"Yes," said she, "I am emperor."
"Ah!" said the man, as he gazed on her, "what a fine thing it is to be emperor!"
"Husband," said she, "why should we stay at being emperor? We will be pope next."
"O wife, wife!" said he. "How can you be pope? There is but one pope at a time in Christendom."
"Husband," said she, "I will be pope this very day."
"But," replied the husband, "the fish cannot make you pope."
"What nonsense!" said she. "If he can make an emperor, he can make a pope; go and try him."
So the fisherman went; but when he came to the shore the wind was raging, the sea was tossed up and down like boiling water, and the ships were in the greatest distress and danced upon the waves most fearfully. In the middle of the sky there was a little blue; but towards the south it was all red, as if a dreadful storm was rising. The fisherman repeated the words, and the fish appeared before him.
"What does she want now?" asked the fish.
"My wife wants to be pope," said the fisherman.