THE MASTER-MAID
Once there was a King who had a son, and this Prince would not stay at home, but went a long, long way off to a very far country. There he met a Giant; and though it seems a strange thing for a King’s son to do, the Prince went to the Giant’s house to be his servant, and the Giant gave the Prince a room, to sleep in, which, very strangely, had a door on every side. However, the Prince thought little of this, for he was very tired, and he went quickly to bed, and slept soundly all night.
Now, the Giant had a large herd of goats; and very likely the Prince thought the Giant would send him to herd the goats. But the Giant did nothing of the sort. In the morning he prepared to take the goats to pasture himself; but before he set out he told the Prince that he expected him to clean the stable before he came back in the evening.
“I am a very easy master,” said the Giant, “and that is all I expect you to do. But remember, I expect the work to be well done.” Then, before he reached the door, he turned back and said, in a threatening way: “You are not to open a single one of the doors in your room. If you do, I shall kill you.”
Then the Giant shut the door in a way that seemed to say, “I mean every word I have said,” and he went off with his goats, and left the Prince alone.
When he was gone, the Prince drummed for a while with his fingers on the window. Then, when the Giant and his flock had gone out of sight, he began to walk about the room, whistling to himself and looking at the forbidden doors.
The house seemed silent and lonely, and he really had nothing to do. To clean a stable with only one stall seemed a very small task for a sturdy boy like him.
At last he said to himself: “I wonder what the Giant keeps behind those doors? I think I shall look and see.”
If the Giant had been there the Prince would have paid dear for his curiosity; but he was far away, and the Prince boldly opened the first door, and inside he saw a huge pot, or cauldron, boiling away merrily.
“What a strange thing,” said the Prince; “there is no fire under the pot. I must go in and see it!”
And into the room he went, and bent down to see what queer soup it was that boiled without a fire. As he did so, a lock of his hair dipped into the pot; and when he raised his head, the lock looked like bronze. The cauldron was full of boiling copper.
He went out and closed the door carefully behind him; and, wondering if there was a copper pot in the next room, he opened the second door. There was a cauldron inside, boiling merrily; but there was no fire to be seen. He went over and looked into the pot; and as it did not look exactly like the first one, he dipped in another lock. When he raised his head, up came the lock, weighted heavily with silver. The cauldron was full of boiling silver.
Wondering greatly at the Giant’s riches, the Prince went out, closed the door very carefully, and opened the third door. He almost tip-toed into this room, he was so curious; but he went through the same performance. And when he raised his head from the third pot that boiled without a fire, the third lock of hair was like a heavy tassel of gold. The third pot was full of boiling gold.
Full of amazement at the Giant’s great riches, the Prince hurried out of the room, and closed the door with the greatest care. By this time he was so full of curiosity that he ran as fast as he could to the fourth door. And yet he scarcely dared to open it to see the riches he was sure it hid behind it.
However, he opened it, very gently and very quietly; and there on the bench, in the window, looking out, sat a beautiful maiden.
Although the door opened very quietly, she heard the sound, and looked up. And when she saw the handsome young Prince standing in the doorway, she started toward him, and cried in great distress: “O boy, boy! why have you come here?”
The Prince told her he had come to serve the Giant, and found him a very easy master. Indeed, he said the Giant had given him nothing to do that day but clean the stable.
The maiden told him that if he tried to clean it as everyone else did, he would never finish the work, because for every pitchforkful he threw out, ten would come back.
The thing to do, she said, was to use the handle of his pitchfork, and the work would soon be done.
The Prince said he would follow her advice; and then they sat all day and talked of pleasant things. Indeed, they liked each other so well that they very soon settled that they would get married.
When it came toward evening, the maiden reminded the Prince that the Giant would soon be home. So the youth went out to clean the stable. First, he tried to do the work as any other boy would do it; but when he found that in a very short time he would not have room to stand, he quickly turned the pitchfork around and used the handle. In a few moments the stable was as clean as a stable could be. Then he went back to his room and wandered about it with his hands in his pockets, looking quite as innocent as if he had not raised the latch of a single door.
Soon the Giant came in and asked if his work was done. The Prince said it was. Of course, the Giant did not believe him; but he went out to see. When he came back he said very decidedly to the Prince: “You have been talking to my Master-Maid. You could not have learned how to clean that stable yourself.”
