Now this was not the only trouble that beset the poor king. For, although the surrounding country was rich in springs and brooks, the royal gardens were dry as the desert of Sahara. And although the king had also promised three bags of gold to anyone who would dig a well, no one had yet been able to dig deeper than a foot, as the palace was built on a rock of solid granite.
Each day the king grew more angry, but of course that did no good. At last calling the poet laureate of his kingdom, he asked him what should be done.
Running his fingers through his long curly hair, the poet thought a while. Then summoning the Royal Carpenter, ordered him to make an immense placard, on which, when finished, this wise poet printed:
"To him who cuts my oaktree down
I'll give three bags of gold
But he who fails shall lose his life
And lie beneath the mold."
"But what good will that exquisite poem do?" asked the king, sarcastically.
"It will keep your Royal Highness from being irritated by this endless sound of chop, chop, chop," replied the poet. "I verily believe every man in your kingdom has had a hack at the tree. Now, he who reads this sign, will first make sure his axe is a good one. And my poetic ears will be spared much of this frightful noise which is far worse than a steel rivetter at work on a ninety story building in New York City." Which shows that this poet had an eye that could see into the future, for at that time, as far as I know, Columbus hadn't even asked the Queen of Spain to pawn her diamond rings!
"Very well," replied the king, "have the sign nailed on this dreadful tree and we will see what happens."
As soon as Ned arrived at the castle he bowed politely to the king, who happened to be standing nearby with all his courtiers.
"Ha, ha," laughed the king, as Ned read the sign. "Do you, too, wish to lose your ears?" At which all the courtiers laughed heartily, the first time in many months that anybody in that castle had laughed, or even smiled, for that matter.
"I can but try," answered Ned bravely, and opening his knapsack, took out his Magic Axe. Standing it up, with the handle leaning against the enchanted tree, he stepped back a few feet and shouted: "Chop, chop, chop!"