"It is."
"As you know, this shoemaker was skilled at making shoes, and especially skilled in stealing leather, my King. He believed that the ease with which a king treads upon his handiwork will blot out the theft in procuring the leather. The story runs that this morning he went to the soup-house to get his usual bowl of soup. A stranger waited upon him. As he put the bowl to his lips the soup turned clear as water, and in it appeared two pictures. The first was the likeness of the stranger before him, and on his breast was the name, 'King Savoda.' The second represented himself standing before a great white throne. His soul was uncovered, and over it were written the names of the ones from whom he had stolen leather. His soul was the shape of a boot; and there he stood trying to make a shoe to cover it from the sight of Him who sat upon the throne as the Great Judge. The longer he looked the more fearful became the second. In a fit of despair he gulped down the soup so fast that it strangled him, and he fell dead at the counter. So, my King, is he not shoeing his soul? My King, the people say that Savoda, who was a stranger to the shoemaker, knew not what he saw in the bowl. He simply thought he was weak from overwork and, in keeping with his good nature, he straightway gave him a decent burial."
"Ha, ha! The dreams of a porter frighten not his king. If there be no real workman about, find me a cobbler."
"A cobbler there is at the turn of the square, but, O my King, his failure at making you shoes will be equaled only by your success in cutting off his head."
"Porter, you are wide-awake when you speak of cutting off heads. Take this leather and my measure to the cobbler. Remind him that to-morrow is the coronation, and that no shoes for the King means no head for the cobbler."
The porter departed, and the cobbler soon received the leather and the measure and the message and, despite the gloom of the latter, he worked bravely on until he had completed his task. Being very tired, he fell asleep. When he awoke he found that the cat had turned the candle over on one of the shoes, and, as a result, the upper was burned completely out. He had received just leather enough to make the shoes, and there was no more of that kind to be had. The hour of the coronation was near at hand. What was he to do? Just then the porter came in. Without saying a word he put the shoes under his arm and carried them to the king. As soon as the king saw them he ordered the cobbler's head to be taken off.
The cobbler had hardly finished kissing his wife and children when the king's soldiers seized him and began dragging him through the streets toward the block. A terrible voice then sounded forth. It was more like thunder than that of a human being's. The soldiers knew it was the voice of the great giant Lubercal; so they left the cobbler and hastened to save themselves. After giving the cobbler something to refresh him, the giant put him in one of his coat pockets and carried him off to his mountain home. The cobbler soon found there were two others in the pocket with him.
"Ah," said they, "we are glad you are in here."
"Ah," said the cobbler, "you are no gladder than I. They were about to cut my head off out there. How relieved I feel!"
"On the life of us," said they, "we don't see where the relief comes in. As we see it, you have simply exchanged a beheading for an eating. So certain were we to be eaten by the giant and his wife for supper that we had already said our prayers. As you are so big and tender, it may be the giant will feast upon you to-night and leave us for breakfast, giving us a chance to escape in the darkness. We are told that he always refreshes the one he is going to eat first. So, you see we are glad you are in here."