At last, they met a poor little girl in the kitchen. She said: “Heavens! The Nightingale! I know it well! Yes, how it can sing! Every evening I have permission to take the broken pieces from the table to my poor sick mother who lives near the seashore, and on my way back, when I feel tired and rest a while in the wood, then I hear the Nightingale sing, and my eyes are filled with tears: it is just as if my mother kissed me.”
“Little kitchen-girl,” said the Lord-in-Waiting, “I will get a permanent position for you in the Court Kitchen and permission to see the Emperor dine, if you can lead us to the Nightingale; for it has received orders to appear at Court to-night.”
So they started off all together for the wood where the bird was wont to sing: half the court went too. They were going along at a good pace when suddenly they heard a cow lowing.
“Oh,” said a court-page. “There you have it. That is a wonderful power for so small a creature! I have certainly heard it before.”
“No, those are the cows lowing,” said the little kitchen girl. “We are a long way from the place yet.”
And then the frogs began to croak in the pond.
“Beautiful,” said the Court Preacher. “Now, I hear it—it is just like little church bells.”
“No, those are the frogs,” said the little Kitchen maid. “But now I think that we shall soon hear it.”
And then the Nightingale began to sing.
“There it is,” said the little girl. “Listen, listen—there it sits.” And she pointed to a little grey bird in the branches.