Dear, dear! but the king was glad to get the silver bell; as for Peterkin, he was a great man now, for he ruled over half of the kingdom.
But now the two elder brothers were less pleased than ever before; they grumbled and talked together until the upshot of the matter was that they went to the king for the third time. Peterkin had been bragging and talking again. This time he had said that the giant over yonder had a sword of such a kind that it gave more light in the dark than fourteen candles, and that he could get the sword as easily as he had gotten the grey goose and the little silver bell.
After that nothing would satisfy the king but for Peterkin to go and get the sword. Peterkin argued and talked, and talked and argued, but it was for no good; he might have talked till the end of all things. The king wanted the sword, and the king must have it. If Peterkin could bring it to him in three days’ time he might have the princess for his wife; if he came back empty-handed he should have a good thong of skin cut off of his back from top to bottom; that was what the king said.
So there was nothing for it but for Peterkin to whistle on his fingers for the Little Grey Hare once more.
“And what is it this time?” said the Little Grey Hare.
Why, the king wanted such and such a kind of sword, and Peterkin must go and get it for him; that was the trouble.
Well, well; there might be a hole in this hedge as well as another. But this time Peterkin must borrow one of the princess’s dresses and her golden comb; then one might see what could be done.
So Peterkin went to the king and said that he must have the dress and the comb, and the king let him have them. Then he mounted on the Little Grey Hare and—whisk!—away they went as fast as before.
Well, they crossed the river and came to the giant’s house once more. There Peterkin dressed himself in the princess’s dress, and combed his hair with her golden comb; and as he combed his hair it grew longer and longer, and the end of the matter was that he looked for all the world like as fine and strapping a lass as ever a body saw. Then he went up to the giant’s house, and—rap! tap! tap!—he knocked at the door as bold as brass. The giant was in this time, and he came and opened the door himself. But when he saw what he thought was a fine lass, he smiled as though he had never eaten anything in all his life but soft butter.
Perhaps the pretty lass would come in and sit down for a bit; that was what he said to Peterkin.