Away flew Kesta again, and after her came all the crowd in a long line. “How unfortunate I am,” she sobbed; “but anyhow I can go back to Adam; he’s sure to be glad to have me,” and on she sped, and at last she came to the farm and ran in, calling to Adam.
“Is that you, Kesta?” cried Adam, coming to meet her, and kissing her. “I’m glad to see you, but why are you so hot?”
“It is the sun, it was so strong,” said Kesta.
“Then sit down and grow cool,” said Adam. “But I wonder what all that shouting outside can be?”
“It is only people making holiday,” cried Kesta. But for all she could say Adam went out to ask the people what they wanted at the farm?
“We want nothing at the farm,” they cried, “but we followed that impudent wench dressed in yellow.”
“Why, what has she done?” asked Adam.
“Done!” they cried. “Why, she came up to the town and asked to marry the miller, and the banker, and the bailiff, and the General, and even the Duke himself, so she deserves to be punished for her presumption.”
Then Adam looked very grave, and went back to the farm and said, “Indeed, Kesta, I cannot marry you now, since you’ve been to the town and tried to get a finer husband than me,” and he went back to his work, and left Kesta sitting all alone; and there she sat and cried by herself, and did not get any husband after all, because she was so false and vain.
