again, I’ll eat ‘em now.” And she set to work and ate ‘em all, first and last.

Well, come supper-time the woman said: “Go you, and get one o’ them there pies. I dare say they’ve come again now.”

The girl went and she looked, and there was nothing but the dishes. So back she came, and says she: “Noo, they ain’t come again.”

“Not one of ‘em?” says the mother.

“Not one of ‘em,” says she.

“Well, come again, or not come again,” said the woman, “I’ll have one for supper.”

“But you can’t, if they ain’t come,” said the girl.

“But I can,” says she. “Go you, and bring the best of ‘em.”

“Best or worst,” says the girl, “I’ve ate ‘em all, and you can’t have one till that’s come again.”

Well, the woman she was done, and she took her spinning to the door to spin, and as she span she sang:

“My darter ha’ ate five, five pies to-day.

My darter ha’ ate five, five pies to-day.”

The king was coming down the street, and he heard her sing, but what she sang he couldn’t make out, so he stopped and said:

“What was that you were singing, my good woman?”

The woman was ashamed to let him hear what her daughter had been doing, so she sang, instead of that:

“My darter ha’ spun five, five skeins to-day.

My darter ha’ spun five, five skeins to-day.”

“Stars o’ mine!” said the king, “I never heard tell of any one that could do that.”

Then he said: “Look you here, I want a wife, and I’ll marry your daughter. But look you here,” says he, “eleven months out of the year she shall have all she likes to eat, and all the gowns she likes to get, and all the company she likes to keep; but the last month of the year she’ll have to spin five skeins every day, and if she don’t I shall kill her.”

“All right,” says the woman; for she thought what a grand marriage that was. And as for the five skeins, when the time came, there’d be plenty of ways of getting out of it, and likeliest, he’d have forgotten all about it.

Well, so they were married. And for eleven months the girl had all she liked to eat, and all the gowns she liked to get, and all the company she liked to keep.

But when the time was getting over, she began to think about the skeins and to wonder if he had ‘em in mind. But not one word did he say about ‘em, and she thought he’d wholly forgotten ‘em.

However, the last day of the last month he takes her to a room she’d never set eyes on before. There was nothing in it but a spinning-wheel and a stool. And says he: “Now, my dear, here you’ll be shut in to-morrow with some victuals and some flax, and if you haven’t spun five skeins by the night, your head’ll go off.”

And away he went about his business.

Well, she was that frightened, she’d always been such a gutless girl, that she didn’t so much as know how to spin, and what was she to do to-morrow with no one to come nigh her to help her? She sat down on a stool in the kitchen, and law, how she did cry!

However, all of a sudden she heard a sort of a knocking low down on the door. She upped and oped it, and what should she see but a small little black thing with a long tail, that look up at her right curious, and that said:

“What are you a-crying for?”

“What’s that to you?” says she.

“Never you mind,” that said, “but tell me what you’re a-crying for.”

“That won’t do me no good if I do,” says she.

“You don’t know that,” that said, and twirled that’s tail round.

“Well,” says she, “that won’t do no harm, if that don’t do no good,” and she upped and told about the pies, and the skeins, and everything.

“This is what I’ll do,” says the little black thing: “I’ll come to your window every morning and take the flax and bring it spun at night.”

“What’s your pay?” says she.

That looked out of the corner of that’s eyes, and that said: “I’ll give you three guesses every night to guess my name, and if you haven’t guessed it before the month’s up you shall be mine.”

Well, she thought she’d be sure to guess that’s name before the month was up. “All right,” says she, “I agree.”

“All right,” that says, and law! how that twirled that’s tail.

Well, the next day, her husband took her into the room, and there was the flax and the day’s food.

“Now, there’s the flax,” says he, “and if that ain’t spun up this night, off goes your head.” And then he went out and locked the door.

He’d hardly gone, when there was a knocking against the window.

She upped and she oped it, and there sure enough was the little old thing sitting on the ledge.

“Where’s the flax?” says he.

“Here it be,” says she. And she gave it to him.

Well, come the evening a knocking came again to the window. She upped and she oped it, and there was the little old thing with five skeins of flax on his arm.

“Here it be,” says he, and he gave it to her.

“Now, what’s my name?” says he.

“What, is that Bill?” says she.

“Noo, that ain’t,” says he, and he twirled his tail.

“Is that Ned?” says she.

“Noo, that ain’t,” says he, and he twirled his tail.

“Well, is that Mark?” says she.

“Noo, that ain’t,” says he, and he twirled his tail harder, and away he flew.

