“Don’t know,” said the cook. “He has never had any to receive since I have been here.”
“Humph!” said the other. “I think I will go down and pay my respects to him. Will you let me down in the bucket?”
“But suppose he should mistake you for his dinner, and eat you up?” the cook suggested.
“Pooh!” he replied. “No fear of that; I can take care of myself. And as for his dinner,” he added, “get him some radishes. There are plenty about here. I had nothing but radishes for my dinner, and very good they were, though rather biting. Let down the bucket, please! I am all right.”
“What are radishes?” the cook called after him as he went down.
“Long red things, stupid! with green leaves to them!” he shouted; and then, in a moment, he found himself at the bottom of the well.
The little old man was delighted to see him, and told him that he had lived down there forty years, and had never had a visitor before in all that time.
“Why do you live down here?” inquired the traveller.
“Because I cannot get out,” replied the little old man.
“But how did you get down here in the first place?”