‘Yes, dear mother, I have,’ answered Pinkel.
‘Are you not a knave, Pinkel?’
‘Yes, dear mother, I am,’ he replied. And the old witch shouted in a rage:
‘Ah! beware how you come hither again, for next time you shall not escape me!’
But Pinkel laughed and rowed on.
The king was so delighted with the goat that he always kept it by his side, night and day; and, as he had promised, Pinkel was made ruler over the third part of the kingdom. As may be supposed, the brothers were more furious than ever, and grew quite thin with rage.
‘How can we get rid of him?’ said one to the other. And at length they remembered the golden cloak.
‘He will need to be clever if he is to steal that!’ they cried, with a chuckle. And when next the king came to see his horses they began to speak of Pinkel and his marvellous cunning, and how he had contrived to steal the lantern and the goat, which nobody else would have been able to do.
‘But as he was there, it is a pity he could not have brought away the golden cloak,’ added they.
‘The golden cloak! what is that?’ asked the king. And the young men described its beauties in such glowing words that the king declared he should never know a day’s happiness till he had wrapped the cloak round his own shoulders.