The brothers assured him that they had never said so, and they were sure that no such lamp existed, but their words were of no avail.
‘The lamp!’ said the king, ‘or it will cost you your heads.’
The brothers were now in greater despair than ever. They did not know what to do, for such a lamp no one had ever heard of. But just as things looked their worst along came Esben.
‘Something wrong again?’ said he. ‘What’s the matter with you now?’
‘Oh, it’s no use telling you,’ said they. ‘You can’t help us, at any rate.’
‘Oh, you might at least tell me,’ said Esben; ‘I have helped you before.’
In the end they told him that the king had ordered them to bring him a lamp which could shine over seven kingdoms, but such a lamp no one had ever heard tell of.
‘Give me a bushel of salt,’ said Esben, ‘and we shall see how matters go.’
He got his bushel of salt, and then mounted his little white stick, and said,
Fly quick, my little stick, Carry me across the stream.