Hui! how Peterkin opened his eyes when he heard what the king wanted. He had never said that he could get the giant’s goose; he vowed and swore that he had not. But it was to no purpose that he talked, the king wanted the grey goose, and Peterkin would have to get it for him. He might have three days for the business, and that was all. Then, if he brought the grey goose, he should have two bags of gold money; if he did not bring it he should pack off to the prison.
So Peterkin left the king, and if anybody was down in the mouth in all of the world it was Peterkin.
“Perhaps,” said he, “the Little Grey Hare can help me.” So he blew a turn or two on his fingers, and the Little Grey Hare came hopping and skipping up to him.
What was Peterkin in the dumps about now? That was what it wanted to know.
Why, the king wanted him to get such and such a grey goose from over at the giant’s house, and Peterkin knew no more about it than a red herring in a box; that was the trouble.
“Oh, well,” says the Little Grey Hare, “maybe that can be cured; just go to the king and ask for this and that and the other thing, and we will see what can be done about the business.”
So off went Peterkin to the king; perhaps he could get the grey goose after all, but he must have three barrels of soft pitch, and a bag of barley-corn, and a pot of good tallow.
The king let him have all that he wanted, and then the Little Grey Hare took Peterkin and the three barrels of soft pitch and the bag of barley-corn and the pot of good tallow on its back, and off it went till the wind whistled behind Peterkin’s ears.
(Now that was a great load for a little grey hare; but I tell the story to you just as Time’s Clock told it to me.)
After a while they came to a river, and then the Little Grey Hare said: