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CLEVER ELSIE

There was once a man who had a daughter who was called  Clever  Elsie. And  when  she had  grown  up  her father  said: ‘We  will  get  her  married.’ ‘Yes,’ said the mother, ‘if only someone  would come who would have her.’ At length a man came from a  distance and wooed her, who was called Hans; but he stipulated  that  Clever Elsie should be really smart. ‘Oh,’ said the father, ‘she has plenty of good sense’; and the mother said: ‘Oh, she can see the  wind  coming  up  the  street, and  hear  the  flies coughing.’ ‘Well,’  said Hans, ‘if she is not really smart, I won’t have her.’ When they were sitting at dinner and had eaten, the mother said: ‘Elsie, go into the cellar and fetch some beer.’ Then Clever Elsie took the pitcher  from the wall, went into the cellar, and tapped the lid briskly as she went, so that the time might not appear long. When she was below she fetched herself a chair, and set it before the barrel so that she had no need to stoop, and did not hurt her back or do herself any  unexpected injury. Then  she placed the can before her, and turned  the tap, and while the beer was running she would not let her eyes  be idle, but looked up at the wall, and after much peering here


and there, saw a pick-axe exactly above her, which the masons had accidentally left there.
Then Clever Elsie began to  weep and said: ‘If I get Hans, and we have a child, and he grows big, and we send him into the cellar  here to draw beer, then the pick-axe will fall on his head and kill him.’ Then she sat and wept and screamed with all the strength of  her body, over the misfortune which lay before her. Those upstairs waited for the drink, but Clever Elsie still did not come. Then  the woman said to the servant: ‘Just go down into the cellar and see  where Elsie is.’ The  maid went  and found her sitting in front of the barrel, screaming loudly. ‘Elsie why do you weep?’ asked the maid. ‘Ah,’ she answered, ‘have I not reason to weep? If I get Hans,  and we have a child, and he grows big, and has to draw beer here, the pick-axe will perhaps fall on his head, and kill him.’ Then said the maid: ‘What a clever Elsie we have!’ and sat down beside her and began loudly to weep over the misfortune. After a while, as the  maid did not come back, and those upstairs were thirsty for the beer, the man said to the boy: ‘Just go down into the cellar and see where Elsie and the girl are.’ The boy went down, and there sat Clever  Elsie and the girl both weeping together. Then he asked: ‘Why are you weeping?’ ‘Ah,’ said Elsie, ‘have I not reason to weep? If I


get Hans, and we have a child, and he grows big, and has to draw  beer here, the pick-axe will fall on his head and kill him.’ Then  said  the  boy: ‘What a clever Elsie we have!’ and sat down by her,  and likewise began to howl loudly. Upstairs they waited for the boy, but as he still did not return, the man said to the woman: ‘Just go down into the cellar and see where Elsie is!’ The woman went down, and found all three in the midst of their lamentations, and inquired what was the cause; then Elsie told her also that her future child was to be killed by the pick-axe, when it grew  big and  had  to  draw  beer,  and  the  pick-axe  fell down. Then said the mother likewise: ‘What a clever Elsie we have!’ and sat down and wept with them.  The man upstairs waited a short time, but as his wife did not come back and his thirst grew ever greater, he said: ‘I must go into the cellar myself and see where Elsie is.’ But when he got  into  the  cellar,  and  they  were  all sitting together crying, and he heard the reason, and that Elsie’s child was the cause, and the Elsie might perhaps bring one into the world some day, and that he might be killed by the pick- axe, if he should happen to be sitting beneath it, drawing beer just at the very time when it fell down, he cried: ‘Oh, what a clever Elsie!’ and sat down, and likewise wept with them.  The  bridegroom  stayed upstairs alone  for  along


time; then as no one would come back he thought: ‘They must be waiting for me below: I too must go there and see what  they  are  about.’ When  he  got  down,  the  five of them     were    sitting    screaming    and    lamenting    quite piteously, each out- doing the other. ‘What misfortune has happened then?’ asked he. ‘Ah,  dear Hans,’ said Elsie, ‘if we marry each other and have a child, and he is big, and we perhaps send him here to draw something to  drink, then the pick-axe which has been left up there might dash his  brains out  if it were to  fall down,  so have we  not reason to weep?’ ‘Come,’ said Hans, ‘more understanding than that is not needed for my household, as you are such a clever Elsie, I will have you,’ and seized her hand, took her upstairs with him, and married her.
After Hans had had her some time, he said: ‘Wife, I am going out  to work and earn some money for us; go into the field and cut the corn that we may have some bread.’
‘Yes, dear Hans, I  will do  that.’ After Hans had  gone away, she cooked herself some good broth and took it into the field with her. When she came to the field she said to herself: ‘What shall I do; shall I cut first, or shall I eat first? Oh, I will eat first.’ Then she drank her cup of broth and when she was fully satisfied, she once more said:  ‘What shall I do? Shall I cut first, or shall I sleep first? I will sleep


first.’ Then she lay down among the corn and fell asleep. Hans had been at home for a long time, but Elsie did not come; then said he: ‘What a clever Elsie I have; she is so industrious that she does not even come home to eat.’ But when evening came and she still stayed away, Hans went out to see what she had cut, but nothing was cut, and she was lying among the  corn  asleep. Then  Hans hastened home and brought a fowler’s net with little bells and hung it round about her, and she still went on sleeping. Then he ran home, shut the house-door, and sat down in his chair and worked. At length, when  it was quite dark, Clever Elsie awoke and when she got up there was a jingling all round about her, and the bells rang at each step which she took.   Then   she  was  alarmed,  and  became  uncertain whether she really was Clever Elsie or not, and said: ‘Is it I, or is it not I?’ But she knew not what answer to make to  this,  and  stood  for  a  time  in  doubt;  at  length  she thought: ‘I will go home and ask if it be I, or if it be not I, they will be sure to know.’ She ran to  the door of her own  house,  but  it  was shut;  then  she knocked  at  the window and cried: ‘Hans, is Elsie within?’ ‘Yes,’ answered Hans, ‘she is within.’ Hereupon she was terrified, and said:
‘Ah, heavens! Then it is not I,’ and went to another door;
but when the people heard the jingling of the bells they


would not open it, and she could get in nowhere. Then she ran out of the village, and no one has seen her since.

THE PINK

There was once upon a time a queen to whom God had given  no children. Every morning she went into the garden and prayed to  God in heaven to bestow on her a son or a daughter. Then an angel from heaven came to her and said: ‘Be at rest, you shall have a son with the power of wishing, so that whatsoever in the world he wishes for, that shall he have.’ Then she went to the king, and told him the joyful tidings, and when the time was come she gave birth to a son, and the king was filled with gladness.
Every morning she went with the child to the garden where the wild beasts were kept, and washed herself there in a clear stream. It happened once when the child was a little older, that it was lying in her arms and she fell asleep. Then came the old cook, who knew that the child had the power of wishing, and stole it away, and he took a  hen, and cut it in pieces, and dropped some of its blood on the queen’s apron and on her dress. Then he carried the child away to a secret place, where a nurse was obliged to suckle it, and he ran to the king and accused the queen of having allowed her child to be taken from her by the wild beasts. When the king saw the blood on her  apron, he believed
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this, fell into such a passion that he ordered a high tower to be built, in which neither sun nor moon could be seen and had his wife put into it, and walled up. Here she was to stay for seven years  without meat or drink, and die of hunger.  But  God  sent two  angels  from  heaven in  the shape of white doves, which flew to her twice a day, and carried her food until the seven years were over.
The cook, however, thought to himself: ‘If the child has the  power of wishing, and I am here, he might very easily get me into trouble.’ So he left the palace and went to the boy, who was already big enough to speak, and said to him: ‘Wish for a beautiful palace  for yourself with a garden, and all else that pertains to it.’ Scarcely  were the words out of the boy’s mouth, when everything was there that he had wished for. After a while the cook said to him:
‘It is not well for you to be so alone, wish for a pretty girl as a companion.’ Then the king’s son wished for one, and she immediately stood before him, and was more beautiful than any painter could have painted her. The two played together, and loved  each other with all their hearts, and the  old  cook  went  out  hunting  like  a nobleman.  The thought  occurred to  him,  however,  that the  king’s son might some day wish to be with his father, and thus bring him into great peril. So he went out and took the maiden


aside, and said: ‘Tonight when the boy is asleep, go to his bed and plunge this knife into his heart, and bring me his heart and tongue,  and if you do not do it, you shall lose your  life.’ Thereupon   he   went  away,  and  when  he returned next day she had not  done it,  and said: ‘Why should I shed the blood of an innocent boy who has never harmed anyone?’ The cook once more said: ‘If you do not do it, it shall cost you your own life.’ When he had gone away, she had a little hind brought to her, and ordered her to be killed, and took her heart and tongue, and laid them on a plate, and when she saw the  old man coming, she said to  the  boy: ‘Lie down  in your bed, and  draw the clothes over you.’ Then the wicked wretch came in and said: ‘Where are the  boy’s heart and tongue?’ The  girl reached the plate to him, but the king’s son threw off the quilt, and said: ‘You old sinner, why did you want to kill me?  Now   will  I  pronounce   thy  sentence.  You  shall become a black poodle and have a gold collar round your neck, and shall eat burning coals, till the flames burst forth from your throat.’ And when he had spoken these words, the old man was changed into a poodle dog, and had a gold collar round his neck, and the cooks were ordered to bring up some live coals, and these he ate, until the flames broke forth from his throat. The king’s son remained there


