“All Things are as Man does.”
For a while he was very well satisfied with them, until, a week after, he was bidden to the wedding of the Queen of the Golden Mountains; for when he came there who should the bridegroom be but the beggar whom he had set adrift in the wooden box a week or so before.
The bridegroom winked at him, but said never a word, good or ill, for he was willing to let all that had happened be past and gone. But the king saw how matters stood as clear as daylight, and when he got back home again he had the new words that stood on the walls of the room painted out, and had the old ones painted in in bigger letters than ever:
“All Things are as Fate wills.”
All the good people who were gathered around the table of the Sign of Mother Goose sat thinking for a while over the story. As for Boots, he buried his face in the quart pot and took a long, long pull at the ale.
“Methinks,” said the Soldier who cheated the Devil, presently breaking silence—“methinks there be very few of the women folk who do their share of this story-telling. So far we have had but one, and that is Lady Cinderella. I see another one present, and I drink to her health.”
He winked his eye at Patient Grizzle, beckoning towards her with his quart pot, and took a long and hearty pull. Then he banged his mug down upon the table. “Fetch me another glass, lass,” said he to little Brown Betty. “Meantime, fair lady”—this he said to Patient Grizzle—“will you not entertain us with some story of your own?”
“I know not,” said Patient Grizzle, “that I can tell you any story worth your hearing.”
“Aye, aye, but you can,” said the Soldier who cheated the Devil; “and, moreover, anything coming from betwixt such red lips and such white teeth will be worth the listening to.”
Patient Grizzle smiled, and the brave little Tailor, and the Lad who fiddled for the Jew, and Hans and Bidpai and Boots nodded approval.