Well, when her husband came in, there were the five skeins ready for him. “I see I sha’n’t have to kill you to-night, my dear,” says he; “you’ll have your food and your flax in the morning,” says he, and away he goes.

Well, every day the flax and the food were brought, and every day that there little black impet used to come mornings and evenings. And all the day the girl sat trying to think of names to say to it when it came at night. But she never hit on the right one. And as it got toward the end of the month, the impet began to look so maliceful, and that twirled that’s tail faster and faster each time she gave a guess.

At last it came to the last day but one. The impet came at night along with the five skeins, and that said:

“What, ain’t you got my name yet?”

“Is that Nicodemus?” says she.

“Noo, ‘tain’t,” that says.

“Is that Sammee?” says she.

“Noo, ‘tain’t,” that says.

“A-well, is that Methusalem?” says she.

“Noo, ‘tain’t that neither,” that says.

Then that looks at her with that’s eyes like a coal o’ fire, and that says: “Woman, there’s only to-morrow night, and then you’ll be mine!” And away it flew.

Well, she felt that horrid. However, she heard the king coming along the passage. In he came, and when he sees the five skeins, he says, says he:

“Well, my dear,” says he, “I don’t see but what you’ll have your skeins ready to-morrow night as well, and as I reckon I sha’n’t have to kill you, I’ll have supper in here to-night.” So they brought supper, and another stool for him, and down the two sat.

Well, he hadn’t eaten but a mouthful or so when he stops and begins to laugh.

“What is it?” says she.

“A-why,” says he, “I was out a-hunting to-day, and I got away to a place in the wood I’d never seen before. And there was an old chalk-pit. And I heard a kind of a sort of humming. So I got off my hobby, and I went right quiet to the pit, and I looked down. Well, what should there be but the funniest little black thing you ever set eyes on. And what was that doing, but that had a little spinning-wheel, and that was spinning wonderful fast, and twirling that’s tail. And as that span that sang:

“Nimmy nimmy not,

My name’s Tom Tit Tot.”

Well, when the girl heard this, she felt as if she could have jumped out of her skin for joy, but she didn’t say a word.

Next day that there little thing looked so maliceful when he came for the flax. And when night came, she heard that knocking against the window-panes. She oped the window, and that come right in on the ledge. That was grinning from ear to ear, and Oo! that’s tail was twirling round so fast.

“What’s my name?” that says, as that gave her the skeins.

“Is that Solomon?” she says, pretending to be afeard.

“Noo, ‘tain’t,” that says, and that came farther into the room.

“Well, is that Zebedee?” says she again.

“Noo, ‘tain’t,” says the impet. And then that laughed and twirled that’s tail till you couldn’t hardly see it.

“Take time, woman,” that says; “next guess, and you’re mine.” And that stretched out that’s black hands at her.

Well, she backed a step or two, and she looked at it, and then she laughed out, and says she, pointing her finger at it:

“Nimmy nimmy not,

Your name’s Tom Tit Tot.”

Well, when that heard her, that gave an awful shriek, and away that flew into the dark, and she never saw it any more.

The Old Woman and her Pig

Once upon a time an old woman was sweeping her little house, when, to her great joy, she found a silver sixpence.

“What,” said she, “shall I do with this little sixpence? I think I will go to market and buy a pig.” So the next day she went to market and bought a nice little white pig. She tied a string to one of the pig’s legs and began to drive him home.

On the way the old woman and her pig came to a stile, and she said:

“Please, pig, get over the stile.”

But the pig would not.

Just then a little dog came trotting up, and the old woman said to him:

“Dog, dog, bite pig;

Pig won’t get over the stile,

And I sha’n’t get home to-night.”

But the dog would not.

So the old woman held up her stick, and said:

“Stick, stick, beat dog;

Dog won’t bite pig;

Pig won’t get over the stile,

And I sha’n’t get home to-night.”

But the stick would not.

So the old woman gathered some bits of wood together to make a fire, and set them on fire, and then threw her stick into the fire and said:

“Fire, fire, burn stick;

Stick won’t beat dog;

Dog won’t bite pig;

Pig won’t get over the stile,

And I sha’n’t get home to-night.”

But the fire would not.

So the old woman fetched a pail of water that was standing near and said:

“Water, water, quench fire;

Fire won’t burn stick;

Stick won’t beat dog;

Dog won’t bite pig;

Pig won’t get over the stile,

And I sha’n’t get home to-night.”

But the water would not.