a short while longer, and he thought of his mother, and wondered  if  she were still alive. At length he said to the maiden: ‘I will go  home to my own country; if you will go with me, I will provide for you.’ ‘Ah,’ she replied, ‘the way is so long, and what shall I do in a strange land where I am unknown?’ As she did not seem quite willing, and as they could not be parted from each other, he wished that she might be changed into a beautiful pink, and took her with  him. Then  he went away to his own country, and the poodle had to run after him. He went to the tower in which his mother was confined, and as it was so high, he wished for a ladder which would reach up to the very top. Then   he  mounted  up  and  looked   inside,   and  cried:
‘Beloved mother, Lady Queen,  are you still alive, or are you  dead?’  She answered: ‘I have just eaten, and am still satisfied,’ for she thought the angels were there. Said he: ‘I am your dear son, whom the wild beasts were said to have torn from your arms; but I am alive still, and will soon set you  free.’ Then  he  descended again, and  went  to  his father, and caused himself to be announced as  a  strange huntsman, and asked if he could offer him service. The king said yes, if he was skilful and could get game for him, he should come to him, but that deer had never taken up their quarters in any part of the district or country. Then


the huntsman promised to procure as much game for him as   he   could  possibly use  at  the  royal  table.  So  he summoned all the  huntsmen together, and bade them go out into the forest with him. And he went with them and made them form a great circle, open at one end where he stationed himself, and began to wish. Two  hundred deer and more came running inside the circle at once, and the huntsmen shot them. Then they were all placed on sixty country carts, and driven home to the king, and for once he was able to deck his table with game, after having had none at all for years.
Now the king felt great joy at this, and commanded that his  entire household should eat with him next day, and made a great  feast. When  they  were  all assembled together, he said to the  huntsman: ‘As you are so clever, you shall sit by me.’ He replied: ‘Lord King, your majesty must excuse me, I am a poor  huntsman.’  But the king insisted on it, and said: ‘You shall sit by me,’ until he did it. Whilst he was sitting there, he thought of his dearest mother,   and  wished  that  one  of  the  king’s principal servants would begin to speak of her, and would ask how it was faring with the queen in the tower, and if she were alive still, or had perished. Hardly had he formed the wish than the marshal began, and said: ‘Your majesty, we  live


joyously here, but how is the queen living in the tower? Is she still alive, or has she died?’ But the king replied: ‘She let my dear son be torn to pieces by wild beasts; I will not have  her  named.’  Then  the  huntsman  arose and  said:
‘Grablood of a chicken.’ Thereupon&nbscious lord father she is alive still, and I am her son, and I was  not  carried away by wild beasts, but by that wretch the old cook,  who tore me from her arms when she was asleep, and sprinkled her apron with the p; he took the dog  with  the golden collar, and said: ‘That is the wretch!’ and caused live coals to be brought, and these the dog was compelled to devour before  the  sight of all, until flames  burst forth from its throat. On this  the  huntsman asked the king if he would like to see the dog in his true shape, and wished him back into  the  form  of  the  cook,  in   the  which  he  stood immediately, with his white apron, and his  knife by his side. When the king saw him he fell into a passion, and ordered him to be cast into the deepest dungeon. Then the huntsman spoke further and said: ‘Father, will you see the maiden who brought me up so tenderly and who was afterwards to murder  me, but did not do it, though her own life depended on it?’ The king replied: ‘Yes, I would like to see her.’ The son said: ‘Most gracious father, I will show her to you in the form of a beautiful flower,’ and he


thrust his hand into his pocket and brought forth the pink, and placed it on the royal table, and it was so beautiful that the king had never seen one to equal it. Then the son said:
‘Now will I  show her  to  you  in  her  own  form,’ and wished  that she might become a maiden, and she stood there looking so beautiful that no painter could have made her look more so.
And    the     king    sent    two     waiting-maids    and    two attendants into the tower, to fetch the queen and bring her to  the  royal  table.  But  when  she  was led  in  she  ate nothing, and said:  ‘The gracious and merciful God who has supported me in the tower, will soon set me free.’ She lived three days more, and then died  happily, and when she was buried, the two white doves which had  brought her  food  to  the  tower,  and  were  angels of  heaven, followed her  body and seated themselves on  her  grave. The aged king ordered the cook to be torn in four pieces, but  grief consumed  the  king’s own  heart, and he  soon died. His son married the beautiful maiden whom he had brought with him as a flower in his pocket, and whether they are still alive or not, is known to God.

SNOWDROP

It was the middle of winter, when the broad flakes of snow were  falling around, that the  queen  of a country many thousand miles off sat working at her window. The frame of the window was made of fine black ebony, and as she sat looking out upon the snow, she pricked her finger, and three  drops of blood  fell upon  it.  Then  she  gazed thoughtfully upon the red drops that sprinkled the white snow, and said, ‘Would that my little daughter may be as white as that snow, as red as that blood, and as black as this ebony windowframe!’ And so the little girl really did grow up; her skin was as white as snow, her cheeks as rosy as the blood, and her hair as black as ebony; and she was called Snowdrop.
But this queen died; and the king soon married another wife,  who  became queen, and was very beautiful, but so vain that she could not bear to think that anyone could be handsomer than she was. She had a fairy looking-glass, to which  she used to  go,  and  then  she would  gaze upon herself in it, and say:


’Tell me, glass, tell me true! Of all the ladies in the land, Who is fairest, tell me, who?’

And the glass had always answered:
’Thou, queen, art the fairest in all the land.’

But Snowdrop  grew  more  and  more  beautiful; and when she was seven years old she was as bright as the day, and fairer than the  queen herself. Then the glass one day answered the queen, when she went to look in it as usual:
’Thou, queen, art fair, and beauteous to see, But Snowdrop is lovelier far than thee!’

When she heard this she turned  pale with  rage and envy,  and  called to one of her servants, and said, ‘Take Snowdrop away into the wide wood, that I may never see her any more.’ Then  the  servant led her away; but  his heart melted when  Snowdrop begged  him  to  spare her life, and he said, ‘I will not hurt you, thou pretty  child.’ So he left her by herself; and though he thought it most likely that the wild beasts would tear her in pieces, he felt as if a great weight were taken off his heart when he had made up his mind not  to kill her but to leave her to her fate, with the chance of someone finding and saving her.
Then  poor  Snowdrop  wandered  along  through  the wood in  great fear; and the wild beasts roared about her,


but none did her any harm. In the evening she came to a cottage among the hills, and went in to rest, for her little feet would carry  her no further. Everything was  spruce and neat in the cottage: on  the table was spread a white cloth, and there were seven little plates, seven little loaves, and  seven little  glasses with  wine  in  them;  and  seven knives and forks laid in order; and by the wall stood seven little  beds. As she was very hungry,  she picked a little piece of each loaf and drank a very little wine out of each glass; and after that  she thought she would lie down and rest. So she tried all the little beds; but one was too long, and another was too short, till at last  the seventh suited her: and there she laid herself down and went to sleep.
By and by in came the masters of the cottage. Now they  were   seven  little  dwarfs,  that  lived  among  the mountains, and dug  and  searched for gold. They lighted up their seven lamps, and saw  at once that all was not right. The first said, ‘Who has been sitting  on my stool?’ The  second, ‘Who  has been  eating off my plate?’  The third,  ‘Who  has been  picking my  bread?’ The  fourth,
‘Who  has been  meddling  with  my  spoon?’ The  fifth,
‘Who has been handling my fork?’ The sixth, ‘Who has been cutting with my knife?’ The seventh, ‘Who has been drinking my wine?’ Then the first looked round and said,


‘Who has been  lying on  my  bed?’ And  the  rest came running  to  him, and everyone cried out  that somebody had been upon his  bed. But the seventh saw Snowdrop, and called all his brethren to  come and see her; and they cried out with wonder and astonishment and brought their lamps to  look at her,  and said, ‘Good heavens!  what a lovely child she is!’ And they were very glad to see her, and took care not to wake her; and the seventh dwarf slept an hour  with  each of the  other  dwarfs in turn,  till the night was gone.
In the morning Snowdrop told them all her story; and they  pitied  her, and said if she would keep all things in order, and cook and wash and knit and spin for them, she might stay where she was, and they would take good care of her. Then  they went out all day  long to their work, seeking  for   gold   and   silver  in   the   mountains:  but Snowdrop was left at home;  and they warned her,  and said, ‘The queen will soon find out where you are, so take care and let no one in.’
But the queen, now that she thought  Snowdrop was dead, believed that she must be the handsomest lady in the land; and she went to her glass and said:


’Tell me, glass, tell me true! Of all the ladies in the land, Who is fairest, tell me, who?’

And the glass answered:
’Thou, queen, art the fairest in all this land: But over the hills, in the greenwood shade,
Where the seven dwarfs their dwelling have made, There Snowdrop is hiding her head; and she
Is lovelier far, O queen! than thee.’

Then  the  queen  was very much  frightened; for  she knew  that  the glass always spoke the truth, and was sure that the servant had betrayed her. And she could not bear to think that anyone lived  who was more beautiful than she was; so she dressed herself  up as  an old pedlar, and went her way over the hills, to the place where the dwarfs dwelt. Then  she knocked at the  door,  and cried, ‘Fine wares to sell!’ Snowdrop looked out at the window, and said, ‘Good  day, good woman! what have you to  sell?’
‘Good wares, fine wares,’ said she; ‘laces and bobbins of all colours.’ ‘I will let the old lady in; she seems to be a very good sort of body,’  thought Snowdrop, as she ran down and unbolted the door. ‘Bless  me!’ said the old woman,
‘how badly your stays are laced! Let me lace them up with one of  my  nice new laces.’ Snowdrop did not dream of any mischief; so she stood before the old woman; but she


set to work so nimbly, and pulled the lace so tight, that Snowdrop’s breath was stopped, and she fell down as if she were dead. ‘There’s an  end  to  all thy beauty,’ said the spiteful queen, and went away home.
In the  evening the  seven dwarfs came home;  and I need not  say how grieved they were to see their faithful Snowdrop stretched  out upon  the ground, as  if she was quite dead. However, they  lifted  her up, and when they found what ailed her, they cut the lace; and in a little time she began to breathe, and very soon came to life  again. Then  they said, ‘The old woman was the queen herself; take  care another time, and let no one in when we are away.’
When the queen got home, she went straight to her glass, and spoke to it as before; but to her great grief it still said:
’Thou, queen, art the fairest in all this land: But over the hills, in the greenwood shade,
Where the seven dwarfs their dwelling have made, There Snowdrop is hiding her head; and she
Is lovelier far, O queen! than thee.’

