“Cut the vein under the famous mole. Let every lamb touch the end of its tongue to the blood and moisten its underlip with it, and they will all be changed to men and live as before.”
He did as she directed, and when the lambs had all assumed the forms of men again they were invited as wedding-guests.
Thus the youth took the maiden home amid song and chime of bells, and there he treated everybody royally to meat and drink, until finally they took their homeward way. But he stayed there with his young wife, and God knows what fortunes they met with in life that are all forgotten now.
“I am sorry you have forgotten anything, grandmother,” said the little boy. “It is not dark yet, and I wanted a longer story.”
“It is not I who forgot,” answered the grandmother. “I remember every word as it was told to me.”
“It must have been your great-grandmother,” observed the little boy. “I wish she had had a better memory.”
“I will tell you a short story to make up,” said the grandmother. “It explains why there is so much knot-grass.”
“I should like to know that,” said one of the sisters. “My fingers are tired rooting it out.”
So the grandmother told about