On the second day, she had inquiries made in the neighborhood as to the names of the people there. And she repeated to the Little Man the most uncommon and curious, “Perhaps your name is Shortribs, or Sheepshanks, or Laceleg?” but he always answered, “That is not my name.”
On the third day, the messenger came back again, and said, “I have not been able to find a single new name. But as I came to a high mountain at the end of the forest, where the fox and the hare bid each other good night, there I saw a little house. Before the house a fire was burning, and round about the fire a funny Little Man was jumping. He hopped upon one leg, and shouted:
“To-day I brew, to-morrow I bake,
And next, I shall the Queen’s child take!
Ah! well it is, none knows the same—
That Rumpelstiltskin is my name!”
You may think how glad the Queen was when she heard the name! And when soon afterward the Little Man came in, and asked, “Now, Mistress Queen, what is my name?” she said:
“Is your name Conrad?”
“No.”
“Is your name Harry?”
“No.”
“Perhaps your name is Rumpelstiltskin?”