But the Prince made himself appear as if he had never heard of the maiden before, and asked such stupid questions that the Giant went away satisfied, and left him to sleep.
Next morning, before the Giant set out with his goats, he again told the Prince that he would find he was an easy master: all he had to do that day was to catch the Giant’s horse that was feeding on the mountain-side. And having set him this task, the Giant said that if the Prince opened one of the doors he would kill him. Then he took his staff, and was soon out of sight.
Quick as the Giant disappeared, the Prince, who had no more interest in the other rooms, opened the fourth door. The maiden asked him about his day’s task; and when she heard it; she told the Prince that the horse would rush at him with flame bursting from its nostrils, and its mouth wide open to tear him. But, she said, if he would take the bridle that hung on the crook by the door, and fling it straight into the horse’s mouth, the beast would become quite tame. He promised to do so; and they talked all day of pleasant things. And when it came toward evening the maiden reminded him that the Giant would soon be home.
So the Prince went out to catch the horse; and everything happened as the maiden said. But when the fiery horse rushed at him with open mouth he watched his opportunity, and just at the right moment he flung the bridle in between its teeth, and the horse stood still. Then the Prince mounted it and rode it quietly home. He put the horse in the stable, and went to his room, sat down and whistled to himself as if he did not know there was a maiden in the world.
Very soon the Giant came in, and asked about the horse, and the Prince said very quietly that it was in the stable. The Giant did not believe him; but he went to see, and again accused the Prince of having been talking to his Master-Maid.
The Prince pretended to be stupid, and asked silly questions, and said he would like to see the maid. “You shall see her soon enough,” the Giant promised, and went away and left the Prince to go to sleep.
The next day, before the Giant set out, he told the Prince to go down underground and fetch his taxes. Then he warned the Prince not to touch the doors, and went off with his goats.
No sooner was he out of sight than the Prince rushed to the maiden, and asked her how he was to find his way underground to get the taxes, and how much he should ask for. She took him to the window and pointed out a rocky ledge. He must go there, she said, take a club that hung beside it, and knock on the rocky wall. As soon as he did so, a fiery monster would come out, and ask his errand.
“But remember,” said the maiden, “when he asks how much you want, you are to say: ‘As much as I can carry.’”
The Prince promised to do as she said, and they sat down close together and talked until the evening of what they would do when they escaped from the Giant and went home to get married.
When evening came the maiden reminded the Prince of the Giant’s coming, and he went to get the money from the fiery monster. Everything happened as the maiden said; and when the monster, with sparks flying everywhere from him, asked fiercely, “How much do you want?” the Prince was not in the least afraid, but said: “As much as I can carry.”
“It is a good thing you did not ask for a horse-load,” said the monster; and he took the Prince in and filled a sack, which was as much as the Prince could do to carry. Indeed, that was nothing to what the Prince saw there, for gold and silver coins lay around, inside the mountain, like pebbles on the seashore.
The Prince carried the money back to the Giant’s house; and when the Giant reached home, the Prince sat quietly in his room, whistling softly, just as if he had never risen from his seat since the Giant left.
The Giant demanded the money for his taxes. “Here it is,” said the Prince, showing him the bursting sack. The Giant examined the money, and then again accused the Prince of having been talking to the Master-Maid.
“Master,” said the Prince, “this is the third day you have talked about the Master-Maid. Will you let me see her?”
The Giant looked at the Prince from under his bushy eyebrows, and said: “It is time enough to-morrow. I will show her to you myself, and you will see quite enough of her,” and he went off and left the Prince to his sleep.
But next morning, early, the Giant strode into the Prince’s room, and saying, “Now I will take you to see the Master-Maid,” he opened the door of the fourth room, beckoned the Prince to follow him in, and said to the maiden: “Kill this youth, boil him in the large cauldron, and when the broth is ready, call me.”
Then, just as if he had said nothing more startling than “Prepare some cauliflower for dinner,” he lay down on the bench and fell so fast asleep that his snores sounded like thunder.
“kill this youth. boil him in the large cauldron,” said the giant
Immediately the maiden began to make her preparations very neatly and quickly. First, with a little knife she made a small gash in the Prince’s little finger and dropped three drops of his blood on the wooden stool, near the cauldron. Then she gathered up a lot of rubbish, such as old shoes and rags, and put them in the cauldron with water and pepper and salt. Last of all, she packed a small chest with gold, and gave it to the Prince to carry; filled a water-flask; took a golden cock and hen, and put a lump of salt and a golden apple in her pocket. Then the maid and the Prince ran to the sea-shore as fast as they could, climbed on board a little ship that had come from no-one-knows-where, and sailed away.
