It so befell that once when they were all standing together by the tree, a young knight came up. “Quick, Two-eyes,” cried the two sisters, “creep under this, and don’t disgrace us!” and with all speed they turned an empty barrel which was standing close by the tree over poor Two-eyes, and they pushed the golden apples which she had been gathering, under it too. When the knight came nearer he was a handsome lord, who stopped and admired the magnificent gold and silver tree, and said to the two sisters, “To whom does this fine tree belong? Any one who would bestow one branch of it on me might in return for it ask whatsoever he desired.” Then One-eye and Three-eyes replied that the tree belonged to them, and that they would give him a branch. They both took great trouble, but they were not able to do it, for the branches and fruit both moved away from them every time. Then said the knight, “It is very strange that the tree should belong to you, and that you should still not be able to break a piece off.” They again asserted that the tree was their property. Whilst they were saying so, Two-eyes rolled out a couple of golden apples from under the barrel to the feet of the knight, for she was vexed with One-eye and Three-eyes, for not speaking the truth. When the knight saw the apples he was astonished, and asked where they came from. One-eye and Three-eyes answered that they had another sister, who was not allowed to show herself, for she had only two eyes like any common person. The knight, however, desired to see her, and cried, “Two-eyes, come forth.” Then Two-eyes, quite comforted, came from beneath the barrel, and the knight was surprised at her great beauty, and said, “Thou, Two-eyes, canst certainly break off a branch from the tree for me.” “Yes,” replied Two-eyes, “that I certainly shall be able to do, for the tree belongs to me.” And she climbed up, and with the greatest ease broke off a branch with beautiful silver leaves and golden fruit, and gave it to the knight. Then said the knight, “Two-eyes, what shall I give thee for it?” “Alas!” answered Two-eyes, “I suffer from hunger and thirst, grief and want, from early morning till late night; if you would take me with you, and deliver me from these things, I should be happy.” So the knight lifted Two-eyes on to his horse, and took her home with him to his father’s castle, and there he gave her beautiful clothes, and meat and drink to her heart’s content, and as he loved her so much he married her, and the wedding was solemnized with great rejoicing. When Two-eyes was thus carried away by the handsome knight, her two sisters grudged her good fortune in downright earnest. “The wonderful tree, however, still remains with us,” thought they, “and even if we can gather no fruit from it, still every one will stand still and look at it, and come to us and admire it. Who knows what good things may be in store for us?” But next morning, the tree had vanished, and all their hopes were at an end. And when Two-eyes looked out of the window of her own little room, to her great delight it was standing in front of it, and so it had followed her.
Two-eyes lived a long time in happiness. Once two poor women came to her in her castle, and begged for alms. She looked in their faces, and recognized her sisters, One-eye, and Three-eyes, who had fallen into such poverty that they had to wander about and beg their bread from door to door. Two-eyes, however, made them welcome, and was kind to them, and took care of them, so that they both with all their hearts repented the evil that they had done their sister in their youth.
131 Fair Katrinelje and Pif-Paf-Poltrie
“Good-day, Father Hollenthe.” “Many thanks, Pif-paf-poltrie.” “May I be allowed to have your daughter?” “Oh, yes, if Mother Malcho (Milch-cow), Brother High-and-Mighty, Sister Käsetraut, and fair Katrinelje are willing, you can have her.”
“Where is Mother Malcho, then?” “She is in the cow-house, milking the cow.”
“Good-day, Mother Malcho.” “Many thanks, Pif-paf-poltrie.” “May I be allowed to have your daughter?” “Oh, yes, if Father Hollenthe, Brother High-and-Mighty, Sister Käsetraut, and fair Katrinelje are willing, you can have her.” “Where is Brother High-and-Mighty, then?” “He is in the room chopping some wood.” “Good-day, Brother High-and-Mighty.” “Many thanks, Pif-paf-poltrie.” “May I be allowed to have your sister?” “Oh, yes, if Father Hollenthe, Mother Malcho, Sister Käsetraut, and fair Katrinelje are willing, you can have her.” “Where is Sister Käsetraut, then?” “She is in the garden cutting cabbages.” “Good-day, sister Käsetraut.” “Many thanks, Pif-paf-poltrie.” “May I be allowed to have your sister?” “Oh, yes, if Father Hollenthe, Mother Malcho, Brother High-and-Mighty, and fair Katrinelje are willing, you may have her.” “Where is fair Katrinelje, then?” “She is in the room counting out her farthings.” “Good day, fair Katrinelje.” “Many thanks, Pif-paf-poltrie.” “Wilt thou be my bride?” “Oh, yes, if Father Hollenthe, Mother Malcho, Brother High-and-Mighty, and Sister Käsetraut are willing, I am ready.”
“Fair Katrinelje, how much dowry do hast thou?” “Fourteen farthings in ready money, three and a half groschen owing to me, half a pound of dried apples, a handful of fried bread, and a handful of spices.
And many other things are mine,
Have I not a dowry fine?
“Pif-paf-poltrie, what is thy trade? Art thou a tailor?” “Something better.” “A shoemaker?” “Something better.” “A husbandman?” “Something better.” “A joiner?” “Something better.” “A smith?” “Something better.” “A miller?” “Something better.” “Perhaps a broom-maker?” “Yes, that’s what I am, is it not a fine trade?”