Some one put a wreath on the head of the “prince,” the procession was formed, and they went to church. There the pop preached a long sermon all about the duties of husband and wife, and said Mass, and finally married the princess to her prince. In reality it was the little boy’s eldest sister who was married to her betrothed, but for the three days of the wedding they were as much prince and princess as if they had been born in an imperial palace.
Then followed the feast. I can never tell you of the eating and the drinking, the songs that were sung and the jokes that went around the table. Late in the afternoon the little boy went into the grandmother’s room. She had left the table an hour before.
“Grandmother,” he said, “I have eaten too much. Please tell me a story.”
“It will be very appropriate,” said the grandmother, “if I tell you about
“YOUNG NEVERFULL.”
A certain housewife had a young servant-lad who devoured everything eatable that came in his way. He would rummage in the storeroom until he smelled out something good, and would give himself no rest until he had devoured it all.
Now the woman had a jar of preserved fruit, and, as she feared that the youngster would eat it and leave her nothing to put into her pies, she said to him:
“My good boy, you have now eaten everything that I have except this jam, and you have left this just as if you knew that it was poisoned. See how good God is to have preserved you from it. One single spoonful is enough to kill one instantly; so I warn you not to touch it unless you want to die.”
“Very well,” answered the boy.