After a while the Giant roused a little, and said sleepily: “Will it soon boil?”
The first drop of blood answered quietly: “It is just beginning.” And the Giant went to sleep again.
At the end of a few hours more he roused again and asked: “Will it soon be ready?”
And the second drop said: “Half done,” in the maiden’s mournful voice, for she had seen so many dark deeds done that, until the Prince came, she was always sad.
Again the Giant went to sleep, for several hours; but then he became quite awake, and asked: “Is it not done yet?”
The third drop said: “Quite ready.” And the Giant sat up, and looked around. The maiden was nowhere to be seen, but the Giant went over to the pot and tasted the soup.
At once he knew what had happened, and in a furious rage rushed to the sea, but he could not get over it. So he called up his water-sucker, who lay down and drank two or three draughts; and the water fell so low that the horizon dropped, and the Giant could see the maiden and the Prince a long way off.
But the Master-Maid told the Prince to throw the lump of salt into the sea, and as soon as he did so it became such a high mountain that the Giant could not cross it, and the water-sucker could not gather up any more water.
Then the Giant called his hill-borer, who bored a tunnel through the mountain, so that the sucker could go through and drink up more water.
Then the maiden told the Prince to scatter a few drops from the water-bottle into the sea. As soon as he did so the sea filled up, and before the water-sucker could drink one drop, they were at the other side, safe in the kingdom of the Prince’s father.
The Prince did not think it was fitting that his bride should walk to his palace, so he said he would go and fetch seven horses and a carriage to take her there. The maiden begged him not to go, because, she said, he would forget her; but he insisted. Then she asked him to speak to no one while he was away, and on no account to taste anything; and he promised that he would go straight to the stable for the horses, and without speaking a word to anyone, would come straight back.
When he got to the palace he found it full of a merry company, for his brother was going to be married to a lovely princess, who had come from a far-off land. But in answer to their cries of welcome and questions the Prince said no word, and only shook his head when they offered him food, until the pretty laughing young sister of the bride-to-be rolled a bright red apple across the courtyard to him. Laughing back at her, he picked it up, and without thinking bit into it. Immediately he forgot the Master-Maid, who had saved his life and was now sitting alone on the seashore waiting for him.
She waited until the night began to grow dark; then she went away into the wood near the palace to find shelter. There she found a dark hut, owned by a Witch, who at first would not allow her to stay. The Witch’s hard heart, however, was softened by the maiden’s gold, and she allowed her to have the hut.
Then the maid flung into the fire a handful of gold, which immediately melted and boiled all over the hut, and gilded the dark, dingy walls. The Witch was so frightened that she ran away, and the maid was left alone in the little gilded house.
The next morning the Sheriff was passing through the wood, and stopped to see the gilded house. At once he fell in love with the beautiful maiden, and asked her to marry him. The maiden asked if he had a great deal of money, and the Sheriff said he had a good deal, and went away to fetch it. In the evening he came back with a two-bushel bag of gold; and as he had so much, the maiden seemed to think she would marry him.
But as they were talking she sprang up, saying she had forgotten to put coal on the fire. The Sheriff went to do it for her, and immediately she put a spell on him so that until morning came, he could not let the shovel go, and had to stand all night pouring red hot coals over himself. In the morning he was a sad sight to see, and hurried home so fast, to hide himself, that people thought he was mad.
The next day the Attorney passed by, and the same thing happened. The Attorney brought a four-bushel sack of money to show the maid how rich he was; and while they were talking the maid said she had forgotten to close the door, so the Attorney went to close it. When he had his hand on the latch the maid cried: “May you hold the door, and the door you, and may you go between wall and wall, till day dawns.”
And all night long the Attorney had to rush back and forth, trying to escape from the blows of the door which he could not let go. He made a great deal of noise, but the maid slept as soundly as if she were in the midst of calm. In the morning the Attorney escaped, and went home so bruised-and-battered looking that everyone stopped and stared at him.
The next day the Bailiff saw the bright little house and the maid. He at once fell in love with her, and brought at least six bushels of money to show how rich she would be, if she married him. The maid seemed to think she would; but while they were talking she suddenly remembered to tie up the calf.
