The servants of the Green King threw an extra cord of wood into the furnace. With this Miklos and his companions made a fire, and gave earth no trouble. Next morning the Green King himself went to see the seven roasts, thinking they were burnt into dust. He opened the mouth of the furnace. He will fall on his back with horror, perhaps. Nothing of the sort; the seven good birds were sitting there alive in the furnace at the side of a fire, and not a dog’s trouble had happened to a man of them.
Straightway the Green King called up Kiss Miklos and said to him: “Well, renowned Kiss Miklos, thou hast stood two trials, but the third still remains. If ye pass that unharmed, then I don’t care; my daughter will be thine, for I shall see that thou art not inferior to thy fame. The third trial is not other than this: In the yard is a herd of cattle not less than three hundred and sixty-six in number, and also there are three hundred and sixty-six kegs of wine, and if ye do not eat the three hundred and sixty-six head of cattle and drink the three hundred and sixty-six kegs of wine by to-morrow, then I will have you all at the stake; but if ye eat and drink all, then as I say, I care not. Let my one and only most beloved daughter be thine.”
In the evening after bedtime Miklos went with his comrades to the other yard where were the three hundred and sixty-six head of cattle and the three hundred and sixty-six kegs of wine; but now the question was who should eat that ocean-great lot of cattle and drink that thundering lot of wine. No one would take more delight in the cattle than Great Eater, and with the thundering lot of wine no one felt better than Great Drinker; they would take care of them if they were twice as great. Miklos and his comrades, except Great Eater, knocked one of the bullocks on the head, pulled off his jacket, cut up his flesh and roasted it. That was enough for them, but it was not enough for Great Eater; for he would not spoil the taste of his mouth with it. He ate that herd of beasts, one after another, as if the earth had swallowed them,—ate hair, hide, bones, and horns, so that he didn’t leave a single thing as a novelty; and even then he cried out nothing but, “Oh, I’m hungry! Oh, I’m hungry!” Then he went to his comrades, ate what they had left of the roast, and pressed it down with the ox-hide for a dessert. Even then he cried without ceasing, “Oh, I’m hungry! Oh, I’m hungry!”
Then they began at the wine. Miklos and his comrades, except Great Drinker, rolled forth one keg of wine, knocked the bottom out, and went to drinking. That keg was enough for them, but not enough for Great Drinker; for him it was as much as one drop would be for me. He would not spoil the taste of his mouth with it, but fell to drinking from the rest in such Magyar-Mishka style that when he looked around he saw that the three hundred and sixty-five kegs were empty. Then he cried unceasingly, “Oh, I’m thirsty! Oh, I’m thirsty!” After that he came to his comrades, and what they had left he drank to the last drop; and cried: “Oh, I’m thirsty! Oh, I’m thirsty!”
Next morning the Green King went himself to the yard to see if Kiss Miklos and his comrades had endured the third trial,—had they eaten the cattle and drunk the wine. It is a wonder that he didn’t turn into a pillar of salt he was so frightened when he saw that there was not a horned beast left, nor a drop of wine. Then he complained: “They have eaten three hundred and sixty-six bullocks. Plague take it! let them eat the cattle, but they might have left the hides; those could at least have been sold to a Jew for good money.—Well, renowned Kiss Miklos, thou hast stood the three tests, now my only and most dearly beloved daughter is thine; take her.” With that the Green King seated his Green Daughter in a coach drawn by six black horses, and they drove towards the dominions of the Lead Friend.
On the road the Green Daughter of the Green King beckoned Miklos to her and asked him: “Hei! my heart’s beautiful love, renowned Kiss Miklos, tell me, on thy true soul, art thou taking me for thyself or for another? If thou art not taking me for thyself, I will play tricks with thee.”
“I am taking thee for myself; I am taking thee for another,” answered Kiss Miklos.
Well, no more was said. Once, when turning and winding, they look in the coach; it is empty. The beautiful girl is gone. In a moment they stop, search the coach, but find her nowhere.
“Here, good friend Far Seer,” said Kiss Miklos, “look around! Whither has our beautiful bird flown?”
Far Seer didn’t let that be said twice. In the turn of an eye he surveyed the round earth, but he saw not the beautiful maiden.