Then the old woman saw an ox coming; so she said:

“Ox, ox, drink water;

Water won’t quench fire;

Fire won’t burn stick;

Stick won’t beat dog;

Dog won’t bite pig;

Pig won’t go;

I see by the moonlight

It’s long past midnight;

Time pig and I were home an hour and a half ago.”

But the ox would not.

So the old woman turned around and saw a butcher, and she said:

“Butcher, butcher, kill ox;

Ox won’t drink water;

Water won’t quench fire;

Fire won’t burn stick;

Stick won’t beat dog;

Dog won’t bite pig;

Pig won’t go.

I see by the moonlight

It’s long past midnight;

Time pig and I were home an hour and a half ago.”

But the butcher would not.

So the old woman took a rope out of her pocket, and said:

“Rope, rope, hang butcher;

Butcher won’t kill ox;

Ox won’t drink water;

Water won’t quench fire;

Fire won’t burn stick;

Stick won’t beat dog;

Dog won’t bite pig;

Pig won’t go.

I see by the moonlight

It’s long past midnight;

Time pig and I were home an hour and a half ago.”

But the rope would not.

Just then a large brown mouse ran across the meadow, and she said:

“Mouse, mouse, gnaw rope;

Rope won’t hang butcher;

Butcher won’t kill ox;

Ox won’t drink water;

Water won’t quench fire;

Fire won’t burn stick;

Stick won’t beat dog;

Dog won’t bite pig;

Pig won’t go.

I see by the moonlight

It’s long past midnight;

Time pig and I were home an hour and a half ago.”

“Yes,” said the mouse, “I will, if you will give me some cheese.”

So the old woman put her hand in her pocket and found a nice piece of cheese; and when the mouse had eaten it:

The mouse began to gnaw the rope,

The rope began to hang the butcher,

The butcher began to kill the ox,

The ox began to drink the water,

The water began to quench the fire,

The fire began to burn the stick,

The stick began to beat the dog,

The dog began to bite the pig,

And the pig began to go.

But what time the old woman and her pig got home, you, nor I, nor nobody knows.

The Story of the Three Little Pigs

There was once an old sow with three little pigs, and as she had not enough to keep them, she sent them out to seek their fortune. The first that went off met a man with a bundle of straw, and said to him:

“Please, man, give me that straw to build me a house.”

Which the man did, and the little pig built a house with it. Presently came along a wolf, and knocked at the door, and said:

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in.”

To which the pig answered:

“No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin.”

The wolf then answered to that:

“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in.”

So he huffed, and he puffed, and he blew the house in, and ate up the little pig.

The second little pig met a man with a bundle of furze and said:

“Please, man, give me that furze to build a house.”

Which the man did, and the pig built his house. Then along came the wolf, and said:

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in.”

“No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin.”

“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in.”

So he huffed, and he puffed, and he puffed, and he huffed, and at last he blew the house down, and he ate up the little pig.

The third little pig met a man with a load of bricks, and said:

“Please, man, give me those bricks to build a house with.” So the man gave him the bricks, and he built his house with them. Then the wolf came, as he did to the other little pigs, and said:

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in.”

“No, no, by the hair on my chiny chin chin.”

“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in.”

Well, he huffed, and he puffed, and he huffed and he puffed, and he puffed and he huffed; but he could not get the house down. When he found that he could not, with all his huffing and puffing, blow the house down, he said:

“Little pig, I know where there is a nice field of turnips.”

“Where?” said the little pig.

“Oh, in Mr. Smith’s home field, and if you will be ready to-morrow morning I will call for you, and we will go together, and get some for dinner.”

“Very well,” said the little pig, “I will be ready. What time do you mean to go?”

“Oh, at six o’clock.”

Well, the little pig got up at five, and got the turnips before the wolf came (which he did about six), when he said:

“Little pig, are you ready?”

The little pig said: “Ready! I have been there and come back again, and got a nice potful for dinner.”

The wolf felt very angry at this, but thought that he would be even with the little pig somehow or other, so he said:

“Little pig, I know where there is a nice apple-tree.”

“Where?” said the pig.

“Down at Merry-garden,” replied the wolf, “and if you will not deceive me I will come for you at five o’clock to-morrow and get some apples.”

Well, the little pig bustled up the next morning at four o’clock, and went off for the apples, hoping to get back before the wolf came; but he had farther to go, and had to climb the tree, so that just as he was scrambling down from it, he saw the wolf coming, which, as you may suppose, frightened him very much. When the wolf came up he said:

“Little pig, what! are you here before me? Are they nice apples?”