The Bailiff went to do it for her, and she put a spell on him, so that all night long he had to fly over hill and dale holding on to the calf’s tail, which he could by no means let go. In the morning he was a sorry sight, as he limped slowly home, with torn coat and ragged boots at which everyone looked, for he was always dressed very neatly.
While all this was happening, the Prince had quite forgotten the maid; and, indeed, it was arranged that he was to marry the young Princess who had thrown him the apple on the same day that his brother married her sister.
the bailiff could not let go of the calf’s tail
But when the two Princes and their brides were seated in the carriage the trace-pin broke, and no pin could be got that would not break, until the Sheriff thought of the maiden’s shovel-handle. The King sent to borrow it, and it made a pin that did not break in two.
Then a curious thing happened: the bottom of the carriage fell out, and as fast as a new one was made it fell to pieces. However, the Attorney thought of the maiden’s door. The King sent to borrow it, and it fitted the bottom of the carriage exactly.
Everything was now ready, and the coachman cracked his whip; but, strain as they would, the horses could not move the carriage. At last the Bailiff thought of the Master-Maid’s calf; and although it was a very ridiculous thing to see the King’s carriage drawn by a calf, the King sent to borrow it. The maiden, who was very obliging, lent it at once. The calf was harnessed to the carriage, and away it went over stock and stone, pulling horse and carriage as easily and quickly as it had pulled the Bailiff.
When they got to the church door the carriage began to go round and round so quickly that it was very difficult and dangerous to get out of it.
When they were seated at the wedding feast, the Prince said he thought they ought to invite the maiden who lived in the gilded hut, because without her help they could not have got to the church at all. The King thought so too; so they sent five courtiers to ask her to the feast.
“Greet the King,” replied the maid, “and tell him if he is too good to come to me, I am too good to go to him.”
So the King had to go himself and invite her; and as they went to the palace he thought she was something else than what she seemed to be.
So he put her in the place of honor beside the Prince; and after a while the Master-Maid took out the golden cock and hen and the golden apple, which she had brought from the Giant’s house, and put them on the table.
At once the cock and hen began to fight.
“Oh! look how those two there are fighting for the apple,” said the Prince.
“Yes, and so did we fight to get out of danger,” said the Master-Maid.
Then the Prince knew her again. The Witch who had thrown him the apple disappeared, and now for the first time they began really to keep the wedding.
CAP O’ RUSHES[J]
Well, there was once a very rich gentleman who had three daughters, and he thought he’d see how fond they were of him. So he says to the first:
“How much do you love me, my dear?”
“Why,” says she, “as I love my life.”
“That’s good,” says he.
So he says to the second: “How much do you love me, my dear?”
“Why,” says she, “better nor all the world.”
“That’s good,” says he.
So he says to the third: “How much do you love me, my dear?”
“Why, I love you as fresh meat loves salt,” says she.
Well, but he was angry! “You don’t love me at all,” says he, “and in my house you stay no more.” So he drove her out, there and then, and shut the door in her face.
Well, she went away, on and on, till she came to a fen, and there she gathered a lot of rushes and made them into a kind of a sort of a cloak, with a hood, to cover her from head to foot, and to hide her fine clothes.
And then she went on and on till she came to a great house.
“Do you want a maid?” says she.
“No, we don’t,” said they.
“I haven’t nowhere to go,” says she; “and I ask no wages, and will do any sort of work,” says she.
“Well,” said they, “if you like to wash the pots and scrape the saucepans you may stay,” said they.
So she stayed there, and washed the pots, and scraped the saucepans, and did all the dirty work. And because she gave no name they called her “Cap o’ Rushes.”
Well, one day there was to be a great dance a little way off, and the servants were allowed to go and look on at the grand people. Cap o’ Rushes said she was too tired to go, so she stayed at home.
But when they were gone, she offed with her cap o’ rushes, and cleaned herself, and went to the dance. And no one there was so finely dressed as she!
Well, who should be there but her master’s son, and what should he do but fall in love with her the minute he set eyes on her. He wouldn’t dance with anyone else.
But before the dance was done, Cap o’ Rushes slipped off and away she went home. And when the other maids came back she was pretending to be asleep with her cap o’ rushes on.
Well, next morning they said to her: “You did miss a sight, Cap o’ Rushes!”
“What was that?” says she.
