“If he promises to read about the drum-man I’ll be as quiet as a mouse,” shrieked Peter.

“I promise, I promise,” said the miller, stopping beside a row of cabbages.

So when Peter gave him the book and had settled down to listen, he began.

There was once upon a time a widowed Baron who had a lovely daughter. She was so beautiful that she seldom went out of the castle gates, because people stared at her so much that it made her quite uncomfortable. Her name was Laurine, and she could dance so wonderfully that she looked more like an autumn leaf sailing in the wind than a human being. Her chestnut hair floated all round her, and her grey eyes shone like stars through a mist.

Now, in spite of all this, the Baron, who was only her stepfather, was most anxious to get rid of her by marriage, for he was a lazy old man, and did not like the trouble of looking after her; he liked to have his own house to himself. He let this be known far and wide, and the very greatest Princes and gentlemen came courting Laurine, which gave him more trouble than ever, for she persisted in refusing every one, and the expenses of their entertainment went, consequently, for nothing.

At last he could stand it no longer, and one morning, after a whole batch of suitors had been turned away, he sent for her to his room. He was sitting up in bed looking frightfully angry, and when she came in he roared and beat his cane on the bed-clothes. He always took it to bed with him, so that he might bang the servants if they made too much noise when they called him in the morning.

“What is the matter, sir?” asked Laurine, making a very pretty curtsey.

“Matter!” shouted the Baron; “the matter is that I’m tired of you and your airs, and I have made up my mind to stand them no longer. Married you shall be. I am going to give out a notice to be posted up everywhere that, in ten days from now, the first twelve gentlemen who send in their names to me are to come here, bringing a musical instrument each; and the one who plays best shall have your hand in marriage. Now, it’s no good crying. I have made up my mind, and the messenger carrying the news shall go out to-day. You have had the choice of all the grandest persons in the country, and now you must just take what you can get. So get out of my sight!”

And he laid about so furiously that Laurine burst into tears. This time she was at her wits’ end, and could not think what to do.

“Oh, my lady!” said her maid when she heard what had happened, “you must get advice from a Goblin I know. He is the cleverest person in the whole countryside, and he will be able to find some way out of it. Only say the word, and I will go at once to fetch him.”