Then the blood ran cold in her heart with spite and malice, to  see that Snowdrop still lived; and she dressed herself up again, but  in  quite another dress from the one


she wore  before, and took  with  her  a poisoned comb. When she reached the dwarfs’ cottage, she knocked at the door, and cried, ‘Fine wares to sell!’ But Snowdrop said, ‘I dare not let anyone in.’ Then the queen said, ‘Only look at my beautiful combs!’ and gave her the  poisoned one. And it looked so pretty, that she took it up and put it into her hair to try it; but the moment it touched her head, the poison was so powerful that she fell down senseless. ‘There you may lie,’ said  the queen, and went her way. But by good luck the dwarfs came in very early that evening; and when  they  saw Snowdrop  lying  on  the  ground,  they thought what had happened, and soon found the poisoned comb. And when they took it away she got well, and told them all that had passed; and they warned her once more not to open the door to anyone.
Meantime  the  queen  went  home  to  her  glass, and shook  with rage when she read the very same answer as before; and she said, ‘Snowdrop shall die, if it cost me my life.’ So she went by  herself  into her chamber, and got ready a poisoned apple: the  outside  looked very rosy and tempting, but whoever tasted it was sure to die. Then she dressed herself up as  a peasant’s  wife, and  travelled over the hills to the dwarfs’ cottage, and knocked at the door; but Snowdrop put her head out of the window and said, ‘I


dare not let anyone in, for the dwarfs have told me not.’
‘Do as you please,’ said the old woman, ‘but at any rate take  this  pretty  apple;  I  will  give  it  you.’  ‘No,’  said Snowdrop, ‘I dare  not take it.’ ‘You silly girl!’ answered the  other,  ‘what are you  afraid of? Do  you  think  it  is poisoned? Come! do you eat one part,  and I will eat the other.’ Now  the apple was so made up that one side was good,    though     the     other     side    was    poisoned.    Then Snowdrop  was much  tempted  to  taste,   for  the  apple looked so very nice; and when she saw the old  woman eat, she could wait no longer. But she had scarcely put the piece into her mouth, when she fell down dead upon the ground. ‘This time nothing will save thee,’ said the queen; and she went home to her glass, and at last it said:
’Thou, queen, art the fairest of all the fair.’
And then her wicked heart was glad, and as happy as such a heart could be.
When evening came, and the dwarfs had gone home, they  found  Snowdrop  lying on  the  ground:  no  breath came from her lips, and they were afraid that she was quite dead.  They  lifted  her  up,  and  combed  her  hair,  and washed her face with wine and water; but all was in vain, for the little girl seemed quite dead. So they laid her down upon a bier, and all seven watched and bewailed her three


whole days; and then they thought they would bury her: but her cheeks were still rosy; and her face looked just as it did while she was alive; so they said, ‘We will never bury her in the cold ground.’ And they made a coffin of glass, so that they might still look at her, and  wrote upon it in golden letters what  her  name  was, and  that  she  was a king’s daughter. And the coffin was set among the hills, and  one of the dwarfs always sat by it and watched. And the birds of the  air came too, and bemoaned Snowdrop; and first of all came an owl, and then a raven, and at last a dove, and sat by her side.
And thus Snowdrop lay for a long, long time, and still only  looked as  though she was asleep; for she was even now as white as snow, and as red as blood, and as black as ebony.  At last a prince  came and called at the  dwarfs’ house; and he saw Snowdrop, and read what was written in golden letters. Then he offered the dwarfs money, and prayed and besought them to let him take her away; but they said, ‘We will not part with her for all the gold in the world.’ At last, however, they had pity on him, and gave him the coffin; but the moment he lifted it up to carry it home with him, the piece of apple fell from between her lips, and Snowdrop awoke, and said,  ‘Where am I?’ And the prince said, ‘Thou art quite safe with me.’


Then he told her all that had happened, and said, ‘I love you far better than all the world; so come with me to my  father’s palace,   and  you  shall be  my  wife.’ And Snowdrop  consented, and went  home  with  the  prince; and  everything  was  got  ready  with  great   pomp  and splendour for their wedding.
To the feast was asked, among the rest, Snowdrop’s old enemy  the  queen; and as she was dressing herself in fine rich clothes, she looked in the glass and said:
’Tell me, glass, tell me true! Of all the ladies in the land, Who is fairest, tell me, who?’

And the glass answered:
’Thou, lady, art loveliest here, I ween; But lovelier far is the new-made queen.’

When she heard this she started with rage; but her envy and curiosity were so great, that she could not help setting out to see the bride. And when she got there, and saw that it was no other than Snowdrop, who, as she thought, had been dead a long while, she  choked with rage, and fell down and died: but Snowdrop and the  prince lived and reigned  happily over  that  land many,  many  years;  and sometimes they went up into the mountains, and paid a


visit to  the  little  dwarfs,  who  had  been  so  kind  to
Snowdrop in her time of need.

FREDERICK AND CATHERINE

There was once a man called Frederick: he had a wife whose  name was Catherine, and they had not long been married. One  day  Frederick said. ‘Kate! I  am going to work in the fields; when I come back I shall be hungry so let me have something nice cooked, and a good draught of ale.’ ‘Very well,’ said she, ‘it shall all be  ready.’ When dinner-time  drew  nigh,  Catherine  took  a  nice   steak, which was all the meat she had, and put it on the fire to fry. The steak soon began to look brown, and to crackle in the pan; and Catherine stood by with a fork and turned it: then she said to herself, ‘The steak is almost ready, I may as well go to the cellar for the ale.’ So she left the pan on the fire and took a large jug and went into the cellar and tapped  the  ale  cask. The  beer  ran  into  the  jug   and Catherine  stood looking on.  At last it popped into  her head, ‘The dog is not shut up—he may be running away with the steak; that’s well thought of.’ So up she ran from the cellar; and sure  enough the rascally cur had got the steak in his mouth, and was making off with it.
Away ran Catherine, and away ran the dog across the field: but  he ran faster than she, and stuck close to the


steak. ‘It’s all gone,  and ‘what can’t be  cured must be endured’,’ said Catherine. So she turned round; and as she had  run  a good  way  and  was tired,  she walked home leisurely to cool herself.
Now  all  this  time  the  ale  was  running  too,   for Catherine had not turned the cock; and when the jug was full the liquor ran upon the floor till the cask was empty. When  she  got  to  the   cellar   stairs she  saw what  had happened. ‘My stars!’  said she,  ‘what shall I do to keep Frederick  from  seeing all this  slopping  about?’  So  she thought a while; and at last remembered that there was a sack of fine meal bought at the last fair, and that if she sprinkled this over  the  floor it  would  suck up  the  ale nicely.  ‘What a lucky thing,’ said she, ‘that we kept that meal! we have now a good use for it.’ So away she went for it: but she managed to set it down just upon the great jug full of beer, and upset it; and thus all the ale that had been saved was set swimming on the floor also. ‘Ah! well,’ said she, ‘when  one  goes another  may as  well  follow.’ Then  she strewed the meal all about the cellar, and was quite  pleased with  her  cleverness, and said, ‘How  very neat and clean it looks!’
At noon Frederick came home. ‘Now, wife,’ cried he,
‘what have you for dinner?’ ‘O  Frederick!’ answered she,
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‘I was cooking you a steak; but while I went down  to draw the  ale, the dog ran away with it; and while I ran after him, the ale ran out; and when I went to dry up the ale with the sack of meal that we got at the fair, I upset the jug: but the cellar is now quite dry, and  looks so clean!’
‘Kate, Kate,’ said he, ‘how could you do all this?’ Why did you leave  the steak to fry, and the ale to run, and then spoil all the meal?’  ‘Why, Frederick,’ said she, ‘I did not know  I  was  doing  wrong;  you  should  have  told  me before.’
The husband thought to himself, ‘If my wife manages matters  thus, I must look sharp myself.’ Now  he had a good deal of gold  in  the house: so he said to Catherine,
‘What pretty yellow buttons these are! I shall put them into a box and bury them in the garden; but take care that you never go near or meddle with them.’ ‘No, Frederick,’ said she, ‘that I never will.’ As soon as he was gone, there came by some pedlars with earthenware plates and dishes, and they asked her whether she would buy. ‘Oh dear me, I should like to buy very much, but I have no money: if you had any use for yellow buttons, I might deal with you.’  ‘Yellow buttons!’ said they: ‘let us have a look at them.’ ‘Go into the garden and dig where I tell you, and you will find the yellow buttons: I dare not go myself.’ So


the rogues went: and when they found what these yellow buttons were, they took them all away, and left her plenty of plates and dishes. Then she set them all about the house for a show: and when Frederick came back, he cried out,
‘Kate, what have you been doing?’ ‘See,’ said she, ‘I have bought  all  these with your yellow buttons: but I did not touch them myself;  the pedlars went themselves and dug them up.’ ‘Wife, wife,’ said Frederick, ‘what a pretty piece of work you have made! those yellow buttons were all my money:  how  came  you  to  do  such  a  thing?’  ‘Why,’ answered she, ‘I did not know there was any harm in  it; you should have told me.’
Catherine stood musing for a while, and at last said to her  husband, ‘Hark ye, Frederick, we will soon get the gold back: let us run after the thieves.’ ‘Well, we will try,’ answered he; ‘but take some butter and cheese with you, that we may have something to  eat by the way.’ ‘Very well,’ said she; and they set out: and as  Frederick walked the fastest, he left his wife some way behind. ‘It does not matter,’ thought  she: ‘when we turn back, I shall  be so much nearer home than he.’
Presently she came to the top of a hill, down the side of which  there was a road so narrow that the cart wheels always chafed the  trees on each side as they passed. ‘Ah,