“Yes, very,” said the little pig. “I will throw you down one.”

And he threw it so far that, while the wolf was gone to pick it up, the little pig jumped down and ran home. The next day the wolf came again, and said to the little pig:

“Little pig, there is a fair at Shanklin this afternoon. Will you go?”

“Oh, yes,” said the pig, “I will go; what time shall you be ready?”

“At three,” said the wolf. So the little pig went off before the time, as usual, and got to the fair, and bought a butter-churn, which he was going home with when he saw the wolf coming. Then he could not tell what to do. So he got into the churn to hide, and by so doing it turned round, and rolled down the hill with him inside, which frightened the wolf so much that he ran home without going to the fair. He went to the little pig’s house, and told him how frightened he had been by a great round thing which came down the hill past him. Then the little pig said:

“Hah, I frightened you then. I had been to the fair and bought a butter-churn, and when I saw you, I got into it, and rolled down the hill.”

Then the wolf was very angry indeed, and declared he would eat up the little pig, and that he would get down the chimney after him. When the little pig saw what he was about, he hung on the pot full of water, and made up a blazing fire, and, just as the wolf was coming down, took off the cover, and in fell the wolf; so the little pig put on the cover again in an instant, boiled him up, and ate him for supper, and lived happy ever afterward.

The Three Sillies

Once upon a time there was a farmer and his wife who had one daughter, and she was courted by a gentleman. Every evening he used to come and see her, and stop to supper at the farmhouse, and the daughter used to be sent down into the cellar to draw the beer for supper. So one evening she had gone down to draw the beer, and she happened to look up at the ceiling while she was drawing, and she saw a mallet stuck in one of the beams. It must have been there a long, long time, but somehow or other she had never noticed it before, and she began a-thinking. And she thought it was very dangerous to have that mallet there, for she said to herself: “Suppose him and me was to be married, and we was to have a son, and he was to grow up to be a man, and come down into the cellar to draw the beer, like as I’m doing now, and the mallet was to fall on his head and kill him, what a dreadful thing it would be!” And she put down the candle and the jug, and sat herself down and began a-crying.

Well, they began to wonder up-stairs how it was that she was so long drawing the beer, and her mother went down to see after her, and she found her sitting on the settle crying, and the beer running over the floor. “Why, whatever is the matter?” said her mother. “Oh, mother!” says she, “look at that horrid mallet! Suppose we was to be married, and was to have a son, and he was to grow up, and was to come down to the cellar to draw the beer, and the mallet was to fall on his head and kill him, what a dreadful thing it would be!” “Dear, dear! what a dreadful thing it would be!” said the mother, and she sat her down aside of the daughter and started a-crying too. Then after a bit the father began to wonder that they didn’t come back, and he went down into the cellar to look after them himself, and there they two sat a-crying, and the beer running all over the floor. “Whatever is the matter?” says he. “Why,” says the mother, “look at that horrid mallet. Just suppose, if our daughter and her sweetheart was to be married, and was to have a son, and he was to grow up, and was to come down into the cellar to draw the beer, and the mallet was to fall on his head and kill him, what a dreadful thing it would be!” “Dear, dear, dear! so it would!” said the father, and he sat himself down aside of the other two, and started a-crying.

Now the gentleman got tired of stopping up in the kitchen by himself, and at last he went down into the cellar too, to see what they were after; and there they three sat a-crying side by side, and the beer running all over the floor. And he ran straight and turned the tap. Then he said: “Whatever are you three doing, sitting there crying, and letting the beer run all over the floor?” “Oh!” says the father, “look at that horrid mallet! Suppose you and our daughter was to be married, and was to have a son, and he was to grow up, and was to come down into the cellar to draw the beer, and the mallet was to fall on his head and kill him!” And then they all started a-crying worse than before. But the gentleman burst out a-laughing, and reached up and pulled out the mallet, and then he said: “I’ve traveled many miles, and I never met three such big sillies as you three before; and now I shall start out on my travels again, and when I can find three bigger sillies than you three, then I’ll come back and marry your daughter.” So he wished them good-by and started off on his travels, and left them all crying because the girl had lost her sweetheart.

