At this the old witch scowled until her eyebrows met.
“Very well,” said she, “you shall have what you want if you can clean my stables to-morrow between the rise and the set of the sun. But I tell you plainly, if you fail in the doing, you shall be torn to pieces body and bones.”
But the prince was not to be scared away with empty words. So the next morning the old witch came and took him to the stables where he was to do his task. There stood more than a hundred cattle, and the stable had not been cleaned for at least ten long years.
“There is your work,” said the old witch, and then she left him.
Well, the king’s son set to work with fork and broom and might and main, but—prut!—he might as well have tried to bale out the great ocean with a bucket.
At noontide who should come to the stable but the pretty Swan Maiden herself.
“When one is tired, one should rest for a while,” said she; “come and lay your head in my lap.”
The prince was glad enough to do as she said, for nothing was to be gained by working at that task. So he laid his head in her lap, and she combed his hair with a golden comb till he fell fast asleep. When he awoke the Swan Maiden was gone, the sun was setting, and the stable was as clean as a plate. Presently he heard the old witch coming, so up he jumped and began clearing away a straw here and a speck there, just as though he were finishing the work.
“You never did this by yourself!” said the old witch, and her brows grew as black as a thunder-storm.