see now,’ said she, ‘how they have bruised and wounded those  poor  trees; they will never get well.’ So she took pity on them, and made use of the butter to grease them all, so that  the  wheels  might  not  hurt  them  so much. While she was doing this kind  office one of her cheeses fell out of the basket, and rolled down the hill. Catherine looked, but could not see where it had gone; so she said,
‘Well, I suppose the other will go the same way and find you; he has younger legs than I have.’ Then she rolled the other cheese after  it; and away it went,  nobody  knows where, down the hill. But she said she supposed that they knew the road, and would follow her, and she could not stay there all day waiting for them.
At last she overtook Frederick, who desired her to give him  something to eat. Then she gave him the dry bread.
‘Where are the butter and cheese?’ said he. ‘Oh!’ answered she, ‘I  used the butter to grease those poor trees that the wheels chafed so:  and one of the cheeses ran away so I sent the other after it to find  it, and I suppose they are both on the road together somewhere.’ ‘What a goose you are to do such silly things!’ said the husband.  ‘How can you say so?’ said she; ‘I am sure you never told me not.’
They ate the dry bread together; and Frederick said,
‘Kate, I hope you locked the door safe when you came


away.’ ‘No,’ answered she, ‘you did not tell me.’ ‘Then go home,  and  do  it  now  before  we  go  any  farther,’ said Frederick, ‘and bring with you something to eat.’
Catherine did as he told her, and thought to herself by the way,  ‘Frederick wants something to eat; but I don’t think he is very fond of butter and cheese: I’ll bring him a bag of fine nuts, and the vinegar, for I have often seen him take some.’
When she reached home, she bolted the back door, but the front door she took off the hinges, and said, ‘Frederick told me to lock the door, but surely it can nowhere be so safe if I take it with me.’ So she took her time by the way; and when she overtook her husband she cried out, ‘There, Frederick, there is the door  itself, you may  watch  it as carefully  as you please.’  ‘Alas! alas!’ said he, ‘what a clever wife I have! I sent you to make the house fast, and you take the door away, so that everybody may go in and out as they  please—however, as you have brought the door, you shall carry it  about with you for your pains.’ ‘Very well,’ answered she, ‘I’ll carry the door; but I’ll not carry the nuts and vinegar bottle also—that would be too much of a load; so if you please, I’ll fasten them to the door.’
Frederick of course made no objection to that plan, and they set off into the wood to look for the thieves; but they


could not find them: and when it grew dark, they climbed up into a tree to spend the night there. Scarcely were they up, than who  should  come by but the very rogues they were looking for. They  were in truth  great rascals,  and belonged to that class of people  who  find things before they are lost; they were tired; so they sat down and made a fire under the very tree where Frederick and  Catherine were.  Frederick  slipped down  on  the  other  side,  and picked up some stones. Then  he climbed up again, and tried to hit  the thieves on the head with them: but they only said, ‘It must be  near morning, for the wind shakes the fir-apples down.’
Catherine, who had the door on her shoulder, began to be very tired; but she thought it was the nuts upon it that were so heavy: so she said softly, ‘Frederick, I must let the nuts go.’ ‘No,’ answered he, ‘not now, they will discover us.’ ‘I can’t help that: they must go.’  ‘Well, then, make haste and  throw  them  down,  if you  will.’  Then  away rattled the nuts down among the boughs and one of the thieves cried, ‘Bless me, it is hailing.’
A little while after, Catherine thought the door was still very heavy: so she whispered to Frederick, ‘I must throw the  vinegar  down.’  ‘Pray don’t,’  answered he,  ‘it  will discover us.’ ‘I can’t  help that,’ said she, ‘go it must.’ So


she poured  all the  vinegar down;  and the  thieves said,
‘What a heavy dew there is!’
At last it popped into Catherine’s head that it was the door itself that was so heavy all the time: so she whispered,
‘Frederick, I must throw  the door  down  soon.’ But he begged  and prayed her not to do so, for he was sure it would betray them.  ‘Here goes, however,’ said she: and down went the door with such a clatter upon the thieves, that they cried out ‘Murder!’ and not  knowing what was coming, ran away as  fast as  they could, and left  all the gold. So when Frederick and Catherine came down, there they found all their money safe and sound.

SWEETHEART ROLAND

There was once upon a time a woman who was a real witch  and had two daughters, one ugly and wicked, and this one she loved because she was her own daughter, and one beautiful and good, and  this  one she hated, because she was her stepdaughter. The  stepdaughter once had a pretty apron, which the other fancied so  much that she became envious, and told her mother that she must  and would have that apron. ‘Be quiet, my child,’ said the old woman, ‘and you shall have it. Your stepsister has long deserved death; tonight when she is asleep I will come and cut her head off.  Only be careful that you are at the far side of the bed, and push her well to the front.’ It would have been all over with the poor girl if  she had not just then been standing in a corner, and heard everything. All day long she dared not go out of doors, and when bedtime had come, the witch’s daughter got into bed first, so as to lie  at the  far side, but  when  she was asleep, the  other pushed her  gently to the front, and took for herself the place at the back, close by the wall. In the night, the old woman came creeping in, she  held  an axe in her right hand, and felt with her left to see if anyone were lying at


the outside, and then she grasped the axe with both hands, and cut her own child’s head off.
When she had gone away, the girl got up and went to her  sweetheart, who was called Roland,  and knocked at his door.  When  he came out,  she said to  him: ‘Listen, dearest Roland, we  must fly in all haste; my stepmother wanted to kill me, but has  struck her own child. When daylight comes, and she sees what she  has done, we shall be lost.’ ‘But,’ said Roland,  ‘I counsel you first  to take away her magic wand, or we cannot escape if she pursues us.’ The maiden fetched the magic wand, and she took the dead girl’s head and dropped three drops of blood on the ground, one in front  of the bed, one in the kitchen, and one on the stairs. Then she hurried away with her lover.
When the old witch got up next morning, she called her  daughter, and wanted to give her the apron, but she did not  come.  Then  the witch cried: ‘Where are you?’
‘Here, on  the  stairs, I am sweeping,’ answered the  first drop of blood. The old woman went out, but saw no one on the stairs, and  cried again: ‘Where are you?’ ‘Here in the kitchen, I am warming myself,’ cried the second drop of blood. She went into the kitchen,  but found no one. Then she cried again: ‘Where are you?’ ‘Ah, here  in the bed, I am sleeping,’ cried the third drop of blood. She


went into the room to the bed. What did she see there? Her own child, whose head she had cut off, bathed in her blood.  The  witch   fell  into  a  passion, sprang  to  the window, and as  she could look  forth quite far into the world, she perceived her stepdaughter hurrying away with her sweetheart Roland.  ‘That shall not  help  you,’ cried she, ‘even if you have got a long way off, you shall still not escape me.’ She put on her many-league boots, in which she  covered an hour’s walk at every step, and it was not long before she overtook them. The girl, however, when she saw the  old woman  striding towards her,  changed, with her magic wand, her sweetheart Roland into a lake, and herself into a duck swimming in the middle of it. The witch placed herself on the shore, threw breadcrumbs in, and went to endless trouble to entice the duck; but the duck did  not let herself be enticed, and the old woman had to go home at night as she had come. At this the girl and her sweetheart Roland  resumed their natural shapes again, and they walked on the whole night until daybreak. Then the maiden changed herself into a  beautiful flower which  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  briar  hedge,  and   her sweetheart Roland into a fiddler. It was not long before the witch came striding up towards them, and said to the musician:   ‘Dear   musician, may  I  pluck  that  beautiful


flower for myself?’ ‘Oh, yes,’ he replied, ‘I will play to you while  you  do  it.’ As she was hastily creeping into  the hedge and was  just going to pluck the flower, knowing perfectly well who the flower was, he began to play, and whether she would or not, she was forced to dance, for it was a  magical dance.  The  faster he  played, the  more violent springs was she forced to make, and the thorns tore her clothes from her body, and pricked her and wounded her till she bled, and as he did not stop, she had to dance till she lay dead on the ground.
As they were now set free, Roland said: ‘Now I will go to my  father and arrange for the wedding.’ ‘Then in the meantime I will stay here and wait for you,’ said the girl,
‘and that no one may recognize me, I will change myself into a red stone landmark.’ Then Roland went away, and the girl stood like a  red landmark in the field and waited for her beloved. But when Roland got home, he fell into the snares of another, who so fascinated him that he forgot the maiden. The poor girl remained there a long time, but at length, as  he did not  return  at all, she was sad, and changed herself into a flower, and thought: ‘Someone will surely come this way, and trample me down.’
It befell, however, that a shepherd kept his sheep in the field and  saw the flower, and as it was so pretty, plucked


it, took it with him, and laid it away in his chest. From that time forth, strange things happened in the shepherd’s house. When he  arose in the morning, all the work was already done, the room was swept, the table and benches cleaned, the fire in the hearth was  lighted, and the water was fetched, and at noon, when he came home, the table was laid, and a good dinner served. He could not conceive how this came to pass, for he never saw a human being in his house, and no one could have concealed himself in it. He was  certainly pleased with this good attendance, but still at last he was so afraid that he went to a wise woman and asked for her advice. The wise woman said: ‘There is some  enchantment  behind  it,  listen   very  early  some morning if anything is moving in the room, and if you see anything, no matter what it is, throw a white cloth over it, and then the magic will be stopped.’
The shepherd did as she bade him, and next morning just as day dawned, he saw the chest open, and the flower come out. Swiftly he sprang towards it, and threw a white cloth over it. Instantly the transformation came to an end, and a beautiful girl stood before  him,  who  admitted to him that she had been the flower, and that up to this time she had attended to his house-keeping. She told him her story, and as  she pleased him he asked her if she  would


marry him,  but  she answered: ‘No,’ for she wanted  to remain faithful to her sweetheart Roland, although he had deserted her.  Nevertheless, she promised not to go away, but to continue keeping house for the shepherd.
And now the time drew near when Roland’s wedding was to be celebrated, and then, according to an old custom in the country, it was announced that all the girls were to be present at it, and sing  in  honour  of the  bridal pair. When the faithful maiden heard of  this, she grew so sad that she thought  her heart would break, and  she would not  go thither,  but  the  other  girls  came and took  her. When it came to her turn to sing, she stepped back, until at last she  was the only one left, and then she could not refuse. But  when  she  began  her  song,  and  it  reached Roland’s ears, he sprang up and cried: ‘I know the voice, that is the true bride, I will have no other!’ Everything he had forgotten, and which had vanished from his mind, had suddenly come home again to his heart. Then the faithful maiden  held her  wedding with  her  sweetheart Roland, and grief came to an end and joy began.