Well, he set out, and he traveled a long way, and at last he came to a woman’s cottage that had some grass growing on the roof. And the woman was trying to get her cow to go up a ladder to the grass, and the poor thing durst not go. So the gentleman asked the woman what she was doing. “Why, look-ye,” she said, “look at all that beautiful grass. I’m going to get the cow on to the roof to eat it. She’ll be quite safe, for I shall tie a string round her neck, and pass it down the chimney, and tie it to my wrist as I go about the house, so she can’t fall off without my knowing it.” “Oh, you poor silly!” said the gentleman, “you should cut the grass and throw it down to the cow!” But the woman thought it was easier to get the cow up the ladder than to get the grass down, so she pushed her and coaxed her and got her up, and tied a string round her neck, and passed it down the chimney, and fastened it to her own wrist. And the gentleman went on his way, but he hadn’t gone far when the cow tumbled off the roof, and hung by the string tied round her neck, and it strangled her. And the weight of the cow tied to her wrist pulled the woman up the chimney, and she stuck fast half-way and was smothered in the soot.

Well, that was one big silly.

And the gentleman went on and on, and he went to an inn to stop the night, and they were so full at the inn that they had to put him in a double-bedded room, and another traveler was to sleep in the other bed. The other man was a very pleasant fellow, and they got very friendly together; but in the morning, when they were both getting up, the gentleman was surprised to see the other hang his trousers on the knobs of the chest of drawers and run across the room and try to jump into them, and he tried over and over again, and couldn’t manage it; and the gentleman wondered whatever he was doing it for. At last he stopped and wiped his face with his handkerchief. “Oh, dear,” he says, “I do think trousers are the most awkwardest kind of clothes that ever were. I can’t think who could have invented such things. It takes me the best part of an hour to get into mine every morning, and I get so hot! How do you manage yours?” So the gentleman burst out a-laughing, and showed him how to put them on; and he was very much obliged to him, and said he never should have thought of doing it that way.

So that was another big silly.

Then the gentleman went on his travels again; and he came to a village, and outside the village there was a pond, and round the pond was a crowd of people. And they had got rakes, and brooms, and pitchforks, reaching into the pond; and the gentleman asked what was the matter. “Why,” they said, “matter enough! Moon’s tumbled into the pond, and we can’t rake her out anyhow!” So the gentleman burst out a-laughing, and told them to look up into the sky, and that it was only the shadow in the water. But they wouldn’t listen to him, and abused him shamefully, and he got away as quick as he could.

So there was a whole lot of sillies bigger than those three sillies at home. So the gentleman turned back home again and married the farmer’s daughter, and if they didn’t live happy forever after, that’s nothing to do with you or me.

The Cat and the Mouse

The Cat and the Mouse

Played in the malt-house.

The Cat bit the Mouse’s tail off.

“Pray, puss,” said the Mouse, “give me my long tail again.”

“No,” said the Cat, “I’ll not give you your tail again till you go to the cow and fetch me some milk.”

First she leaped, and then she ran,

Till she came to the cow, and thus began:

“Pray, cow, give me some milk that I may give to the Cat, so she may give me my long tail again.”

“No,” said the cow, “I will give you no milk till you go to the farmer and get me some hay.”

First she leaped, and then she ran,

Till she came to the farmer, and thus began:

“Pray, farmer, give me some hay that I may give to the cow, so she may give me some milk that I may give to the Cat, so she may give me my long tail again.”

“No,” says the farmer, “I’ll give you no hay till you go to the butcher and fetch me some meat.”

First she leaped, and then she ran,

Till she came to the butcher, and thus began:

“Pray butcher, give me some meat that I may give to the farmer, so he may give me some hay that I may give to the cow, so she may give me some milk that I may give to the Cat, so she may give me my long tail again.”

“No,” said the butcher, “I’ll give you no meat till you go to the baker and fetch me some bread.”

First she leaped, and then she ran,

Till she came to the baker, and thus began:

“Pray, baker, give me some bread that I may give to the butcher, so he may give me some meat that I may give to the farmer, so he may give me some hay that I may give to the cow, so she may give me some milk that I may give to the Cat, so she may give me my long tail again.”

“Yes,” said the baker, “I’ll give you some bread,

But if you eat my meal, I’ll cut off your head.”

The baker gave the Mouse bread, which she brought to the butcher; the butcher gave the Mouse meat, which she brought to the farmer; the farmer gave the Mouse hay, which she brought to the cow; the cow gave the Mouse milk, which she brought to the Cat; and the Cat gave to the Mouse her long tail again.

Hereafterthis

Once upon a time there was a farmer called Jan, and he lived all alone by himself in a little farmhouse.

By and by he thought that he would like to have a wife to keep it all vitty for him.

So he went a-courting a fine maid, and he said to her: “Will you marry me?”

“That I will, to be sure,” said she.

