There was a general laugh at Pink’s story, it was so very short, and Pink felt quite proud of herself in having got through her tale telling about twice as quickly as Quick.
“Only two more stories,” said Oberon, “and then all must fly back to their proper work as fairies. There are so many of us here that would like to take a turn on the tale-teller’s stool that it is now not easy to choose, so we will have our next story from the first fairy who can get on the stool—but wait,” for as soon as Oberon spoke the rush began, “you must all go to your places and start fair when I say ‘three.’” There was a pause while all settled back in their places, and then Oberon said slowly, “One—Two—Three.”
As soon as the last word was heard there was such a scramble and rush from all parts of the ring, some running, some flying, but the nimblest of all was a Kobold, who seated himself firmly on the stool and would not let himself be pushed off. As soon as it was seen that the stool was occupied all the fairies who had tried to get there went laughing merrily back to their places, and the Kobold triumphantly began the story of
The Little Glass Shoe
A peasant, named John Wilde, found one time a glass shoe on one of the hills where the little people used to dance. He clapped it instantly into his pocket and ran away with it, keeping his hand as close on his pocket as if he had a dove in it, for he knew that he had found a treasure which the underground people must redeem at any price.
Others say that John Wilde lay in ambush one night for the underground people, and gained an opportunity of pulling off one of their shoes, by stretching himself there with a brandy-bottle beside him, and acting like one that was dead drunk; for he was a very cunning man, not over scrupulous in his morals, and had taken in many a one by his craftiness, and, on this account, his name was in no good repute among his neighbours, who, to say the truth, were willing to have as little to do with him as possible. Many hold, too, that he was acquainted with forbidden arts, and used to carry on an intercourse with the fiends and old women that raised storms, and such like.
However, be this as it may, when John had gotten the shoe, he lost no time in letting the folk that dwell under the ground know that he had it. So at midnight he went to the Nine-hills, and cried with all his might, “John Wilde of Rodenkirchen has got a beautiful glass shoe. Who will buy it, who will buy it?” For he knew that the little one who had lost the shoe must go barefoot till he got it again, and that is no trifle, for the little people have generally to walk upon very hard and stony ground.
John’s advertisement was speedily attended to. The little fellow who had lost the shoe made no delay in setting about redeeming it. The first free day he got, that he might come out into the daylight, he came as a respectable merchant, and knocked at John Wilde’s door, and asked if John had not a glass shoe to sell. “For,” says he, “they are an article now in great demand, and are sought for in every market.” John replied that it was true he had a very little little, nice, pretty little glass shoe, but it was so small that even a dwarf’s foot would be squeezed in it, and that God Almighty must make people on purpose for it before it could be of any use, but that, for all that, it was an extraordinary shoe and a valuable shoe, and a dear shoe, and it was not every merchant that could afford to pay for it.