"Why," says Mountain-tosser, "I have enough mountains now to last me for another thousand years. Thank you kindly, little Prince."
And he set to work again, heaving up mountains and tossing them down, while little Prince Ivan galloped on across the wide world.
He came to Tree-rooter, the giant. There were only two of the great oaks left, and the giant had one in each hand.
"Ah me, little Prince Ivan," says Tree-rooter, "my life is come to its end; for I have only to pluck up these two trees and throw them down, and then I shall die."
"Pluck them up," says little Prince Ivan. "Here are plenty more for you." And he threw down his comb. There was a noise of spreading branches, of swishing leaves, of opening buds, all together, and there before them was a forest of great oaks stretching farther than the giant could see, tall though he was.
"Why," says Tree-rooter, "here are enough trees to last me for another thousand years. Thank you kindly, little Prince."
And he set to work again, pulling up the big trees, laughing joyfully and hurling them over his head, while little Prince Ivan galloped on across the wide world.
He came to the two old women. They were crying their eyes out.
"There is only one needle left!" says the first.