THE LITTLE PEASANT

There was a certain village wherein no one lived but really rich peasants, and just one poor one, whom they called the little peasant. He had not even so much as a cow, and still less money to buy one, and yet he and his wife did so wish to have one. One day he said to her:
‘Listen, I have a good idea, there is our gossip the carpenter, he shall make us a wooden calf, and paint it brown, so that it looks like any other, and in time it will certainly get big and be a cow.’ the woman also liked the idea, and their gossip the carpenter cut and planed the calf, and painted it as it ought to be, and made it with its head hanging down as if it were eating.
Next morning when the cows were being driven out, the little peasant called the cow-herd in and said: ‘Look, I have a little calf there, but it is still small and has to be carried.’ The cow-herd said: ‘All right,’ and took it in his arms and carried it to the pasture, and set it among the grass. The little calf always remained standing like one which was eating, and the cow-herd said: ‘It will soon run by itself, just look how it eats already!’ At night when he was going to drive the herd home again, he said to the


calf: ‘If you can stand there and eat your fill, you can also go on your four legs; I don’t care to drag you home again in my arms.’ But the little peasant stood at his door, and waited for his little calf, and when the cow-herd drove the cows through the village, and the calf was missing, he inquired where it was. The cow-herd answered: ‘It is still standing out there eating. It would not stop and come with us.’ But the little peasant said: ‘Oh, but I must have my beast back again.’ Then they went back to the meadow together, but someone had stolen the calf, and it was gone. The cow-herd said: ‘It must have run away.’ The peasant, however, said: ‘Don’t tell me that,’ and led the cow-herd before the mayor, who for his carelessness condemned him to give the peasant a cow for the calf which had run away.
And now the little peasant and his wife had the cow for which they had so long wished, and they were heartily glad, but they had no food for it, and could give it nothing to eat, so it soon had to be killed. They salted the flesh, and the peasant went into the town and wanted to sell the skin there, so that he might buy a new calf with the proceeds. On the way he passed by a mill, and there sat a raven with broken wings, and out of pity he took him and wrapped him in the skin. But as the weather grew so bad


and there was a storm of rain and wind, he could go no farther, and turned back to the mill and begged for shelter. The miller’s wife was alone in the house, and said to the peasant: ‘Lay yourself on the straw there,’ and gave him a slice of bread and cheese. The peasant ate it, and lay down with his skin beside him, and the woman thought: ‘He is tired and has gone to sleep.’ In the meantime came the parson; the miller’s wife received him well, and said: ‘My husband is out, so we will have a feast.’ The peasant listened, and when he heard them talk about feasting he was vexed that he had been forced to make shift with a slice of bread and cheese. Then the woman served up four different things, roast meat, salad, cakes, and wine.
Just as they were about to sit down and eat, there was a knocking outside. The woman said: ‘Oh, heavens! It is my husband!’ she quickly hid the roast meat inside the tiled stove, the wine under the pillow, the salad on the bed, the cakes under it, and the parson in the closet on the porch. Then she opened the door for her husband, and said:
‘Thank heaven, you are back again! There is such a storm, it looks as if the world were coming to an end.’ The miller saw the peasant lying on the straw, and asked, ‘What is that fellow doing there?’ ‘Ah,’ said the wife, ‘the poor knave came in the storm and rain, and begged for shelter,


so I gave him a bit of bread and cheese, and showed him where the straw was.’ The man said: ‘I have no objection, but be quick and get me something to eat.’ The woman said: ‘But I have nothing but bread and cheese.’ ‘I am contented with anything,’ replied the husband, ‘so far as I am concerned, bread and cheese will do,’ and looked at the peasant and said: ‘Come and eat some more with me.’ The peasant did not require to be invited twice, but got up and ate. After this the miller saw the skin in which the raven was, lying on the ground, and asked: ‘What have you there?’ The peasant answered: ‘I have a soothsayer inside it.’ ‘Can he foretell anything to me?’ said the miller.
‘Why not?’ answered the peasant: ‘but he only says four things, and the fifth he keeps to himself.’ The miller was curious, and said: ‘Let him foretell something for once.’ Then the peasant pinched the raven’s head, so that he croaked and made a noise like krr, krr. The miller said:
‘What did he say?’ The peasant answered: ‘In the first place, he says that there is some wine hidden under the pillow.’ ‘Bless me!’ cried the miller, and went there and found the wine. ‘Now go on,’ said he. The peasant made the raven croak again, and said: ‘In the second place, he says that there is some roast meat in the tiled stove.’ ‘Upon my word!’ cried the miller, and went thither, and found


the roast meat. The peasant made the raven prophesy still more, and said: ‘Thirdly, he says that there is some salad on the bed.’ ‘That would be a fine thing!’ cried the miller, and went there and found the salad. At last the peasant pinched the raven once more till he croaked, and said:
‘Fourthly, he says that there are some cakes under the bed.’ ‘That would be a fine thing!’ cried the miller, and looked there, and found the cakes.
And now the two sat down to the table together, but the miller’s wife was frightened to death, and went to bed and took all the keys with her. The miller would have liked much to know the fifth, but the little peasant said:
‘First, we will quickly eat the four things, for the fifth is something bad.’ So they ate, and after that they bargained how much the miller was to give for the fifth prophecy, until they agreed on three hundred talers. Then the peasant once more pinched the raven’s head till he croaked loudly. The miller asked: ‘What did he say?’ The peasant replied: ‘He says that the Devil is hiding outside there in the closet on the porch.’ The miller said: ‘The Devil must go out,’ and opened the house-door; then the woman was forced to give up the keys, and the peasant unlocked the closet. The parson ran out as fast as he could, and the miller said: ‘It was true; I saw the black rascal with


my own eyes.’ The peasant, however, made off next morning by daybreak with the three hundred talers.
At home the small peasant gradually launched out; he built a beautiful house, and the peasants said: ‘The small peasant has certainly been to the place where golden snow falls, and people carry the gold home in shovels.’ Then the small peasant was brought before the mayor, and bidden to say from whence his wealth came. He answered: ‘I sold my cow’s skin in the town, for three hundred talers.’ When the peasants heard that, they too wished to enjoy this great profit, and ran home, killed all their cows, and stripped off their skins in order to sell them in the town to the greatest advantage. The mayor, however, said: ‘But my servant must go first.’ When she came to the merchant in the town, he did not give her more than two talers for a skin, and when the others came, he did not give them so much, and said: ‘What can I do with all these skins?’
Then the peasants were vexed that the small peasant should have thus outwitted them, wanted to take vengeance on him, and accused him of this treachery before the major. The innocent little peasant was unanimously sentenced to death, and was to be rolled into the water, in a barrel pierced full of holes. He was led forth, and a priest was brought who was to say a mass for


his soul. The others were all obliged to retire to a distance, and when the peasant looked at the priest, he recognized the man who had been with the miller’s wife. He said to him: ‘I set you free from the closet, set me free from the barrel.’ At this same moment up came, with a flock of sheep, the very shepherd whom the peasant knew had long been wishing to be mayor, so he cried with all his might: ‘No, I will not do it; if the whole world insists on it, I will not do it!’ The shepherd hearing that, came up to him, and asked: ‘What are you about? What is it that you will not do?’ The peasant said: ‘They want to make me mayor, if I will but put myself in the barrel, but I will not do it.’ The shepherd said: ‘If nothing more than that is needful in order to be mayor, I would get into the barrel at once.’ The peasant said: ‘If you will get in, you will be mayor.’ The shepherd was willing, and got in, and the peasant shut the top down on him; then he took the shepherd’s flock for himself, and drove it away. The parson went to the crowd, and declared that the mass had been said. Then they came and rolled the barrel towards the water. When the barrel began to roll, the shepherd cried: ‘I am quite willing to be mayor.’ They believed no otherwise than that it was the peasant who was saying this, and answered: ‘That is what we intend, but first you shall


look about you a little down below there,’ and they rolled the barrel down into the water.
After that the peasants went home, and as they were entering the village, the small peasant also came quietly in, driving a flock of sheep and looking quite contented. Then the peasants were astonished, and said: ‘Peasant, from whence do you come? Have you come out of the water?’ ‘Yes, truly,’ replied the peasant, ‘I sank deep, deep down, until at last I got to the bottom; I pushed the bottom out of the barrel, and crept out, and there were pretty meadows on which a number of lambs were feeding, and from thence I brought this flock away with me.’ Said the peasants: ‘Are there any more there?’ ‘Oh, yes,’ said he, ‘more than I could want.’ Then the peasants made up their minds that they too would fetch some sheep for themselves, a flock apiece, but the mayor said: ‘I come first.’ So they went to the water together, and just then there were some of the small fleecy clouds in the blue sky, which are called little lambs, and they were reflected in the water, whereupon the peasants cried: ‘We already see the sheep down below!’ The mayor pressed forward and said: ‘I will go down first, and look about me, and if things promise well I’ll call you.’ So he jumped in; splash! went the water; it sounded as if he were calling them, and


the whole crowd plunged in after him as one man. Then the entire village was dead, and the small peasant, as sole heir, became a rich man.