“Why, the beautifullest lady you ever saw, dressed right gay and ga’. The young master—he never took his eyes off her.”
“Well, I should like to have seen her,” says Cap o’ Rushes.
“Well, there’s to be another dance this evening, and perhaps she’ll be there.”
But, come the evening, Cap o’ Rushes said she was too tired to go with them. Howsoever, when they were gone, she offed with her cap o’ rushes, cleaned herself, and away she went to the dance.
The master’s son had been reckoning on seeing her, and he danced with no one else, and never took his eyes off her. But before the dance was over she slipped off and home she went, and when the maids came back she pretended to be asleep with her cap o’ rushes on.
Next day they said to her again: “Well, Cap o’ Rushes, you should have been there to see the lady. There she was again, gay and ga’, and the young master—he never took his eyes off her.”
“Well, there,” says she, “I should ha’ liked to ha’ seen her.”
“Well,” says they, “there’s a dance again this evening, and you must go with us, for she’s sure to be there.”
Well, come this evening, Cap o’ Rushes said she was too tired to go; and do what they would she stayed at home. But when they were gone, she offed with her cap o’ rushes and cleaned herself, and away she went to the dance.
The master’s son was rarely glad when he saw her. He danced with none but her, and never took his eyes off her. When she wouldn’t tell him her name, nor where she came from, he gave her a ring, and told her if he didn’t see her again he should die.
Well, before the dance was over, off she slipped, and home she went; and when the maids came home she was pretending to be asleep with her cap o’ rushes on.
Well, next day they says to her: “There, Cap o’ Rushes, you didn’t come last night, and now you won’t see the lady, for there’s no more dances.”
“Well, I should have rarely liked to have seen her,” says she.
The master’s son he tried every way to find out where the lady was gone; but go where he might, and ask whom he might, he never heard anything about her. And he got worse and worse for the love of her, till he had to keep to his bed.
“Make some gruel for the young master,” they said to the cook. “He’s dying for the love of the lady.” The cook set about making it, when Cap o’ Rushes came in.
“What are you a-doing of?” says she.
“I’m going to make some gruel for the young master,” says the cook, “for he’s dying for love of the lady.”
“Let me make it,” says Cap o’ Rushes.
Well, the cook wouldn’t at first, but at last she said yes, and Cap o’ Rushes made the gruel. And when she had made it she slipped the ring into it on the sly before the cook took it upstairs.
The young man he drank it, and then he saw the ring at the bottom.
“Send for the cook,” says he.
So up she came.
“Who made this gruel here?” says he.
“I did,” says the cook, for she was frightened.
And he looked at her.
“No, you didn’t,” says he. “Say who did it, and you shan’t be harmed.”
“Well, then, ’t was Cap o’ Rushes,” says she.
“Send Cap o’ Rushes here,” says he.
So Cap o’ Rushes came.
“Did you make my gruel?” says he.
“Yes, I did,” says she.
“Where did you get this ring?” says he.
“From him that gave it me,” says she.
“Who are you, then?” says the young man.
“I’ll show you,” says she. And she offed with her cap o’ rushes, and there she was in her beautiful clothes.
Well, the master’s son he got well very soon, and they were to be married in a little time. It was to be a very grand wedding, and everyone was asked, far and near. And Cap o’ Rushes’ father was asked. But she never told anybody who she was.
But before the wedding, she went to the cook, and says she:
“I want you to dress every dish without a mite of salt.”
“That’ll be rare nasty,” says the cook.
“and there she was in her beautiful clothes”
“That doesn’t signify,” said she.
Well, the wedding day came, and they were married. And after they were married all the company sat down to the dinner. When they began to eat the meat, it was so tasteless they couldn’t eat it. But Cap o’ Rushes’ father tried first one dish and then another, and then he burst out crying.
“What’s the matter?” said the master’s son to him.
“Oh!” says he, “I had a daughter. And I asked her how much she loved me. And she said, ‘As much as fresh meat loves salt.’ And I turned her from my door, for I thought she didn’t love me. And now I see she loved me best of all. And she may be dead for aught I know.”
“No, father, here she is!” said Cap o’ Rushes. And she goes up to him and puts her arms round him.
And so they were all happy ever after.
[J] From “English Fairy Tales,” collected by Joseph Jacobs; used by permission of G. P. Putnam’s Sons.
