The Wonder Clock - or four & twenty marvellous Tales, being one for each hour of the day

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Title: The Wonder Clock - or four & twenty marvellous Tales, being one for each hour of the day
Author: Pyle, Howard, Pyle, Katharine
Language: English
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[Illustration]

[Illustration: The Wonder Clock]

[Illustration]

The
WONDER CLOCK
_four & twenty marvellous Tales, being one for
each hour of the day; written & illustrated_

By
Howard Pyle.

_Embellished with Verses by
Katharine Pyle._

_New York_, printed by
Harper & Brothers.

BOOKS BY

HOWARD PYLE

MEN OF IRON. Illustrated. Post 8vo
A MODERN ALADDIN. Illustrated. Post 8vo
PEPPER AND SALT. Illustrated. Post 8vo
REJECTED OF MEN. Post 8vo
THE ROSE OF PARADISE. Illustrated. 12mo
THE RUBY OF KISHMOOR. Illustrated. 8vo
STOLEN TREASURE. Illustrated. 12mo
TWILIGHT LAND. Illustrated. Post 8vo
THE WONDER CLOCK. Illustrated. Square 8vo

HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK

Printed in the United States of America

[Illustration]

PREFACE.

I put on my dream-cap one day and stepped into Wonderland.

Along the road I jogged and never dusted my shoes, and all the time the
pleasant sun shone and never burned my back, and the little white clouds
floated across the blue sky and never let fall a drop of rain to wet my
jacket. And by and by I came to a steep hill.

I climbed the hill, though I had more than one tumble in doing it, and
there, on the tip top, I found a house as old as the world itself.

That was where Father Time lived; and who should sit in the sun at the
door, spinning away for dear life, but Time’s Grandmother herself; and
if you would like to know how old she is you will have to climb to the
top of the church steeple and ask the wind as he sits upon the
weather-cock, humming the tune of Over-yonder song to himself.

“Good-morning,” says Time’s Grandmother to me.

“Good-morning,” says I to her.

“And what do you seek here?” says she to me.

“I come to look for odds and ends,” says I to her.

“Very well,” says she; “just climb the stairs to the garret, and there
you will find more than ten men can think about.”

“Thank you,” says I, and up the stairs I went. There I found all manner
of queer forgotten things which had been laid away, nobody but Time and
his Grandmother could tell where.

Over in the corner was a great, tall clock, that had stood there
silently with never a tick or a ting since men began to grow too wise
for toys and trinkets.

But I knew very well that the old clock was the

_Wonder Clock_;

so down I took the key and wound it—gurr! gurr! gurr!

Click! buzz! went the wheels, and then—tick-tock! tick-tock! for the
Wonder Clock is of that kind that it will never wear out, no matter how
long it may stand in Time’s garret.

Down I sat and watched it, for every time it struck it played a pretty
song, and when the song was ended—click! click!—out stepped the drollest
little puppet-figures and went through with a dance, and I saw it all
(with my dream-cap upon my head).

But the Wonder Clock had grown rusty from long standing, and though now
and then the puppet-figures danced a dance that I knew as well as I know
my bread-and-butter, at other times they jigged a step I had never seen
before, and it came into my head that maybe a dozen or more puppet-plays
had become jumbled together among the wheels back of the clock-face.

So there I sat in the dust watching the Wonder Clock, and when it had
run down and the tunes and the puppet-show had come to an end, I took
off my dream-cap, and—whisk!—there I was back home again among my books,
with nothing brought away with me from that country but a little dust
which I found sticking to my coat, and which I have never brushed away
to this day.

Now if you also would like to go into Wonderland, you have only to hunt
up your dream-cap (for everybody has one somewhere about the house), and
to come to me, and I will show you the way to Time’s garret.

That is right! Pull the cap well down about your ears.

* * * * *

Here we are! And now I will wind the clock. Gurr! gurr! gurr!

_Tick-tock! tick-tock!_

[Illustration]

Table of Contents.

PAGE

I. Bearskin 1

II. The Water of Life 15

III. How One Turned his Trouble to Some Account 27

IV. How Three Went out into the Wide World 39

V. The Clever Student and the Master of Black Arts 49

VI. The Princess Golden-Hair and the Great Black Raven 63

VII. Cousin Greylegs, the Great Red Fox, and Grandfather Mole 77

VIII. One Good Turn Deserves Another 89

IX. The White Bird 105

X. How the Good Gifts were Used by Two 121

XI. How Boots Befooled the King 135

XII. The Step-mother 149

XIII. Master Jacob 161

XIV. Peterkin and the Little Grey Hare 175

XV. Mother Hildegarde 189

XVI. Which is Best 203

XVII. The Simpleton and his Little Black Hen 217

XVIII. The Swan Maiden 229

XIX. The Three Little Pigs and the Ogre 241

XX. The Staff and the Fiddle 253

XXI. How the Princess’s Pride was Broken 267

XXII. How Two Went into Partnership 279

XXIII. King Stork 291

XXIV. The Best that Life has to Give 305

[Illustration]

List of Illustrations.

_Page_
_Frontispiece._

_Head-piece—Preface_ v
_Head-piece—Table of Contents_ vii
_Head-piece—List of Illustrations_ ix

_ONE O’CLOCK_ 1

_Head-piece—Bearskin_ 3
_The Baby drifts to the River’s Bank in the Basket_ 5
_Bearskin parts from the Princess_ 9
_The Princess weeps_ 10
_Bearskin and the Swineherd feast together_ 12

_TWO O’CLOCK_ 15

_Head-piece—The Water of Life_ 17
_The King gazes upon the Picture_ 19
_The North Wind flies with the Faithful Servant_ 21
_The King brings the Water of Life to the Princess_ 23
_The Faithful Servant gives the King his Golden Bracelet_ 25

_THREE O’CLOCK_ 27

_Head-piece—How One Turned his Trouble to Some Account_ 29
_The Soldier takes Trouble to Town_ 31
_The Soldier brings Trouble to the King_ 33
_The Giants fight one another_ 35
_The Rich Man takes Trouble home_ 37

_FOUR O’CLOCK_ 39

_Head-piece—How Three went out into the Wide World_ 41
_The Grey Goose meets the Sausage_ 43
_The Great Red Fox calls upon the Cock_ 45
_The Great Red Fox calls upon the Sausage_ 46
_The Great Red Fox rests softly_ 47

_FIVE O’CLOCK_ 49

_Head-piece—The Clever Student and the Master of Black Arts_ 51
_A Princess walks beside the River_ 53
_The Clever Student and the Princess_ 55
_The Master of Black Arts and the Little Black Hen_ 57
_The Master of Black Arts is caught in his Tricks_ 60

_SIX O’CLOCK_ 63

_Head-piece—The Princess Golden-Hair and the Great Black Raven_ 65
_The King meets the Great Black Raven_ 67
_The Princess Golden-Hair drinks_ 69
_Princess Golden-Hair comes to Death’s Door_ 71
_The Princess finds the Prince_ 75

_SEVEN O’CLOCK_ 77

_Head-piece—Cousin Greylegs, the Great Red Fox, and Grandfather
Mole_ 79
_Cousin Greylegs and the Great Red Fox go to the Fair_ 81
_Cousin Greylegs runs away with the Bag_ 83
_The Great Red Fox meets Grandfather Mole_ 85
_The Great Red Fox tries the Fire_ 87

_EIGHT O’CLOCK_ 89

_Head-piece—One Good Turn Deserves Another_ 91
_The Young Fisherman catches a Strange Fish_ 93
_The Young Fisherman and the Grey Master_ 97
_The Grey Master is caught in the Water_ 101
_The Princess finds the Young Fisherman_ 103

_NINE O’CLOCK_ 105

_Head-piece—The White Bird_ 107
_The Prince knocks at the Door of the Poor Little House_ 109
_The Prince finds the Three Giants sleeping_ 111
_The Prince finds the Sword of Brightness_ 115
_The White Bird knows the Prince_ 119

_TEN O’CLOCK_ 121

_Head-piece—How the Good Gifts were used by Two_ 123
_St. Nicholas knocks at the Rich Man’s Door_ 125
_St. Nicholas in the Poor Man’s House_ 127
_The Poor Man welcomes St. Christopher_ 129
_The Saints feast in the Rich Man’s House_ 131

_ELEVEN O’CLOCK_ 135

_Head-piece—How Boots befooled the King_ 137
_Peter goes to the King’s Castle_ 139
_Paul comes Home again_ 141
_The Old Woman smashes her Pots and Crocks_ 143
_The Councillor finds a Wisdom-sack_ 145

_TWELVE O’CLOCK_ 149

_Head-piece—The Step-mother_ 151
_The Step-daughter follows the Golden Ball_ 153
_The Young King brings the Maiden up from the Pit_ 155
_The Step-mother bewitches the Young Queen_ 157
_The Young King caresses the White Dove_ 159

_ONE O’CLOCK_ 161

_Head-piece—Master Jacob_ 163
_Master Jacob brings his Fat Pig to Town_ 165
_Master Jacob and his Black Goat_ 167
_The Three Cronies and the Black Goat_ 171
_Master Jacob meets the Three Cronies_ 173

_TWO O’CLOCK_ 175

_Head-piece—Peterkin and the Little Grey Hare_ 177
_Peterkin in his Fine Clothes_ 179
_Peterkin carries away the Giant’s Goose_ 183
_Peterkin brings the Silver Bell to the King_ 185
_Peterkin combs the Giant’s Hair_ 187

_THREE O’CLOCK_ 189

_Head-piece—Mother Hildegarde_ 191
_The Princess comes to Mother Hildegarde’s Door_ 193
_The Princess looks into the Jar_ 195
_The Wood-pigeons feed the Princess_ 197
_Mother Hildegarde carries away the Baby_ 199

_FOUR O’CLOCK_ 203

_Head-piece—Which is Best?_ 205
_The Rich Brother leaves the Poor Brother in Blindness_ 207
_The Poor Man finds the Little Door_ 209
_The Poor Man finds that which is the Best_ 211
_The Rich Man finds that which he Deserves_ 213

_FIVE O’CLOCK_ 217

_Head-piece—The Simpleton and his Little Black Hen_ 219
_Caspar starts to Town with his Little Black Hen_ 221
_Caspar finds a Bag of Money_ 223
_Three of them share the Money_ 225
_Caspar rides to the King’s Castle_ 227

_SIX O’CLOCK_ 229

_Head-piece—The Swan Maiden_ 231
_The Swan carries the Prince on its Back_ 233
_The Prince comes to the Three eyed Witch’s House_ 235
_The Swan Maiden helps the Young Prince_ 237
_The Witch and the Woman of Honey and Meal_ 239

_SEVEN O’CLOCK_ 241

_Head-piece—The Three Little Pigs and the Ogre_ 243
_The Ogre meets the Three Little Pigs in the Forest_ 245
_The Ogre climbs the Tree_ 247
_The Ogre shuts his Eyes and counts_ 249
_The Ogre sticks fast in the Window_ 251

_EIGHT O’CLOCK_ 253

_Head-piece—The Staff and the Fiddle_ 255
_The Fiddler helps the Old Woman_ 257
_The Fiddler and the Dwarf_ 259
_The Fiddler finds the Princess_ 261
_The Fiddler and the Little Black Mannikin_ 263

_NINE O’CLOCK_ 267

_Head-piece—How the Princess’s Pride was broken_ 269
_The Gooseherd plays with the Golden Ball_ 271
_The King peeps over the Hedge_ 273
_The Princess takes her Eggs to Market_ 275
_The Princess knows the Young King_ 277

_TEN O’CLOCK_ 279

_Head-piece—How Two Went into Partnership_ 281
_The Great Red Fox goes to the Store-house_ 283
_The Great Red Fox frightens Father Goat_ 285
_The Great Red Fox and Uncle Bear at the Store-house_ 287
_The Bear and the Fox go to Farmer John’s again_ 289

_ELEVEN O’CLOCK_ 291

_Head-piece—King Stork_ 293
_The Drummer helps the Old Man_ 295
_The Princess comes forth from the Castle at Night_ 297
_The Drummer helps himself_ 299
_The Drummer catches the One-eyed Raven_ 303

_TWELVE O’CLOCK_ 305

_Head-piece—The Best that Life has to Give_ 307
_The Blacksmith steals the Dwarf’s Pine-cones_ 309
_The Blacksmith chooses the Raven_ 311
_The Blacksmith brings the Little Bird to the Queen_ 315
_The Young Blacksmith Forges the Ring_ 317

[Illustration]

One O’clock·

One of the _Clock_, and silence deep [Sidenote: ☾]
Then up the _Stairway_, black and steep
The old _House-Cat_ comes creepy-creep
With soft feet goes from room to room
Her green eyes shining through the gloom,
And finds all fast asleep. [Sidenote: ○]

K.P.

[Illustration: Bearskin.]

There was a king travelling through the country, and he and those with
him were so far away from home that darkness caught them by the heels,
and they had to stop at a stone mill for the night, because there was no
other place handy.

While they sat at supper, they heard a sound in the next room, and it
was a baby crying.

The miller stood in the corner, back of the stove, with his hat in his
hand. “What is that noise?” said the king to him.

“Oh! it is nothing but another baby that the good storks have brought
into the house to-day,” said the miller.

Now there was a wise man travelling along with the king, who could read
the stars and everything that they told as easily as one can read one’s
A B C’s in a book after one knows them, and the king, for a bit of a
jest, would have him find out what the stars had to foretell of the
miller’s baby. So the wise man went out and took a peep up in the sky,
and by and by he came in again.

“Well,” said the king, “and what did the stars tell you?”

“The stars tell me,” said the wise man, “that you shall have a daughter,
and that the miller’s baby, in the room yonder, shall marry her when
they are old enough to think of such things.”

“What!” said the king, “and is a miller’s baby to marry the princess
that is to come! We will see about that.” So the next day he took the
miller aside and talked and bargained, and bargained and talked, until
the upshot of the matter was that the miller was paid two hundred
dollars, and the king rode off with the baby.

As soon as he came home to the castle he called his chief forester to
him. “Here,” says he, “take this baby and do thus and so with it, and
when you have killed it bring its heart to me, that I may know that you
have really done as you have been told.”

So off marched the forester with the baby; but on his way he stopped at
home, and there was his good wife working about the house.

“Well, Henry,” said she, “what do you do with the baby?”

“Oh!” said he, “I am just taking it off to the forest to do thus and so
with it.”

“Come,” said she, “it would be a pity to harm the little innocent, and
to have its blood on your hands. Yonder hangs the rabbit that you shot
this morning, and its heart will please the king just as well as the
other.”

Thus the wife talked, and the end of the business was that she and the
man smeared a basket all over with pitch and set the baby adrift in it
on the river, and the king was just as well satisfied with the rabbit’s
heart as he would have been with the baby’s.

But the basket with the baby in it drifted on and on down the river,
until it lodged at last among the high reeds that stood along the bank.
By and by there came a great she-bear to the water to drink, and there
she found it.

Now the huntsmen in the forest had robbed the she-bear of her cubs, so
that her heart yearned over the little baby, and she carried it home
with her to fill the place of her own young ones. There the baby throve
until he grew to a great strong lad, and as he had fed upon nothing but
bear’s milk for all that time, he was ten times stronger than the
strongest man in the land.

One day, as he was walking through the forest, he came across a woodman
chopping the trees into billets of wood, and that was the first time he
had ever seen a body like himself. Back he went to the bear as fast as
he could travel, and told her what he had seen. “That,” said the bear,
“is the most wicked and most cruel of all the beasts.”

[Illustration: The Baby drifts in the basket down the river to the reeds
beside the bank where the she-bear finds it. ):(]

“Yes,” says the lad, “that may be so, all the same I love beasts like
that as I love the food I eat, and I long for nothing so much as to go
out into the wide world, where I may find others of the same kind.”

At this the bear saw very well how the geese flew, and that the lad
would soon be flitting.

“See,” said she, “if you must go out into the wide world you must. But
you will be wanting help before long; for the ways of the world are not
peaceful and simple as they are here in the woods, and before you have
lived there long you will have more needs than there are flies in
summer. See, here is a little crooked horn, and when your wants grow
many, just come to the forest and blow a blast on it, and I will not be
too far away to help you.”

So off went the lad away from the forest, and all the coat he had upon
his back was the skin of a bear dressed with the hair on it, and that
was why folk called him “Bearskin.”

He trudged along the high-road, until he came to the king’s castle, and
it was the same king who thought he had put Bearskin safe out of the way
years and years ago.

Now, the king’s swineherd was in want of a lad, and as there was nothing
better to do in that town, Bearskin took the place and went every
morning to help drive the pigs into the forest, where they might eat the
acorns and grow fat.

One day there was a mighty stir throughout the town; folk crying, and
making a great hubbub. “What is it all about?” says Bearskin to the
swineherd.

What! and did he not know what the trouble was? Where had he been for
all of his life, that he had heard nothing of what was going on in the
world? Had he never heard of the great fiery dragon with three heads
that had threatened to lay waste all of that land, unless the pretty
princess were given up to him? This was the very day that the dragon was
to come for her, and she was to be sent up on the hill back of the town;
that was why all the folk were crying and making such a stir.

“So!” says Bearskin, “and is there never a lad in the whole country that
is man enough to face the beast? Then I will go myself if nobody better
is to be found.” And off he went, though the swineherd laughed and
laughed, and thought it all a bit of a jest. By and by Bearskin came to
the forest, and there he blew a blast upon the little crooked horn that
the bear had given him.

Presently came the bear through the bushes, so fast that the little
twigs flew behind her. “And what is it that you want?” said she.

“I should like,” said Bearskin, “to have a horse, a suit of gold and
silver armor that nothing can pierce, and a sword that shall cut through
iron and steel; for I would like to go up on the hill to fight the
dragon and free the pretty princess at the king’s town over yonder.”

“Very well,” said the bear, “look back of the tree yonder, and you will
find just what you want.”

Yes; sure enough, there they were back of the tree: a grand white horse
that champed his bit and pawed the ground till the gravel flew, and a
suit of gold and silver armor such as a king might wear. Bearskin put on
the armor and mounted the horse, and off he rode to the high hill back
of the town.

By and by came the princess and the steward of the castle, for it was he
that was to bring her to the dragon. But the steward stayed at the
bottom of the hill, for he was afraid, and the princess had to climb it
alone, though she could hardly see the road before her for the tears
that fell from her eyes. But when she reached the top of the hill she
found instead of the dragon a fine tall fellow dressed all in gold and
silver armor. And it did not take Bearskin long to comfort the princess,
I can tell you. “Come, come,” says he, “dry your eyes and cry no more;
all the cakes in the oven are not burned yet; just go back of the bushes
yonder, and leave it with me to talk the matter over with Master
Dragon.”

The princess was glad enough to do that. Back of the bushes she went,
and Bearskin waited for the dragon to come. He had not long to wait
either; for presently it came flying through the air, so that the wind
rattled under his wings.

Dear, dear! if one could but have been there to see that fight between
Bearskin and the dragon, for it was well worth the seeing, and that you
may believe. The dragon spit out flames and smoke like a house afire.
But he could do no hurt to Bearskin, for the gold and silver armor
sheltered him so well that not so much as one single hair of his head
was singed. So Bearskin just rattled away the blows at the dragon—slish,
slash, snip, clip—until all three heads were off, and there was an end
of it.

After that he cut out the tongues from the three heads of the dragon,
and tied them up in his pocket-handkerchief.

Then the princess came out from behind the bushes where she had lain
hidden, and begged Bearskin to go back with her to the king’s castle,
for the king had said that if any one killed the dragon he should have
her for his wife. But no; Bearskin would not go to the castle just now,
for the time was not yet ripe; but, if the princess would give them to
him, he would like to have the ring from her finger, the kerchief from
her bosom, and the necklace of golden beads from her neck.

The princess gave him what he asked for, and a sweet kiss into the
bargain, and then Bearskin mounted upon his grand white horse and rode
away to the forest. “Here are your horse and armor,” said he to the
bear, “and they have done good service to-day, I can tell you.” Then he
tramped back again to the king’s castle with the old bear’s skin over
his shoulders.

“Well,” says the swineherd, “and did you kill the dragon?”

“Oh, yes,” says Bearskin, “I did that, but it was no such great thing to
do after all.”

At that, the swineherd laughed and laughed, for he did not believe a
word of it.

And now listen to what happened to the princess after Bearskin had left
her. The steward came sneaking up to see how matters had turned out, and
there he found her safe and sound, and the dragon dead. “Whoever did
this left his luck behind him,” said he, and he drew his sword and told
the princess that he would kill her if she did not swear to say nothing
of what had happened. Then he gathered up the dragon’s three heads, and
he and the princess went back to the castle again.

“There!” said he, when they had come before the king, and he flung down
the three heads upon the floor, “I have killed the dragon and I have
brought back the princess, and now if anything is to be had for the
labor I would like to have it.” As for the princess, she wept and wept,
but she could say nothing, and so it was fixed that she was to marry the
steward, for that was what the king had promised.

At last came the wedding-day, and the smoke went up from the chimneys in
clouds, for there was to be a grand wedding-feast, and there was no end
of good things cooking for those who were to come.

“See now,” says Bearskin to the swineherd where they were feeding their
pigs together, out in the woods, “as I killed the dragon over yonder, I
ought at least to have some of the good things from the king’s kitchen;
you shall go and ask for some of the fine white bread and meat, such as
the king and princess are to eat to-day.”

[Illustration: Bearskin slayeth y^e Dragon but will not go with y^e
Princess to y^e castle.]