So they went to church and were wed. After the wedding was over, she got up on his horse behind him, and he brought her home. And they lived as happy as the day was long.

One day Jan said to his wife: “Wife, can you milk-y?”

“Oh, yes, Jan, I can milk-y. Mother used to milk-y when I lived home.”

So he went to market and bought her ten red cows. All went well till one day when she had driven them to the pond to drink, she thought they did not drink fast enough. So she drove them right into the pond to make them drink faster, and they were all drowned.

When Jan came home she up and told him what she had done, and he said: “Oh, well, there, never mind, my dear; better luck next time.”

So they went on for a bit, and then one day Jan said to his wife: “Wife, can you serve pigs?”

“Oh, yes, Jan, I can serve pigs. Mother used to serve pigs when I lived home.”

So Jan went to market and bought her some pigs. All went well till one day, when she had put their food into the trough, she thought they did not eat fast enough, and she pushed their heads into the trough to make them eat faster, and they were all choked.

When Jan came home she up and told him what she had done, and he said: “Oh, well, there, never mind, my dear; better luck next time.”

So they went on for a bit, and then one day Jan said to his wife: “Wife, can you bake-y?”

“Oh, yes, Jan, I can bake-y. Mother used to bake-y when I lived home.”

So he bought everything for his wife so that she could bake bread. All went well for a bit, till one day she thought she would bake white bread for a treat for Jan. So she carried her meal to the top of a high hill, and let the wind blow on it, for she thought to herself that the wind would blow out all the bran. But the wind blew away meal and bran and all—so there was an end of it.

When Jan came home, she up and told him what she had done, and he said: “Oh, well, there, never mind, my dear; better luck next time.”

So they went on for a bit, and then one day Jan said to his wife: “Wife, can you brew-y?”

“Oh, yes, Jan, I can brew-y. Mother used to brew-y when I lived home.”

So he bought everything proper for his wife to brew ale with. All went well for a bit, till one day when she had brewed her ale and put it in the barrel, a big black dog came in and looked up in her face. She drove him out of the house, but he stayed outside the door and still looked up in her face. And she got so angry that she pulled out the plug of the barrel, threw it at the dog, and said: “What dost look at me for? I be Jan’s wife.” Then the dog ran down the road, and she ran after him to chase him right away. When she came back again, she found that the ale had all run out of the barrel, and so there was an end of it.

When Jan came home, she up and told him what she had done, and he said: “Oh, well, there, never mind, my dear; better luck next time.”

So they went on for a bit, and then one day she thought to herself, “’Tis time to clean up my house.” When she was taking down her big bed she found a bag of groats on the tester. So when Jan came home, she up and said to him: “Jan, what is that bag of groats on the tester for?”

“That is for Hereafterthis, my dear.”

Now, there was a robber outside the window, and he heard what Jan said. Next day, he waited till Jan had gone to market, and then he came and knocked at the door. “What do you please to want?” said Mally.

“I am Hereafterthis,” said the robber. “I have come for the bag of groats.”

Now the robber was dressed like a fine gentleman, so she thought to herself it was very kind of so fine a man to come for the bag of groats, so she ran up-stairs and fetched the bag of groats, and gave it to the robber and he went away with it.

When Jan came home she said to him: “Jan, Hereafterthis has been for the bag of groats.”

“What do you mean, wife?” said Jan.

So she up and told him, and he said: “Then I’m a ruined man, for that money was to pay our rent with. The only thing we can do is to roam the world over till we find the bag of groats.” Then Jan took the house-door off its hinges, “That’s all we shall have to lie on,” he said. So Jan put the door on his back, and they both set out to look for Hereafterthis. Many a long day they went, and in the night Jan used to put the door on the branches of a tree, and they would sleep on it. One night they came to a big hill, and there was a high tree at the foot. So Jan put the door up in it, and they got up in the tree and went to sleep. By and by Jan’s wife heard a noise, and she looked to see what it was. It was an opening of a door in the side of the hill. Out came two gentlemen with a long table, and behind them fine ladies and lords, each carrying a bag, and one of them was Hereafterthis with the bag of groats. They sat round the table, and began to drink and talk and count up all the money in the bags. So then Jan’s wife woke him up, and asked what they should do.

“Now’s our time,” said Jan, and he pushed the door off the branches, and it fell right in the very middle of the table, and frightened the robbers so that they all ran away. Then Jan and his wife got down from the tree, took as many moneybags as they could carry on the door, and went straight home. And Jan bought his wife more cows, and more pigs, and they lived happy ever after.

