"I say, good Master Herald, that my red apples are not for sale," the dame replied, "but if they have a power to restore the little Princess Silverstar, she may have them all. They shall be a gift from me and my son Freyo."
Now the herald was amazed at this. From the humble surroundings, he knew the good dame and her son were naught but worthy peasants, and he reasoned wisely that riches would not be amiss. Accordingly, he tried to persuade Dame Grumble to accept some gift, a tract of fertile land, a noble mansion, or at least a bag or two of gold; but Dame Grumble was firm in her intention and would not be persuaded.
"If my red apples have a power to heal," she declared, "they will have thrice that power if given with a good heart instead of in barter or exchange." So the herald besought her no more. He called the servants and bade them strip the tree, and then, with many thanks, he hastened on his way.
"Oh, Mother!" cried Freyo, as they watched the royal coach depart. "How fine of you to refuse such riches! All your life you have so longed for a fortune, too!"
"Indeed, my son," replied the good dame earnestly, "the only fortune I desire now is the fortune that you will one day make for me. However, I must confess that all the while I spoke with the king's herald, it seemed that the Traveler was close beside to tell me what to say, and that the words were not my own. Now, was that not a strange thing—and he gone these many hours?"
As she went about her daily tasks, the good dame seemed to have forgotten her old woes and troubles and Freyo whistled like a thrush as he sat working at his bench. The little cottage had never known such a happy day. Freyo's tools seemed to fly as though by magic, and the gloom that had been slowly settling down upon the little cottage quite close to the top of the earth now seemed to take wings and fly off. It was just at sunset when they heard the blowing of horns and trumpets, and again the coach of King Silversword drew up before their door.
Freyo, wishing to hear news of the Princess Silverstar, seized the Traveler's staff and hobbled toward the door. But wonder of wonders! No sooner had he leaned his weight upon it than he grew tall and straight as a young poplar tree. Like an arrow he sped from the cottage door, and Dame Grumble rubbed her eyes lest she should wake and find herself a-dreaming.
"Now look you, good Master Herald!" she cried in amazement. "You saw my son only this morning, and he was lame as lame could be; and now, behold, he walks as well as you or I! Truly, say I, it is a day of miracles!"
"Thou sayest right, good dame!" declared the herald. "It is to tell you of another miracle that I have come hither. Only this morn the little Princess Silverstar did eat but one of the red apples, and to the delight and wonder of the court, she began to grow stronger. When she had eaten three or four, the doctors and medical men pronounced her cured; they believed that the red apples coming as a gift, rather than for barter or exchange, had worked an important part in this miraculous recovery. To-night there is great feasting and rejoicing in the land of King Silversword, and the praises of Dame Grumble and her son are sung by rich and poor and high and low alike." The herald then unrolled another scroll and read the following proclamation:
"Wherefore His Majesty, King Silversword, to show his gratitude, doth now create Freyo the First Wood Carver of his kingdom and master of all other wood carvers in the land."