Dear, dear, but you should have seen how the swineherd stared at this
and how he laughed, for he thought the other must have gone out of his
wits; but as for going to the castle—no, he would not go a step, and
that was the long and the short of it.

[Illustration: Thus the Princess sits and weeps and weeps.]

“So! well, we will see about that,” says Bearskin, and he stepped to a
thicket and cut a good stout stick, and without another word caught the
swineherd by the collar, and began dusting his jacket for him until it
smoked again.

“Stop, stop!” bawled the swineherd.

“Very well,” says Bearskin; “and now will you go over to the castle for
me, and ask for some of the same bread and meat that the king and
princess are to have for their dinner?”

Yes, yes; the swineherd would do anything that Bearskin wanted him.

“So! good,” says Bearskin; “then just take this ring and see that the
princess gets it; and say that the lad who sent it would like to have
some of the bread and meat that she is to have for her dinner.”

So the swineherd took the ring, and off he started to do as he had been
told. Rap! tap! tap! he knocked at the door. Well, and what did he want?

Oh! there was a lad over in the woods yonder who had sent him to ask for
some of the same bread and meat that the king and princess were to have
for their dinner, and he had brought this ring to the princess as a
token.

But how the princess opened her eyes when she saw the ring which she had
given to Bearskin up on the hill! For she saw, as plain as the nose on
her face, that he who had saved her from the dragon was not so far away
as she had thought. Down she went into the kitchen herself to see that
the very best bread and meat were sent, and the swineherd marched off
with a great basket full.

“Yes,” says Bearskin, “that is very well so far, but I am for having
some of the red and white wine that they are to drink. Just take this
kerchief over to the castle yonder, and let the princess know that the
lad to whom she gave it upon the hill back of the town would like to
have a taste of the wine that she and the king are to have at the feast
to-day.”

Well, the swineherd was for saying “no” to this as he had to the other,
but Bearskin just reached his hand over toward the stout stick that he
had used before, and the other started off as though the ground was hot
under his feet. And what was the swineherd wanting this time—that was
what they said over at the castle.

“The lad with the pigs in the woods yonder,” says the swineherd, “must
have gone crazy, for he has sent this kerchief to the princess and says
that he should like to have a bottle or two of the wine that she and the
king are to drink to-day.”

When the princess saw her kerchief again, her heart leaped for joy. She
made no two words about the wine, but went down into the cellar and
brought it up with her own hands, and the swineherd marched off with it
tucked under his coat.

“Yes, that was all very well,” said Bearskin, “I am satisfied so far as
the wine is concerned, but now I would like to have some of the
sweetmeats that they are to eat at the castle to-day. See, here is a
necklace of golden beads; just take it to the princess and ask for some
of those sweetmeats, for I will have them,” and this time he had only to
look towards the stick, and the other started off as fast as he could
travel.

[Illustration: Bearskin and y^e swineherd have a grand feast.]

The swineherd had no more trouble with this asking than with the others,
for the princess went down-stairs and brought the sweetmeats from the
pantry with her own hands, and the swineherd carried them to Bearskin
where he sat out in the woods with the pigs.

Then Bearskin spread out the good things, and he and the swineherd sat
down to the feast together, and a fine one it was, I can tell you.

“And now,” says Bearskin, when they had eaten all that they could, “it
is time for me to leave you, for I must go and marry the princess.” So
off he started, and the swineherd did nothing but stand and gape after
him, with his mouth open, as though he were set to catch flies. But
Bearskin went straight to the woods, and there he blew upon his horn,
and the bear was with him as quickly this time as the last.

“Well, what do you want now,” said she.

“This time,” said Bearskin, “I want a fine suit of clothes made of gold
and silver cloth, and a horse to ride on up to the king’s house, for I
am going to marry the princess.”

Very well; there was what he wanted back of the tree yonder; and it was
a suit of clothes fit for a great king to wear, and a splendid
dapple-gray horse with a golden saddle and bridle studded all over with
precious stones. So Bearskin put on the clothes and rode away, and a
fine sight he was to see, I can tell you.

And how the folks stared when he rode up to the king’s castle. Out came
the king along with the rest, for he thought that Bearskin was some
great lord. But the princess knew him the moment she set eyes upon him,
for she was not likely to forget him so soon as all that.

The king brought Bearskin into where they were feasting, and had a place
set for him alongside of himself.

The steward was there along with the rest. “See,” said Bearskin to him,
“I have a question to put. One killed a dragon and saved a princess, but
another came and swore falsely that he did it. Now, what should be done
to such a one?”

“Why this,” said the steward, speaking up as bold as brass, for he
thought to face the matter down, “he should be put in a cask stuck all
round with nails, and dragged behind three wild horses.”

“Very well,” said Bearskin, “you have spoken for yourself. For I killed
the dragon up on the hill behind the town, and you stole the glory of
the doing.”

“That is not so,” said the steward, “for it was I who brought home the
three heads of the dragon in my own hand, and how can that be with the
rest?”

Then Bearskin stepped to the wall, where hung the three heads of the
dragon. He opened the mouth of each. “And where are the tongues?” said
he.

At this the steward grew as pale as death, nevertheless he still spoke
up as boldly as ever: “Dragons have no tongues,” said he. But Bearskin
only laughed; he untied his handkerchief before them all, and there were
the three tongues. He put one in each mouth, and they fitted exactly,
and after that no one could doubt that he was the hero who had really
killed the dragon. So when the wedding came it was Bearskin, and not the
steward, who married the princess; what was done to him you may guess
for yourselves.

And so they had a grand wedding, but in the very midst of the feast one
came running in and said there was a great brown bear without, who would
come in, willy-nilly. Yes, and you have guessed it right, it was the
great she-bear, and if nobody else was made much of at that wedding you
can depend upon it that she was.

As for the king, he was satisfied that the princess had married a great
hero. So she had, only he was the miller’s son after all, though the
king knew no more of that than my grandfather’s little dog, and no more
did anybody but the wise man for the matter of that, and he said nothing
of it, for wise folk don’t tell all they know.

[Illustration]

Two O’clock·

The _Black Cock_ crowed;
The _Moon_ was bright;
The _Red Cock_ answered
Through the night. [Sidenote: ●]

_Big Gretchen_, sleeping,
Turned in bed,
And tossed her arms
Above her head. [Sidenote: ☽]

The old _Hound_ stretched.
And, breathing deep,
He settled down
Again to sleep. [Sidenote: ○]

[Illustration: The Water of Life.]

II.

Once upon a time there was an old king who had a faithful servant. There
was nobody in the whole world like him, and this was why: around his
wrist he wore an armlet that fitted as close as the skin. There were
words on the golden band; on one side they said:

“WHO THINKS TO WEAR ME ON HIS ARM
MUST LACK BOTH GUILE AND THOUGHT OF HARM.”

And on the other side they said:

“I AM FOR ONLY ONE AND HE
SHALL BE AS STRONG AS TEN CAN BE.”

At last the old king felt that his end was near, and he called the
faithful servant to him and besought him to serve and aid the young king
who was to come as he had served and aided the old king who was to go.
The faithful servant promised that which was asked, and then the old
king closed his eyes and folded his hands and went the way that those
had travelled who had gone before him.

Well, one day a stranger came to that town from over the hills and far
away. With him he brought a painted picture, but it was all covered with
a curtain so that nobody could see what it was.

He drew aside the curtain and showed the picture to the young king, and
it was a likeness of the most beautiful princess in the whole world; for
her eyes were as black as a crow’s wing, her cheeks were as red as
apples, and her skin as white as snow. Moreover, the picture was so
natural that it seemed as though it had nothing to do but to open its
lips and speak.

The young king just sat and looked and looked. “Oh me!” said he, “I will
never rest content until I have such a one as that for my own.”

“Then listen!” said the stranger, “this is a likeness of the princess
that lives over beyond the three rivers. A while ago she had a wise bird
on which she doted, for it knew everything that happened in the world,
so that it could tell the princess whatever she wanted to know. But now
the bird is dead, and the princess does nothing but grieve for it day
and night. She keeps the dead bird in a glass casket, and has promised
to marry whoever will bring a cup of water from the Fountain of Life, so
that the bird may be brought back to life again.” That was the story the
stranger told, and then he jogged on the way he was going, and I, for
one, do not know whither it led.

But the young king had no peace or comfort in life for thinking of the
princess who lived over beyond the three rivers. At last he called the
faithful servant to him. “And can you not,” said he, “get me a cup of
the Water of Life?”

“I know not, but I will try,” said the faithful servant, for he bore in
mind what he had promised to the old king.

So out he went into the wide world, to seek for what the young king
wanted, though the way there is both rough and thorny. On he went and
on, until his shoes were dusty, and his feet were sore, and after a
while he came to the end of the earth, and there was nothing more over
the hill. There he found a little tumbled-down hut, and within the hut
sat an old, old woman with a distaff, spinning a lump of flax.

“Good-morning, mother,” said the faithful servant.

“Good-morning, son,” says the old woman, “and where are you travelling
that you have come so far?”

“Oh!” says the faithful servant, “I am hunting for the Water of Life,
and have come as far as this without finding a drop of it.”

“Hoity, toity,” says the old woman, “if that is what you are after, you
have a long way to go yet. The fountain is in the country that lies east
of the Sun and west of the Moon, and it is few that have gone there and
come back again, I can tell you. Besides that there is a great dragon
that keeps watch over the water, and you will have to get the better of
him before you can touch a drop of it. All the same, if you have made up
your mind to go you may stay here until my sons come home, and perhaps
they can put you in the way of getting there, for I am the Mother of the
Four Winds of Heaven, and it is few places that they have not seen.”

[Illustration: The young king looks upon y^e beautiful picture which the
stranger showeth him.]

So the faithful servant came in and sat down by the fire to wait till
the Winds came home.

The first that came was the East Wind; but he knew nothing of the Water
of Life and the land that lay east of the Sun and west of the Moon; he
had heard folks talk of them both now and then, but he had never seen
them with his own eyes.

The next that came was the South Wind, but he knew no more of it than
his brother, and neither did the West Wind for the matter of that.

Last of all came the North Wind, and dear, dear, what a hubbub he made
outside of the door, stamping the dust off of his feet before he came
into the house.

“And do you know where the Fountain of Life is, and the country that
lies east of the Sun and west of the Moon?” said the old woman.

Oh, yes, the North Wind knew where it was. He had been there once upon a
time, but it was a long, long distance away.

“So; good! then perhaps you will give this lad a lift over there
to-morrow,” said the old woman.

At this the North Wind grumbled and shook his head; but at last he said
“yes,” for he is a good-hearted fellow at bottom, is the North Wind,
though his ways are a trifle rough perhaps.

So the next morning he took the faithful servant on his back, and away
he flew till the man’s hair whistled behind him. On they went and on
they went and on they went, until at last they came to the country that
lay east of the Sun and west of the Moon; and they were none too soon
getting there either, I can tell you, for when the North Wind tumbled
the faithful servant off his back he was so weak that he could not have
lifted a feather.

“Thank you,” said the faithful servant, and then he was for starting
away to find what he came for.

“Stop a bit,” says the North Wind, “you will be wanting to come away
again after a while. I cannot wait here, for I have other business to
look after. But here is a feather; when you want me, cast it into the
air, and I will not be long in coming.”

Then away he bustled, for he had caught his breath again, and time was
none too long for him.

The faithful servant walked along a great distance until, by and by, he
came to a field covered all over with sharp rocks and white bones, for
he was not the first by many who had been that way for a cup of the
Water of Life.

[Illustration: The North Wind flies with y^e Faithful Servant.]

There lay the great fiery dragon in the sun, sound asleep, and so the
faithful servant had time to look about him. Not far away was a great
deep trench like a drain in a swampy field; that was a path that the
dragon had made by going to the river for a drink of water every day.
The faithful servant dug a hole in the bottom of this trench, and there
he hid himself as snugly as a cricket in the crack in the kitchen floor.
By and by the dragon awoke and found that he was thirsty, and then
started down to the river to get a drink. The faithful servant lay as
still as a mouse until the dragon was just above where he was hidden;
then he thrust his sword through its heart, and there it lay, after a
turn or two, as dead as a stone.

After that he had only to fill the cup at the fountain, for there was
nobody to say nay to him. Then he cast the feather into the air, and
there was the North Wind, as fresh and as sound as ever. The North Wind
took him upon its back, and away it flew until it came home again.

The faithful servant thanked them all around—the Four Winds and the old
woman—and as they would take nothing else, he gave them a few drops of
the Water of Life, and that is the reason that the Four Winds and their
mother are as fresh and young now as they were when the world began.

Then the faithful servant set off home again, right foot foremost, and
he was not as long in getting there as in coming.

As soon as the king saw the cup of the Water of Life he had the horses
saddled, and off he and the faithful servant rode to find the princess
who lived over beyond the three rivers. By and by they came to the town,
and there was the princess mourning and grieving over her bird just as
she had done from the first. But when she heard that the king had
brought the Water of Life she welcomed him as though he were a flower in
March.

They sprinkled a few drops upon the dead bird, and up it sprang as
lively and as well as ever.

But now, before the princess would marry the king she must have a talk
with the bird, and there came the hitch, for the Wise Bird knew as well
as you and I that it was not the king who had brought the Water of Life.
“Go and tell him,” said the Wise Bird, “that you are ready to marry him
as soon as he saddles and bridles the Wild Black Horse in the forest
over yonder, for if he is the hero who found the Water of Life he can do
that and more easily enough.”

The princess did as the bird told her, and so the king missed getting
what he wanted after all. But off he went to the faithful servant. “And
can you not saddle and bridle the Wild Black Horse for me?” said he.

“I do not know,” said the faithful servant, “but I will try.”

So off he went to the forest to hunt up the Wild Black Horse, the saddle
over his shoulder and the bridle over his arm. By and by came the Wild
Black Horse galloping through the woods like a thunder gust in summer,
so that the ground shook under his feet. But the faithful servant was
ready for him; he caught him by the mane and forelock, and the Wild
Black Horse had never had such a one to catch hold of him before.

[Illustration: The young King bringeth y^e cup of water of life to the
beautiful Queen.]

But how they did stamp and wrestle: Up and down and here and there,
until the fire flew from the stones under their feet. But the Wild Black
Horse could not stand against the strength of ten men, such as the
faithful servant had, so by and by he fell on his knees, and the
faithful servant clapped the saddle on his back and slipped the bridle
over his ears.

“Listen now,” says he; “to-morrow my master, the king, will ride you up
to the princess’s house, and if you do not do just as I tell you, it
will be the worse for you; when the king mounts upon your back you must
stagger and groan, as though you carried a mountain.”

The horse promised to do as the other bade, and then the faithful
servant jumped on his back and away to the king, who had been waiting at
home for all this time.

The next day the king rode up to the princess’s castle, and the Wild
Black Horse did just as the faithful servant told him to do; he
staggered and groaned, so that everybody cried out, “Look at the great
hero riding upon the Wild Black Horse!”

And when the princess saw him she also thought that he was a great hero.
But the Wise Bird was of a different mind from her, for when the
princess came to talk to him about marrying the king he shook his head.
“No, no,” said he, “there is something wrong here, and the king has
baked his cake in somebody else’s oven. He never saddled and bridled the
Wild Black Horse by himself. Listen, you must say to him that you will
marry nobody but the man who wears such and such a golden armlet with
this and that written on it.”

So the princess told the king what the Wise Bird had bidden her to say,
and the king went straightway to the faithful servant.

“You must let me have your armlet,” said he.

“Alas, master,” said the faithful servant, “that is a woful thing for
me, for the one and only way to take the armlet off of my wrist is to
cut my hand from off my body.”

“So!” says the king, “that is a great pity, but the princess will not
have me without the armlet.”

“Then you shall have it,” says the faithful servant; but the king had to
cut the hand off, for the faithful servant could not do it himself.

[Illustration: The Faithful Servant gives y^e young Kind y^e golden
bracelet from his wrist as the other desires. ¶]

But, bless your heart! the armlet was ever so much too large for the
king to wear! Nevertheless he tied it to his wrist with a bit of ribbon,
and off he marched to the princess’s castle.

“Here is the armlet of gold,” said he, “and now will you marry me!”

But the Wise Bird sat on the princess’s chair. “Hut! tut!” says he, “it
does not fit the man.”

Yes, that was so; everybody who was there could see it easily enough;
and as for marrying him, the princess would marry nobody but the man who
could wear the armlet.

What a hubbub there was then! Every one who was there was sure that the
armlet would fit him if it fitted nobody else. But no; it was far too
large for the best of them. The faithful servant was very sad, and stood
back of the rest, over by the wall, with his arm tied up in a napkin.
“You shall try it too,” says the princess; but the faithful servant only
shook his head, for he could not try it on as the rest had done, because
he had no hand. But the Wise Bird was there and knew what he was about;
“See now,” says he, “maybe the Water of Life will cure one thing as well
as another.”

Yes, that was true, and one was sent to fetch the cup. They sprinkled it
on the faithful servant’s arm, and it was not twice they had to do it,
for there was another hand as good and better than the old.

Then they gave him the armlet; he slipped it over his hand, and it
fitted him like his own skin.

“This is the man for me,” says the princess, “and I will have none
other;” for she could see with half an eye that he was the hero who had
been doing all the wonderful things that had happened, because he said
nothing about himself.

As for the king—why, all that was left for him to do was to pack off
home again; and I, for one, am glad of it.

And this is true; the best packages are not always wrapped up in blue
paper and tied with a gay string, and there are better men in the world
than kings and princes, fine as they seem to be.

[Illustration]

Three O’clock·

The _Rooms_ were cold, the _Hearth_ was grey:
Asleep in the ashes the _Kobold_ lay.
The _Board-Floor_ creaked, [Sidenote: ○]
The _Grey-Mouse_ squeaked,
And the _Kobold_ dreamed its ear he tweaked.

He wrinkled up
His _Forehead_ and _Nose_, [Sidenote: K☊P; ☾♈︎, des.]
And smiled in his sleep,
And curled his _Toes_. [Sidenote: ☾]

[Illustration: How One turned his Trouble to some account.]

III.

There was a soldier marching along the road—left, right! left, right! He
had been to the wars for five years, so that he was very brave, and now
he was coming home again. In his knapsack were two farthings, and that
was everything that he had in the world. All the same, he had a rich
brother at home, and that was something to say.

So on he tramped until he had come to his rich brother’s house.

“Good-day, brother,” said he, “and how does the old world treat you.”

But the rich brother screwed up his face and rubbed his nose, for he was
none too glad to see the other. “What!” said he, “and is the Pewter
Penny back again?” That was the way that he welcomed the other to his
house.

“Tut! tut!” says the brave soldier; “and is not this a pretty way to
welcome a brother home to be sure! All that I want is just a crust of
bread and a chance to rest the soles of my feet back of the stove a
little while.”

Oh, well! if that was all that he wanted, he might have his supper and a
bed for the night, but he must not ask for any more, and he must jog on
in the morning and never come that way again.

Well, as no more broth was to be had from that dish, the soldier said
that he would be satisfied with what he could get; so into the house he
came.

Over by the fire was a bench, and on the bench was a basket, and in the
basket were seven young ducks that waited where it was warm until the
rest were hatched. The soldier saw nothing of these; down he sat, and
the little young ducks said “peep!” and died all at once. Up jumped the
soldier and over went the beer mug that sat by the fire so that the beer
ran all around and put out the blaze.

At this the rich brother fell into a mighty rage. “See!” said he, “you
never go anywhere but you bring Trouble with you. Out of the house
before I make this broom rattle about your ears!”

And so the brave soldier had to go out under the blessed sky again.
“Well! well!” said he, “the cream is all sour over yonder for sure and
certain! All the same it will better nothing to be in the dumps, so
we’ll just sing a bit of a song to keep our spirits up.” So the soldier
began to sing, and by and by he heard that somebody was singing along
with him.

“Halloa, comrade!” said he, “who is there?”

“Oh!” said a voice beside him, “it is only Trouble.”

“And what are you doing there, Trouble?” said the soldier.

Oh! Trouble was only jogging along with him. They had been friends and
comrades for this many a bright day, for when had the soldier ever gone
anywhere that Trouble had not gone along with him?

The brave soldier scratched his head. “Yes, yes,” says he; “that is all
very fine; but there must be an end of the business. See! yonder is one
road and here is another; you may go that road and I will go this, for I
want no Trouble for a comrade.”

“Oh, no!” says Trouble, “I will never leave you now; you and I have been
comrades too long for that!”

Very well! the soldier would see about that. They should go to the king,
for things had come to a pretty pass if one could not choose one’s own
comrades in this broad world, but must, willy-nilly, have Trouble always
jogging at one’s heels.

So off they went—the soldier and Trouble—and by and by they came to the
great town and there they found the king.

“Well, and what is the trouble now?” said the king.

Trouble indeed! Why, it was thus and so, here was that same Trouble
tramping around at the soldier’s heels and would go wherever he went.
Now, the soldier would like to know whether one had no right to choose
one’s own comrades—that was the business that had brought him to the
king!

[Illustration: The Brave Soldier bringeth his Trouble to y^e town along
with him.]

Well, the king thought and thought and puzzled and puzzled, but that nut
was too hard for him to crack, so he sent off for all of his wise
councillors to see what they had to say about the matter.

So, when they had all come together the king told them that things were
thus and so, and thus and so, and now he would like to know what they
all thought about it.