Titty Mouse and Tatty Mouse

Titty Mouse and Tatty Mouse both lived in a house,

Titty Mouse went a-leasing and Tatty Mouse went a-leasing,

So they both went a-leasing.

Titty Mouse leased an ear of corn, and Tatty Mouse leased an ear of corn,

So they both leased an ear of corn.

Titty Mouse made a pudding, and Tatty Mouse made a pudding,

So they both made a pudding.

And Tatty Mouse put her pudding into the pot to boil,

But when Titty went to put hers in, the pot tumbled over, and scalded her to death.

Then Tatty sat down and wept, and a three-legged stool said: “Tatty, why do you weep?” “Titty’s dead,” said Tatty, “and so I weep.” “Then,” said the stool, “I’ll hop.” So the stool hopped.

Then a broom in the corner of the room said: “Stool, why do you hop?” “Oh!” said the stool, “Titty’s dead, and Tatty weeps, and so I hop.” “Then,” said the broom, “I’ll sweep.” So the broom began to sweep.

“Then,” said the door, “Broom, why do you sweep?” “Oh!” said the broom, “Titty’s dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops, and so I sweep.” “Then,” said the door, “I’ll jar.” So the door jarred.

“Then,” said the window, “Door, why do you jar?” “Oh!” said the door, “Titty’s dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, and so I jar.”

“Then,” said the window, “I’ll creak.” So the window creaked. Now there was an old form outside the house, and when the window creaked, the form said: “Window, why do you creak?” “Oh!” said the window, “Titty’s dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and so I creak.”

“Then,” said the old form, “I’ll run round the house.” Then the old form ran round the house. Now there was a fine large walnut-tree growing by the cottage, and the tree said to the form: “Form, why do you run round the house?” “Oh!” said the form, “Titty’s dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, and so I run round the house.”

“Then,” said the walnut-tree, “I’ll shed my leaves.” So the walnut-tree shed all its beautiful green leaves. Now there was a little bird perched on one of the boughs of the tree, and when all the leaves fell, it said: “Walnut-tree, why do you shed your leaves?” “Oh!” said the tree, “Titty’s dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, the old form runs round the house, and so I shed my leaves.”

“Then,” said the little bird, “I’ll moult all my feathers.” So he moulted all his pretty feathers. Now there was a little girl walking below, carrying a jug of milk for her brothers’ and sisters’ supper, and when she saw the poor little bird moult all its feathers, she said: “Little bird, why do you moult all your feathers?” “Oh!” said the little bird, “Titty’s dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, the old form runs round the house, the walnut-tree sheds its leaves, and so I moult all my feathers.”

“Then,” said the little girl, “I’ll spill the milk.” So she dropped the pitcher and spilt the milk. Now there was an old man just by on the top of a ladder thatching a rick, and when he saw the little girl spill the milk, he said: “Little girl, what do you mean by spilling the milk? Your little brothers and sisters must go without their supper.” Then said the little girl: “Titty’s dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, the old form runs round the house, the walnut-tree sheds all its leaves, the little bird moults all its feathers, and so I spill the milk.”

“Oh!” said the old man, “then I’ll tumble off the ladder and break my neck.” So he tumbled off the ladder and broke his neck; and when the old man broke his neck, the great walnut-tree fell down with a crash, and upset the old form and house, and the house falling knocked the window out, and the window knocked the door down, and the door upset the broom, and the broom upset the stool, and poor little Tatty Mouse was buried beneath the ruins.

The Magpie’s Nest

Once upon a time all the birds of the air came to the Magpie and asked her to teach them how to build nests, for the Magpie is the cleverest of all at building. So she put them all around her and began to show them how to do it. First of all she took some mud and made a sort of round cake with it.

“Oh, that’s how it’s done,” said the thrush; and away it flew, and so that’s how thrushes build their nests.

Then the Magpie took some twigs and arranged them around in the mud.

“Now I know all about it,” said the blackbird, and off he flew; and that’s how the blackbirds make their nests to this very day.

Then the Magpie put another layer of mud over the twigs.

“Oh, that’s quite obvious,” said the wise owl, and away he flew; and owls have never made better nests since.

After this the Magpie took some twigs and twined them around the outside.

“The very thing!” said the sparrow, and off he went; so sparrows make rather slovenly nests to this day.

Well, then Madge Magpie took some feathers and stuff and lined the nest very comfortably with it.

“That suits me,” cried the starling, and off he flew; and very comfortable nests have starlings.

