‘No, there is no one who can do it,’ said the Troll.
‘A short time since there was a man here who said he could do it,’ said the King’s daughter.
‘How clever you always are!’ said the Troll. ‘How could you let him go away? You must have known that I was just wanting a man of that kind.’
‘Well, but I didn’t let him go, after all,’ said the Princess; ‘but father is so quick-tempered, so I hid him in the cupboard, but if father has not found any one then the man is still here.’
‘Let him come in,’ said the Troll.
When Minnikin came, the Troll asked if it were true that he could brew a hundred lasts of malt at one brewing.
‘Yes,’ said Minnikin, ‘it is.’
‘It is well then that I have lighted on thee,’ said the Troll. ‘Fall to work this very minute, but Heaven help thee if thou dost not brew the ale strong.’
‘Oh, it shall taste well,’ said Minnikin, and at once set himself to work to brew.
‘But I must have more trolls to help to carry what is wanted,’ said Minnikin; ‘these that I have are good for nothing.’