Then the wise councillors began to talk and talk, and one said one thing
and another another. After a while they fell to arguing with loud
voices, and then they grew angry and began talking all at once, and last
of all they came to fisticuffs. Then you should have heard what a racket
they made! for they buffeted and cuffed one another until the hair flew
as thick as dust in the mill.

That was the kind of prank that Trouble played them.

Now the king had a daughter, and the princess was as pretty a lass as
one could find were he to hunt for seven summer days. When she heard all
the hubbub she came to see what it was about, for that is the way with
all of us, and of women folk more than any. And the king told her all
about it; how the soldier had come to that town to get rid of Trouble,
and how he had done nothing but bring it with him.

“Perhaps,” said she, “Trouble might leave him if he were married.”

At this the king fell into a mighty fume, for no man likes to have a
woman tell him to do thus and so when things are in a pickle. He should
like to know what the princess meant by coming and pouring her broth
into their pot! If that was her notion she might help the soldier
herself. Married he should be, and _she_ should be his wife—that was
what the king said.

So the soldier and the princess were married, and then the king had them
both put into a great chest and thrown into the sea—but there was room
in the chest for Trouble, and he went along with them.

Well, they floated on and on and on for a great long time, until, at
last, the chest came ashore at a place where three giants lived.

The three giants were sitting on the shore fishing. “See, brothers,”
said the first one of them, “yonder is a great chest washed up on the
shore.” So they went over to where it was, and then the second giant
took it on his shoulder and carried it home. After that they all three
sat down to supper.

Just then the soldier’s nose began to itch and tickle, so that, for the
life of him, he could not help sneezing.

“At-tchew!”—and there it was.

[Illustration: Here^† the Brave Soldier brings his trouble before the
king to find if it shall follow him wherever he goes.]

“Hark, brothers!” said the third giant, “yonder is somebody in the
chest!”

So the three giants came and opened the chest, and there were the
soldier and the princess. Trouble was there too, but the giants saw
nothing of him.

They bound the soldier with strong cords so that they might have him to
eat for breakfast in the morning.

And now what was to be done with the princess?

“See, brothers,” said the first giant, “I am thinking that a wife will
about fit my needs. This lass will do as well as any, and, as I found
her, I will just keep her.”

“Prut! how you talk!” said the second giant, “do you think that nobody
is to marry in the wide world but you? Who was it brought the lass to
the house I should like to know! No; I will marry her myself.”

“Stop!” said the third giant. “You are both going too fast on that road.
I thought of a wife long before either of you. Who was it found that the
lass was in the house, I should like to know!”

And so they talked and talked until they fell to quarrelling, and then
to blows. Over they rolled, cuffing and slapping, until each one killed
the other two, so that they all lay as dead as fishes. And that was an
end of them.

“See, now,” said Trouble to the soldier, “who can say that I have done
nothing for you? I tell you, comrade, that I am a good friend of yours,
and love you as though you were my born brother. Listen! over yonder in
the field is a great stone under which the giants have hidden stacks and
stacks of money. Go and borrow a cart and two horses, and I will go with
you and show you where it is.”

Well, you may guess that that was a song that pleased the soldier. Off
he went and borrowed a cart and two horses. Then he and Trouble went
into the field together, and Trouble showed him where the stone was
where the treasure lay.

The soldier rolled the stone over, and there, sure enough, lay bags and
bags, all full of gold and silver money.

Down he went into the pit and began bringing up the money and loading it
into the cart. After a while he had brought it all but one bag full.

“See, Trouble,” said he, “my back is nearly broken with carrying the
money. There is still one bag down there yet; go down like a good lad
and bring it up for me.”

[Illustration: The three Giants fight one another like fury.]

Oh, yes! Trouble would do that much for the soldier, for had they not
been comrades for many and one bright, blessed days? Down he went into
the pit, and then you may believe that the soldier was not long in
rolling the stone into its place. So there was Trouble as tight as a fly
in a bottle.

After that the soldier went back home again with great contentment—as I
would have done had I ridden home upon a cart full of gold and silver,
all of which belonged to me. He had left one bag of money, but then it
was worth that much to be rid of Trouble.

After that the soldier built a ship and loaded it with the money. Then
he and the princess sailed away to the king’s house, for they thought
that maybe the king would like them better now that Trouble had left
them and money had come.

When the king saw what a great boatload of gold and silver the soldier
had brought home with him he was as pleased as pleased could be. He
could not make enough of the brave soldier; he called him son, and
walked about the streets with him arm in arm, so that the folks might
see how fond he was of his son-in-law. Besides that he gave him half of
the kingdom to rule over, so that the soldier and the princess lived
together as snugly as a couple of mice in the barn when threshing is
going on.

Well, one day a neighbor came to the rich brother and said, “Dear! dear!
but the world is easy with your brother, the soldier!”

At this the rich brother pricked up his ears. “How is that?” said he—“my
brother, the soldier? How comes the world to be easy with him, I should
like to know?”

Oh, the neighbor could not tell him that; all that he knew was that the
soldier was living over yonder with a princess for his wife, and more
gold and silver money than a body could count in a week.

Well, well, this would never do! The rich brother must pick up
acquaintance with the soldier again, now that he was rising in the
world. So he put on his blue Sunday coat and his best hat, and away he
went to the soldier’s house.

Well, the soldier was a good-natured fellow, and bore grudges against
nobody, so he shook hands with his brother, and they sat down together
by the stove. Then the rich brother wanted to know all about
everything—how came it that the other was so well off in the world?

Oh, there was no secret about that; it happened thus and so. And then
the soldier told all about it. After that the other went home, but there
was a great buzzing in his head, I can tell you!

“Now,” says he to himself, “I will go over yonder to the giants’ house,
and will let Trouble out from under the stone. Then he will come here to
my brother and will turn things topsy-turvy, and I will get the bag of
money that was left there.”

So, off he went until he came to the place where Trouble lay under the
stone. He rolled the stone over, and—whisk! clip!—out popped Trouble
from the hole. “And so you were leaving me here to be starved, were
you?” said he.

“Oh, dear friend Trouble! it was not I, it was my brother, the soldier!”

Oh, well, that was all one to Trouble; now that he was out he would stay
with the man who let him out, and there was an end of it. “So bring
along the bag of gold,” says he, “for it is high time that we were going
home.”

[Illustration: The rich man takes home money and trouble.]

So the rich brother took the bag of gold over his shoulder, and the two
went home together; and if anybody was down in the mouth, it was the
rich brother.

And now everything went wrong with him, for Trouble dogged his heels
wherever he went. At last his patience could hold out no longer, and he
began to cudgel his brains to find some way to get rid of the other. So
one day he says,

“Come, Trouble, we will go out into the forest this morning and cut some
wood.”

Well, that suited Trouble as well as anything else, so off they went
together, arm in arm. By and by they came to the forest, and there the
man cut down a great tree. Then he split open the stump, and drove a
wedge into it. So it came dinner-time, and then Trouble and he ate
together.

“See now, Trouble,” said the man, “they tell me that you can go anywhere
in all of the world.”

“Yes,” said Trouble, “that is so.”

“And could you go into that tree that I have split yonder?”

Oh, yes; Trouble could do that well enough.

If that was so the man would like to see him do it, that he would.

Oh, Trouble would do that and more, too, for a friend’s asking. So he
made himself small and smaller, and so crept into the cleft in the log
as easily as though he had been a mouse. But, no sooner was he snugly
there than the man seized his axe and knocked out the wedge, and there
was Trouble as safe as safe could be. He might beg and beg, but no, the
man was deaf in that ear. He shouldered his axe and off he went, leaving
Trouble where he was.

Dear me! that was a long time ago; or else some busybody must have let
Trouble out of that log, for I know very well that he is stumping about
the world nowadays.

[Illustration]

Four O’clock·

The _Air_ grew chill, the _Sky_ was grey; [Sidenote: K☊P. ♊︎ des.]
[Sidenote: ●] [Sidenote: ☽]
The _Black Cock_ crowed, and far away
Another answered. In a dream
The _Kobold_ drank thick clotted _Cream_,
And chased _Roast-Goose_. He woke and sighed,
And turned upon his other side.

[Illustration: How three went out into the Wide World. HP:—]

IV.

There was a woman who owned a fine grey goose. “To-morrow,” said she, “I
will pluck the goose for live feathers, so that I may take them to
market and sell them for good hard money.”

This the goose heard, and liked it not. “Why should I grow live feathers
for other folks to pluck?” said she to herself. So off she went into the
wide world with nothing upon her back but what belonged to her.

By and by she came up with a sausage.

“Whither away, friend?” said the Grey Goose.

“Out into the wide world,” said the Sausage.

“Why do you travel that road?” said the Grey Goose.

“Why should I stay at home?” said the Sausage. “They stuff me with good
meat and barley-meal over yonder, but they only do it for other folk’s
feasting. That is the way with the world.”

“Yes, that is true,” said the Grey Goose; “and I too am going out into
the world, for why should I grow live feathers for other folk’s
plucking? So let us travel together, as we are both of a mind.”

Well, that suited the Sausage well enough, so off they went, arm in arm.

By and by they came up with a cock.

“Whither away, friend?” said the Grey Goose and the Sausage.

“Out into the wide world,” said the Cock.

“Why do you travel that road?” said the Grey Goose and the Sausage.

“Why should I stay at home?” said the Cock. “Every day they feed me with
barley-corn, but it is only that I may split my throat in the mornings,
calling the lads to the fields and the maids to the milking. That is the
way with the world.”

“Yes, that is true,” said the Grey Goose; “why should I grow live
feathers for other folk’s picking?”

And—

“Yes, that is true,” said the Sausage, “why should I be stuffed with
meat and barley-meal for other folk’s feasting?”

So the three being all of a mind, they settled to travel the same road
together.

Well, they went on and on and on, until, at last, they came to a deep
forest, and, by and by, whom should they meet but a great red fox.

“Whither away, friends?” said he.

“Oh, we are going out into the wide world,” said the Grey Goose, the
Sausage, and the Cock.

“And why do you travel that road?” said the Fox.

Oh, there was nothing but tangled yarn at home: the Grey Goose grew live
feathers for other folk’s picking, the Sausage was stuffed for other
folk’s feasting, and the Cock crowed in the morn for other folk’s
waking. That was the way of the world over yonder, and so they had left
it.

“Yes,” said the Fox, “that is true; so come with me into the deep
forest, for there every one can live for himself! and nobody else.”

So they all went into the forest together, for the Fox’s words pleased
them very much.

“And now,” said the Fox to the Grey Goose, “you shall be my wife,” for
he had never had a sweetheart before, and even a Grey Goose is better
than none.

“And what is to become of us?” said the Sausage and the Cock.

“You and I shall be dear friends,” said the Great Red Fox. Thereat the
Cock and the Sausage were content, for it took but little to satisfy
them.

Well, everything was just as the Great Red Fox had said it should be:
the Goose kept her own feathers, the Sausage was stuffed for its own
good, the Cock crowed for its own ears, and everything was as smooth as
rich cream. Moreover, the Great Red Fox and the Grey Goose were husband
and wife, and the Great Red Fox and the Sausage and the Cock were dear
friends.

[Illustration: The Grey Goose goes out into the wide world, where she
and a discontented Sausage meet the Cock and the Fox.]

One morning says the Great Red Fox to the Grey Goose, “Neighbor Cock
makes a mighty hubbub with his crowing!”

“Yes, that is so,” said the Grey Goose; for she always sang the same
tune as the Great Red Fox, as a good wife should.

“Then,” said the Great Red Fox, “I will go over and have a talk with
him.”

So off he packed, and by and by he came to Neighbor Cock’s house. Rap!
tap! tap! he knocked at the door, and who should look out of the window
but the Cock himself.

“See, Neighbor Cock,” said the Great Red Fox, “you make a mighty hubbub
with that crowing of yours.”

“That may be so, and that may not be so,” said the Cock; “all the same,
the hubbub is in my own house.”

“That is good,” said the Great Red Fox, “but one should not trouble
one’s neighbors, even in one’s own house; so, if it suits you, we will
have no more crowing.”

“I was made for crowing, and crow I must,” said the Cock.

“You must crow no more,” said the Great Red Fox.

“I must crow,” said the Cock.

“You must not crow,” said the Great Red Fox.

“I must crow,” said the Cock. And that was the last of it for—snip!—off
went its head, and it crowed no more. Nevertheless, he had the last
word, and that was some comfort. After that the Great Red Fox ate up the
Cock, body and bones, and then he went home again.

“Will Neighbor Cock crow again?” said the Grey Goose.

“No; he will crow no more,” said the Fox; and that was true.

By and by came hungry times, with little or nothing in the house to eat.
“Look!” said the Great Red Fox, “yonder is Neighbor Sausage, and he has
plenty.”

“Yes, that is true,” said the Grey Goose.

“And one’s friend should help one when one is in need,” said the Great
Red Fox.

“Yes, that is true,” said the Grey Goose again.

So off went the Great Red Fox to Neighbor Sausage’s house. Rap! tap!
tap! he knocked at the door, and it was the Sausage himself who came.

“See,” said the Fox, “there are hungry times over at our house.”

[Illustration: The Great Red Fox goes to call on neighbour Cock at his
house because he will crow in the morn. ¶]

[Illustration: The Great Red Fox calls upon the Sausage.]

“I am sorry for that,” said the Sausage; “but hungry times will come to
the best of us.”

“That is so,” said the Great Red Fox, “but, all the same, you must help
me through this crack. One would be in a bad pass without a friend to
turn to.”

“But see,” said the Sausage, “all that I have is mine, and it is inside
of me at that.”

“Nevertheless, I must have some of it,” said the Great Red Fox.

“But you can’t have it,” said the Sausage.

“But I must have it,” said the Great Red Fox.

“But you can’t have it,” said the Sausage.

And so they talked and talked and talked, but the end came at last, for
one cannot talk forever to an empty stomach. Snip! snap! and the Sausage
was down the Great Red Fox’s throat, and there was an end of it. And now
the Fox had all that his friend had to give him, and so he went back
home again.

[Illustration: The Great Red Fox rests softly at home.]

“Did Neighbor Sausage give you anything?” said the Grey Goose.

“Oh, yes; he gave me all that he had with him,” said the Great Red Fox;
and that also was very true.

After that the world went around for a while as easily as a greased
wheel. But one day the Great Red Fox said to the Grey Goose: “See now,
my bones grow sore by lying on the hard stones.”

“That is a great pity,” said the Grey Goose; “and if the hard stones
were only soft, I, for one, would be glad.”

“Yes,” said the Great Red Fox, “that is good; but soft talking makes
them none the easier to lie upon. Could you not spare me a few of your
feathers?”

“A few feathers indeed!” said the Grey Goose, “it was not for this that
I left the ways of the world over yonder. If you must have feathers you
must pluck them from your own back.”

“Prut!” said the Great Red Fox, “how you speak! A wife should do all
that she can to make the world soft for her husband.”

Then you should have heard the Grey Goose talk and talk. But it was no
use; when times are hard with one, one’s wife should help to feather the
nest—that was what the Great Red Fox said.

Snip! snap! crunch! cranch! and off went the Grey Goose’s head. After
that the Fox ate her up, body and bones, and there was an end of her.
Then he lay upon soft feathers and slept easily.

Now this is true that I tell you: when a great red fox and a grey goose
marry, and hard times come, one must make it soft for the other—mostly
it is the grey goose who does that.

Also I would have you listen to this: some folks say that it is not so,
but _I_ tell you that the ways of the world are the ways of the world,
even in the deep forest.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: K. P.]

Five O’clock·

The sleepy _Maid_ comes stumbling down
The _Stairs_, while buttoning her _Gown_,
And pokes the fire with a frown.

Up in a rage the _Kobold_ flies, [Sidenote: ○]
And blows the _Ashes_ in her eyes;
“_Plague on the Fire!_” poor _Gretchen_ cries. [Sidenote: Sol. below]

· · · · ·

The _Goodman_ turned about in _Bed_, [Sidenote: ☾]
And from the _Pillow_ raised his _Head_
“_Wife, Wife, its five o’clock!_” he said.
K.P.

[Illustration: The Clever Student and the Master of Black Arts ¶: HP:]

The wood-chopper’s son was not content to follow in the steps of his
father, and to do nothing better than make fagots all the days of his
life. So off he went to the great school at the capital, and there he
studied and studied until he became the cleverest student in all of the
world. But of this his father thought nothing, for he had no care to
know more than he could see in front of his nose.

“I can speak sixteen languages,” said the Clever Student, “I am a
master-hand at geometry and astronomy, and I know quite as much of black
art as the Great Master himself.”

“But can you chop wood?” said the wood-chopper, “and can you bind the
fagots?”

No; the Clever Student knew nothing of that trade, but there were better
eggs in Luck’s nest than wood-chopping. He knew enough of the black art
to be able to change himself into a fine, dapple-gray nag whenever he
chose, and by no more than the turning of a word or two. That he would
do, and the old wood-chopper should take him to the town and sell him
for fifty dollars.

“But there is one thing you must remember,” said the Clever Student,
“you must take the bridle from off my head when you sell me, for so long
as it is on me I must, willy-nilly, remain a horse. The Great Master of
Black Arts would like nothing better than to catch me in such a trap as
that, for his books tell him that he is to have bad luck through me, and
he has been after me for this many a day.”

The wood-chopper promised to remember all that the Clever Student told
him, and then the other went around back of the house and changed
himself into a fine, dapple-gray horse. The wood-chopper slipped a
bridle over the nag’s nose and a leg over his back, and then off he rode
towards the town.

On and on they jogged till they came to where two roads crossed, and
there stood one who looked no better than he should. This was the Great
Master of Black Arts himself; but of that the wood-chopper knew nothing
at all.

“How do you find yourself, friend?” said the Master of Black Arts to the
wood-chopper; “that is a fine horse that you have there, to be sure. Is
he for sale now?”

“Yes,” said the wood-chopper, “the nag is for sale, and fifty dollars
will buy him—only the bridle does not go along with the horse.”

Good! The wood-chopper might keep the bridle and welcome; but palm to
palm for a true sale, and here was the money.

So they shook hands, and then the Master of Black Arts counted out the
money, and the wood-chopper pocketed it, and he had never rubbed his
fingers over so much in all of his life before.

Then, as quick as a wink, the Master of Black Arts drew a bridle out of
his pocket. It was as thin as a wire and as light as silk, yet I tell
you the truth when I say that if he had ever slipped it over the nose of
the Clever Student it would have been an ill thing for him.

But the Student had his eyes open, and his wits about him. No sooner had
his father taken the bridle off of him than—whisk! pop!—he changed
himself into a pigeon and away he flew till the wind whistled behind
him.

But the Master of Black Arts knew a trick as good as that, that he did.
Whisk! pop!—and he became a hawk, and away he flew after the pigeon, and
all that the wood-chopper could do was to stand and look after them—But
he had the fifty dollars in his pocket, and that was something and more
or less.

On and on flew the two, and if the pigeon flew fast, why, the hawk flew
faster.

[Illustration: A Princess walks beside y^e water, into whose basket
leaps y^e ring.]

By and by they came to the shore of a great sea. And that was a good
thing for the Clever Student, for, just as the hawk was about to grip
him, he dropped to the water and became a little fish, and away he swam.

But the Master of Black Arts knew a trick as good as that. Down to the
water he dropped and became a pike, and after the little fish he swam
till the water boiled behind him.

On and on they swam, and if the little fish swam fast, why, the great
pike swam faster. On and on they swam till they came to a place where a
beautiful princess, as white and as red as milk and rose leaves, was
walking along beside the shore gathering pretty shells into a little
basket. And that was a good thing for the Clever Student, for just as
the Master of Black Arts was about to catch him he changed himself into
a ruby ring and jumped out of the sea and into the basket of the
princess, and there he was safe and sound.

Presently the princess looked down into the basket, and there lay the
ring. “What a pretty ring!” said she. “And how came it here?”

She slipped it upon her finger, and it fitted as though it had been made
for nobody in the world but her. As for the Clever Student, he liked to
be there, I can tell you, for he thought that he had never seen such a
pretty lass.

Well, by and by the princess had gathered all of the shells that she
wanted, and then she went back home again.

When she had come there and to her own little room, all of a sudden a
tall, good-looking young fellow stood before her. That was the Clever
Student, who had changed himself back into his own true shape again. At
first the princess was ever so frightened, but the Student talked to her
so pleasantly that she began after a while to think that she had never
seen such a nice, clever young fellow. So they passed the time very
pleasantly together until evening drew near, and then the Student had to
go.

But the Master of Black Arts was not at the end of his tricks yet.

And the Clever Student knew that as well as he knew anything.

“See, now,” said he to the princess, “the Master will be coming after me
before long. When he comes he will ask for the ruby ring, and he must
have it, but I have a trick in my head to meet that.”

He cut off a lock of his hair and then pricked his arm till it bled.
With the blood he wet the hair, and by his arts he made of it a ruby
ring so like what he himself had been that even the princess herself
could not have told the one from the other. After that he changed
himself into a necklace of carbuncles, and the princess was just as fond
of it as she had been of the ring.

[Illustration: The Clever Scholar remains a Ruby Ring no longer, having
regained his own true shape. ¶]

Sure enough, it happened just as the Clever Student had foretold. Before
a great while the Master of Black Arts came along and on his arm he
carried a basket. Rap! tap! tap! he knocked at the door of the king’s
house. Down went one and asked him what he wanted.

Oh! he only wanted to see the king; he had something for him here in the
basket. So he was shown up to where the king was, and then he opened the
basket and in it was a little black hen.

“Only a little black hen!” you say? Wait; you should hear all before you
speak!

