Well! Big Peter had nothing to say against that, he stuffed him into the sack and set off. But he hadn’t gone far on his way, before it came into his mind that he had forgotten something which he must go back to fetch; meanwhile, he set the sack down by the road side. Just then came a man driving a fine fat flock of sheep.
To Kingdom-come, to Paradise.
To Kingdom-come, to Paradise.
roared out Little Peter, who lay inside the sack, and that he kept bawling and bellowing out.
“Mayn’t I get leave to go with you”, asked the man who drove the sheep.
“Of course you may”, said Little Peter. “If you’ll only untie the sack, and creep into it in my stead, you’ll soon get there. As for me, I don’t mind biding here till next time, that I don’t. But you must keep on calling out the words I bawled out, else you’ll not go to the right place.”
Then the man untied the sack, and got into it in Little Peter’s place: Peter tied the sack up again and the man began to bawl out:
To Kingdom-come, to Paradise.
To Kingdom-come, to Paradise.
and to that text he stuck.
When Peter had got him well into the sack, he wasn’t slow; off he went with the flock of sheep, and soon put a good bit of the road behind him. Meantime, back came Big Peter, took the sack on his shoulders, and bore it across the country to the river, and all the while he went, the drover sat inside bawling out:
To Kingdom-come, to Paradise.
To Kingdom-come, to Paradise.