"Yes," answered Ellen. "You see, you tease and bother the animals that live here so much that they all want you to go, and I told the pigs I would come and tell you."
"Then you can tell them," howled the goat in a rage, "that I'll never go. Have I sent three sons packing from their father's house and frightened a bear from his cave to be ordered out of my house at last by some pigs?"
"I don't know," said Ellen, "but you'll have to go anyway."
"I won't go," howled the goat.
"Yes, you'll have to," said Ellen.
"But I won't," howled the goat.
Then Ellen did what the gander had told her to do. She put her hands to her mouth and buzzed into them like a bee.
The goat started up as though he had been shot. Ever since he had been stung out of the bear's cave there was nothing in the world that he feared like a bee. He began to shiver and shake, and his bald head turned quite pale, "Oh don't sting me," he cried. "Please don't, and I'll do whatever you wish."
"Then come with me," said Ellen, "and I won't hurt you."