The Master of Black Arts stood the little black hen on the table.
“Hickety-pickety!” said he, and before the king knew what to think of it
the little black hen had laid an egg all of pure silver. And that hen
was worth the having.

As for the king, bless me! but he was glad to have such a hen as that.
If the master wanted anything that the king could give him, he had only
to ask for it and it was as good as his.

“So; good!” says the Black Master, “then there is a little ruby ring
that the princess wears and that I have taken a fancy to; if I may have
that it will be all that I ask for.”

Oh! if that was all that he wanted he should have it and welcome, that
was what the king said. So the pretty princess was sent for, and the
king asked her if she would give the Master of Black Arts the ruby ring
that she wore.

“Oh, yes!” says the princess, “he shall have that and welcome, for I
have grown tired of it long ago.” So she gave it to him, and off he went
on the same path that he had come.

As soon as he had reached home, he put the ring into a mortar and ground
it up until it was as fine as flour in the mill.

“There!” said he to himself, “that is an end of the Clever Student at
any rate.”

After that he went back to his books again and began to read them, and
then he soon found how he had been tricked by the Clever Student.

The princess and the Clever Student were sitting together. “See, now,”
said the Student, “the Master of Black Arts will be coming this way
again in a little while. He will be wanting the necklace of carbuncles,
and you will have to let him have it. But I have a trick for his trick
yet, so that perhaps we will get the better of him in the end.”

[Illustration: The Master of Black Arts bringeth a curious little Black
Hen to the King. ¶⁋]

So the Clever Student did as he had done before; he pricked his arm till
it bled, and with the blood he wet a lock of his hair. Then by his arts
he changed the lock of hair into just such a necklace of carbuncles as
he himself had been. After that he changed himself into a pearl
ear-drop, and the princess hung him in her ear, and there he dangled.

Sure enough; by and by came along the Master of Black Arts with another
basket. And you may believe that they did not let him cool his toes by
long standing outside the door. He opened his basket, and in it was a
white drake.

“Only a white drake!” you say? Yes, yes; but just wait for a little!

The Master of Black Arts stood the drake on the table and said,
“Spickety-lickety!”

“Quack! quack!” said the drake, and every time it said “quack” a gold
piece dropped from its mouth.

Hui! if the king was pleased with the little black hen, you can guess
how glad he was to have such a drake as that! All that the Master of
Black Arts had to do was to ask for what he wanted, and he might have it
if the king had it to give.

“Good!” says the Master of Black Arts; “then the princess has a necklace
of carbuncles that I have taken a fancy to; if I may have that I will be
satisfied.”

So the princess was sent for without waiting any longer, and would she
let the Master have the necklace of carbuncles that she wore around her
neck?

“Yes, indeed!” says the princess, “that I will! I have grown sick and
tired of it long ago.” So she took it off of her neck and gave it to the
Master of Black Arts, and off he went with it.

When he came home he put the necklace into the mortar, just as he had
done the ring, and ground it up and ground it up until it was as fine as
the dust on the shelf. There! he thought, that is an end of the Clever
Student at any rate.

Then he went back to his books, and it was not long before he found that
he had been tricked again.

“I can make no more changes,” said the Student, “for I am nearly at the
end of my arts. The Black Master will be wanting your ear-drop when he
comes, but, instead of giving it to him, throw it against the wall as
hard as you can. After that we shall have to trust to good Mother Luck.”

It was not long before the Master of Black Arts came with his basket on
his arm, just as he had done twice before; he opened the basket, and
there was a grey goose.

“Only a grey goose!” you say? Wait a moment, and you shall see that it
was not like any grey goose in our town!

The Master of Black Arts stood the grey goose on the table;
“Flickety-whickety!” said he.

“Cackle! cackle!” said the grey goose, and every time it said “cackle” a
bright diamond dropped on the table.

When the king saw that he rubbed his hands and rubbed his hands, and
could not say enough of thanks to the Master of Black Arts. And what
would the Master have now? He had only to ask and it was his.

“Oh!” says the Master of Black Arts, “the princess has a pearl ear-drop
that I have taken a liking to; if I may have that I will be quite
satisfied.”

So the princess was sent for, and this time she was not so willing to
let the Master have what he wanted. She wept and begged, and begged and
wept; but it was all to no purpose; the Master of Black Arts wanted the
pearl ear-drop, and the Master of Black Arts must have it—that was what
the king said. So at last the princess took the pearl ear-drop out of
her ear, but, instead of giving it to the Master, she threw it against
the wall as hard as she was able, just as the Clever Student had told
her to do.

And then what do you think happened? Why, the Student turned himself
into a ripe melon, so that when it struck the wall it burst open and the
seeds that were inside were scattered all over the floor.

But the Master of Black Arts knew a trick as good as that. He changed
himself into a great red cock, and began pecking away at the seeds,
gobbling them up as fast as he could. By and by he looked around, and
not another seed could he see, whereupon he hopped up on a chair and,
shutting his eyes and flapping his wings, he crowed “cock-a-doodle-do!”

But listen! One melon-seed had rolled into a crack in the floor, and the
cock had not seen it. That was a bad thing for him, for while his eyes
were shut and he was crowing “cock-a-doodle-do!” the Clever Student
changed himself from the melon-seed into a great fox. Up he jumped—snip!
snap!—and off flew the cock’s head, and there was an end of it and of
the Master of Black Arts.

After that the Student turned himself into his own true shape again.
Then he and the princess told the king all about the business, and when
the king heard how fond the princess was of the lad, he said that there
was only one thing to be done, and that was to call in the minister.

[Illustration: What happened to the Master of Black Arts after all his
tricks.]

So the Student was married to his dear princess, and that is what comes
of book-learning.

After the wedding was all over, and the fiddlers had gone home, the
Clever Student set out for his father’s house in a fine coach drawn by
six beautiful horses. There was the old man, making fagots in the forest
back of the house, just as he had always done. At first he would not
believe that the great lord in the coach was his own son. “No, no,” says
he; “and is it becoming in a fine spark from the great town to come here
and make sport of a poor old wood-chopper. I know very well that my son
is nothing but a poor student.” But at last he got the whole matter
through his head, and then he was so glad that he kissed his son on both
cheeks, and asked him whether he had not always said that it was better
for his boy to study books than to make fagots. For this is true:
everything happens for the best when Luck strokes one the right way.

So the fagot-maker went back with his son to the fine house that the lad
lived in, now that he had married a princess.

There everything was made easy for him, and he always had a warm corner
to sit in back of the stove.

And that is the end of this story.

[Illustration]

Six O’clock·

K. P.

The _Door_ is open, [Sidenote: Sol above.]
The _Dew_ is bright;
Forgotten now [Sidenote: ●]
Is the lonesome _Night_,
And the _Starling_ whistles,
“_All is right_.”

The _House-wife_ moves
With her briskest tread
The _Chairs_ are set,
And the _Table_ spread [Sidenote: ☽]
With _Honey_ and _Eggs_
And _Cream_ and _Bread_.

[Illustration: The Princess Golden-Hair _and the_ Great Black Raven.]

VI.

Once upon a time there was a king who had three daughters, the two elder
were handsome enough, but the youngest, whose name was Golden-Hair, was
the prettiest maiden to be found within the four ends of the earth.

One day the king went out hunting with all his people. Towards evening
he found himself in the forest at a place where he had never been
before, and where he was not able to tell the north from the south, nor
the east from the west, for he was lost. He wandered up and down and
here and there, but the farther he went the less able he was to find the
road home again. As he wandered thus he came to a place where a great
raven, as black as the soot in the chimney, and with eyes that glowed
like two coals of fire, sat in the middle of the path in front of him.

“Whither away, king?” said the Great Black Raven.

“That I cannot tell,” said the king, “for I am lost.”

“See now,” said the Raven, “I will show you the way out of the forest,
if you will give me your youngest daughter to be my wife.”

“Oh, no,” said the king, “I can never do such a thing as that, for my
daughter is as dear to me as the apple of my eye.”

“Very well, then,” said the Raven, “off I go, and then there will be no
getting out of the forest for you, but here you will have to stay as
long as you live.”

Now one will do much before one will stay in a dark forest forever, and
though it was a bad piece of business to be sure, the king promised at
last that if the Raven would show him the way home again, it should have
the Princess Golden-Hair for its wife, though it was a pity for the
girl, and that was the truth. So the Raven flapped on ahead of the king,
and showed him the way out of the forest.

“To-morrow,” it said, “I will come for my bride.”

Sure enough, when the next morning came, there was the Great Black Raven
sitting outside of the castle gateway waiting for the Princess
Golden-Hair to be sent to him.

But it was not the princess whom he got after all; for the king had bade
them dress the swineherd’s daughter in the princess’s dress, and it was
she who went to the Great Black Raven. “A Great Black Raven,” said the
king to himself, “will never be able to tell a swineherd’s daughter from
a real princess.”

Well, the Raven took the swineherd’s daughter on its back and away it
flew over woods and meadows, hills and valleys, until by and by it came
to a rude little hut that stood on the tip top of a great bleak hill.
And not a living soul was there, only a great number of birds of
different kinds.

In the hut was a table, and on the table stood a golden goblet of red
wine, a silver cup of white wine, and an earthenware jug full of bitter
beer.

“This is our home,” said the Raven; “and now will my dear one drink
refreshment after her long journey?”

Yes, indeed; the swineherd’s daughter would do that, for she was weary
after her ride through the air. So she went to the table and took a good
drink of the beer, “for,” said she to herself, “the golden goblet and
the silver cup are too fine for the likes of me.”

Then the Raven knew that she was no true princess to be contented with
bitter beer out of an earthenware jug when she could have good red wine
from a golden goblet. “Come,” said he, “home we go again, for you are
not the bride I seek!” Therewith he took her upon his back once more,
and away they flew over hill and valley till they had come back to the
king’s castle again.

“See,” said the Raven, “this is not the one I want. Let me have my true
bride or you will suffer for it.”

At this the king was frightened. “Very well,” said he, “come to-morrow
and you shall have your true bride.”

[Illustration: The King being lost in y^e Forest meets with the Great
Black Raven.]

Well, when the next morning came, there was the Raven waiting outside of
the castle gateway. But, after all, it was not the princess that he got,
for the king had ordered that the steward’s daughter should be dressed
in the princess’s dress, “for surely,” said he to himself, “she is a
good enough bride for a Great Black Raven.”

So the Raven took her on his back and away he flew till he had come to
the little hut on top of the bleak hill. There stood the golden goblet,
the silver cup, and the earthenware jug just as they had done before.
And now would not the dear maiden drink a drop after her long journey?

Yes, indeed, that she would; so she took a good, hearty drink of the
white wine in the silver cup, “for,” said she to herself, “silver is
none too good for a steward’s daughter.”

But the Raven saw very well that she was no true princess, or she would
never have been contented with the silver cup. “Come,” said he, “home we
go again, for you are not the bride I seek.” So he took her on his back
once more and away he flew to the king’s castle. “See how you treat me,”
said he to the king, “you promise me one bride and give me another.
To-morrow morning I will come for the true one again, and if I do not
get her this time you will suffer for it, for I will pick out your eyes
and tear down your castle about your ears!” And away he flew.

And now the king was terribly frightened, and saw that there must be no
trickery this time. So the next morning when the Raven came it was the
Princess Golden-Hair herself whom he got and none other. Up he took her
on his back and away he flew with her. As for the princess, she did
nothing but weep and weep, so that when they came to the little hut on
top of the bleak hill, she was glad enough to drink a drop for
refreshment’s sake. She never looked at the earthen jug or the silver
cup, but going straight to the golden goblet she wet her lips with the
good red wine.

And then what do you think happened? Why, the hut grew and grew until it
changed into a splendid castle all built of pure silver and gold, and
all of the many birds outside changed into men and women servants. As
for the Great Black Raven, it was a Raven no longer, but the handsomest
prince in all of the world, and the only thing black about him was the
long curling locks of his hair. He kissed the Princess Golden-Hair and
said: “Now, indeed, have I found my true bride and none other. You have
freed me and my castle and all of my people from enchantment, which no
one but a real princess could do. For my wicked step-mother laid spells
upon us which could only be broken when a real princess drank out of the
golden goblet.”

[Illustration: Princess Golden-Hair, being a true princess, drinketh
from the golden cup & touches neither y^e silver nor y^e clay. ¶]

Then they were married, and a fine wedding they had of it, I can tell
you.

Well, a year passed by, and the princess was as happy as the days were
long; but at the end of the twelve months she began to long to see her
father and her sisters again. So she spoke of her longing to the Raven
prince, but he only shook his head. No; he would not hear of her going,
for he felt that nothing but misfortune would come of it.

But the princess begged and begged so prettily that at last the prince
said she might go if she would be contented to stay only three days.
Then he gave her a napkin of the finest linen, and told her that
whenever she wanted anything, she had only to spread the napkin and wish
and it would be there. But there was one thing she must not wish for,
and that was for him himself, for of that misfortune would come for sure
and certain.

So off the princess went to her father’s house, and a fine sight she
made of it, I can tell you; for she rode in a golden coach drawn by four
milk-white horses, so that every one she passed stopped and looked after
her, and the little boys cried “Hi!” and ran along beside.

Her father and her sisters wondered what fine lady it was that was
coming to the castle, and when the coach stopped they came out to look.
Dear, dear, but the king was glad to see her; as for her two sisters,
they grew as green as grass with envy, for when they heard where she
dwelt, and what a fine castle it was, all built of pure gold and silver,
and what a handsome prince it was that she had for a husband, they were
ready to burst with spite, for each felt that she might have had all
this for herself if the Raven prince had only chosen her instead of
Golden-Hair. So when the princess had told them all about what had
happened, they only nodded and winked at one another as though they did
not believe a word of it.

“Yes, yes,” said they, “it is all very well to talk about your handsome
prince; but why did he not come along with you, we should like to know?”

The princess could not tell them that; but she could bring him quickly
enough whenever she chose, for all that she had to do was to spread her
napkin and wish and he would be there. She would show them that what she
had said was true, had her prince not forbidden her.

But the envious sisters only jeered and laughed as though all that the
princess said was the best jest in the world.

Now one can bear anything better than laughter. So the end of the matter
was that the princess spread the linen napkin on the floor and wished
that the Raven prince might be with them.

[Illustration: Princess Golden-Hair cometh to Death’s door where sits
Death’s aged Grandmother spinning flax within.]

No sooner had she wished it than there he stood; but he looked at no one
but her. “Did I not tell you that misfortune would come of it if you
wished for me?” said he. “Now, I must leave you and go where you are not
likely ever to see me again.”

Then the princess would have spoken, but he gave her no time for that.
He snatched up the napkin, and, becoming a Raven once more, he flew
through the open window and across the tree-tops and was gone. At the
same time her golden coach vanished, and, the coachman and footmen
became so many birds and flew away, so that not one of her fine things
was left.

The poor princess wept and cried for a whole day and a whole night. But
at the end of that time she dried her eyes, and, tucking up her skirts,
started off into the wide world to find her dear prince again.

Well, she travelled on and on and on for more days than she could count,
and till she had been over nearly all of the world, but in all that time
she could learn no news of the prince nor of whither he had gone. At
last one day, about nightfall, she came to a little hut in a deep
forest, and in the hut sat an old woman with hair as white as snow.

“What do you want, child?” said the old woman; “do you not know that
this is Death’s house, and that if he returns and finds you here he will
kill you? I tell you that he spares neither the young nor the old, the
plain nor the handsome. As for me, I am his grandmother.”

But all this was one to the princess, and went in at one ear and out of
the other; she could no longer drag one foot after the other, so there
she must stay even if Death should find her when he came home.

Then she told Death’s grandmother all that had happened to her, and
Death’s grandmother took pity on her because she was so pretty and so
tired. She gave the princess something to eat and then hid her in the
tall clock that stood in the corner, so that Death might not find her
when he came home.

By and by in came Death and hung up his great scythe behind the door.
“Hu-u-u-u!” cried he, “I smell Christian blood in the house for sure.”

“Christian blood, indeed!” said his grandmother, “as though a Christian
would come to this house if he had anywhere else to go! But now I think
of it, a crow flew overhead to-day, and dropped a bone down the chimney.
I threw it out as soon as I could, but perhaps that is what you smell.”

So Death said nothing more, but sat down to supper and ate heartily, for
he had had a long journey that day.

“See,” said his grandmother, “I had a dream to-day. A princess is out in
the world hunting for her Raven sweetheart, and cannot tell where to
find him.”

“That is easy enough to tell,” said Death; “he lives in a great castle
that stands at the end of the earth on a high hill of smooth glass.”

“That is good,” said Death’s grandmother, “but I dreamed that after she
found where he lived, she was too weary to journey thither.”

“That is easy enough, too,” said Death; “out in the forest yonder stands
my pale horse tied to an oak-tree. If she could only find the horse and
loose the bridle and mount his back he would take her there quickly
enough, for he can travel more rapidly than the north wind.”

“Yes, yes, that is all very well,” said Death’s grandmother, “but I had
a third dream; I thought that when she came to the smooth hill of glass
she did not know how to climb to the top; what is the answer to that?”

“Prut!” said Death, “that is easy to tell. Over by the glass hill are
seven birds fighting in the tree-top for an old hat. If she will throw a
stone in the midst of them they will drop the hat and fly away. It is
Wish’s own hat, and if she will put it on her head and wish herself at
the top of the hill, she will be there quickly enough, I can tell you.”

After that Death put on his cloak and took up his scythe and was off
like a whirlwind, for he has little time to spare for talking, folks
say. Then Death’s grandmother opened the clock, and the princess came
out and thanked her and went her way.

She hunted here and there through the forest until, sure enough, she
found Death’s great pale horse tied to an oak-tree. She loosened the
bridle and mounted upon his back, and away they went till the chips and
the stones flew behind them. So they soon came to the high hill of
smooth glass that stood at the end of the earth, and there, on top of
it, was the castle of the prince.

The princess dismounted from the pale horse, and away he galloped home
again.

Then the princess hunted for the birds that Death said fought for Wish’s
hat, and presently she heard them making a great hubbub, and, looking
up, saw them in the tree-top above her, fighting for the old hat, just
as Death said they would be doing. She picked up a stone and threw it in
the midst of them, and they dropped the hat and flew away screaming.
Then she put on the hat and wished herself at the top of the hill, and
there she was as quick as a wink.

Now, her shoes were worn into holes by long journeying, and her clothes
were torn to threads and tatters by the brambles through which she had
passed, and hung fluttering all about her, and she looked for all the
world like nothing else than a common beggar-maid, except for her golden
hair. So it was that when she knocked at the door of the prince’s
castle, and the porter came and opened it and heard that she wanted to
see the prince, he snapped his fingers and laughed. All the same he told
her that the cook wanted a serving wench in the kitchen, and that she
might have the place if she liked; if that did not suit her she might be
jogging the way that she had come.

Well, there was nothing for it but for the princess to serve in the
kitchen or to go away again. So she bound up her hair in a tattered
kerchief so that the beautiful golden tresses might not be seen, and
down she went to serve the cook.

The prince’s dinner was cooking at the fire, and the princess was to
watch it so that it might not be burned. So she watched it, and as she
watched it she wept.

“Why do you weep, hussy?” said the cook.

“Ah me!” said the princess, “once I ate with my love and drank with my
love and lived by his side. If he did but know to what I have come how
his heart would ache!”

After that the dinner was served, but, while nobody was looking, the
princess plucked a strand of her golden hair and laid it upon a white
napkin and the napkin upon an empty plate. Over all she placed a silver
cover, and when the Raven prince lifted it there lay the strand of
golden hair. “Where did this come from?” said he. But nobody could tell
him that.

The next day the same thing happened; the princess watched the dinner,
and as she watched she wept.

“Why do you weep, hussy?” said the cook. And thereto the princess
answered as she had done before: “Ah me! once I ate with my love and
drank with my love and lived by his side. If he did but know to what I
have come, how his heart would ache!”

Then, while nobody was looking, she plucked another strand of golden
hair and the prince found it as he had done the other, and no one could
tell him whence it came.

[Illustration: The Princess finds her Prince.]

The third day the same thing happened as had happened twice before: the
princess watched and wept, and when nobody was looking plucked a third
strand of golden hair and sent it to the prince as she had the others.

Then the prince sent for the cook. “Who has been serving this and that
with my dinner?” said he.

The cook shook his head, for he knew nothing, but perhaps the new
serving wench could tell, for she wept and said things that none of them
understood. When the prince heard this he sent for her, and the princess
came and stood before him. He looked at her and knew her, for her golden
hair shone through a hole in the ugly head-dress that she wore. Then he
reached out his hand and snatched it off of her head, and her golden
hair fell down all about her shoulders until it reached the floor. Then
he took her in his arms and kissed her, and that was the end of all of
her troubles.

After that they had a grand time at the castle; every one who came had
all that he could eat, and wine and beer flowed like water. I, too, was
there, but I brought nothing away with me in my pockets.

[Illustration]

Seven O’clock·

Around about, [Sidenote: ☉☌⊕E3°26′.]
Around about,
The _Kobold_ played and in and out;
He peeped in every _Pot_ and _Pail_,
And grinned, and pulled the _Pussy’s_ tail.

Big clumsy _Gretchen_, washing up [Sidenote: _Clear, pleasant._]
The _Breakfast-dishes_, dropped a _Cup_;
It fell upon the _Kobold’s Toe_,
And made him hop it hurt him so.

K.P. del.

[Illustration: Cousin Greylegs, y^e Great Red Fox and Grandfather Mole.]