CLEVER GRETEL

There was once a cook named Gretel, who wore shoes with red  heels, and when she walked out with them on, she turned herself this way and that, was quite happy and thought: ‘You certainly are a  pretty girl!’ And when she came home she drank, in her gladness of heart, a draught of wine, and as wine excites a desire to eat, she tasted the best of whatever she was cooking until she was satisfied, and said: ‘The cook must know what the food is like.’
It came to  pass that the master one day said to  her:
‘Gretel, there is a guest coming this evening; prepare me two fowls very daintily.’ ‘I will see to it, master,’ answered Gretel. She killed two fowls, scalded them, plucked them, put them on the spit, and towards evening set them before the fire, that they might roast. The  fowls began to turn brown, and were nearly ready, but the guest had  not yet arrived. Then Gretel called out to her master: ‘If the guest does not come, I must take the fowls away from the fire, but it will  be a sin and a shame if they are not eaten the moment they are at their juiciest.’ The master said: ‘I will run  myself, and fetch the  guest.’ When  the  master had turned his back, Gretel laid the spit with the fowls on one


side, and  thought:  ‘Standing so long by the  fire there, makes one  sweat and thirsty; who knows when they will come? Meanwhile, I  will run into the cellar, and take a drink.’ She ran down, set a jug, said: ‘God bless it for you, Gretel,’ and took  a good drink, and  thought  that wine should flow on, and should not be interrupted,  and took yet another hearty draught.
Then she went and put the fowls down again to the fire, basted them, and drove the spit merrily round. But as the roast meat smelt so good, Gretel thought: ‘Something might be wrong, it  ought  to be tasted!’ She touched it with  her  finger, and said: ‘Ah!  how  good fowls are! It certainly is a sin and a shame that they are not eaten at the right time!’ She ran to the window, to see if the  master was not coming with his guest, but she saw no one, and went back to the fowls and thought: ‘One of the wings is burning! I had  better take it off and eat it.’ So she cut it off, ate it, and enjoyed it,  and when she had done, she thought: ‘The other must go down too, or else master will observe that something is missing.’ When the two  wings were eaten, she went and looked for her master, and did not  see him. It suddenly occurred to her: ‘Who knows? They are  perhaps not coming at all, and have turned in somewhere.’ Then she said: ‘Well, Gretel, enjoy yourself,


one fowl has been cut into, take another drink, and eat it up  entirely; when it is eaten you will have some peace, why should God’s good gifts be spoilt?’ So she ran into the cellar again, took an  enormous drink and ate up the one chicken  in  great glee. When  one  of  the  chickens was swallowed down, and still her master did not come, Gretel looked  at  the  other  and  said:  ‘What one  is, the  other should be likewise, the two go together; what’s right for the  one is right for the other; I think if I were to take another draught  it would do me no harm.’ So she took another hearty drink, and  let  the second  chicken follow the first.
While she was making the most of it, her master came and cried: ‘Hurry up, Gretel, the guest is coming directly after me!’ ‘Yes, sir, I will soon serve up,’ answered Gretel. Meantime the master  looked to  see what the table was properly laid, and took the great knife, wherewith he was going to carve the chickens, and sharpened it on the steps. Presently  the  guest  came,  and  knocked  politely   and courteously at the house-door. Gretel ran, and looked to see  who  was there, and when she saw the guest, she put her finger to  her lips and said: ‘Hush! hush! go away as quickly as you can, if my master catches you it will be the worse for you; he certainly did ask you to supper, but his


intention is to cut off your two ears. Just listen how he is sharpening  the   knife   for   it!’  The   guest  heard   the sharpening, and hurried down the steps again as fast as he could.  Gretel  was  not  idle;  she  ran  screaming to  her master, and cried: ‘You have  invited a fine guest!’ ‘Why, Gretel? What do you mean by that?’  ‘Yes,’ said she, ‘he has taken the chickens which I was just going to serve up, off the dish, and has run away with them!’ ‘That’s a nice trick!’ said her master, and lamented the fine chickens. ‘If he had but  left me one, so that something remained for me  to  eat.’  He  called  to  him  to  stop,  but  the  guest pretended not  to hear. Then  he  ran  after him with the knife still in his hand, crying: ‘Just one, just one,’ meaning that the guest should leave him just one chicken, and not take both. The guest, however, thought no otherwise than that he  was to give up one of his ears, and ran as if fire were burning under him, in order to take them both with him.

THE OLD MAN AND HIS GRANDSON

There  was  once  a  very  old  man,  whose  eyes had become dim, his ears dull of hearing, his knees trembled, and when he sat at table he could hardly hold the spoon, and spilt the broth upon the table-cloth or let it run out of his mouth.  His son and his son’s wife  were disgusted at this, so the old grandfather at last had to sit in the corner behind  the  stove,  and  they  gave  him  his  food  in  an earthenware bowl, and not  even enough  of it. And he used to  look  towards the table with his eyes full of tears. Once, too, his trembling hands could not hold the bowl, and  it  fell to  the  ground  and  broke.  The  young  wife scolded him, but he said  nothing and only sighed. Then they brought him a wooden bowl  for a few half-pence, out of which he had to eat.
They were once sitting thus when the little grandson of four years old began to gather together some bits of wood upon the ground.  ‘What are you doing there?’ asked the father. ‘I am making a little  trough,’ answered the child,
‘for father and mother to eat out of when I am big.’
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The man and his wife looked at each other for a while, and  presently began  to  cry.  Then   they  took  the  old grandfather to the table, and henceforth always let him eat with them, and likewise said nothing if he did spill a little of anything.

RUMPELSTILTSKIN

By the side of a wood, in a country a long way off, ran a fine stream of water; and upon the stream there stood a mill. The miller’s house was close by, and the miller, you must  know,  had  a  very   beautiful daughter.  She  was, moreover, very shrewd and clever; and  the miller was so proud of her, that he one day told the king of the  land, who  used  to  come  and  hunt  in  the  wood,  that  his daughter could spin gold out of straw. Now this king was very fond of money; and when he heard the miller’s boast his greediness was  raised, and he sent for the girl to be brought before him. Then he led her to a chamber in his palace where there was a great heap of straw, and gave her a spinning-wheel, and said, ‘All this must be  spun into gold before morning, as you love your life.’ It was in vain that the poor maiden said that it was only a silly boast of her father,  for  that she could do  no  such thing as  spin straw into gold: the chamber door was locked, and she was left alone.
She sat down in one corner of the room, and began to bewail her hard fate; when on a sudden the door opened, and a droll-looking little man hobbled in, and said, ‘Good


morrow to you, my good lass; what are you weeping for?’
‘Alas!’ said she, ‘I must spin this straw into gold, and I know  not   how.’  ‘What  will  you  give  me,’  said the hobgoblin, ‘to do it  for  you?’ ‘My necklace,’ replied the maiden. He took her at her word, and sat himself down to the wheel, and whistled and sang:
’Round about, round about, Lo and behold!
Reel away, reel away,
Straw into gold!’

And round  about the wheel went merrily; the work was quickly done, and the straw was all spun into gold.
When  the  king  came  and  saw this,  he  was greatly astonished and  pleased; but  his  heart  grew  still  more greedy of gain, and he shut up the poor miller’s daughter again with a fresh  task. Then she knew not what to do, and sat down  once more  to  weep; but  the  dwarf soon opened the door, and said, ‘What will you give me to do your task?’ ‘The ring on my finger,’ said she. So her little friend took  the  ring,  and began to  work  at the  wheel again, and whistled and sang:
’Round about, round about, Lo and behold!
Reel away, reel away, Straw into gold!’


till, long before morning, all was done again.
The king was greatly delighted to see all this glittering treasure;  but  still he  had  not  enough:  so he  took  the miller’s daughter to  a  yet larger heap, and said, ‘All this must be spun tonight; and if it is, you shall be my queen.’ As soon as  she was alone that dwarf  came in, and said,
‘What will you give me to spin gold for you this third time?’ ‘I  have nothing left,’ said she. ‘Then say you will give me,’ said the little man, ‘the first little child that you may have when  you  are  queen.’ ‘That may never be,’ thought the miller’s daughter: and as  she knew no other way to get her task done, she said she would do what he asked. Round  went the wheel again to the old song, and the manikin once more spun the heap into gold. The king came in  the  morning,  and,  finding all he  wanted,  was forced  to  keep  his   word;  so  he  married  the  miller’s daughter, and she really became queen.
At the birth of her first little child she was very glad, and forgot the dwarf, and what she had said. But one day he came into her room, where she was sitting playing with her baby, and put her in  mind of it. Then  she grieved sorely at her misfortune, and said she  would give him all the wealth of the kingdom if he would let her off, but in vain; till at last her tears softened him, and he said, ‘I will


give you three days’ grace, and if during that time you tell me my name, you shall keep your child.’
Now the queen lay awake all night, thinking of all the odd   names  that   she  had  ever  heard;  and  she  sent messengers all  over the land to find out new ones. The next  day  the  little  man   came,  and  she  began  with TIMOTHY,  ICHABOD, BENJAMIN, JEREMIAH, and all the names she could remember; but to all and each of them he said, ‘Madam, that is not my name.’
The second day she began with all the comical names she  could   hear  of,  BANDY-LEGS,  HUNCHBACK, CROOK-SHANKS,  and so on; but the little gentleman still said to every one of them,  ‘Madam, that is not my name.’
The third day one of the messengers came back, and said, ‘I  have travelled two  days without  hearing of any other names; but  yesterday,  as I was climbing a high hill, among the trees of the forest where the fox and the hare bid each other good night, I saw a little  hut; and before the hut burnt a fire; and round about the fire a funny little dwarf was dancing upon one leg, and singing:
’’Merrily the feast I’ll make. Today I’ll brew, tomorrow bake; Merrily I’ll dance and sing,
For next day will a stranger bring.


