Thy praise I’ll sing.”
The wand dashed after the soldier, and having reached him began to beat him, crying out:
“For others’ goods you seem to have a liking,
Stop, thief, or sure your back I’ll keep on striking.”
The soldier was still a powerful man, and in spite of his wound turned right about face, intending to give blow for blow. But the wand was too much for him, and he soon found resistance useless. So, overcome by pain rather than fear, he threw away the tablecloth and took to his heels.
The faithful wand brought the tablecloth back to his master, who, glad to have it again, once more turned towards home.
He soon left the forest, crossed the fields, and came in sight of his father’s house. At a little distance therefrom his brothers met him, and said crossly, “Well, stupid, where are the golden acorns?”
The fool looked at them and laughed in their faces. Then he said to his wand:
“O self-propelling, ever willing, fighting Wand
Strike with thy usual fire