“Herr Klinkerklanker! Herr Klinkerklanker!” he called again.
That time the door opened, and a little figure in a leather apron came slowly down the steps.
“At your service, gentlemen,” he said, and doffed his cap. But he trembled very hard indeed.
Now the giants had been brought up to be polite; and at that they bowed, all together, so low that their heads bumped.
“We want you to make us a pot,” said Grossmund, “a pot to hold all our porridge.”
Herr Klinkerklanker stopped trembling. But he spoke not a word though he opened his mouth wide and wider.
Grosshand held up his belt. “The pot must be as big around as this,” he said, “twice and a half over.”
Herr Klinkerklanker considered. Then he turned toward the house and clapped his hands smartly together.
Out of the door and down the steps, three at once, four at once, five at once, dashed his apprentices, helter-skelter,—some with hammers, some with horseshoes, some with hoes, some with shovels, some with pots,—with everything in all Eisenburg to be made or mended with iron. And so, clattering and stumbling, they came and stood, five-and-twenty strong, before Herr Klinkerklanker.
“Measuring rods, quills, inkhorns,” said he. “And all to the market-place.”