VII.

In those days the Great Red Fox and Cousin Greylegs, the wolf, were
great cronies, and whenever you would see one you might be sure the
other was not far away. The Great Red Fox was a master-hand at roguery,
and Cousin Greylegs, the wolf, came close behind him. That was how they
made their living.

By and by they fell out, so that they were never good friends again, and
this was how it happened.

There was to be a great fair, and the world and his wife and the little
dog behind the stove were to be there.

“We will go too,” says the pair of scamps; so off they went.

By and by they came to an inn where the windows were red with the good
things cooking in the kitchen—green geese and ducks and chickens, and
sausages, and cabbage, and onions, and all the nice things you can think
of. But the two rogues had no money, and one cannot buy something with
nothing out in the wide world. But they found a ladder against the side
of the wall, and climbed up into the loft above and lay in the hay.

Dear, dear, how nice the good things did smell down in the kitchen! “My
goodness!” says Cousin Greylegs, “but I would like to have a taste of
them.”

As for the Great Red Fox, he had been nursing his wits all the time, and
now he had a trick hatched. So down he climbed from the loft the same
way he had climbed up; and nobody saw him, for he took good care of
that. Over he went to the stables where the horses stood munching away
at the corn in the mangers. He loosened a bridle here and a bridle there
until not one of the nags was fastened where he belonged; then he
slipped back into the loft once more. By and by began the kicking and
the squealing over at the stable; out ran the landlord and all the other
folks with him, and not a soul was left in the kitchen. Then brother
Greylegs and the Great Red Fox came down and helped themselves, and
while they were about it the Great Red Fox stuffed a fistful of
hazel-nuts into his pocket.

After a while the landlord and the rest of them came from the stable;
but nothing was left for them of the good things but the leavings.

As for Cousin Greylegs and the Great Red Fox, why, they lay up in the
loft among the straw, and ate and ate until they could eat no more.

By and by there came along somebody else on his way to the fair, and it
was a rich corn-factor who made his money by buying corn cheap, and
selling it dear to poor folks, so that he was as great a rogue as the
two scamps up yonder in the loft. With him he brought a whole bag of
money; but it bought him no supper that night, for all the good things
had been stolen, and the corn-factor had to be contented with what
pickings he could get. As for the bag of money, he put that in a great
chest in the corner, and there he left it for safe-keeping.

Now up in the loft where the two rogues lay was a cowhide, which the
landlord used for making straps and thongs and such like things. What
does the Great Red Fox do but whip out his needle and thread and sew the
cowhide fast to Cousin Greylegs’ Jacket, though Cousin Greylegs knew no
more of that than a mouse in a barrel. Then by and by the Great Red Fox
was up to another of his tricks. “See,” says he, “here I have a
pocketful of hazel-nuts, and I am for cracking one.”

“Tut, tut, brother,” says Cousin Greylegs, “you must crack no nuts
here.”

“But I must crack a nut,” says the Great Red Fox.

“But you must not,” says Cousin Greylegs.

“But I must,” says the Great Red Fox, and so he did.

“Hark!” says the landlord; “yonder is somebody up in the loft cracking
the nuts that we were to have had for supper; it is a good beating he
shall have for the trick he has been playing upon us.”

[Illustration: Cousin Greylegs and the Great Red Fox go together to y^e
fair. ¶ ):(]

When Cousin Greylegs heard this he did not stop to tarry or to think;
down he jumped from the loft, and away he scampered as fast as he could
lay foot to the ground; but with him went the cowhide which the Great
Red Fox had sewed fast to his jacket.

“Hi!” bawled the landlord, “there is the thief who stole our supper, and
he is taking my cowhide into the bargain.”

Off they all scampered after Cousin Greylegs and the cowhide. The
corn-factor first of all.

As for Cousin Greylegs, why, he laid down to the running as though he
had never been born for anything else. But it is hard work running with
a cowhide flapping about one’s legs, so they caught him just over the
hill, and then, dear, dear, what a drubbing they gave him.

But as soon as everybody was safe away after Cousin Greylegs and the
cowhide, the Great Red Fox came down from the loft, and marched off with
the corn-factor’s money without anybody being about to say “No” to him.

Off he went as happy as a cricket, until he came to the cross-roads over
the hill and back of the woods, and who should he see sitting there but
Cousin Greylegs rubbing the places that smarted the most.

“Hi!” says the Great Red Fox, “and is that you, Cousin Greylegs? Why, I
have been looking up and down, over hill and over hollow for you. Here
is a whole bag of money that I found at the inn over yonder, and if it
wasn’t for the trick that I played you, there was never a penny of it
that would have come into our pockets.”

“So!” says Cousin Greylegs. “Well, that was a different matter;” and he
swallowed the drubbing he had had, for it was to be share and share
alike with the money, and that was a salve for sore bones. So off they
went together arm in arm.

By and by they came to another inn. “We’ll stop here,” says Cousin
Greylegs, “and have another bite to eat before we go any farther.” And
that suited the Great Red Fox well enough, so in they went, and gave the
bag of money into the landlord’s keeping, and Cousin Greylegs ordered a
supper fit for a lord.

But the Great Red Fox had his wits about him all this time, for he was
not one to be caught napping when the sun was up. “Yes, yes,” says he to
himself, “Cousin Greylegs is up to some of his tricks, sure enough;
we’ll put a stopper in the bottle before the luck has dribbled out.” So
while Cousin Greylegs was pottering about in the kitchen down-stairs,
seeing that the cooking was done to his mind, the Great Red Fox took a
bag like the one they brought with them, and filled it full of old rusty
nails and bits of iron. Off he marched with it to the landlord. “See,”
says he, “Cousin Greylegs will come asking for a bag by and by; here it
is, give it to him and he will be satisfied.”

[Illustration: Cousin Greylegs steals away from the inn, carrying off a
bag full of this & that with him.]

Sure enough, when the supper was over and the Great Red Fox was snoring
in front of the fire, for all the world as though he were sound asleep,
off packed Cousin Greylegs to the landlord. “Look,” says he, “that bag
that the Great Red Fox left here, just hand it over to me, will you? for
I must be jogging. As for the Great Red Fox, you may let him have his
sleep out.”

Yes, that was all right, and the landlord knew nothing about the tricks
of the two rogues, so he handed over the bag of rusty nails and bits of
iron. And Cousin Greylegs never once thought of looking to see, for the
bits of iron jingled, and the sound was enough for him, for that is the
way with folks out in the world.

As for the Great Red Fox, he waited until Cousin Greylegs was well away
on his own business, then off he stepped along the road that led the
other way, and it was the bag of gold and silver money he carried with
him.

But that is not all of the story; for listen: There was a poor old blind
mole who lived in the ground because he had nowhere else to go, and that
was his home. But the Great Red Fox thought nothing of him. On he
came—tramp! tramp! tramp!—and would have trodden right on the roof of
the mole’s house. “Brother Fox,” cried Grandfather Mole, “look where you
are treading, or you will have the roof down about my ears.”

“Pooh!” says the Great Red Fox, “when one has been sharp enough to trick
such a keen blade as Cousin Greylegs, one is not going to step out of
one’s way for a little gray mole as blind as charity:” and so he was for
going straight ahead.

But up jumped Grandfather Mole and caught hold of him, and then he felt
the bag of gold and silver money the Great Red Fox carried. “Hi!” says
he, “and here is a new card in the game.” So he held on to the Great Red
Fox and began to bawl with all his might and main, “Help, good folks!
help! here is the Great Red Fox stealing my bag of gold and silver
money!”

“Hush! hush!” said the Great Red Fox, for he was for having as little
said about the bag of money as need be, “let me go and I will promise to
tread on nobody’s house.” But no, it was easier to get into that hole
than it was to get out again, for Grandfather Mole held on and bawled
for help louder than ever. “Help! help! here is one robbing a poor blind
mole of all he has in the world!” That was the way he kept up the song,
and he made such a hubbub that the folks came running and hauled them
both up before the Master Judge to see what he had to say about the
business.

[Illustration: The Great Red Fox meets y^e old, blind Mole.]

“The bag of money is mine,” said the Great Red Fox.

“Yes, good! but where did you get it?” says the judge, and that was a
question easier asked than answered.

“See now,” says Grandfather Mole, “it is easy enough to talk, for breath
is cheap in this town, but the thing is to put it to trial and find out
who is telling the truth. We’ll build a fire and try who can stand it
the longest, and that will show the right in this matter as clear as a
morning in hay-season.”

Well, that suited the fox well enough, “for,” says he to himself, “it is
a pretty business if I can’t stand a scorching as long as an old blind
mole;” and so that business was settled.

Out they all went, and it was Grandfather Mole who was to try the
burning first of all. So they fetched sticks and twigs and covered him
all over with them, and then set fire to them.

Dear, dear, but it was a fine blaze that went up, but the mole had his
wits about him; for as soon as he felt the heat of the fire he began
digging down into the ground with all his might and main, so that not a
spark touched him.

“Do you burn, Grandfather Mole?” says the Great Red Fox.

“No!” bawled Grandfather Mole. So they just threw on another armful of
twigs.

By and by the Great Red Fox says again: “Do you burn, Grandfather Mole?”
for he thought by this time that the mole must be as scorched as an old
shoe under the stove.

But Grandfather Mole was ready for him. “_No!!_” he bawled, louder than
ever.

Dear, dear, but here was a strange happening; all the same, the Great
Red Fox threw on wood and threw on wood, until the blaze went up like a
chimney afire. “And _now_ do you burn, Grandfather Mole?” says he.

“NO!!!” bawled Grandfather Mole until you might have thought his throat
would have split with the noise he made.

So they let the fire go out, and up came Grandfather Mole out of the
ground looking as fresh and as sharp as a green gooseberry.

And now it was the Great Red Fox’s turn; and they heaped the sticks and
twigs over him as they had done over Grandfather Mole, and then set fire
to them.

“Do you burn?” says Grandfather Mole after a bit.

“NO!!!” bawled the Great Red Fox, as though his throat was made of
leather.

So they threw on more sticks and twigs, but the Great Red Fox just shut
his teeth and grinned, for he was bound that he would stand as much of a
burning as an old blind mole.

[Illustration: The Great Red Fox beareth all that he can.]

“Do you burn now?” says Grandfather Mole.

“No,” says the Great Red Fox, but his voice was as small as peas in
March. So they threw on another armful of wood, and the fire grew hotter
and hotter.

“And do you burn now?” says Grandfather Mole.

“_Thunder and lightning, yes!_” bawled the Great Red Fox, and out he
jumped and away he scampered, smoking like a charcoal kiln.

So all he gained by his roguery was a burnt skin and nothing to show for
it; and that has happened more than once to rogues whose wits are so
sharp that they cut their own fingers with them.

Now in our town we do not make puddings without plums, or tell a story
without rhyme or reason, but if you wish to find any meaning in these
words, you must put on your spectacles and look for it for yourself,
even though the tale stands all legs and no head, as the man in the moon
said about his grandmother’s tongs.

[Illustration]

Eight O’clock·

The _Sun_ in the _Sky_ [Sidenote: _Grows warmer_]
Is not yet high,
And the _Grasses_ are wet by the _Pool_.
With hop and jump,
By _Hedge_ and _Stump_, [Sidenote: ♈︎]
The _Children_ are going to _School_.

K. P.

[Illustration: One Good Turn Deserves Another.]

VIII.

Once upon a time there was a lad who was a fisherman, and every morning
he shouldered his net, and went down to the river to catch fish to sell
in the town.

One morning as he walked beside the edge of the water, he came upon a
great tall stork caught in a trap that had been set for the water-rats.

It was a tender heart that the young fisherman had under his jacket, so
when he saw Father Longlegs in such a pickle he waded out into the
water, among the reeds and arrowheads to where the other was, and
loosened the noose from about his leg.

The storks bring good-luck to folks some people say, and that was what
happened to the young fisherman.

“One good turn deserves another,” says Father Longlegs; “cross your
heart three times, cast your net into the water yonder, and see what you
catch.” So the lad did as he was told, and when he drew his net to the
shore, there was just one fish in it.

Yes; just one fish, but that was worth the catching, I can tell you, for
the scales were all of pure silver and gold, so that it glistened like
the moon on smooth ice, and it was most wonderful to see.

“There,” says the stork; “and now if you have your wits about you, it is
your fortune that you have caught out of the water. Take the fish up to
the king’s castle and show it to nobody but the king. When he sees it he
will want to have it for his own and will be for buying it, but there is
only one price you must ask for it, and that is to have the princess for
your wife.” That was what the stork said, and then he spread his wings
and flew away over the house-tops.

So the lad wrapped the fish up in a clean white napkin and laid it in a
wicker basket, and then off he marched to the king’s castle to try his
luck there, as the stork had said.

Rap! tap! tap! he knocked at the door.

Well, and what did he want?

Oh, he had brought a fish that he had caught over at the river yonder,
but he would show it to nobody but the king himself.

No, it did no good for them to ask and to question and to talk; what he
had said he had said. So at last they had to take him up-stairs, and
there was the king sitting upon a golden throne with a golden crown upon
his head and a golden sceptre in his hand.

“Well, and why do you wish to see me?” That was what the king said.

It was no word that the lad spoke with his tongue, but he just unfolded
the napkin, and showed the king what he had brought in the wicker
basket.

When the king saw the gold and silver fish, he thought he had never seen
anything so wonderful in all of his life before. Then it was just as the
stork had said. He must and would have the fish, no matter what it cost;
and what would the lad take for it?

Why, the body over at the river yonder, who had put the lad up to
catching the fish, had told him that there was only one price to be
asked for it. Now, if the king would let him have the princess for his
wife, he might have the fish and welcome; for _that_ was the price, and
the long and the short of it.

Well, the king hemmed and hawed, but he did not speak the little word
“no;” and after a while he said he would send for the princess, and see
what she had to say about it. So the princess came, and she was a beauty
I can tell you, for the very sight of her was enough to make one’s heart
melt inside of one, like a lump of butter in the oven. And as for the
wits of her, why, she was just as smart as she was pretty (which is
saying much and a little over), and that is why the king had sent for
her, for he wanted to get the gold and silver fish without paying the
price for it.

“Yes,” says the princess when the king had told her all. “I am ready
enough to marry the lad, only he must promise to do one thing first.”

[Illustration: Father Longlegs, the Stork, puts the Fisher Lad in y^e
way of catching a strange fish in his nets. ¶]

Dear, dear, how the lad’s heart jumped inside of him at that. He was
willing enough to promise whatever was asked, for he would do anything
to marry the princess, now that he had seen how pretty she was.

“Very well, then,” said the princess, “just bring me the key of
wish-house and I will marry you.”

“There,” said the king, “that is a bargain; go and bring the key of
wish-house and you shall marry the princess; and you may just leave the
fish here until you come back again. And don’t show your face about here
without the key, if you wish to keep your head upon your shoulders.”

So off went the lad from the king’s castle, with nothing at all in his
pocket and ill-luck astride of his back. Down he went to the river as
straight as he could walk, and there stood Father Stork gazing down into
the water and looking as wise as our minister on Sunday. See now, thus
and so and thus and so had happened, and the stork had gotten him into a
pretty scrape over at the castle by putting him up to asking such a
price for his herring; that was what the lad said.

“Prut!” says the stork, “break no bones over that furrow; ill-luck
always comes before good-luck, and rain before the little flowers; what
is worth having is worth working for. Just get upon my back and I will
carry you to where the queen of the birds lives; if anybody can put you
in the way of finding the key of wish-house she will be the one.” So the
stork bent his red legs and up the lad got upon his back. Then Father
Longlegs spread his wings and away he flew, and on and on, over field
and fallow, over valley and mountain, over forest and over stream.

After they had gone so far that the lad thought the end of the world
could not be a great way off, they came to a grand house, all built of
red brick, that stood on a high hill, and that was where the queen of
the birds lived. The stork flew straight to the house, and there was the
queen of the birds walking in the garden.

The stork told everything from first to last, and that now what they
wanted to know was, whether the queen of the birds could tell them where
the key of wish-house was to be found.

No, the queen did not know that herself, but she would call all of the
birds of the heavens and of the earth, and perhaps there would be some
one among them that could tell.

A little silver whistle hung about her neck; she put it to her lips and
blew upon it so shrilly that it made a body’s ear ring to listen to it,
and the birds of the heavens and of the earth came flying from far and
near until the air was as full of them as a sunbeam is full of motes on
sweeping-day.

The queen of the birds asked them one and all, from tom-tit to the wild
swan, if they could tell where the key of wish-house was to be found;
but not a single one of them knew.

After all the rest had spoken there came flying an old eagle, so old
that he was as grey as the ashes upon the hearth, and he was six times
as big as any of the rest. He had come from the other end of nowhere,
and that is a long way off, as even simple Jack can tell you; that was
what had kept him such a time in the coming.

And was it the key of wish-house that they were talking about? Oh, yes;
the old eagle knew where the key of wish-house was as well as he knew
his bread-and-butter, for the old Grey Master that lives on the iron
mountain had it hanging back of the kitchen door, and the eagle had seen
it there more than once.

“Very well,” says the queen of the birds; “then here is a lad who has
come out into the world hunting for that key, a good-hearted fellow who
helped Father Stork out of a tight place over at the river yonder, where
he had been caught in a trap set for the water-rats. Now can you not
help him to find what he wants?”

Well, the old eagle did not say no, for one good turn deserves another;
so he took the lad on his back at the root of his wings and away he
flew.

One would have thought that the red-legged stork had flown far, but it
was nothing at all to the journey that the eagle took. On and on he flew
for such a long way that I, for one, could never find words to tell you
how far away it was.

All the same, every journey must have an ending. And at last they came
to a great iron mountain the sides of which were as smooth as the face
of a looking-glass; so it was a good thing for the lad that he had a
great grey eagle to carry him up to the top, and that is the truth.

There on the top of the mountain lay a green meadow, so wide that the
eye could not see to the other end of it. And in the middle of the
meadow stood a tall castle; that was where the Grey Master lived who
kept the key of wish-house back of the kitchen door.

“This is all the farther I can carry you just now,” says the eagle; “but
here is a feather, when you are ready to come away just throw it up into
the air, and I will not be long in coming.”

The lad thanked the eagle for the help he had had, and then he put the
feather in the lining of his hat.

After that the eagle went one way and the lad went the other, and that
was towards the castle where the Grey Master lived.

Off he stepped right foot foremost, and by and by he came to a little
stream of water that ran along through the meadow. But just in the
middle of the brook lay a great stone, that choked the stream so that it
could hardly crawl around it.

“Here is a body in trouble as well as myself,” said the lad, and he
stooped and rolled away the great round stone so that the brook might
flow smoothly and freely.

“One good turn deserves another,” said the brook. “Look in the place
where the great round stone lay and you will find a little red pebble;
so long as you keep that pebble in your mouth you will be as strong as
ten common men.”

Well, the lad hunted until he found the pebble, and then he thanked the
brook and jogged along the way he was going.

By and by he came to an apple-tree, and it was so loaded down with
apples that the branches were bent to the very ground.

“Here is another body weighed down by the cares of the world,” said the
lad. So he shook some of the apples off and cut props to put under the
branches, that they might not be broken by the load.

“One good turn deserves another,” said the apple-tree. “Look under my
roots and you will find a golden apple; while you keep that in your
bosom neither fire nor water can harm you, for it is an apple from the
tree of life.”

Well, the lad found the apple under the roots of the tree, and then he
said “thank you,” and went on his way.

By and by he came to a place where he heard a great hubbub over the
hedge; he looked and there he saw that it was a black cock and a red
cock fighting for dear life, and the red cock was having the worst of
it, for it was nearly dead already.

“Here is another who is having the worst of the fight,” said the lad,
and he jumped over the hedge, and drove away the black cock with the
staff he held in his hand.

“One good turn deserves another,” said the red cock. “I know what you
have come hither to find, and I will give you a bit of advice that will
be worth the having. When the Grey Master asks you what you want, tell
him it is to watch his black cattle for one night. If you do that he
must give you whatsoever you ask for. And listen; this is what you must
do to watch the cattle. When you open the stable door there will come
out three-and-twenty black cows, and after them a black bull breathing
fire and smoke. Him you must catch by the horns and must hold him fast
until the cock crows in the morning. But you must have the strength of
ten men to do that.”

[Illustration: The Fisher Lad cometh to the Grey Master’s house.]

Well, the lad thanked the cock for the advice he had given, and then he
went on his way and up to the castle where the Grey Master lived.

He knocked at the door, and it was the Grey Master himself who came and
opened it. He was a head and shoulders taller than other men, was the
Grey Master, and he had but one eye, which gleamed and glistened like
the dog-star in January. Beside him flew two black ravens with eyes as
red as coals of fire.

“And what is it that you want?” said the Grey Master.

“Oh!” said the lad, “I have come from over in the brown world yonder,
and I want to watch your black cattle for one night, that is all I am
after.”

When the Grey Master heard what the lad said, he frowned until his one
eye shone like lightning. “Very well,” said he, “you shall have a chance
and a try at what you want, but if you fail your head shall be cut off
and hung up over the gate yonder.”

“That is not so pleasant to think of,” said the lad; “all the same, I
will have a try and see what I can do.” So in he came, and he and the
Grey Master sat down to supper together.

By and by, when the lad had eaten all that he wanted the Grey Master
told him it was time to go about the business he had come for. So off
went the lad to the stable where the four-and-twenty black cattle stood
all in a row. He opened the door, and out they ran helter-skelter and as
fast as they could push, and—whisk! pop!—soon as they came out of the
door each cow changed into a black crow and flew around and around the
lad’s head as though it would beat his eyes out. Last of all came the
black bull, and the lad was ready and waiting for him.

