Up went the blacksmith to the queen’s castle with the golden bird and the golden tree wrapped up in his pocket-handkerchief. Dear, dear, how the queen did look and listen and wonder, when she saw how pretty it was, and heard how sweetly the little golden bird sang. She called her steward and bade him give the blacksmith a whole bag of gold and silver money for it, and off went the man as pleased as pleased could be.
And now they lived upon the very best of good things over at the blacksmith’s house; but good things cost money, and by and by the last penny was spent of what the queen had given him, and nothing would do but for the lad to go out and work a little while at the forge. So up he got from back of the stove, and out he went into the forge. He made a bed of coals and laid the iron upon it.
“Now,” says he to his father, “do you blow the bellows till I come back,” and off he went.
Well, the old man took the handle and blew and blew, but the dwarf knew what was going on this time, just as well as he had done before. He changed himself into a fly, and came and lit on the blacksmith’s neck, and dear, dear, how he did bite! The blacksmith shut his eyes and grinned, but at last he could bear it no longer. He raised his hand and slapped at the fly, but away it flew with never a hair hurt.
In came the lad and drew the iron out of the fire and plunged it into the water, and there it was a beautiful golden comb that shone like fire. But the lad was not satisfied with that. “You should have done as I told you,” said he, “and have stopped at nothing; for now the work is spoiled.”
The blacksmith vowed and declared that he had not stopped from blowing the bellows, but the lad knew better than that; for there should have been a golden looking-glass as well as the comb. The one was of no use without the other, for when one looked in the golden looking-glass, and combed one’s hair with the golden comb, one grew handsomer every day, and the lad had intended both for the queen.
“All the same,” said the old man, “I will take the golden comb up to the castle;” and it did no good for the lad to shake his head and say no. “For,” says the father, “old heads are wise heads; and the queen will like this as well as the other.” So up to the castle he would go, and up to the castle he went.
But when the queen saw the golden comb her brows grew as black as a thunder-storm. “Where is the looking-glass?” said she; and though the old man vowed and declared that no looking-glass belonged with the comb, she knew a great deal better. So, now, the blacksmith might have his choice; he should either bring her the looking-glass that belonged to the golden comb or bring her that which was the best in all the world. If he did neither of these he should be thrown into a deep pit full of toads and vipers.
Back went the old man home again and told the lad all that had happened from beginning to end. And then he wanted to know what he should do to get himself out of his pickle.
