“Ask for something else; ask for all the cattle which in coming hither thou didst see.”
“What should I do with such a tremendous lot of cattle? If I should drive them home, people would think evil of me; besides, I have neither stable nor pasture.”
“But I’ll give thee money. How much dost thou wish? Wouldst be content with three bags of it?”
“What could I do with such an ocean-great lot of money? My evil fate would use it to kill me; people would think that I stole the coin, or murdered some man for it; besides, I might be stopped with it on the road.”
“But I’ll give thee a soldier as a guard.”
“What good is one of thy Highness’s soldiers?” asked the poor man, smiling; “a hen, I think, would drive him away.”
“What! one of my soldiers?”
Here the King of the Crows blew a small whistle; straightway a crow appeared which shook itself, and became such a gallant young fellow that he was not only so, but just so. “That’s the kind of soldiers I have;” said the king and commanded the young man out of the room. The soldier shook himself, became a crow, and flew away.
“It’s all the same to me what kind of soldiers thy Highness has. Thy Highness promised to give me what I want, and I ask for nothing else but the salt-mill.”
“I will not give it. Ask for all my herds, but not for that.”