He clapped the red pebble into his mouth, and then he was as strong as
ten common men. He caught the bull by the horns, and it might puff out
fire and smoke, as it chose, for it could do him no harm because of the
apple of life which he carried in his bosom.

How the bull did pitch and toss, and bellow and roar, to be sure, but it
was all for no use, the lad held on like hunger, until by and by the
bull stopped struggling and stood as quiet as a lamb. But the lad held
fast to the bull’s horns, and all the time the black crows flew about
his head, but never once so much as touched him.

At last a cock crew, and then they all changed again into cows, and the
lad drove them back into the stable once more, and there they were.

By and by came the Grey Master. “Well,” said he, “and did you watch the
black cattle?”

Oh, yes, the lad had watched them, and it was no such hard task to do;
there they were in the stable yonder, safe and sound.

Then you should have seen what a sour face the Master pulled over the
business! All the same, he had to pay the lad; so what did he want for
his wages?

“Oh!” said the lad, “it is little that I want. If you will let me have
the key that hangs back of the kitchen door I will be satisfied.” So the
Grey Master had to go and get it for him, though he would rather have
given him one of his eye-teeth.

Off marched the lad with what he had come for, and that is more than
most of us get. But the Grey Master was not for letting him off so easy
as all that, I can tell you, for the more he thought over the business
the less he liked to give up the key of wish-house.

So after a while he took down the Sword of Sharpness which hung against
the wall, slipped his feet into the Shoes of Speed that stood in the
corner, took a peep into the Book of Knowledge which lay upon the shelf,
to see which way the lad had gone, and then set off after him hot-foot,
to get back what he had given away.

Just as the lad got to where the apple-tree stood he looked over his
shoulder, and there he saw the Grey Master coming over the hills.

“And where shall I go now,” says he.

“One good turn deserves another,” said the apple-tree; “just come under
my branches.”

The lad did as he was told, and the apple-tree drooped its branches
about him, until one could see neither hide nor hair of him.

By and by up came the Grey Master puffing and blowing. “Apple-tree,”
says he, “did you see the fisher-lad come by this way?”

No, the apple-tree had seen nobody go past that place. So back went the
Master home again to have another look into his Book of Knowledge. There
he saw as clear as day what sort of trick had been played upon him. Off
he started again after the lad at such a rate that the ground smoked
under his feet.

But the lad had lost no time either, so that when he looked over his
shoulder and saw the Grey Master coming across the hills behind him, he
had gone as far as the brook.

“One good turn deserves another,” said the brook, and it made itself
small and smaller, so that the lad stepped over without wetting so much
as the sole of his foot. Then it spread itself out again three times as
broad as before. Presently up came the Master, fuming like a pot on the
fire.

“Brook,” says he, “did you see the fisher-lad go by this way?”

“Yes,” said the brook; “there he is just on the other side.” And there
he was sure enough.

The Grey Master never stopped to take off his shoes and stockings, but
into the water he splashed as fast as he could go. Just as he reached
the middle of the stream the brook began to swell, and grew large and
larger until it carried away the Grey Master like a cork in the gutter,
and there was an end of him.

After that the lad went on without hurrying any more than he chose,
until he came to the side of the mountain. He took the eagle’s feather
from out his cap and threw it up in the air, and there was the eagle
before he had time to grow tired of waiting.

He sat him upon the eagle’s back, and away they flew, and on and on
without stopping until they came to the house where the queen of the
birds lived. There was Father Longlegs (the stork) waiting for them. He
took his turn of carrying the lad, and when they stopped it was just
over beyond the king’s castle.

But the lad had been out into the world, and had learned a thing or two.

“See now,” says he, “it was hasty cooking that burned the broth;” and so
he would not go up to the castle with his key of wish-house without
first trying what door he could unlock with it himself. He took it out
of his pocket and struck it a rap or two upon the ground.

“I should like,” says he, “to have golden clothes upon my back, and to
have a golden horse and a golden greyhound that shall chase a golden
hare.” That was what he said, and he did not have to say it twice; for
before he could wink there they were standing beside him just as he
wanted. He leaped upon his horse and away he rode after the greyhound
and the golden hare.

How the people in the castle did stare when they saw him riding past!
The princess herself ran to the window to see the fine sight, and as for
the king, he sent six of his knights posting after the fisher-lad, for
he thought that it was some great lord who had come into those parts.

[Illustration: The Grey Master is caught in the stream and is swept
away, but y^e Fisher Lad crosses it dry-shod. ):(]

By and by the lad came to a thicket, and there he jumped off of his
horse and rapped upon the ground with his key.

“I wish to be as I was before,” says he, and then he was the poor
fisher-lad and nothing else. As for the golden clothes, the golden
horse, the golden greyhound, and the golden hare, they went back to
Nomansland whither they had come; and when the king’s people came riding
up there was nobody but a lad in rags and tatters whistling into a key.

They hunted up and they hunted down, but they could find neither sign
nor trace of the golden rider and the golden horse. So after a while
they had to ride back to the castle without them.

“You should have brought the lad who blew upon the key,” said the
princess.

The next day the lad rapped upon the ground with his key again.

“I should like to have,” says he, “a golden coach drawn by six
milk-white horses, with coachman and footman and out-riders dressed in
clothes of gold and silver.”

That was what he said; and there they were just as he wanted. Into the
coach he got, and off he rode down by the king’s castle.

Dear, dear, how the folks did stare, to be sure! This time the king sent
twelve knights after the golden coach, for he thought it must be a king
or a prince for certain who rode by in such style.

Pretty soon the lad came to a woods, and there he jumped out of the
coach and rapped upon the ground with his key.

“I want to be just as I was before,” says he; and, sure enough, he was.

Up clattered the twelve knights on their horses, and there sat the lad
in rags and tatters whistling upon his key.

The twelve knights hunted high and hunted low, and not another soul
could they find, and so they had to ride back to the castle again.

“See now,” said the princess, “did I not say that you should have
brought the lad who blew upon the key?”

The next day the lad went out and rapped upon the ground for the third
time.

“I should like,” said he, “to have a splendid castle all built of silver
and gold, such as nobody ever saw before.”

That was what he said, and before the words had left his tongue just
such a great castle grew up out of nothing like a soap-bubble.

[Illustration: The Princess finds the Fisher Lad with the key of Luck’s
house. ¶]

The king chanced to look out of the window just then, and there was the
great splendid gold and silver castle. He took off his spectacles and
rubbed them and rubbed them, but there was the castle just the same as
ever.

He bade them saddle the horses, and he and the princess, and all of the
court besides, rode away to find out who it was that had built such a
fine castle all in one night.

But the lad saw them coming, and rapped upon the ground with his key. “I
should like,” said he, “for things to be just as they were before;” and
puff! away went the castle like the light of a candle when one blows it
out.

Up came the king and the princess and all the court, and not a speck of
the grand castle could they find, but only a lad in rags and tatters who
sat upon a great round stone and whistled upon a key.

But the princess was a lass who could see through a millstone with a
hole in it. So soon as she set eyes upon him she knew the whole business
from beginning to end. Up she marched to him, before them all, and took
him by the hand. “Now I will marry you,” said she, “for I see that you
have brought the key of wish-house with you;” and there she was as wise
as ever. For there be many kings and princes in the world, but I have
never yet heard of any one except the fisher-lad who had the key of
wish-house. Have you?

[Illustration]

Nine O’clock·

The _School-bell_ rings; [Sidenote: ☉]
The _Children_ all
Must answer to
The _Master’s_ call. [Sidenote: _Cloudy and warm._]

The _Master_ has
A crooked _Nose_;
He whips the _Boys_,
And puffs, and blows;

He makes them stand
And walk by _Rule_,
And bow before
They leave the _School_.

K.P.

[Illustration: The White Bird.]

IX.

Once there was a king, who, as time went on, found himself waxing old in
years and feeble in body, so he began to think of giving up the cares of
government and of taking his ease for as much of life as was left him.
But here was the trouble: there were three princes, and each one of them
was just as clever as the other two, so that the old king could not tell
which to choose as the right one to sit in his place. He thought and
thought and thought, until at last he plucked an apple off of his
thinking-tree, as folks say. All three of the princes should go out into
the world, and whichever of them should fetch back an apple from the
Tree of Happiness should rule over all of the kingdom. And I speak the
truth when I say that the apple was cheap enough even at that price.

So off went the three to seek for what they wanted. They travelled along
without let or stay until towards evening they came to a place where two
houses stood, the one on the one side of the road and the other on the
other.

One of them was as fine a house as a body ever saw. Every window was lit
up by the warm fires and the bright lights within, and even out on the
high-road one could hear the merry times the folks were having; laughing
and singing and clinking their glasses together. As for the good things
cooking in the kitchen, why it was enough to make one hungry just to
smell the steam of them. Over the door was a sign, and on the sign was
written,

“WHO ENTERS HERE SHALL HAVE WHAT
HE LIKES AND PAY NOTHING FOR IT.”

The other house was a poor, mean, little, tumble-down hut, as silent as
death, and with never a spark of light or fire shining at the windows.
There was also a sign over the door, and on the sign was written,

“WHO ENTERS HERE SHALL HAVE WHAT HE
NEEDS AND PAY WHAT HE CAN.”

“Yonder is the place for us,” said the older brothers, and they pointed
with their thumbs to the grand house, where there was good company with
plenty to eat and drink and nothing to pay.

“Yes,” says the youngest of the three, “that is all very well, but I
would rather pay for what I need than get what I like for nothing.”

Dear, dear, how the two did laugh at the one to be sure! but all the
same, the one held to what he had said, and so at last the two flew into
a huff. “Go your way,” said they, “and we will go ours.” And into the
grand house they went. There they gave themselves up to ease and
comfort, and it was a merry time they had of it, I can tell you.

But the youngest brother went over to the little dark house and knocked
upon the door, and it was opened by a poor old man whose head and beard
were as white as the snow, and whose clothes hung about him all in tags
and tatters.

“Come in and welcome,” said he, “for you are the first who has been here
for twenty-seven ages;” and that is a long time, as anybody knows
without the telling.

But in the little house there was no wood to make a fire, and there was
no water to boil in the pot. So the prince took the axe and went out and
chopped an armful of wood, and then he took the pot and filled it at the
well.

Out in the stable stood a white cow with silver horns; but there was
never a straw for it to lie upon, and never a bit of hay for it to eat.
So the prince shook down a bed for it, and then he filled the rack with
hay and left it munching away for dear life.

Out in the yard was a red cock and a white hen, but though they
scratched and scratched it was never a grain that they found. So the
prince threw them a handful of barley and left them pecking away at it,
as though they had not seen the like for a week of Sundays.

[Illustration: The Prince knocks at the door of the poor, mean, little
house and not the great, rich one. ¶]

After he had done all these things, he and the old man sat down to
supper together, and, if it was not of the finest, why the prince had a
good appetite, and one can have no better sauce to a crust than that.

The prince stayed all night, and the next morning he was for jogging on
his way. But before he went he offered the old man what money he had,
because anybody could read the sign over the door.

But the old man shook his head. “No, no,” said he, “you have paid your
score. You have given what you can, and you shall have what you need.
Here is a little book, and in it you may read whatever you wish to know.
Go out into the stable and you will find a barley straw back of the
white cow’s ear. Take that with you, for you will need it. Look in the
manger and you will find an egg that the white hen has laid; take it
with you also, for it is worth the having.”

Then he said good-bye and shut the door, and that was the last the
prince saw of him.

The prince went to the stable, and there he found the barley straw and
the egg, just as the old man had said, and off he marched with them.

He went to the grand house over the way and called his brothers, but
they only came to the windows and laughed and jeered at him. “No, no,”
said they, “we are going no farther along the road, for we know very
well when the world is smooth with us. The Fruit of Happiness can bring
us nothing better than what we have at hand.”

And so the young prince had to trudge away by himself. But what to do
with the straw and the egg he knew no more than my grandmother’s cat. So
he opened his little book, and this was what it said between the leaves:

“_Mount the straw and ride it whither it takes you._”

“So,” said the prince; “that would be a strange thing to do for sure and
certain. All the same, an easy task is worth the trying;” so he just
flung his leg over the straw and—whisk! pop!—there he was, astride of a
great splendid horse with smooth hair as yellow as gold.

That straw was a straw worth having!

And the best part of the matter was that the prince had no need to draw
the bridle-rein either to the right or to the left; for the yellow horse
took the bit in his teeth and away he pounded so that the ground smoked
under his hoofs, and the wind whistled back of the prince’s ears. By and
by they came to a great sandy desert place where not a twig or a leaf
was to be seen, but only white bones scattered here and there, for the
prince was not the first by many who had tried to cross that desert to
the Tree of Happiness.

[Illustration: The Prince finds y^e three giants sleeping under the tree
of life & snoring away like everything. ¶]

But he had better luck than the others, for the yellow horse carried him
along like the wind, and on and on until at last he came within sight of
the Tree of Happiness. There sat three terrible giants, an old giant and
his two sons, and alongside of each lay a great iron club with sharp
spikes in the end of it. But all three sat with their eyes shut,
sleeping away as though they would never awaken. And that was a good
thing for the prince, for he had never seen such terrible,
wicked-looking creatures as the old giant and his two sons. He leaped
from off the back of the yellow horse, and there it was, nothing but a
barley straw. He put it in his pocket and took out his Book of Knowledge
and opened it. This was what it said:

“_Fear not the giants, for they will not awake; but touch neither the
golden fruit nor the silver fruit, for they are not for you._”

When the prince read what the Book of Knowledge said, he knew that it
was so. Up he marched to the Tree of Happiness as bold as bold could be,
and the giants snored away so that the leaves shook.

There hung three apples; the first was of gleaming gold, the second was
of shining silver, and the third was just a poor, weazened, shrivelled
thing, that looked as though there were not three drops of juice in it.

“Prut!” says the prince, “it can never be that I have travelled all this
way for nothing in the world but a dead apple. After all, it must be the
golden fruit that I am to take, in spite of what the Book of Knowledge
said; for if happiness is to be found in anything, it is to be found in
such as it.”

So he reached up his hand and plucked the golden apple, and then—hi!
what a hubbub, for the Tree of Happiness began to clamor and call as
though every leaf on it had become a tongue to speak with.

“Help! help!” it cried. “Here is one coming to rob us of our golden
fruit!”

Up jumped the three giants, and each one snatched up his iron club and
came at the prince as though to put an end to him without any more talk
over the business. But the prince begged and prayed and prayed and
begged that they would spare his life.

“Listen,” said the old giant; “if you will promise to bring us the Sword
of Brightness that shines in the darkness and cuts whatsoever the edge
is turned against, we will not only spare your life, but give you the
Fruit of Happiness into the bargain.” That was what the old giant said,
and the others agreed to it; for if they could once lay hand upon such a
sword as that they would be masters of all the world.

Well, the prince promised that he would get them the Sword of
Brightness, for one will promise much before one will be knocked on the
head with an iron club; and then the giant let him go, and glad enough
he was to get away.

Off he went back of the hill. He drew out his barley straw and threw his
leg over it, and there he sat astride of his yellow horse again.

“I should like,” said he, “to be carried to where I can find the Sword
of Brightness that shines in the darkness and cuts whatever its edge is
turned against.” That was all that he had to say, and away clattered the
yellow horse over stock and stone so that the ground smoked beneath his
hoofs. On they went and on they went for a great long while, until at
last they came to a tall castle as black as your hat, and there was
where the Sword of Brightness was to be found. In front of the castle
gate lay two great fiery dragons, with smoke coming up out of their
nostrils instead of the breath of life, and all over their bodies were
brazen scales that shone like gold in the sunlight. But both dragons
were sound asleep.

Inside of the court-yard were many and one fierce soldiers armed in
shining armor and each with a battle-axe or a sword or an iron club
lying beside him; but they too were as sound asleep as the dragon.

Down jumped the prince from the great yellow horse, and there was the
barley straw again. He took out the Book of Knowledge from his pocket,
and this was what it said:

“_Fear not the dragons nor the fierce soldiers, for they will not
awaken; but take only the old leathern scabbard with the sword._”

So up walked the prince as bold as brass, and the soldiers and the
dragons said never a word, but just snored away so that the windows
rattled. Into the castle he walked, and nobody said “No” to him. There
sat an old man, as wicked as sin and as grey as the ashes in the hearth.
He never moved a hair, only his little red eyes turned here and there,
and were never still for a wink. A great keen sword lay on the table in
front of him, and the light on the blade was like the bright flash of
lightning. The prince took the sword up from the table, and the little
old man looked at him, but said never a word, good or bad.

On the wall hung three scabbards; one was of gold studded all over with
precious stones; another of silver that gleamed like the light of the
moon in frosty weather; and the third was of nothing but old, shabby,
worm-eaten leather that looked as though they had just fetched it down
from the dusty garret.

“It would be a pity,” said the prince, “to put such a fine sword into
such a poor scabbard. I’ll not choose the gold because of what happened
to me over at the Tree of Happiness yonder, but surely silver is none
too good for the Sword of Brightness.”

So he took down the silver scabbard and thrust the sword into it, and
therewith dipped his spoon into the wrong pot again; for, no sooner had
he sheathed the sword in the silver scabbard than the old gray man began
to thump on the table in front of him and to bawl at the top of his
voice, “Help! help! here is one come to steal our Sword of Brightness.”

At this the soldiers outside woke up and began to clash and rattle with
their battle-axes and swords and iron clubs, and the dragons began to
roar and send up clouds of smoke like a chimney afire.

In ran the soldiers, and were for putting an end to the prince without
another word being said, but he begged and prayed and prayed and begged
that his life might be spared, just as he had done with the giants over
yonder at the Tree of Happiness.

“Listen,” says the old grey man at last; “if you will promise to bring
me the White Bird from the black mountain, I will not only spare your
life, but will give you the Sword of Brightness into the bargain.”

Yes, the prince would get the White Bird if anybody in the world could
get it. And thereupon they let him go, and glad enough he was to get
away.

Back of the hedge he threw his leg over the barley straw.

“I would like,” said he, “to be taken to where I can find the White Bird
that lives on the black mountain;” and away thundered the yellow horse,
like a storm in June.

If it was far that they travelled before, it was farther that they
travelled this time. But at last they came to the black mountain, and
the prince jumped off the nag and thrust the straw into his pocket.

There was not a blade of grass nor a bit of green to be seen on the
hill, but only a great lot of round, black stones scattered from top to
bottom. That was all that was left of the lads who had come that way
before to find the White Bird.

[Illustration: The Prince finds the sword of brightness where sits an
old man. ∥]

On the top of the mountain sat an old witch with golden hair, and in her
hand was the White Bird. The prince opened his Book of Knowledge, and
there he read that if one would gain the White Bird one would have to
catch the witch by her golden hair, for then she would be compelled to
grant whatever was asked of her; only he would have to be very careful
in his doings, for if the witch caught sight of him upon the black hill
she would change him into a stone just as she had all the rest who had
come that way.

But how was he to climb the hill without the witch seeing him? That was
what the prince would like to know. So he turned over another leaf of
the Book of Knowledge, and there it was all in plain black and white.
This was what it said:

“_Crack the egg of the white hen and put on the cap._”

The prince cracked the egg, and, sure enough, inside of it was a little
cap of feathers. He put on the feather cap and—whisk!—as quick as a wink
he was changed into a titmouse, which is the least of all the birds in
that land.

He spread his wings and flew and flew and flew, until he was close
behind the witch where she sat on the black mountain. He took off his
cap and there he was in his own shape again. He caught the old witch by
her golden hair and held her fast. And you should have heard how she
screamed and scolded, and you should have seen how she twisted and
turned!

But the prince just held fast, and she could make nothing of it for all
her trying.

“And what do you want, that you come here to torment me?” said she at
last.

“I want the White Bird,” said the prince; “and I will be satisfied with
nothing else.” It was all to no purpose that the old witch stormed and
scolded, for what he had said he had said, and he would be satisfied
with nothing else. So at last, willy-nilly, she had to give him what he
asked for.

The prince took it in his hands, and it was a white bird no longer, but
the prettiest lass that ever a body’s eyes looked upon, with cheeks as
red as roses and a skin as white as snow.

But still the prince held tight to the old witch’s hair, and now what
else was it he was wanting.

Why, before he would let her go, she must change all the round stones
back again into the lads of flesh and blood they had been before.

So the old witch had to do that also, and there stood so many good stout
lads in the place of the hard, round stones.

But still the prince held fast to her golden hair. And what else was it
he was wanting?

Why, this! The old witch must promise to do no harm to him or to anybody
else who should come that way. The old witch had to promise. And then he
let go of her hair, and you can guess what a rage she was in.

But the prince cared nothing for that, for he had found what he came
for.

He took the barley straw out of his pocket and threw his leg over it.
Then he took the princess up behind him on the great yellow horse, and
away he clattered, leaving the witch scolding behind him.

After a while he came to the black castle; there he took out his Book of
Knowledge, for now that he had the White Bird he could not bear to think
of giving her up; and this was what the book said:

“_Take the White Bird to the old grey man and he will give you the Sword
of Brightness, turn the edge against him and against the fierce soldiers
and against the two dragons, and then ride away with your White Bird._”

So up he rode to the black castle, and the fiery dragons let him pass
when they saw that the White Bird rode behind him. The old grey man gave
the lad the Sword of Brightness quickly enough, for the White Bird was
worth that and a great deal more, I can tell you.

