“Tut!” says the fiddler, “how you talk, neighbor; have you no hands of your own?”
“You shall wait on me,” says the manikin.
“I shall not,” says the fiddler.
“That we will see,” says the manikin, and he spat upon his hands and gripped his cudgel.
“Hi!” says the fiddler, “and is that the game you are playing? Then, rub-a-dub-dub!” says he.
Pop!—up jumps his staff from the corner where he had stood it, and then you should have seen the dust fly! This time it was the manikin who hopped over the chairs and begged and bawled for mercy. As for the fiddler, he stood by with his hands in his pockets and whistled. By and by the manikin found the door, and out he jumped with the fiddler at his heels. But the fiddler was not quick enough, for, before he could catch him, the little troll popped into a great hole in the ground like a frog into a well; and there was an end to that business.
After a while the tinker and the shoemaker came back from the forest with their load of wood, and then how the fiddler did laugh at them, for he saw very well how the wind had been blowing with them. As for him, he was all for following the little manikin into the hole in the ground; so they hunted here and they hunted there, until they found a great basket and a rope, and then the tinker and the shoemaker lowered the fiddler and his staff down into the pit.
Down he went ever so deep until he reached the bottom, and there he found a great room. The first body whom he saw was a princess as pretty as a ripe apple, but looking, oh, so sad! at being in such a place. The next he saw was the ugly little troll, who sat in the corner and growled like our cat when the dog comes into the kitchen.
“So!” says the fiddler, “there you are, are you? Then it is rub-a-dub-dub again.” And this time before the drubbing was stopped it was all over with the troll.