On the following day the clerk passed by the Master Girl’s little house. He saw it glistening and shining in the woods, and went in to find out who lived there. When he saw the beautiful girl he fell even more deeply in love with her than the bailiff had, and lost no time in suing for her hand. The Master Girl asked him, as she had asked the bailiff, whether he had plenty of money. Money he had to spare, answered the clerk, and ran right home to fetch it. By evening he was back again with a great sack—it must have been as much again as the bailiff had brought—and stood it on the bench. And so she promised to take him. Then she asked him to shut the house-door, which she said she had forgotten to do. But when he had the door-knob in his hand, she cried: “May God grant that you hold the door-knob and that the door-knob hold you, and that you move back and forth with it all night long until morning!” And the clerk had to dance the whole night through, such a waltz as he had never tripped before, and he had no wish to repeat the experience. Sometimes he was ahead, and sometimes the door was, and so they went back and forth all night, from wall to post and post to wall, and he was nearly bruised to death. First he cursed, then he wailed and pleaded; but the door paid no attention to him, and flung open and shut until it dawned. When it at last released him, he hurried away as quickly as though he had stolen something, forgot his sackful of money, and his wish to marry, and was glad that the door did not come threshing along after him. All grinned and stared at the clerk, for he ran like a madman, and looked worse than if a ram had been butting him all night long.

On the third day the magistrate came by, and also saw the little golden house in the forest. And he, too, went in to see who lived in it. And when he saw the Master Girl, he fell so deeply in love with her that he sued for her hand as soon as he bade her good-day. But she told him just what she had told the others, that if he had plenty of money she would take him. He had money enough, said the magistrate, and he went straight home to fetch it. When he came back in the evening, he had a much bigger sack of money with him than the clerk had had, and he stood it on the bench. Then the Master Girl said she would take him. But first she asked him to go fetch the calf, which she had forgotten to bring to the stable. And when he had the calf by the tail she cried: “May God grant that you hold the calf’s tail, and the calf’s tail hold you, and that you fly about the world together until morning!” And with that the race began, over stick and stone, over hill and dale, and the more the magistrate cursed and yelled, the more madly the calf ran away. When it dawned there was hardly a whole bone in the magistrate’s body, and he was so happy to be able to let go the calf’s tail that he forgot his bag of money, and the whole occurrence. It is true that he went home more slowly than the bailiff and the clerk; but the slower he went the more time the people had to stare and grin at him, so ragged and badly beaten did he appear after his dance with the calf.

On the following day there was to be a wedding at the castle, and not only was the older prince to marry, but the one who had stayed with the giant as well, and he was to get the other bride’s sister.

But when they entered the coach and were about to drive to church, one of the axles broke. They took another, and then a third, but all of them broke, no matter what kind of wood they used. It took a great deal of time, and they did not move from the spot, and got all out of sorts. Then the bailiff said, for he had also been invited to the wedding at the castle, that a maiden lived out in the forest, and “if they could only get the loan of her poker, it would be sure to hold.” So they sent to the little house in the forest, and asked most politely whether the maiden would not loan them the poker of which the bailiff had spoken. And they got it, too, and then they had an axle that would not break.

But when they wanted to drive on, the bottom of the coach broke. They made a new bottom as well as they were able, but no matter how they put it together, nor what kind of wood they used, it kept on breaking again as soon as they had left the court-yard. And they were worse off than they had been with the axle. Then the clerk said—for if the bailiff was one of the company, you may be sure they had not forgotten to invite the clerk—“Out in the forest lives a maiden, and if you will get the loan of her house-door, I am sure it would not break.” So they sent to the little house in the forest, and asked most politely whether the maiden would not loan them the golden house-door, of which the clerk had told them. And they got it, too, and were about to drive on, when suddenly the horses could not draw the coach. There were six, so they put to eight, and then ten and twelve, but though they put as many as they liked to the coach and helped along with the whip, still the coach would not budge. The day was already far advanced, and they simply had to get to church, and actually began to despair. But then the magistrate said that out in the golden house in the forest lived a maiden, “and if one could only get the loan of her calf, it would be sure to pull the coach, and though it were as heavy as a bowlder.” They did not think it quite the thing to drive to church with a calf; but still there was nothing to do but to send to the maiden, and to ask her most politely, with a kind greeting from the king, if she would loan them the calf of which the magistrate had spoken. Nor did the Master Girl refuse them this time. And then, when they had put the calf to the coach, it moved from the spot quickly enough. It flew over stick and stone, hill and dale, so that the people inside could hardly catch their breath. First it was on the ground, and next it was in the air, and when they reached the church, it spun around it like a top, and they had the greatest difficulty in getting out and into the church. And going home they went still faster, and were nearly out of their wits by the time they reached the castle.

When they sat down to the table the king’s son—the same who had been at the giant’s—said it would be no more than right to invite the maiden, too, who had lent them the poker, and the door and the calf: “for if we had not had these things, we should not have moved from the spot.” This seemed right to the king, so he sent five of his most distinguished courtiers to the little golden house. They were to carry the king’s kindest greetings, and ask that the maiden come up to the castle and take dinner with them. “A kind greeting to the king, and if he is too good to come to me, then I am too good to go to him,” said the Master Girl. So the king had to go to her himself, and then she went along with him at once, and the king saw very well that she was more than she appeared to be, and gave her a place at the head of the table, next to the young bridegroom. After they had been at dinner for a while, the Master Girl produced the rooster and the hen and the golden apple—they were the three things she had taken along from the giant’s castle—and placed them on the table before her. At once the rooster and the hen began to fight for the golden apple. “Why, just see how the two fight for the golden apple!” said the king’s son. “Yes, that is how we had to fight the time we wanted to get out of the rock!” said the Master Girl. And then the king’s son recognized her, and was very happy. The witch who had rolled the apple over to him was duly punished, and then the wedding really began, and the bailiff, and the clerk and the magistrate held out to the very end, for all that their wings had been so thoroughly singed.

NOTE

“The Master Girl” (Asbjörnsen and Moe, N.F.E., p. 222. No. 46) is fitted out with a great wealth of interesting incident. The dream motive of not being able to get away is most delightfully woven into the context of the story, and the sea-sucker, whom the giant fetches to stop the flight of the lovers, is a unique creation of fancy.