As soon as the prince had hold of the Sword of Brightness, he turned the
keen edge of the blade against the wicked old man and the soldiers and
the dragons; off flew their heads, and there they lay as dead as red
herrings in a box.

Then he thrust the Sword of Brightness into the leathern scabbard, for
he had learned a grain or two of wisdom by this time, and away he rode
with the White Bird sitting behind him.

On they rode and on they rode until they came to the desert place and
the Tree of Happiness. And then the prince took out his Book of Wisdom
and turned over the leaves, for he was of no mind to give up the Sword
of Brightness if he could help doing so.

“_Turn the edge of the blade against the three giants._”

Thus said the book, and the lad did so, and there they lay all three of
them as dead as stocks.

I know that this is true which I tell, because since then there have
been no cruel giants to keep a body from getting a taste of the Fruit of
Happiness now and then, if a body chooses to travel that far to find it.
But that is neither here nor there, and what I have to tell is this:

The young prince rode away towards home with the White Bird sitting
behind him, the Sword of Brightness hanging by his side, and the Fruit
of Happiness in his pocket.

By and by he came to the place where the two houses stood, the one on
the one side of the road, and the one on the other, and there he took
out his Book of Knowledge to have a peep at it, and this was what it
said:

“_Buy no black sheep._”

“Prut!” says the prince, “what should I want with black sheep I should
like to know?”

By and by he met a great crowd, and in the midst of all the rest were
his two brothers with their hands tied behind them with stout ropes.

And what were they going to do with the two? That was what the prince
would like to know.

“Why,” said those who held them, “they have spent all their money at the
great house over yonder, and have run up a score for good things
besides, and now they are packing off to prison because they cannot pay
what they owe.”

“Come, come,” says the prince, “let them go and I will pay their
reckoning;” and so he did, and that was what the Book of Wisdom meant by
buying black sheep.

After that they all stepped away homeward, right foot foremost; for
since the young prince had brought the Fruit of Happiness along with
him, there was no need of the other brothers going to look for it.

By and by they felt weary and sat down by the roadside to rest, and as
they sat there the youngest prince fell asleep. While he slept the elder
brothers stole away the Sword of Brightness and the Fruit of Happiness.
Then they wakened him and made him strip off his fine clothes, and gave
him a parcel of rags and tatters fit for no one but a beggar, and he had
to put them on or go without.

As for the White Bird, they made her vow and swear that she would say
nothing of all this. Then off they marched with her and with the Sword
of Brightness, and left the prince with never a stitch or a thread that
was worth the having.

“See,” said they, as soon as they came home, “not only have we brought
the Fruit of Happiness, but the Sword of Brightness and the White Bird
into the bargain.”

As for the youngest brother, they told the king that he had stopped over
at the tavern yonder, and had spent all his money in eating and
drinking, just as they themselves had really done.

[Illustration: The Prince sits down beside y^e garden-gate and only one
knoweth him.]

But the White Bird did nothing but weep and weep, and neither this
brother nor that could draw the Sword of Brightness from its leathern
scabbard. And when the king came to taste the Fruit of Happiness, it was
as bitter as gall. So, after all, the two gained nothing by what they
had done.

But the young prince was not for giving up all that he had lost, without
trying to get what he could back again. Off he marched in his rags and
tatters until he came to the castle where the king, his father, lived.
Up he stepped to the door and knocked, but nobody would let him in
because he looked like nothing but a beggar. So down he sat beside the
gate of the castle garden, since he could not come into the house.

After a while the folks came out, one by one and two by two, to walk in
the garden and take the air, and all the time the prince sat there and
nobody knew him.

Last of all came the old king, and with him walked the White Bird. The
king was for passing the lad by as all the rest had done. But as soon as
the White Bird saw him, she knew who he was and ran to him and threw her
arms around his neck and kissed him.

“Here is my own sweetheart,” said she, “and he has come back to me
again.”

The prince told the king all that had happened from beginning to end,
and how it really was he who had found the White Bird, the Sword of
Brightness, and the Fruit of Happiness.

“Yes, yes,” says the king, “that is all very well, but it is just the
tale that your brothers tell; now can you draw the Sword of Brightness
from the leathern scabbard?”

“Oh, yes,” said the prince, “I can do that easily enough.” So the sword
was brought and—whisk!—he whipped the blade out of the scabbard so that
the light of it dazzled the eyes of everybody that looked upon it.

Then the king saw what had happened as plain as the nose on his face,
and was for punishing the elder brothers as they deserved, but nobody
could find them, for as soon as they heard that the youngest prince had
come home again they packed off without waiting to learn more news.

And why do I call this the story of the White Bird? Listen: any Tom or
Jake or Harry might have found the Sword of Brightness or the Fruit of
Happiness; but you may depend upon it that nobody but a real prince
could ever have found the White Bird.

[Illustration]

Ten O’clock·

The _Children_ drone [Sidenote: ♓︎]
In sing-song tone,
The _Master’s_ shoes creak on the _Floor_.
They’re baking _Pies_
At _Home_, and _Flies_ [Sidenote: _Good weather for farming._]
Buzz in and out the open _Door_.

The _Beds_ are made;
The _Pans_ are laid
Out in the pleasant _Sun_ to dry.
Good _Gretchen_ takes
Some _Dough_, and makes,
For little _John_, a _Saucer Pie_. [Sidenote: KP]

[Illustration: How the Good Gifts were used by Two.]

This is the way that this story begins:

Once upon a time there was a rich brother and a poor brother, and the
one lived across the street from the other.

The rich brother had all of the world’s gear that was good for him and
more besides; as for the poor brother, why, he had hardly enough to keep
soul and body together, yet he was contented with his lot, and
contentment did not sit back of the stove in the rich brother’s house;
wherefore in this the rich brother had less than the poor brother.

Now these things happened in the good old times when the saints used to
be going hither and thither in the world upon this business and upon
that. So one day, who should come travelling to the town where the rich
brother and the poor brother lived, but Saint Nicholas himself.

Just beside the town gate stood the great house of the rich brother;
thither went the saint and knocked at the door, and it was the rich
brother himself who came and opened it to him.

Now, Saint Nicholas had had a long walk of it that day, so that he was
quite covered with dust, and looked no better than he should. Therefore
he seemed to be only a common beggar; and when the rich brother heard
him ask for a night’s lodging at his fine, great house, he gaped like a
toad in a rain-storm. What! Did the traveller think that he kept a free
lodging-house for beggars? If he did he was bringing his grist to the
wrong mill; there was no place for the likes of him in the house, and
that was the truth. But yonder was a poor man’s house across the street,
if he went over there perhaps he could get a night’s lodging and a crust
of bread. That was what the rich brother said, and after he had said it
he banged to the door, and left Saint Nicholas standing on the outside
under the blessed sky.

So now there was nothing for good Saint Nicholas to do but to go across
the street to the poor brother’s house, as the other had told him to do.
Rap! tap! tap! he knocked at the door, and it was the poor brother who
came and opened it for him.

“Come in, come in!” says he, “come in and welcome!”

So in came Saint Nicholas, and sat himself down behind the stove where
it was good and warm, while the poor man’s wife spread before him all
that they had in the house—a loaf of brown bread and a crock of cold
water from the town fountain.

“And is that all that you have to eat?” said Saint Nicholas.

Yes; that was all that they had.

“Then, maybe, I can help you to better,” said Saint Nicholas. “So bring
me hither a bowl and a crock.”

You may guess that the poor man’s wife was not long in fetching what he
wanted. When they were brought the saint blessed the one and passed his
hand over the other.

Then he said, “Bowl be filled!” and straightway the bowl began to boil
up with a good rich meat pottage until it was full to the brim. Then the
saint said, “Bowl be stilled!” and it stopped making the broth, and
there stood as good a feast as man could wish for.

Then Saint Nicholas said, “Crock be filled!” and the crock began to
bubble up with the best of beer. Then he said, “Crock be stilled!” and
there stood as good drink as man ever poured down his throat.

Down they all sat, the saint and the poor man and the poor man’s wife,
and ate and drank till they could eat and drink no more, and whenever
the bowl and the crock grew empty, the one and the other became filled
at the bidding.

[Illustration: Saint Nicholas knocks at the rich man’s door but finds
only a chill welcome & cold faring.]

The next morning the saint trudged off the way he was going, but he left
behind him the bowl and the crock, so that there was no danger of hunger
and thirst coming to that house.

Well, the world jogged along for a while, maybe a month or two, and life
was as easy for the poor man and his wife as an old shoe. One day the
rich brother said to _his_ wife. “See now, Luck seems to be stroking our
brother over yonder the right way; I’ll just go and see what it all
means.”

So over the street he went, and found the poor man at home. Down he sat
back of the stove and began to chatter and talk and talk and chatter,
and the upshot of the matter was that, bit by bit, he dragged out the
whole story from the poor man. Then nothing would do but he must see the
bowl and the crock at work. So the bowl and the crock were brought and
set to work and—Hui!—how the rich brother opened his eyes when he saw
them making good broth and beer of themselves.

And now he must and would have that bowl and crock. At first the poor
brother said “No,” but the other bargained and bargained until, at last,
the poor man consented to let him have the two for a hundred dollars. So
the rich brother paid down his hundred dollars, and off he marched with
what he wanted.

When the next day had come, the rich brother said to his wife, “Never
you mind about the dinner to-day. Go you into the harvest-field, and I
will see to the dinner.” So off went the wife with the harvesters, and
the husband stayed at home and smoked his pipe all the morning, for he
knew that dinner would be ready at the bidding. So when noontide had
come he took out the bowl and the crock, and, placing them on the table,
said, “Bowl be filled! crock be filled!” and straightway they began
making broth and beer as fast as they could.

In a little while the bowl and the crock were filled, and then they
could hold no more, so that the broth and beer ran down all over the
table and the floor. Then the rich brother was in a pretty pickle, for
he did not know how to bid the bowl and the crock to stop from making
what they were making. Out he ran and across the street to the poor
man’s house, and meanwhile the broth and beer filled the whole room
until it could hold no more, and then ran out into the gutters so that
all the pigs and dogs in the town had a feast that day.

“Oh, dear brother!” cried the rich man to the poor man, “do tell me what
to do or the whole town will soon be smothered in broth and beer.”

But, no; the poor brother was not to be stirred in such haste; they
would have to strike a bit of a bargain first. So the upshot of the
matter was that the rich brother had to pay the poor brother another
hundred dollars to take the crock and the bowl back again.

[Illustration: Saint Nicholas blesses the poor man’s crock and bowl with
food and drink.]

See, now, what comes of being covetous!

As for the poor man, he was well off in the world, for he had all that
he could eat and drink, and a stockingful of money back of the stove
besides.

Well, time went along as time does, and now it was Saint Christopher who
was thinking about taking a little journey below. “See, brother,” says
Saint Nicholas to him, “if you chance to be jogging by yonder town, stop
at the poor man’s house, for there you will have a warm welcome and
plenty to eat.”

But when Saint Christopher came to the town, the rich man’s house seemed
so much larger and finer than the poor man’s house, that he thought that
he would ask for lodging there.

But it fared the same with him that it had with Saint Nicholas. Prut!
Did he think that the rich man kept free lodgings for beggars?
And—bang!—the door was slammed in his face, and off packed the saint
with a flea in his ear.

Over he went to the poor man’s house, and there was a warm welcome for
him, and good broth and beer from the bowl and the crock that Saint
Nicholas had blessed. After he had supped he went to bed, where he slept
as snug and warm as a mouse in the nest.

Then the good wife said to the husband, “See, now, the poor fellow’s
shirt is none too good for him to be wearing. I’ll just make him another
while he is sleeping, so that he’ll have a decent bit of linen to wear
in the morning.”

So she brought her best roll of linen out of the closet, and set to work
stitching and sewing, and never stopped till she had made the new shirt
to the last button. The next morning, when the saint awoke, there lay
the nice, new, clean shirt, and he put it on and gave thanks for it.

Before he left the house the poor man took him aside, and emptied the
stockingful of silver money on the table, and bade the saint take what
he wanted, “for,” says he, “a penny or two is never amiss in the great
world.”

After that it was time for the traveller to be jogging; but before he
went he said, “See, now, because you have been so kind and so good to a
poor wayfarer, I will give you a blessing; whatever you begin doing this
morning, you shall continue doing till sunset.” So saying, he took up
his staff and went his way.

[Illustration: The Poor Man welcomes Saint Christopher to his house.]

After Saint Christopher had gone the poor man and his wife began talking
together as to what would be best for them to be doing all of the day,
and one said one thing and the other said the other, but every plug was
too small for the hole, as we say in our town, for nothing seemed to fit
the case.

“Come, come,” said the good woman, “here we are losing time that can
never be handled again. While we are talking the matter over I will be
folding the linen that is left from making the shirt.”

“And I,” said the good man, “will be putting the money away that the
holy man left behind him.”

So the wife began folding the linen into a bundle again, and the man
began putting away the money that he had offered in charity. Thus they
began doing, and thus they kept on doing; so that by the time that the
evening had come the whole house was full of fine linen, and every tub
and bucket and mug and jug about the place was brimming with silver
money. As for the good couple, their fortune was made, and that is the
heart of the whole matter in four words.

That night who should come over from across the street but the rich
brother, with his pipe in his mouth and his hands in his pockets. But
when he saw how very rich the poor man had become all of a sudden, and
what a store of fine linen and silver money he had, he was so
wonder-struck that he did not know whither to look and what to think.

Dear heart’s sake alive! Where did all these fine things come from? That
was what he should like to know.

Oh! there was nothing to hide in the matter, and the poor man told all
about what had happened.

As for the rich brother, when he found how he had shut his door in the
face of good-fortune, he rapped his head with his knuckles because he
was so angry at his own foolishness. However, crying never mended a torn
jacket, so he made the poor brother promise that if either of the saints
came that way again, they should be sent over to his house for a night’s
lodging, for it was only fair and just that he should have a share of
the same cake his brother had eaten.

So the poor brother promised to do what the other wanted, and after that
the rich brother went back home again.

Well, a year and a day passed, and then, sure enough, who should come
along that way but both the saints together, arm in arm. Rap! tap! tap!
they knocked at the poor man’s door, for they thought that where they
had had good lodging before they could get it again. And so they could
and welcome, only the poor brother told them that his rich brother
across the street had asked that they should come and lodge at the fine
house when they came that way again.

[Illustration: The rich man spreads a feast for the Saints.]

The saints were willing enough to go to the rich brother’s house, though
they would rather have stayed with the other. So over they went, and
when the rich brother saw them coming he ran out to meet them, and shook
each of them by the hand, and bade them to come in and sit down back of
the stove where it was warm.

But you should have seen the feast that was set for the two saints at
the rich brother’s house! I can only say that I never saw the like, and
I only wish that I had been there with my legs under the table. After
supper they were shown to a grand room, where each saint had a bed all
to his very own self, and before they were fairly asleep the rich man’s
wife came and took away their old shirts, and laid a shirt of fine
cambric linen in the place of each. When the next morning came and the
saints were about to take their leave, the rich brother brought out a
great bag of golden money, and bade them to stuff what they would of it
into their pockets.

Well, all this was as it should be, and before the two went on their way
they said that they would give the same blessing to him and his wife
that they had given to the other couple—that whatsoever they should
begin doing that morning, that they should continue doing until sunset.

After that they put on their hats and took up their staffs, and off they
plodded.

Now the rich brother was a very envious man, and was not contented to do
only as well as his brother had done, no indeed! He would do something
that would make him even richer than counting out money for himself all
day. So down he sat back of the stove and began turning the matter over
in his mind, and rubbing up his wits to make them the brighter.

In the meantime the wife said to herself, “See, now, I shall be folding
fine cambric linen all day, and the pigs will have to go with nothing to
eat. I have no time to waste in feeding them, but I’ll just run out and
fill their troughs with water at any rate.”

So out she went with a bucketful of water which she began pouring into
the troughs for the pigs. That was the first thing she did, and after
that there was no leaving off, but pour water she must until sunset.

All this while the man sat back of the stove, warming his wits and
saying to himself, “Shall I do this? shall I do that?” and answering
“No” to himself every time. At last he began wondering what his wife was
doing, so out he went to find her. Find her he did, for there she was
pouring out water to the pigs. Then if anybody was angry it was the rich
man. “What!” cried he, “and is this the way that you waste the gifts of
the blessed saints?”.

So saying, he looked around, and there lay a bit of a switch on the
ground near by. He picked up the bit of a switch and struck the woman
across the shoulders with it, and that was the first thing that he began
doing. After that he had to keep on doing the same.

So the woman poured water and poured water, and the man stood by and
beat her with the little switch until there was nothing left of it, and
that was what they did all day.

And what is more, they made such a hubbub that the neighbors came to see
what was going forward. They looked and laughed and went away again, and
others came, and there stood the two—the woman pouring water and the man
beating her with the bit of a switch.

When the evening came, and they left off their work, they were so weary
that they could hardly stand; and nothing was to show for it but a
broken switch and a wet sty, for even the blessed saints cannot give
wisdom to those who will have none of it, and that is the truth.

And such is the end of this story, with only this to tell: Tommy Pfouce
tells me that there are folks, even in these wise times, who, if they
did all day what they began in the morning, would find themselves at
sunset doing no better work than pouring pure water to pigs.

That is the small kernel to this great nut.

[Illustration]

Eleven O’clock·

The _Cook_ undoes the _Oven Door_; [Sidenote: _Hot and dusty._]
The _Kobold_ smells the baking _Pies_;
Licking his _Lips_, with glistening _Eyes_,
He hops across the _Floor_. [Sidenote: K⊕P.]

Our fat, old _Betty_ sweats and blows;
She does not see how near he stands,
And when she bangs the _Door, Good Lands_!
It’ most cuts off his _Nose_.

[Illustration: How Boots befooled the King.]

XI.

Once upon a time there was a king who was the wisest in all of the
world. So wise was he that no one had ever befooled him, which is a rare
thing, I can tell you. Now, this king had a daughter who was as pretty
as a ripe apple, so that there was no end to the number of the lads who
came asking to marry her. Every day there were two or three of them
dawdling around the house, so that at last the old king grew tired of
having them always about.

So he sent word far and near that whoever should befool him might have
the princess and half of the kingdom to boot, for he thought that it
would be a wise man indeed who could trick him. But the king also said,
that whoever should try to befool him and should fail, should have a
good whipping. This was to keep all foolish fellows away.

The princess was so pretty that there was no lack of lads who came to
have a try for her and half of the kingdom, but every one of these went
away with a sore back and no luck.

Now, there was a man who was well off in the world, and who had three
sons; the first was named Peter, and the second was named Paul. Peter
and Paul thought themselves as wise as anybody in all of the world, and
their father thought as they did.

As for the youngest son, he was named Boots. Nobody thought anything of
him except that he was silly, for he did nothing but sit poking in the
warm ashes all of the day.

One morning Peter spoke up and said that he was going to the town to
have a try at befooling the king, for it would be a fine thing to have a
princess in the family. His father did not say no, for if anybody was
wise enough to befool the king, Peter was the lad.

So, after Peter had eaten a good breakfast, off he set for the town,
right foot foremost. After a while he came to the king’s house and—rap!
tap! tap!—he knocked at the door.

Well; what did he want?

Oh! he would only like to have a try at befooling the king.

Very good; he should have his try. He was not the first one who had been
there that morning, early as it was.

So Peter was shown in to the king.

“Oh, look!” said he, “yonder are three black geese out in the
court-yard”

But no, the king was not to be fooled so easily as all that. “One goose
is enough to look at at a time,” said he; “take him away and give him a
whipping!”

And so they did, and Peter went home bleating like a sheep.

One day Paul spoke up. “I should like to go and have a try for the
princess, too,” said he.

Well, his father did not say no, for, after all, Paul was the more
clever of the two.

So off Paul went as merrily as a duck in the rain. By and by he came to
the castle, and then he too was brought before the king just as Peter
had been.

“Oh, look!” said he, “yonder is a crow sitting in the tree with three
white stripes on his back!”

But the king was not so silly as to be fooled in that way. “Here is a
Jack,” said he, “who will soon have more stripes on his back than he
will like. Take him away and give him his whipping!”

Then it was done as the king had said, and Paul went away home bawling
like a calf.

One day up spoke Boots. “I should like to go and have a try for the
pretty princess, too,” said he.

[Illustration: Peter goes to the castle to befool the king, dressed in
his finest clothes.]

At this they all stared and sniggered. What! he go where his clever
brothers had failed, and had nothing to show for the trying but a good
beating? What had come over the lout! Here was a pretty business, to be
sure! That was what they all said.

But all of this rolled away from Boots like water from a duck’s back. No
matter, he would like to go and have a try like the others. So he begged
and begged until his father was glad to let him go to be rid of his
teasing, if nothing else.

Then Boots asked if he might have the old tattered hat that hung back of
the chimney.

Oh, yes, he might have that if he wanted it, for nobody with good wits
was likely to wear such a thing.

So Boots took the hat, and after he had brushed the ashes from his shoes
set off for the town, whistling as he went.

The first body whom he met was an old woman with a great load of
earthenware pots and crocks on her shoulders.

“Good-day, mother,” said Boots.

“Good-day, son,” said she.

“What will you take for all of your pots and crocks?” said Boots.

“Three shillings,” said she.

“I will give you five shillings if you will come and stand in front of
the king’s house, and do thus and so when I say this and that,” said
Boots.

