“I can see your goose already,” cried the troll, as he peered into the crystal; “it has strayed as far as the sand dunes.”
“Then I must go and seek it immediately,” replied Kora, “and I thank you most heartily for your courtesy.”
“Not so fast, not so fast,” the troll made answer, catching her by the arm; “you are pretty and neat-fingered, my girl, and have a sweet voice. You shall stay and keep house for me, and be my wife.”
Kora protested with tears and cries and wringing of hands, but it was all to no purpose; so she pretended to resign herself to her lot, though in reality she never ceased planning how she might escape from it. Presently an idea came to her, and one day, instead of busying herself about the house as usual, she remained seated by the hearth, her head in her hands, the picture of dejection.
“What is the matter now?” demanded the troll.
“The matter!” cried Kora, with a great show of indignation; “when you have never so much as given me a wedding-ring! When men take wives in the upper world, they give them golden wedding-rings in token of their troth.”
“Is that all?” said the troll. “Dry your eyes then, my love, for you shall soon have rings in plenty.”
So saying he went into his own private closet, a dark little room at the back of the house, and presently returned laden with sacks and caskets, all full of gold and silver, jewels and trinkets. Kora began trying on one ring after another, but none of them seemed to please her, and at last she turned away with a gesture of impatience.
“These are not the right sort,” said she scornfully, “for they are all set with precious stones, while a real wedding-ring is only a plain gold circlet. I will not do another stroke of work about the house till you have brought me a proper wedding-ring.”
“I will go to the goldsmith and get you one, my love,” said her husband, and he set out that same day.