"Baron Karl von Engstrom from Stockholm arrived at Hanssonborg today," said Nils. "He is to spend the holidays here, and they say that he will ask Fru Hansson for Greta's hand in marriage."
Erik's mouth fell open. His eyes widened with horror. A baron from Stockholm! Greta's hand in marriage!
The memory of a few lines from his fairy-tale book flashed over him:
"Down the mountainside came thundering,
Fierce and wild, a giant tall,
Carried off the lovely princess—"
"No, no, Nils," cried Erik. "You can't let him do it. You shan't!"
Nils smiled, but it was a bitter smile. "What are you saying?" he asked Erik. "Do you think that I, a poor tenant farmer, could possibly prevent the marriage of Fru Hansson's daughter?"
"Yes, yes!" screamed Erik. "You must! You shan't allow this giant—this Baron to marry her!" He recalled the words of his song,
"Then the brave prince slew the giant,
Carried off the princess fair."
And he added, "You must march against him. That's what you must do. With a sword and—and a shield and—"
