“Why, you know well enough”, said the Troll; “you used it last; where should it be but over the door yonder?
The lad did not wait to be told twice; he took down the harp, and went in and out playing tunes; but, all at once he shoved off the kneading-trough, jumped into it, and rowed off, so that the foam flew around the trough.
After a while the Troll thought his daughter was a long while gone, and went out to see what ailed her; and then he saw the lad in the trough, far, far out on the lake.
“HALLOA! Is it you”, he roared, “that took my seven silver ducks?”
“AYE, AYE!” said the lad.
“Is it you that took my bed-quilt, with the gold and silver patches.”
“Yes!” said the lad.
“And now you have taken off my gold harp?” screamed the Troll.
“Yes!” said the lad; “I’ve got it, sure enough.”
“And haven’t I eaten you up after all, then?”