“You may well ask,” replied the other, “for it is no less than the King of Growgland’s crown. Here—you may try it on if you like.”
And he pulled out a bundle wrapped in cloth. His companion snatched it, and, when he had untied the knots, there came out such a blaze in the moonlight that the magpie was almost blinded.
The crown glowed and shone. It had spikes of gold with knobs of rubies on the top, and pearls as big as marrowfat peas were studded round the circlet. In front was a fan-shaped ornament half a foot high and one mass of emeralds and diamonds. The thief set it on his own knavish head and turned round and round that his friend might admire his appearance.
“There now, stop that,” said the other at last; “I have had enough of your masquerading. Not even a crown can make you like a gentleman.” And he whipped it off and thrust it into the hole. Then he drew the ivy across it, and, after a few more rough words, the robbers disappeared as they had come.
When morning dawned the magpie flew to the house where the youngest brother was lodging with his bride. He pecked the window with his beak and cried to the young man, “Here is great news! Follow my advice, and you will find your fortune made. Now tell your wife to go to the town and buy a piece of fine silk to make a bag. While she is doing this you must procure a hammer, a piece of pointed iron and a yard of string; you can get a pickaxe and shovel from the shed where the sexton keeps his tools. All these you must hide in a bush which I shall show you in the churchyard. Ask no questions; and, when evening falls, meet me with the bag and all these things behind the church.”
So saying, he flew away.
Now, the girl knew very well that the magpie was no ordinary bird, and she obeyed him carefully; she rose and went into the town and bought a piece of red silk. Having made the bag, she gave it to her husband, and, at the time appointed, he met the magpie behind the church with all the implements he had got together.
The bird directed him to leave the pickaxe and shovel in the porch, and they went up to the roof by the belfry stair. When the youngest brother saw the treasure he was speechless, but the magpie gave him no time to examine the jewels.
“Listen to me,” he said, “and we are rich for ever. (I say ‘we’ because I feel you will not forget my poor services.) Do you see an iron bar that sticks out into space on the side of that flying buttress? It is placed there to hold a swinging lamp, and there are five steps by which the sexton approaches it to hang up the light. As you see, they also stand out into space. Tie this piece of string round my leg, and, when I have flown up and alighted on the iron bar, twist the other end round it, so that I may seem to be fastened to it as to a perch; but do not knot it, or make it really secure. To do this you must reach the bar by these steps.”
When the young man heard this, his flesh crept, for he was not accustomed to high places and, the steps being on the outer wall, the least giddiness might plunge him headlong into the churchyard, fifty feet below; but, being a manful fellow, he climbed up and twisted the string so neatly round the bar that no one could have supposed the magpie to be anything but a prisoner.