“And what do you want now?” says the little manikin.
“This time,” said the fiddler, “I want a splendid suit of clothes for myself, all of silver and gold; besides that, I want a hat with a great feather in it and a fine milk-white horse.”
So; good! Well, he could have those things easily enough, and there they were.
So the fiddler dressed himself in his fine clothes, and then, when it was about time for the princess to make her choice, he mounted upon his great milk-white horse and set off for the king’s house with his staff across the saddle in front of him.
But you should have seen how the people looked as he rode along the street, for they had never laid eyes upon such a fine sight in all of their lives before. Up he rode to the castle, and when he knocked at the door they did not keep him waiting long out in the cold, I can tell you.
There they all sat at dinner, the tinker on one side of the princess and the shoemaker on the other. But when they saw the fiddler in his grand clothes, they thought that he was some great nobleman for sure and certain, for neither the princess nor the two rogues knew who he was. The folks squeezed together along the bench and made room for him; so he leaned his staff in the corner and down he sat, just across the table from the princess.
By and by he asked the princess if she would drink a glass of red wine with him.
Yes, the princess would do that.
So the fiddler drank, and then what did he do but drop his half of the ring that the princess had given him into the cup, before he passed it across to her.
Then the princess drank, but something bobbed against her lips; and when she came to look—lo and behold!—there was the half of her ring.