Little does my lady dream
Rumpelstiltskin is my name!‘‘

When the queen heard this she jumped for joy, and as soon  as  her  little friend came  she sat down  upon  her throne, and called  all her court round to enjoy the fun; and the nurse stood by her side with the baby in her arms, as if it was quite ready to be given up. Then the little man began to chuckle at the thought of having the poor child, to take home with him to his hut in the woods; and he cried out, ‘Now, lady, what is my name?’ ‘Is it JOHN?’ asked she. ‘No, madam!’ ‘Is it TOM?’ ‘No, madam!’ ‘Is it JEMMY?’    ‘It    is    not.’    ‘Can    your    name    be RUMPELSTILTSKIN?’ said the lady slyly. ‘Some witch told you that!— some witch told you that!’ cried the little man, and dashed his right foot in a rage so deep into the floor, that he was forced to lay hold of it with both hands to pull it out.
Then he made the best of his way off, while the nurse laughed  and the baby crowed; and all the court jeered at him for having had so much trouble for nothing, and said,
‘We wish you a very good morning, and a merry feast, Mr
RUMPLESTILTSKIN!’

TOM THUMB

A poor woodman sat in his cottage one night, smoking his pipe  by  the  fireside, while  his wife sat by his side spinning. ‘How lonely it is, wife,’ said he, as he puffed out a long curl of smoke,  ‘for  you  and me  to  sit here  by ourselves, without any children to  play about and amuse us while other people seem so happy and merry with their children!’ ‘What  you  say is  very  true,’  said the  wife, sighing, and turning round her wheel; ‘how happy should I be if I had but one child! If it were ever so small—nay, if it  were  no  bigger  than  my  thumb—I  should  be  very happy, and love it dearly.’  Now—odd  as you may think it—it  came  to  pass that  this  good  woman’s wish  was fulfilled, just in the very way she had wished it;  for, not long  afterwards, she  had  a  little  boy,  who  was  quite healthy and strong, but  was not  much  bigger than  my thumb. So  they said, ‘Well, we cannot say we have not got what we wished  for, and, little as he is, we will love him dearly.’ And they called him Thomas Thumb.
They gave him plenty of food, yet for all they could do he never grew bigger, but kept just the same size as he had been when  he was  born.  Still, his eyes were sharp  and


sparkling, and he soon showed himself to be a clever little fellow, who always knew well what he was about.
One day, as the woodman was getting ready to go into the wood  to cut fuel, he said, ‘I wish I had someone to bring the cart after  me, for I want to make haste.’ ‘Oh, father,’ cried Tom, ‘I will take  care of that; the cart shall be  in  the  wood  by  the  time  you  want  it.’  Then  the woodman  laughed,  and  said, ‘How  can  that  be?  you cannot reach up to the horse’s bridle.’ ‘Never mind that, father,’  said Tom;  ‘if  my mother  will only harness the horse, I will get  into his ear and tell him which way to go.’ ‘Well,’ said the father, ‘we will try for once.’
When the time came the mother harnessed the horse to the cart, and put Tom into his ear; and as he sat there the little man told the  beast how to go, crying out, ‘Go  on!’ and ‘Stop!’  as he wanted: and thus the horse went on just as well as if the woodman had driven it  himself into the wood. It happened that as the horse was going a little too fast, and  Tom  was  calling out,  ‘Gently!  gently!’ two strangers came up. ‘What an odd thing that is!’ said one:
‘there is a cart going along, and I hear a carter talking to the  horse,  but  yet  I  can  see no  one.’  ‘That  is queer, indeed,’ said the  other;  ‘let us follow the  cart, and see where it goes.’ So they went on into the wood, till at last


they came to the place where the woodman was. Then Tom  Thumb,  seeing his father, cried out,  ‘See, father, here I am with  the cart, all right and safe! now take me down!’ So his father took  hold  of the  horse with  one hand, and with the other took his son  out of the horse’s ear, and put  him  down  upon  a straw, where  he  sat as merry as you please.
The two strangers were all this time looking on, and did not know what to say for wonder. At last one took the other  aside, and  said, ‘That little urchin  will make our fortune,  if we  can get him,  and carry him  about  from town to town as a show; we must buy him.’ So they went up to the woodman, and asked him what he  would take for the little man. ‘He will be better off,’ said they, ‘with us than with you.’ ‘I won’t sell him at all,’ said the father;
‘my own flesh and blood is dearer to me than all the silver and gold  in  the world.’ But Tom, hearing of the bargain they  wanted  to  make, crept up  his  father’s coat to  his shoulder  and  whispered  in  his  ear,  ‘Take  the  money, father, and let them have me; I’ll soon come back to you.’ So the woodman at last said he would sell Tom to the strangers for a large piece of gold, and they paid the price.
‘Where would you like to sit?’ said one of them. ‘Oh, put me on the rim of your hat; that will be a nice gallery for


me; I can walk about there and see the country as we go along.’ So  they  did as  he  wished; and when  Tom  had taken leave of his father they took him away with them.
They journeyed on till it began to be dusky, and then the little  man said, ‘Let me get down, I’m tired.’ So the man took  off his  hat,  and put  him down  on  a clod of earth, in a ploughed field by the side of the road. But Tom ran about amongst the furrows, and at last slipped into an old mouse-hole. ‘Good night, my masters!’ said  he, ‘I’m off! mind and look sharp after me the next time.’ Then they ran at once to the place, and poked the ends of their sticks into  the  mouse-hole,  but  all in  vain; Tom  only crawled farther and  farther in; and at last it became quite dark, so that they were forced  to go their way without their prize, as sulky  as could be.
When Tom found they were gone, he came out of his hiding-place. ‘What dangerous walking it is,’ said he, ‘in this ploughed field! If I were to fall from one of these great clods, I should  undoubtedly break my neck.’ At last, by good  luck, he  found  a  large empty  snail-shell. ‘This is lucky,’ said he,  ‘I can sleep here  very well’; and in he crept.
Just as he was falling asleep, he heard two men passing by, chatting together; and one said to the other, ‘How can


we rob that rich parson’s house of his silver and gold?’ ‘I’ll tell you!’ cried Tom. ‘What noise was that?’ said the thief, frightened; ‘I’m sure I heard someone speak.’ They stood still listening, and Tom said,  ‘Take me with you, and I’ll soon  show  you  how  to  get  the  parson’s money.’ ‘But where are you?’ said they. ‘Look about on  the ground,’ answered he, ‘and listen where the sound comes from.’ At last the thieves found him out, and lifted him up in their hands. ‘You little urchin!’ they said, ‘what can you do for us?’ ‘Why, I can get between the iron window-bars of the parson’s house, and throw  you out whatever you want.’
‘That’s a good thought,’ said the thieves; ‘come along, we shall see what you can do.’
When they came to the parson’s house, Tom  slipped through the window- bars into the room, and then called out as  loud as  he  could bawl, ‘Will you have all that is here?’ At this the thieves were frightened, and said, ‘Softly, softly! Speak low, that you may not awaken anybody.’ But Tom seemed as if he did not understand them, and bawled out again, ‘How much will you have? Shall I throw it all out?’ Now  the cook lay in the next room; and hearing a noise  she   raised herself up  in  her  bed  and  listened. Meantime the thieves were frightened, and ran off a little way; but  at last they plucked  up  their hearts, and said,


‘The little urchin is only trying to make fools of us.’ So they came back and whispered softly to him, saying, ‘Now let us have no more  of your roguish jokes; but throw us out some of the money.’ Then Tom called out as loud as he could, ‘Very well! hold your hands! here it comes.’
The cook heard this quite plain, so she sprang out of bed, and ran to open the door. The thieves ran off as if a wolf was at their tails: and the maid, having groped about and found nothing, went away for a light. By the time she came back, Tom had slipped off into the barn; and when she had looked about and searched every hole and corner, and found nobody, she went to bed, thinking she  must have been dreaming with her eyes open.
The little man crawled about in the hay-loft, and at last found a  snug place to finish his night’s rest in; so he laid himself down, meaning to sleep till daylight, and then find his way home  to  his  father and mother.  But alas! how woefully he was undone! what crosses and sorrows happen to  us all in  this world! The  cook  got  up  early, before daybreak, to feed the cows; and going straight to the hay- loft, carried away a large bundle of hay, with the little man in the middle of it, fast asleep. He still, however, slept on, and did not  awake till he found himself in the mouth of the cow; for the cook had put the hay into the cow’s rick,


and the cow had taken Tom up in a mouthful of it. ‘Good lack-a-day!’ said he, ‘how came I to tumble into the mill?’ But  he  soon  found  out  where  he  really was; and  was forced to have all  his wits about him, that he might not get between the cow’s teeth, and so be crushed to death. At last down he went into her stomach. ‘It is rather dark,’ said he; ‘they forgot to build windows in this room to let the sun in; a candle would be no bad thing.’
Though he made the best of his bad luck, he did not like his quarters at all; and the worst of it was, that more and more hay was always coming down, and the space left for him became smaller and smaller. At last he cried out as loud as he could, ‘Don’t bring me any  more hay! Don’t bring me any more hay!’
The maid happened to be just then milking the cow; and  hearing someone speak, but seeing nobody, and yet being quite sure it was the same voice that she had heard in the night, she was so  frightened that she fell off her stool, and overset the milk-pail. As soon as she could pick herself up out of the dirt, she ran off as fast as she could to her  master the  parson,  and  said, ‘Sir, sir,  the  cow  is talking!’ But  the  parson said,  ‘Woman,  thou  art  surely mad!’ However, he went with her into the cow-house, to try and see what was the matter.