So it went on, every bird taking away some knowledge of how to build nests, but none of them waiting to the end. Meanwhile Madge Magpie went on working and working without looking up till the only bird that remained was the turtle-dove, and that hadn’t paid any attention all along, but only kept on saying its silly cry: “Take two, Taffy, take two-o-o-o.”

At last the Magpie heard this just as she was putting a twig across. So she said: “One’s enough.”

But the turtle-dove kept on saying: “Take two, Taffy, take two-o-o-o.”

Then the Magpie grew angry and said: “One’s enough, I tell you.”

Still the turtle-dove cried: “Take two, Taffy, take two-o-o-o.”

At last, and at last, the Magpie looked up and saw nobody near her but the silly turtle-dove, and then she grew very angry and refused to teach any more.

And that is why all the birds build their nests in different ways up to this day. Each one made off, you see, as soon as he thought he had learned the Magpie’s secret, and each is perfectly contented with his own way.

Scrapefoot

Once upon a time, there were three bears who lived in a castle in a great wood. One of them was a great big bear, and one was a middling bear, and one was a little bear. And in the same wood there was a fox who lived all alone. His name was Scrapefoot. Scrapefoot was very much afraid of the bears, but for all that he wanted very much to know about them. And one day as he went through the wood he found himself near the bears’ castle, and he wondered whether he could get into the castle. He looked all about him everywhere, and he could not see any one. So he came on very quietly, till at last he came up to the door of the castle, and he tried whether he could open it. Yes! the door was not locked, and he opened it just a little way, and put his nose in and looked, and he could not see any one. So then he opened it a little way farther, and put one paw in, and then another paw, and another, and another, and then he was all in the bears’ castle. He found he was in a great hall with three chairs in it—one big, one middling, and one little chair; and he thought he would like to sit down and rest and look about him; so he sat down on the big chair. But he found it so hard and uncomfortable that it made his bones ache, and he jumped down at once and got into the middling chair, and he turned round and round in it, but he couldn’t make himself comfortable. So then he went to the little chair and sat down in it, and it was so soft and warm and comfortable that Scrapefoot was quite happy; but all at once it broke to pieces under him and he couldn’t put it together again! So he got up and began to look about him again, and on one table he saw three saucers, of which one was very big, one was middling, and one was quite a little saucer. Scrapefoot was very thirsty, and he began to drink out of the big saucer. But he only just tasted the milk in the big saucer, which was so sour and so horrid that he would not taste another drop of it. Then he tried the middling saucer, and he drank a little of that. He tried two or three mouthfuls, but it was not nice, and then he left it and went to the little saucer, and the milk in the little saucer was so sweet and so nice that he went on drinking it till it was all gone.

Then Scrapefoot thought he would like to go up-stairs; and he listened and he could not hear any one. So up-stairs he went, and he found a great room with three beds in it; one was a big bed, and one was a middling bed, and one was a little white bed; and he climbed up into the big bed, but it was so hard and lumpy and uncomfortable that he jumped down again at once, and tried the middling bed. That was rather better, but he could not lie comfortably in it, so after turning about a little while he got up and went to the little bed; and that was so soft and so warm and so nice that he fell fast asleep at once.

And after a time the bears came home, and when they got into the hall the big bear went to his chair and said: “WHO’S BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR?” and the middling bear said: “WHO’S BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR?” and the little bear said: “Who’s been sitting in my chair and has broken it all to pieces?” And then they went to have their milk, and the big bear said: “WHO’S BEEN DRINKING MY MILK?” and the middling bear said: “WHO’S BEEN DRINKING MY MILK?” and the little bear said: “Who’s been drinking my milk and has drunk it all up?” Then they went up-stairs and into the bedroom, and the big bear said: “WHO’S BEEN SLEEPING IN MY BED?” and the middling bear said: “WHO’S BEEN SLEEPING IN MY BED?” and the little bear said: “Who’s been sleeping in my bed?—and see, here he is!” So then the bears came and wondered what they should do with him; and the big bear said: “Let’s hang him!” and then the middling bear said: “Let’s drown him!” and then the little bear said: “Let’s throw him out of the window.” And then the bears took him to the window, and the big bear took two legs on one side and the middling bear took two legs on the other side, and they swung him backward and forward, backward and forward, and out of the window. Poor Scrapefoot was so frightened, and he thought every bone in his body must be broken. But he got up and first shook one leg—no, that was not broken; and then another, and that was not broken; and another and another, and then he wagged his tail and found there were no bones broken. So then he galloped off home as fast as he could go, and never went near the bears’ castle again.

The Wise Men of Gotham