“Yes,” Veikko repeated, “gowned in velvet like a princess. And when she sits up and sings to me I’m perfectly happy.”
“Huh!” grunted the older brothers not at all pleased that Veikko should have so grand a sweetheart.
“Well,” said the old farmer after a few days, “now I should like to know what those sweethearts of yours are able to do. Have them each bake me a loaf of bread so that I can see whether they’re good housewives.”
“Mine will be able to bake bread—I’m sure of that!” the oldest brother declared boastfully.
“So will mine!” chorused the second brother.
Veikko was silent.
“What about the Princess?” they said with a laugh. “Do you think the Princess can bake bread?”
“I don’t know,” Veikko answered truthfully. “I’ll have to ask her.”
Of course he had no reason for supposing that the little mouse could bake bread and by the time he reached the hut in the forest he was feeling sad and discouraged.
When he pushed open the door he found the little mouse as before seated on the table daintily combing her whiskers. At sight of Veikko she danced about with delight.