FULFILLED
It was Christmas eve, and in the great house on the hill there was much rejoicing and preparation for the feasting on the morrow. A knock came at the door, and two strangers stood there. “We have lost our way,” they said, “and the night is dark and cold, and we do not know where to go, and we would be glad to be allowed to stay for the night.”
But the farmer and his wife said “No!” very shortly. They had no room for beggars.
So the strangers went to the foot of the hill where stood the small cottage of a laborer and his wife. In this house there was much happiness, but there was no preparation for feasting on the morrow. They were poor folk, who could not keep the feast.
But when the strangers came the laborer opened the door wide and bade them enter and draw near the fire and warm themselves. And, because there was but one bed in the house, the laborer and his wife gave that to their guests, and themselves slept on straw in an outer room; but, strange to say, they never slept better in all their lives.
In the morning they urged the strangers to stay with them, as it was a feast-day, and a sorry time for travelers to be on the road. And, because there was no meat in the house, the laborer went out and killed the one goat which they owned, and his wife dressed it, and cooked it, and made a feast. Then the strangers and the laborer and his wife went to church together, and all came home and sat down to the good dinner.
And when they were departing one of the strangers said to the laborer: “How many horns had the little goat?”
The laborer looked a bit confused, for he had not meant that his guests should know that he had sacrificed his last goat for them, but he answered: “Why, there were but two, of course.”
“Then,” said the guests, “you and your wife shall have two wishes, one for each of you.”
The laborer and his wife looked at each other, at first in perplexity, and then they smiled. They were very contented, they said. They had looked into each other’s eyes, and had seen that which made for happiness and contentment. So they told the guests that they had no wishes to make: if they might but have their daily bread, and the hope of heaven when they died, there was nothing more.
The strangers said that these things should certainly be fulfilled, and took their leave, promising to come again next year, and spend the night, and attend church, and share the feast with their friends.
From that day on everything that the laborer and his wife did prospered. Their pigs were fat, and brought good prices on the market; their corn grew thick and tall, and the barns were filled with golden grain; their hens laid more and bigger eggs than ever before, so that soon the couple were no longer poor, but prosperous.
They knew quite well to whom they owed such good fortune, and often spoke about it, and looked forward to the time when their friends should come again next year. For it seemed to them that they could hardly enjoy the good things that had been given to them until they had thanked those through whose favor the good fortune had come.
Now, the farmer and his wife remembered that these strangers had first come to them; and when they heard the story they were envious, for, although they were rich, they were not content.
So one day the farmer went down the hill to the laborer’s cottage and said:
“After all, your house is but small to entertain such guests. When they come again this year, send them up to our house, and we will give them a grand feast, and soft beds to sleep on, and take them to the church in our fine carriage.”
The laborer and his wife thought that it was very nice that their friends were to be so well entertained, and were very willing to promise to send them to the house of the farmer.
So when the Christmas season was come the farmer and his wife killed an ox, and prepared a great feast. And when the strangers came they were right royally entertained; but the next morning they said that they must hasten, as they were to enter the church with the friends of the year before. This was very satisfactory to the farmer and his wife, for they did not want to go to church on Christmas Day, but the farmer said that since the strangers were going to the church he would drive them there in his carriage.
So the finest horses on the farm were harnessed to the carriage and it stood at the door. And just as they were about to drive away one of the strangers turned to the farmer, asking: “Did you kill the ox for us?”
“Oh, yes,” answered the farmer, eagerly.
“And how many horns did he have?”
This was the question that the farmer and his wife had been waiting for, and the farmer’s wife whispered in her husband’s ear: “Say four—there will be that much more for us.”
So the farmer answered: “Indeed, it was a very peculiar ox; it had four horns.”
“Then,” said the stranger, “you shall have four wishes, two for each of you.”
Then they mounted into the carriage and were driven off to the church, the farmer driving very fast, for he was eager to get back home to his wife so that they might talk over what they were to wish for.
So when he started back the horses were pretty well “blown,” and could not go fast, and the farmer whipped them, and at last one of them stumbled and a trace broke. This was most provoking, and he could not wait to fix it right, but fastened it hastily, for he wanted to be at home again. Then the other horse stumbled, and the other trace broke, so both of them were down.
At this the farmer was very angry. “The wicked elves take you! I wish—” But the words were not all out of his mouth before the horses had gone, leaving the harness dangling to the carriage.