Oh, yes! she would do that willingly enough.

So Boots and the old woman went on together, and presently came to the
king’s house. When they had come there, Boots sat down in front of the
door and began bawling as loud as he could—“No, I will not! I will not
do it, I say! No, I will not do it!”

So he kept on, bawling louder and louder until he made such a noise
that, at last, the king himself came out to see what all of the hubbub
was about. But when Boots saw him he only bawled out louder than ever,
“No, I will not! I will not do it, I say!”

“Stop! stop!” cried the king, “what is all this about?”

“Why,” said Boots, “everybody wants to buy my cap, but I will not sell
it! I will not do it, I say!”

“But, why should anybody want to buy such a cap as that?” said the king.

“Because,” said Boots, “it is a fooling cap and the only one in all of
the world.”

[Illustration: Paul comes home again from the king’s castle with no
luck. ¶]

“A fooling cap!” said the king. For he did not like to hear of such a
cap as that coming into the town. “Hum-m-m-m! I should like to see you
fool somebody with it. Could you fool that old body yonder with the pots
and the crocks?”

“Oh, yes! that is easily enough done,” said Boots, and without more ado
he took off his tattered cap and blew into it. Then he put it on his
head again and bawled out, “Break pots! break pots!”

No sooner had he spoken these words than the old woman jumped up and
began breaking and smashing her pots and crocks as though she had gone
crazy. That was what Boots had paid her five shillings for doing, but of
it the king knew nothing. “Hui!” said he to himself, “I must buy that
hat from the fellow or he will fool the princess away from me for sure
and certain.” Then he began talking to Boots as sweetly as though he had
honey in his mouth. Perhaps Boots would sell the hat to him?

Oh, no! Boots could not think of such a thing as selling his fooling
cap.

Come, come; the king wanted that hat, and sooner than miss buying it he
would give a whole bag of gold money for it.

At this Boots looked up and looked down, scratching his head. Well, he
supposed he would have to sell the hat some time, and the king might as
well have it as anybody else. But for all that he did not like parting
with it.

So the king gave Boots the bag of gold, and Boots gave the king the old
tattered hat, and then he went his way.

After Boots had gone the king blew into the hat and blew into the hat,
but though he blew enough breath into it to sail a big ship, he did not
befool so much as a single titmouse. Then, at last, he began to see that
the fooling cap was good on nobody else’s head but Boots’s; and he was
none too pleased at that, you may be sure.

As for Boots, with his bag of gold he bought the finest clothes that
were to be had in the town, and when the next morning had come he
started away bright and early for the king’s house. “I have come,” said
he, “to marry the princess, if you please.”

At this the king hemmed and hawed and scratched his head. Yes; Boots had
befooled him sure enough, but, after all, he could not give up the
princess for such a thing as that. Still, he would give Boots another
chance. Now, there was the high-councillor, who was the wisest man in
all of the world. Did Boots think that he could fool him also?

Oh, yes! Boots thought that it might be done.

[Illustration: The old woman smashes pots and things at Boots’ bidding.
)(]

Very well; if he could befool the high-councillor so as to bring him to
the castle the next morning against his will, Boots should have the
princess and the half of the kingdom; if he did not do so he should have
his beating.

Then Boots went away, and the king thought that he was rid of him now
for good and all.

As for the high-councillor, he was not pleased with the matter at all,
for he did not like the thought of being fooled by a clever rogue, and
taken here and there against his will. So when he had come home, he
armed all of his servants with blunderbusses, and then waited to give
Boots a welcome when he should come.

But Boots was not going to fall into any such trap as that! No indeed!
not he! The next morning he went quietly and bought a fine large
meal-sack. Then he put a black wig over his beautiful red hair, so that
no one might know him. After that he went to the place where the
high-councillor lived, and when he had come there he crawled inside of
the sack, and lay just beside the door of the house.

By and by came one of the maid servants to the door, and there lay the
great meal-sack with somebody in it.

“Ach!” cried she, “who is there?”

But Boots only said, “Sh-h-h-h-h!”

Then the serving maid went back into the house, and told the
high-councillor that one lay outside in a great meal-sack, and that all
that he said was, “Sh-h-h-h-h!”

So the councillor went himself to see what it was all about. “What do
you want here?” said he.

“Sh-h-h-h-h!” said Boots, “I am not to be talked to now. This is a
wisdom-sack, and I am learning wisdom as fast as a drake can eat peas.”

“And what wisdom have you learned?” said the councillor.

Oh! Boots had learned wisdom about everything in the world. He had
learned that the clever scamp who had fooled the king yesterday was
coming with seventeen tall men to take the high-councillor, willy-nilly,
to the castle that morning.

When the high-councillor heard this he fell to trembling till his teeth
rattled in his head. “And have you learned how I can get the better of
this clever scamp?” said he.

Oh, yes! Boots had learned that easily enough.

[Illustration: The Councilor finds one in the Sack who teaches him
wisdom. ¶]

So, good! then if the wise man in the sack would tell the
high-councillor how to escape the clever rogue, the high-councillor
would give the wise man twenty dollars.

But no, that was not to be done; wisdom was not bought so cheaply as the
high-councillor seemed to think.

Well, the councillor would give him a hundred dollars then.

That was good! A hundred dollars were a hundred dollars. If the
councillor would give him that much he might get into the sack himself,
and then he could learn all the wisdom that he wanted, and more besides.

So Boots crawled out of the sack, and the councillor paid his hundred
dollars and crawled in.

As soon as he was in all snug and safe, Boots drew the mouth of the sack
together and tied it tightly. Then he flung sack, councillor, and all
over his shoulder, and started away to the king’s house, and anybody who
met them could see with half an eye that the councillor was going
against his will.

When Boots came to the king’s castle he laid the councillor down in the
goose-house, and then he went to the king.

When the king saw Boots again, he bit his lips with vexation. “Well,”
said he, “have you fooled the councillor?”

“Oh, yes!” says Boots, “I have done that.”

And where was the councillor now?

Oh, Boots had just left him down in the goose-house. He was tied up safe
and sound in a sack, waiting till the king should send for him.

So the councillor was sent for, and when he came the king saw at once
that he had been brought against his will.

“And now may I marry the princess?” said Boots.

But the king was not willing for him to marry the princess yet; no! no!
Boots must not go so fast. There was more to be done yet. If he would
come to-morrow morning he might have the princess and welcome, but he
would have to pick her out from among fourscore other maids just like
her; did he think that he could do that?

Oh, yes! Boots thought that that might be easy enough to do.

So, good! then come to-morrow; but he must understand that if he failed
he should have a good whipping, and be sent packing from the town.

So off went Boots, and the king thought that he was rid of him now, for
he had never seen the princess, and how could he pick her out from among
eighty others?

But Boots was not going to give up so easily as all that! No, not he! He
made a little box, and then he hunted up and down until he had caught a
live mouse to put into it.

When the next morning came he started away to the king’s house, taking
his mouse along with him in the box.

There was the king, standing in the doorway, looking out into the
street. When he saw Boots coming towards him he made a wry face. “What!”
said he, “are you back again?”

Oh, yes! Boots was back again. And now if the princess was ready he
would like to go and find her, for lost time was not to be gathered
again like fallen apples.

So off they marched to a great room, and there stood eighty-and-one
maidens, all as much alike as peas in the same dish.

Boots looked here and there, but, even if he had known the princess, he
could not have told her from the others. But he was ready for all that.
Before any one knew what he was about, he opened the box, and out ran
the little mouse among them all. Then what a screaming, and a hubbub
there was! Many looked as though they would have liked to swoon, but
only one of them did so. As soon as the others saw what had happened,
they forgot all about the mouse, and ran to her and fell to fanning her
and slapping her hands and chafing her temples.

“This is the princess,” said Boots.

And so it was.

After that the king could think of nothing more to set Boots to do, so
he let him marry the princess as he had promised, and have half of the
kingdom to boot.

That is all of this story.

Only this: It is not always the silliest one that sits kicking his feet
in the ashes at home.

[Illustration]

Twelve O’clock·

The _Dial_ marks the hour of _Noon_; [Sidenote: ☉ enters]
The _Men_ will come to _Dinner_ soon,
And _Gretchen_ takes the _Beer-Mugs_ down
Into the _Cellar_, cool and brown.

The _Bread_ is cut, the _Soup_ is hot, [Sidenote: _Dry and Hot._]
The _Cabbage_ simmers in the _Pot_;
The _Mistress_ scolds a clumsy _Maid_,
And _Towzer_ dozes in the _Shade_.

K.P.

[Illustration: The Step-mother.]

XII.

Once upon a time there was a man who was well off in the world so far as
good things were concerned; but all the flesh and blood that belonged to
him was a daughter, for his wife was dead, and he lived alone.

One day he went away from home and was gone for a long, long time, and
when he came back again he brought a new wife with him, for that was the
business that he had been about. As for the woman, she was as wicked as
she was handsome, and as handsome as she was wicked, and whichever of
the two one said of her one spoke the truth; for, though she was the
most beautiful woman in all of the land, she was as great a witch as
ever turned over the leaves of the black book with the red letters in
it.

At first things went as smoothly in the rich man’s house as butter and
eggs, for the Step-mother was forever petting and caressing the man’s
daughter, and could not make enough of her. But that was only for a
while, for as the maid grew in years she grew prettier and prettier,
until there was none like her in all of that land.

One day the Step-mother and the step-daughter walked together in the
fields, for it was in the spring-time, the weather was pleasant, and the
grass was fresh and green. Two crows sat on a flowering thorn.

“Look,” says one crow, “yonder go two beauties.”

“Yes,” says the other, “but when you talk of good looks, the old one is
to the young one as a cabbage is to a rose.”

Then, “Caw! caw!” they both cried, and flapped their wings and flew
away.

That was what the two crows said; and though the maiden knew nothing,
the Step-mother could tell what passed between them as well as could be,
for she had eaten a bite of the white snake, and knew all that the birds
and the beasts said to one another. So her heart grew bitter with hatred
and envy, and she began to cudgel her brains for some means to put the
girl out of the way. That night she made a ball of hollow gold and wrote
this and that upon it, which nobody but herself could read. The next day
she and the girl walked in the fields again, and when nobody was near
the wicked Step-mother took the golden ball out of her pocket.

“See,” said she, “here is a new plaything for you.” She threw it upon
the ground, and it rolled and rolled and rolled, and, whether she liked
it or not, the maiden had to follow wherever it went. On and on rolled
the ball, for no matter how fast the girl ran she could not catch it. By
and by she came to a dark, lonesome place, where was a great, deep pit.
Into the pit rolled the golden ball, and the poor girl had to follow. So
into the pit she fell, and there she lay, for the sides were as smooth
as glass, and one would have to have feet like a fly to climb from the
bottom to the top.

As for the witch Step-mother, she was well content with what she had
done, for the two crows sat on the thorn-tree. And—

“Look,” said the first, “yonder goes the beauty.”

“It is the truth that you speak,” said the second. “For the other
followed the golden ball and fell into the deep pit!” And then they
clapped their wings and away they flew.

But the poor girl lay in the deep pit all alone, and cried and cried.

Suddenly a little door opened—click! clack!—and there was a little grey
man no higher than a body’s knee, but with a long white beard that
touched the ground.

“Hi!” says he to the step-daughter, “and how came you here in the pit?”

The girl told him all from beginning to end, and the little man listened
to every word.

“See, now,” said he, when she had ended her story. “Since you are here
in the deep pit and cannot get out, you shall be the queen of all the
little men like myself, and we shall serve you, for you are the most
beautiful maiden that ever my eyes looked upon.”

[Illustration: The Step-daughter follows y^e golden ball in spite of
herself. )(]

So there the maiden lived for many a long day, and the little man and
others like him brought her rich food and wine, and covered all the
inside of the pit with jewels and with gold, so that it was most
splendid to see. And every day the maiden grew more and more beautiful.

One day the young king of that country went a-hunting, and all of his
court with him, and four-and-twenty hounds besides. They came riding by
the pit where the maiden sat, and there the hounds stopped and began to
whimper and to howl, for they knew very well that human flesh and blood
was down below.

“Listen to the hounds,” says the king; “there is somebody fallen into
the pit; now who will go down and bring the unfortunate up again?”

At this everybody looked at his neighbor, but nobody said, “I will go.”

“Very well,” said the king, “then I myself will go down into the pit, if
no one else dares to venture.”

So the others lowered the king into the pit, and when he reached the
bottom you can guess how he stared and how he wondered; but he had no
eyes for the jewels and gold that covered the walls; he had often seen
the like of them, but never in all of his days had he beheld such a
beauty as the maiden he found there.

Then the people above hauled them up together, and the king set her upon
a milk-white horse, and then they all rode away to the palace, for that
was where he was to take her. There they dressed her in splendid clothes
and put a golden crown upon her head, and then she and the king were
married. Around her neck he hung a golden chain and a locket, and in the
locket was a picture of himself; on her finger he slipped a ring, and
within were secret words which nobody but he and she knew.

One day the wicked Step-mother was walking in the fields, and the two
crows sat on the thorn-tree.

“Look,” says the first crow, “yonder goes the beauty.”

“Yes,” says the second, “but she is only as a cabbage to a rose when
compared to the lass who followed the golden ball down into the pit, and
who has married the handsome young king over at the castle yonder.”

Then, “Caw! caw!” they cried, and flapped their wings and flew away.

As for the Step-mother, her heart was ready to burst with anger and with
spite. Home she went and began to think of what she should do to put her
step-daughter out of the way again.

[Illustration: The Young King goeth down into the pit and bringeth up
y^e maiden.]

She took some dough and some feathers, and of them she made an old hen
and six chicks. She put them in the oven and baked them, and when she
drew them out again they were all of pure gold. But the strangest of all
was, that when she set them upon the table the little golden hen
strutted and clucked, and the chicks cried, “Peep! peep!” and followed
at her heels.

Then the woman clad herself in a strange dress, so that no one might
know who she was. She hid a long, keen silver pin in her bosom, and off
she set for the castle with the golden hen and the golden chickens in a
basket wrapped up in a white napkin.

She set her basket on the ground under the palace window, and when the
folks within saw the little clucking hen and her chicks, all made of
pure gold that shone in the sunlight, they could not look enough.

Off ran one and told the queen, who came and looked and looked, and
wondered and wondered, until by and by she longed for the golden hen and
the golden chickens as she had never longed for anything in all of her
life before. So she called one of her maids, and sent her down to ask
the strange woman the price of her golden chickens.

“Prut!” says the wicked witch of a Step-mother, “who are you that you
should come to talk with me? If the young queen would buy my wares she
must come and bargain with me herself.”

So down went the young queen to the wicked Step-mother; “And what is the
price of your hen and chicks, my good woman,” said she, for she did not
know the other, because of the strange dress in which she was clad.

“Oh! it is little or nothing I ask for my hen and chickens,” said the
wicked Step-mother to the beautiful queen. “If you will give me a kiss
down in the garden back of the rose-tree yonder, you may have the
chickens and welcome.”

Oh, yes; the queen was willing enough to pay the price, if that was all
the woman wanted. So off they went back of the rose-tree, she and the
Step-mother. There the witch drew out the silver pin from her bosom, and
as she kissed the queen she thrust the pin deep into her head. Then
quick as a wink the queen was changed into a white dove and flew away
over the tree-tops.

Off went the Step-mother, and was as pleased with what she had done this
time as with what she had done that time; for the two crows sat on the
thorn-tree, and the first crow said to the second crow, “Yonder goes the
beauty.” And the second crow said to the first, “Yes, there is none to
compare with her now that the young queen has been changed to a white
dove.”

[Illustration: The Step-mother bringeth mischief upon the Young Queen by
sundry magic spells.]

At the king’s castle they hunted for the queen high, and they hunted for
the queen low, but could find neither thread nor hair of her. As for the
white dove, it had flown in at a window, and there the little cook-boy
found it, and caught it and sold it to the cook for a penny. So the
beautiful white dove sat over the kitchen window, and did nothing but
mourn from the dawn to the gloaming.

One day the folk in the kitchen were talking together. The king was
lying sick abed and dying of a broken heart because his beautiful young
queen was nowhere to be found. That was what they said, and the white
bird heard every word of it.

The next morning when they came to the kitchen there was a beautiful
sweet cake lying upon a white napkin, and on the cake were written these
words:

“Break this, my king, and ease thy sorrow.”

They took the sweet cake to the king where he lay, and he broke it as
the words told him to. Within it he found the ring which he had given to
the queen, inside of which were written words which no one but he and
she knew.

“Where did this come from?” said he; but nobody could tell him.

“Where the ring came from,” said he, “there will the queen be found.”
And up he got from his bed and dressed himself, and ate his breakfast
with a cheerful face.

They talked about what had happened down in the kitchen, and the white
dove heard it all.

Next morning there, on a fine linen napkin, lay another cake like the
first, and on it was written:

“Break this, my king, and be comforted.”

They took it up to the king as they had done the first. And the king
snatched it like a hungry man. He broke the cake, and there was the
necklace and the locket that he had given the queen.

“Where did this come from?” said he.

But they could tell him no more about that than about the other.

All the same, they talked about it down in the kitchen, and the white
dove heard what was said.

But that night the little cook-boy hid in the closet to watch, for he
wanted to see who it was that brought the cakes that they took up-stairs
to the king. So he watched and watched, and by and by the clock struck
twelve. And when the last stroke sounded the dove flew down from over
the window, and as soon as it lit upon the floor it was the white dove
no longer, but the queen herself. She made a sweet cake of sugar and of
flour, and in it she put a feather as white as silver. Then she became
the white dove again, and flew back over the window where she had sat
before.

[Illustration: The Young King caresses y^e white dove.]

The next morning they found the third cake lying upon a white napkin,
and on the cake was written:

“Break this, my king, for the time has come.”

They took it up to the king and he broke it, and there was the white
feather.

Then the king called everybody that was in the castle, and asked each
one in turn if he or she could tell where the sweet cake had come from.
But no; nobody knew, until last of all they questioned the kitchen-boy.

“Oh, yes,” said he, “I know who it was that brought the cake. Last night
the white dove in the kitchen flew down from over the window and became
the queen herself; she made the sweet cake and laid it upon the white
napkin, for I saw her do it with my own eyes.”

Up they brought the white dove from the kitchen, and the king took it in
his own hands and held it up to his bosom, and stroked it and caressed
it.

“If thou art my queen,” said he, “why dost thou not speak to me?”

But the dove answered never a word, and the king stroked it and stroked
it.

By and by he felt something, and when he came to look it was the head of
the silver pin. He drew it forth, and there stood the young queen again
in her own true shape.

She told everything that had happened to her from the first to the last,
and how her Step-mother had treated her. Then, hui! but the king was
angry! He sent a great lot of soldiers off to the father’s house to
bring the Step-mother to the castle so that she might be punished for
her wickedness. But she was not to be caught as easily as a sparrow in a
rain-storm; she jumped upon a broom straw, and—puff!—away she flew up
the chimney, and that was the last that anybody saw of her so far as
ever I heard.

But they brought the father over to the king’s castle, where he sat in
the warmest corner and had the best that was to be had.

That is all of this story, and if you see a blind mouse run across the
floor throw your cap over it and catch it, for it is yours.

[Illustration]

One O’clock·

The _Kobold_ lies, [Sidenote: _Hazy. Very pleasant._]
And blinks his _Eyes_,
Under the _Grape-vine_ leaves.
The _Chickens_ scratch
In a sunny _Patch_,
And the _Sparrows_ fight on the _Eaves_.

The _Bee-Hive_ hums;
The _House-wife_ comes,
And looks outside the _Door_.
The speckled _Chick_
Hops in, to pick [Sidenote: K.P. des.]
The _Crumbs_ from off the _Floor_.

[Illustration: Master Jacob.]

XIII.

Once upon a time there was a man whose name was just Master Jacob and
nothing more.

All that Master Jacob had in the world was a good fat pig, two black
goats, a wife, and a merry temper—which was more than many a better man
than he had, for the matter of that.

“See, now,” says Master Jacob, “I will drive the fat pig to the market
to-morrow; who knows but that I might strike a bit of a sale.”

“Do,” says Master Jacob’s wife, for she was of the good sort, and always
nodded when he said “yes,” as the saying goes.

Now there were three rogues in the town over the hill, who lived in
plenty; one was the priest, one was the provost, and one was the master
mayor; and which was the greatest rogue of the three it would be a hard
matter to tell, but perhaps it was the priest.

“See, now,” says the priest to the other two, “Master Jacob, who lives
over yonder way, is going to bring his fat pig to market to-morrow. If
you have a mind for a trick, we will go snacks in what we win, and each
of us will have a rib or two of bacon hanging in the pantry, and a
string or so of sausages back in the chimney without paying so much as a
brass button for them.”

Well, of course that was a tune to which the others were willing to
dance. So the rogue of a priest told them to do thus and so, and to say
this and that, and they would cheat Master Jacob out of his good fat pig
as easily as a beggar eats buttered parsnips.

So the next morning off starts Master Jacob to the market, driving his
fat pig before him with a bit of string around the leg of it. Down he
comes into the town, and the first one whom he meets is the master
priest.

“How do you find yourself, Master Jacob?” says the priest, “and where
are you going with that fine, fat dog?”

“Dog!” says Master Jacob, opening his eyes till they were as big and as
round as saucers. “Dog! Prut! It is as fine a pig as ever came into this
town, I would have you know.”

“What!” says the priest. “Do you try to tell me that that is a pig, when
I can see with both of my ears and all of my eyes that it is a great,
fat dog?”