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It was indeed a marvellous thing For a miller’s daughter to wed a king; But never was royal lady seen More fair and sweet than this young queen. The spinning dwarf she quite forgot In the ease and pleasure of her lot; And not until her first-born child Into her face had looked and smiled Did she remember the promise made; Then her heart grew sick, her soul afraid.
One day her chamber door Pushed open just a chink, And she saw the well-known crooked dwarf, His wise smile and his blink. He claimed at once the promised child; But she gave a cry so sad and wild That even his heart was touched to hear; And, after a little, drawing near, He whispered and said: “You pledged The baby, and I came; But if in three days you can learn By foul or fair my name— By foul or fair, by wile or snare, You can its syllables declare, Then is the child yours—only then— And me you shall never see again!”
He vanished from her sight, And she called her pages in; She sent one this way, and one that; She called her kith and kin, Bade one go here, and one go there, Despatched them thither, everywhere— That from each quarter each might bring The oddest names he could to the king.
Next morning the dwarf appeared, And the queen began to say, “Caspar,” “Balthassar,” “Melchoir”— But the dwarf cried out, “Nay, nay!” Shaking his little crooked frame, “That’s not my name, that’s not my name!”

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The second day ’twas the same;

But the third a messenger

Came in from the mountains to the queen,

And told this tale to her:

That, riding under the forest boughs,

He came to a tiny, curious house;

Before it a feeble fire burned wan,

And about the fire was a little man;

In and out the brands among,

Dancing upon one leg, he sung:

“To-day I’ll stew, and then I’ll bake,

To-morrow I shall the queen’s child take;

How fine that none is the secret in,

That my name is Rumpelstiltskin!”

The queen was overjoyed, And when, due time next day, The dwarf returned for the final word, She made great haste to say: “Is it Conrade?” “No,”—he shook his head. “Is it Hans? or Hal?” Still “No,” he said. “Is it Rumpelstiltskin?” then she cried. “A witch has told you,” he replied, And shrieked and stamped his foot so hard That the very marble floor was jarred; And his leg broke off above the knee, And he hopped off, howling terribly.

He vanished then and there,

And never more was seen!

This much was in his dreadful name—

It saved her child to the queen.

And the little lady grew to be

So very sweet, so fair to see,

That none could her loveliness surpass;

And her eyes—they were as gray as glass!

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[ A FISH STORY.]

SirArthur, the sinner,

Ate twelve fish for dinner,

And you may believe it’s just as I say!

For if you but knew it,

’Twas I saw him do it,

And just as it happened, sir, this was the way:

One day this tall fish

Swallowed this small fish

(He had just eaten a smaller one still);

Up came this queer one

And gobbled that ’ere one—

Didn’t he show the most magical skill?

Then came this other

And chewed up his brother,

Made but one gulp, and behold he was through!

He was a gold fish

Oh! he was a bold fish—

But before he could wink he was eaten up too!

Up came a flounder,

He was a ten-pounder,

Opened his mouth, swallowed him and was gone;

Before you could blink, sir,

Before he could shrink, sir,

This fish came by and the flounder was gone!

(Alas for my story,

’Tis getting quite gory!

So many swallows a summer might make.)

This one came smiling,

And, sweetly beguiling,

Gobbled the last like a piece of hot cake;

A cod followed after;

’Twould move you to laughter

To see in his turn how this hake came up,

Swallowed that cod, sir,

As if he were scrod, sir,

And then went by in a kind of a huff!

Last, but not least,

Came this fellow, the beast—

Down went the hake like a small pinch of snuff!

Then Cap’en Jim caught him,

And then mamma bought him,

And then Annie cooked him, served up in a dish;

And so this small sinner

Who had him for dinner—

’Twas just as I say, sir—had eaten twelve fish!