The farmer was indeed angry now, but there was nothing to be done about it, and he knew that he had but one wish left and he wanted to make that one very carefully, so he packed the harness on his back, left the wagon standing, and started home on foot.
Now, at home the farmer’s wife was very impatient for him to come, for she wanted to talk over with him what her two wishes should be, and at last she exclaimed: “Oh, I wish that he would hurry!”
No sooner were the words spoken than the farmer shot through the air and into the house, angry at having been brought so speedily, and at his wife for having so foolishly wasted a wish. So immediately they began to quarrel about it, and the farmer said that it was all her fault for making him lie about the number of horns on the ox.
“Plague take the woman!” he exclaimed, “I wish that two of the horns were growing out of her head this minute!”
No sooner were the words spoken than the woman threw her hands to her head and cried aloud in pain, for two horns were growing rapidly, one on each side of her head, and soon they were pushing through her hair and shoving her cap aside.
But the farmer clapped his hand to his mouth exclaiming: “Oh, that was my last wish. Do you now quickly wish for a million dollars!”
“Much good a million dollars would do me!” said his wife, “with horns on my head like an ox!”
“But you could buy bonnets of silk and of velvet and cover them up,” pleaded her husband, who saw his last hope of riches disappearing, as, indeed, it did, for he had hardly stopped speaking when his wife exclaimed: “I wish that the horns were gone off of my head.”
And in a moment the horns were gone, and so was the last wish, and so was the hope for great riches, and so, also, were the two fine horses!
KING GRISLY-BEARD
RETOLD FROM THE BROTHERS GRIMM
Once there was a great King who had a daughter that was very beautiful, but so haughty and vain she thought none of the Princes who came to ask her in marriage were good enough for her, and she made sport of them.
One day the King, her father, held a great feast, and invited all the Princes at once. They sat in a row, according to their rank—Kings and Princes and Dukes and Earls. Then the Princess came in, and passed down the line by them all; but she had something disagreeable to say to every one. The first was too fat. “He’s as round as a tub!” she said. The next one was too tall. “What a flag-pole!” she declared. The next was too short. “What a dumpling!” was her comment. The fourth was too pale, and so she called him “Wall-face.” The fifth was too red, and was named “Coxcomb.”
Thus she had some joke upon every one, but she laughed more than all at a good King who was there. “Look at him,” said she; “his beard is like an old mop. I call him ‘Grisly-Beard.’” So after that the good King got the nickname of “Grisly-Beard.”
Now the old King, her father, was very angry when he saw how badly his daughter behaved, and how she treated all his friends. So he said that, willing or unwilling, she should marry the first beggar that came to the door! All the Kings and Nobles heard him say this.
Two days afterward a traveling singer came by. When he began to sing and beg alms the King heard him and said: “Let him come in.” So they brought in a dirty-looking fellow, and he sang before the King and the Princess. When he begged a gift the King said: “You have sung so well that I will give you my daughter for your wife.”
“you have sung so well i will give you my daughter for your wife”
The Princess begged for mercy, but her father said: “I shall keep my word.” So the parson was sent for, and she was married to the singer. Then the King said: “You must get ready; you can’t stay here any longer; you must travel on with your husband.”
Then the beggar departed and took his wife with him.
Soon they came to a great wood. “Whose wood is this?” she asked.
“It belongs to King Grisly-Beard,” said he. “If you had taken him this would have been yours.”
“Ah, unlucky girl that I am! I wish I had taken King Grisly-Beard.”
Next they came to some fine meadows. “Whose are these beautiful green meadows?” she asked.
“They belong to King Grisly-Beard. If you had taken him they would have been yours.”
“Ah, unlucky girl that I am! I wish indeed I had married King Grisly-Beard.”
Then they came to a great city. “Whose is this noble city?” she asked.
“It belongs to King Grisly-Beard,” he said again. “If you had taken him this would have been yours, also.”
a drunken soldier rode his horse against her stall
“Ah, miserable girl that I am,” she sighed. “Why did I not marry King Grisly-Beard?”
“That is no business of mine,” said the singer.
At last they came to a small cottage. “To whom does this little hovel belong?” she asked.
“This is yours and mine,” said the beggar. “This is where we are to live.”
“Where are your servants?” she asked, falteringly.
“We cannot afford servants,” said he. “You will have to do whatever is to be done. Now, make the fire and put on water and cook my supper.”
