There was once a farmer who had three sons. One day when the boys were grown to manhood he said to them:
“My sons, it is high time that you were all married. To-morrow I wish you to go out in search of brides.”
“But where shall we go?” the oldest son asked.
“I have thought of that, too,” the father said. “Do each of you chop down a tree and then take the direction in which the fallen tree points. I’m sure that each of you if you go far enough in that direction will find a suitable bride.”
So the next day the three sons chopped down trees. The oldest son’s tree fell pointing north.
“That suits me!” he said, for he knew that to the north lay a farm where a very pretty girl lived.
The tree of the second son when it fell pointed south.
“That suits me!” the second son declared thinking of a girl that he had often danced with who lived on a farm to the south.
The youngest son’s tree—the youngest son’s name was Veikko—when it fell pointed straight to the forest.
“Ha! Ha!” the older brothers laughed. “Veikko will have to go courting one of the Wolf girls or one of the Foxes!”