The king gave his promise. The basket-boy stepped behind a great rock, threw up the ball, and wished for the finest castle on earth. Before the ball touched the ground the king, the guests, and attendants were in a castle far finer than any they had looked on in daylight or seen in a dream. The best food and drink of all kinds were in it, shining chambers and beds of silk and gold. When all had eaten and drunk their fill, they fell asleep to sweet music, and slept soundly till morning. At daybreak each man woke up, and found himself lying on the wild moor, a tuft of rushes under his head, and the gray sky above him. Glad to see light, they rose and went home.
Now the henwife told the king’s daughter the story of Shawn, who had cleared out the island, and the comb-woman’s son, the deceiver. When the year was ended, and the day came for the marriage, the king’s daughter said she would marry no man but the man who would ride the white mare with nine eyes (the mare could either kill or make froth of a man). The comb-woman’s son was the first man to mount; but the cloak fell from him, and he vanished in froth blown away by the wind, and no one saw sight of him from that day to this. Sixteen king’s sons tried to ride the white mare, and were killed every man of them; but their bodies were found. Shawn, who had taken the cloak, sat on the mare, and rode three times past the castle. At the door the mare knelt for him to come down.
The king’s daughter would have jumped through her window, and killed herself, if her maids had not held her. She rushed down the stairs, kissed Shawn, and embraced him. The wedding began then. It lasted for a day and a year, and the last was the best day of all.
When the wedding was over, Shawn remembered the mare, and went to the stable. She had not been fed, and a white skin was all that was left of her. When Shawn came to the mare’s place, three young men and two women were playing chess in it.
“Oh, I forgot the mare from the first day of the wedding till this moment,” said Shawn; and he began to cry.
“Why are you crying?” asked the elder of the two women.
He told the reason.
“You needn’t cry,” said the woman; “I can revive her.” With that she took the skin, put it on herself; and that minute she was the white mare. “Would you rather see me a white mare as I am now, or the woman that I was a minute ago?”
“The woman,” said Shawn.