The Princess knew nothing of making fires and cooking, and the beggar was forced to help her. Early the next morning he called her to clean the house.
Thus they lived for three days, and when they had eaten up all there was in the cottage, the man said: “Wife, we can’t go on like this, spending money and earning nothing. You must learn to weave baskets.” So he went out and cut willows, and brought them home and taught her how to weave. But it made her fingers very sore.
“I see that this will never do,” said her husband; “try and spin. Perhaps you will do that better.”
So she sat down and tried to spin, and her husband tried to teach her; but the threads cut her tender fingers till the blood ran.
“I am afraid you are good for nothing,” said the man. “What a bargain I have got. However, I will try and set up a trade in pots and pans, and you shall stand in the market and sell them.”
“Alas!” sighed she, “when I stand in the market, if any of my father’s court pass by and see me there, how they will laugh at me!”
But the beggar said she must work, if she did not wish to die of hunger. At first, the trade went very well, for many people, seeing such a beautiful woman, bought her wares and paid their money without thinking of taking away the goods. Then her husband bought a fresh lot of ware, and she sat down one day with it in the corner of the market; but a drunken soldier came by and rode his horse against her stall, and broke her goods into a thousand pieces. So she began to weep: “Ah, what will become of me?” said she. “What will my husband say?” So she ran home and told him all.
“How silly you were,” he said, “to put a china-stall in the corner of the market where everybody passes; but let us have no more crying. I see you are not fit for this sort of work; so I will go to the King’s palace and ask if they do not want a kitchen-maid.”
So the next day the Princess became a kitchen-maid, and helped the cook do all the dirtiest work.
She had not been there long before she heard that the eldest son of the King of that country was going to be married. She looked out of one of the windows and saw all the ladies and gentlemen of the court in fine array. Then she thought with a sore heart of her own sad fate. Her husband, it is true, had been in a way kind to her; but she realized now the pride and folly which had brought her so low.
All of a sudden, as she was going out to take some food to her husband in their humble cottage, the King’s son in golden clothes broke through the crowd; and when he saw a beautiful woman at the kitchen door, he took her by the hand and said that she should be his partner in the dance.
Then she trembled for fear, for when she looked up she saw that it was King Grisly-Beard himself who was making fun of her. However, he led her into the ballroom, and as he did so the cover of her basket came off, so that the fragments of food in it fell to the floor. Then everybody laughed and jeered at her, and she wished herself a thousand feet deep in the earth.
She sprang to the door to run away; but King Grisly-Beard overtook her, brought her back, and threw his golden cloak over her shoulders.
“Do not be afraid, my dear,” said he; “I am the beggar who has lived with you in the hut. I brought you there because I loved you. I am also the soldier who upset your stall. I have done all this to cure you of your pride. Now it is all over; you have learned wisdom, and it is time for us to hold our marriage feast.”
Then the maids came and brought her the most beautiful robes, and her father and his whole court came in and wished her much happiness. The feast was grand, and all were merry; and I wish you and I had been of the party.
The Country Rat
and the Town Rat
A Country Rat invited a Town Rat, an intimate friend, to pay him a visit, and partake of his country fare. As they were on the bare plough-lands, eating their wheat-stalks and roots pulled up from the hedge row, the Town Rat said to his friend, “You live here the life of the ants, while in my house is the horn of plenty. I am surrounded with every luxury, and if you will come with me, as I much wish you would, you shall have an ample share of my dainties.” The Country Rat was easily persuaded, and returned to town with his friend. On his arrival, the Town Rat placed before him bread, barley, beans, dried figs, honey, raisins, and last of all, brought a dainty piece of cheese from a basket. The Country Rat being much delighted at the sight of such good cheer, expressed his satisfaction in warm terms, and lamented his own hard fate. Just as they were beginning to eat, some one opened the door, and they both ran off squeaking as fast as they could to a hole so narrow that two could only find room in it by squeezing. They had scarcely again begun their repast when someone else entered to take something out of a cupboard, on which the two Rats, more frightened than before, ran away and hid themselves. At last the Country Rat, almost famished, thus addressed his friend: “Although you have prepared for me so dainty a feast, I must leave you to enjoy it by yourself. It is surrounded by too many dangers to please me. I prefer my bare plough-lands and roots from the hedge row, so that I only can live in safety and without fear.”
Peace is more desirable than wealth