Late at night the wood-cutter came home, and reproached his wife for leaving him to hunger all day. “It is not my fault,” she replied, “the girl went out with your dinner, and must have lost herself, but she is sure to come back to-morrow.” The wood-cutter, however, arose before dawn to go into the forest, and requested that the second daughter should take him his dinner that day. “I will take a bag with lentils,” said he; “the seeds are larger than millet, the girl will see them better, and can’t lose her way.” At dinner-time, therefore, the girl took out the food, but the lentils had disappeared. The birds of the forest had picked them up as they had done the day before, and had left none. The girl wandered about in the forest until night, and then she too reached the house of the old man, was told to go in, and begged for food and a bed. The man with the white beard again asked the animals,
“Pretty little hen,
Pretty little cock,
And pretty brindled cow,
What say ye to that?”
The animals again replied “Duks,” and everything happened just as it had happened the day before. The girl cooked a good meal, ate and drank with the old man, and did not concern herself about the animals, and when she inquired about her bed they answered,
“Thou hast eaten with him,
Thou hast drunk with him,
Thou hast had no thought for us,
To find out for thyself where thou canst pass the night.”
When she was asleep the old man came, looked at her, shook his head, and let her down into the cellar.
On the third morning the wood-cutter said to his wife, “Send our youngest child out with my dinner to-day, she has always been good and obedient, and will stay in the right path, and not run about after every wild humble-bee, as her sisters did.” The mother did not want to do it, and said, “Am I to lose my dearest child, as well?”
“Have no fear,” he replied, “the girl will not go astray; she is too prudent and sensible; besides I will take some peas with me, and strew them about. They are still larger than lentils, and will show her the way.” But when the girl went out with her basket on her arm, the wood-pigeons had already got all the peas in their crops, and she did not know which way she was to turn. She was full of sorrow and never ceased to think how hungry her father would be, and how her good mother would grieve, if she did not go home. At length when it grew dark, she saw the light and came to the house in the forest. She begged quite prettily to be allowed to spend the night there, and the man with the white beard once more asked his animals,
“Pretty little hen,
Pretty little cock,
And beautiful brindled cow,
What say ye to that?”
“Duks,” said they. Then the girl went to the stove where the animals were lying, and petted the cock and hen, and stroked their smooth feathers with her hand, and caressed the brindled cow between her horns, and when, in obedience to the old man’s orders, she had made ready some good soup, and the bowl was placed upon the table, she said, “Am I to eat as much as I want, and the good animals to have nothing? Outside is food in plenty, I will look after them first.” So she went and brought some barley and stewed it for the cock and hen, and a whole armful of sweet-smelling hay for the cow. “I hope you will like it, dear animals,” said she, “and you shall have a refreshing draught in case you are thirsty.” Then she fetched in a bucketful of water, and the cock and hen jumped on to the edge of it and dipped their beaks in, and then held up their heads as the birds do when they drink, and the brindled cow also took a hearty draught. When the animals were fed, the girl seated herself at the table by the old man, and ate what he had left. It was not long before the cock and the hen began to thrust their heads beneath their wings, and the eyes of the cow likewise began to blink. Then said the girl, “Ought we not to go to bed?”
“Pretty little hen,
Pretty little cock,
And pretty brindled cow,
What say ye to that?”