By the time he got to the town, day was breaking. The rain had stopped, and rosy clouds floated across the eastern sky. A sunbeam slanted over the roof tops, and shone into Ivan’s face. He felt happier all of a sudden; and taking his loaf, he bit a dozen great gold-pieces out of it. Then wrapping it up in the magic belt so that no one could see it, he knocked at a cottage door. Inside, he found a warm breakfast, and dried himself off by the fire.
A dazzling scheme slowly unfolded in his mind. As soon as breakfast was done, he went to the coachmaker and ordered a great gold coach; to the tailor and ordered a golden suit; to the hatter for a hat with golden plumes. And when the tradespeople heard the clink of his gold-pieces, they were very glad to serve him, you may be sure.
Only the coachmaker demurred. “A gold coach is nothing,” said he, “without a coat-of-arms on the door.”
“But I haven’t any,” said Ivan.
“Never mind!” replied the coachmaker, “I will make you one. How did your good-luck begin?”
“From a loaf of bread,” said Ivan, “and a giant.”
So, the coachmaker painted and painted on the coach-door. When he had finished, there was as fine a coat-of-arms as you would wish to see,—a loaf of bread against a background of gold-pieces, and a giant standing up above.
Ivan’s coat-of-arms