When the three came home, there was Caspar lying on a bench in the sun, for he could take the world easy now, because he was so rich.
“Come along, Caspar,” said they, “the king wants to see you over at his house yonder.”
Yes, yes, but there was too much hurrying in this business, for it was over-quick cooking that burned the broth. If Caspar was to go to the king’s house he would go in fitting style, so they would just have to wait till he found a horse, for he was not going to jog it afoot; that was what Caspar said.
“Yes,” says the landlord, “but sooner than you should lose time in the waiting, I will lend you my fine dapple-grey.”
But where was the bridle to come from? Caspar would have them know that he was not going to ride a horse to the king’s house without a good bridle over the nag’s ears.
Oh, John would lend him the new bridle that he bought in the town last week; so that was soon settled.
But how about the saddle?—that was what Caspar wanted to know—yes, how about the saddle? Did they think that he was going to ride up to the king’s house with his heels thumping against the horse’s ribs as though he were no better than a ploughman?
Oh, James would lend him a saddle if that was all he wanted.
So off they went, all four of them, to the king’s house.