Scarcely had they set foot on the threshold, when Tom called  out,  ‘Don’t bring  me  any more  hay!’ Then  the parson himself  was  frightened; and thinking the cow was surely bewitched, told his man to kill her on the spot. So the cow was killed, and cut up; and the stomach, in which Tom lay, was thrown out upon a dunghill.
Tom soon set himself to work to get out, which was not a very easy task; but at last, just as he had made room to get his head out,  fresh ill-luck befell him. A hungry wolf sprang out,  and swallowed  up the whole stomach, with Tom in it, at one gulp, and ran away.
Tom, however, was still not disheartened; and thinking the wolf would not dislike having some chat with him as he was going along, he called out, ‘My good friend, I can show you a famous treat.’ ‘Where’s that?’ said the wolf. ‘In such and such a house,’ said Tom,  describing his own father’s house. ‘You can crawl through the drain into the kitchen and then into the pantry, and there you will find cakes, ham, beef, cold chicken, roast pig, apple-dumplings, and everything that your heart can wish.’
The wolf did not want to be asked twice; so that very night he went to the house and crawled through the drain into the kitchen,  and then into the pantry, and ate and drank there to his heart’s content. As soon as he had had
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enough he wanted to get away; but he had eaten so much that he could not go out by the same way he came in.
This was just what Tom had reckoned upon; and now he began to set up a great shout, making all the noise he could. ‘Will you be  easy?’ said  the wolf; ‘you’ll awaken everybody  in  the  house  if   you   make  such  a  clatter.’
‘What’s that to  me?’ said the little man; ‘you have had your frolic, now I’ve a mind to be merry myself’; and he began, singing and shouting as loud as he could.
The woodman and his  wife, being awakened by the noise, peeped through a crack in the door; but when they saw a wolf was  there,  you may well suppose that they were sadly frightened; and  the woodman ran for his axe, and gave his wife a scythe. ‘Do you stay behind,’ said the woodman, ‘and  when I have knocked him on  the head you must rip him up with the scythe.’ Tom heard all this, and cried out,  ‘Father, father! I  am here,  the  wolf has swallowed  me.’ And his father said, ‘Heaven be praised! we have found our dear child again’; and he told his wife not to use the scythe for fear  she should hurt him. Then he aimed a great blow, and struck the  wolf on the head, and killed him on the spot! and when he was  dead  they cut open his body, and set Tommy  free. ‘Ah!’ said the father, ‘what fears we  have had for you!’ ‘Yes, father,’
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answered he; ‘I have travelled all over the world, I think, in one way or other, since we parted; and now I am very glad to come home and get fresh air again.’ ‘Why, where have you been?’ said his father. ‘I have been in a mouse- hole—and in  a snail-shell—and  down  a cow’s throat— and in the wolf’s belly; and yet here I am again, safe and sound.’
’Well,’ said they, ‘you are come back, and we will not sell you again for all the riches in the world.’
Then they hugged and kissed their dear little son, and gave him plenty to eat and drink, for he was very hungry; and then  they  fetched new  clothes for him, for his old ones had been quite  spoiled on  his journey. So Master Thumb  stayed at home  with  his  father and mother,  in peace; for though he had been so great a traveller, and had done and seen so many fine things, and was fond enough of telling the whole story, he always agreed that, after all, there’s no place like HOME!

THE ROBBER BRIDEGROOM

There  was  once  a  miller  who  had  one  beautiful daughter,  and as she was grown up, he was anxious that she should be well  married and provided for. He said to himself, ‘I will give her  to  the  first suitable man  who comes and  asks for  her  hand.’ Not  long  after a  suitor appeared, and as he appeared to be very rich and the miller could see nothing  in him  with  which  to  find fault, he betrothed his daughter to him. But the girl did not care for  the  man  as  a  girl ought  to  care for  her  betrothed husband. She did not feel that she could trust him, and she could not look at him nor think of him without an inward shudder. One  day he said to her, ‘You have not yet paid me  a visit, although we  have been  betrothed  for some time.’ ‘I do not know where your house is,’ she answered.
‘My house is out there in the dark forest,’ he said. She tried to excuse herself by saying that she would not be able to find the way thither. Her betrothed only replied, ‘You must come and see me next Sunday; I have already invited guests for that day, and that you may not mistake the way, I will strew ashes along the path.’


When Sunday came, and it was time for the  girl to start, a feeling of dread came over her which she could not explain, and that she might be able to find her path again, she filled her pockets with  peas and lentils to sprinkle on the ground as she went along. On reaching the entrance to the forest she found the path strewed with ashes, and these she followed, throwing down some peas on either side of her at every step she took. She walked the whole day until she came to the deepest, darkest part of the forest. There she saw a  lonely house, looking so grim and mysterious, that it did not please her at all. She stepped inside, but not a  soul  was  to  be  seen,  and   a   great  silence  reigned throughout. Suddenly a voice cried:
’Turn back, turn back, young maiden fair, Linger not in this murderers’ lair.’

The girl looked up and saw that the voice came from a bird hanging in a cage on the wall. Again it cried:
’Turn back, turn back, young maiden fair, Linger not in this murderers’ lair.’

The girl passed on, going from room to room of the house, but they were all empty, and still she saw no one. At last she came to the cellar, and there sat a very, very old woman, who could not keep her head from shaking. ‘Can


you tell me,’ asked the girl, ‘if my betrothed husband lives here?’
’Ah, you poor child,’ answered the old woman, ‘what a place for  you to come to! This is a murderers’ den. You think yourself a  promised bride, and that your marriage will soon take place, but it is with death that you will keep your marriage feast. Look, do you see that large cauldron of water which I am obliged to keep on the fire! As soon as they have you in their power they will kill you without mercy, and cook and eat you, for they are eaters of men. If I did not  take pity on you and save you, you would be lost.’
Thereupon the old woman led her behind a large cask, which quite hid her from view. ‘Keep as still as a mouse,’ she said; ‘do not move or speak, or it will be all over with you. Tonight, when the robbers are all asleep, we will flee together. I have long been waiting  for an opportunity to escape.’
The words were hardly out  of her mouth  when  the godless  crew returned, dragging another young girl along with them. They were all drunk, and paid no heed to her cries and lamentations. They gave her wine to drink, three glasses  full, one of white wine, one of  red, and one of yellow, and with that her heart gave way and she  died.
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Then they tore of her dainty clothing, laid her on a table, and cut  her beautiful body into pieces, and sprinkled salt upon it.
The  poor   betrothed   girl  crouched   trembling  and shuddering behind the cask, for she saw what a terrible fate had  been intended for her by the robbers. One  of them now noticed a gold ring still remaining on the little finger of the murdered girl, and as he could not draw it off easily, he took a hatchet and cut off the  finger; but the finger sprang into the air, and fell behind the cask into the lap of the girl who was hiding there. The robber took a light  and  began looking for it, but he could not find it.
‘Have you looked behind the large cask?’ said one of the others. But the old woman called out, ‘Come and eat your suppers, and  let  the  thing  be  till tomorrow;  the  finger won’t run away.’
’The old woman is right,’ said the robbers, and they ceased looking for the finger and sat down.
The old woman then  mixed a sleeping draught with their  wine,  and before long they were all lying on  the floor of the  cellar, fast asleep and snoring. As soon as the girl was assured of this,  she came from behind the cask. She was obliged to step over the  bodies of the sleepers, who were lying close together, and every moment she was


filled with renewed dread lest she should awaken them. But God  helped her, so that she passed safely over them, and then she and the  old woman went upstairs, opened the  door,  and  hastened as  fast  as  they  could  from  the murderers’ den.  They  found  the  ashes  scattered by the wind, but the peas and lentils had sprouted, and  grown sufficiently above  the  ground,  to  guide  them  in  the moonlight along the path. All night long they walked, and it was morning before they reached the mill. Then the girl told her father all that had happened.
The day came that had been fixed for the marriage. The  bridegroom  arrived  and  also a  large company  of guests, for the miller had taken care to invite all his friends and relations.  As they sat  at the feast, each guest in turn was asked to tell a tale; the bride sat still and did not say a word.
’And you, my love,’ said the bridegroom, turning to her, ‘is there no tale you know? Tell us something.’
’I will tell you a dream, then,’ said the bride. ‘I went alone  through a forest and came at last to a house; not a soul could I find within, but a bird that was hanging in a cage on the wall cried:
’Turn back, turn back, young maiden fair, Linger not in this murderers’ lair.’


and again a second time it said these words.’
’My darling, this is only a dream.’
’I went on through the house from room to room, but they  were  all empty,  and  everything was so grim  and mysterious. At last I went down to the cellar, and there sat a very, very old woman, who  could not keep her head still. I  asked her  if  my  betrothed  lived  here,  and  she answered,  ‘Ah,  you  poor  child,  you  are  come  to   a murderers’ den; your betrothed does indeed live here, but he will  kill you without mercy and afterwards cook and eat you.‘‘
’My darling, this is only a dream.’
’The  old  woman  hid  me  behind  a  large cask, and scarcely  had  she  done  this  when  the  robbers returned home, dragging a young girl along with them. They gave her three kinds of wine to drink, white, red, and yellow, and with that she died.’
’My darling, this is only a dream.’
’Then they tore off her dainty clothing, and cut her beautiful body into pieces and sprinkled salt upon it.’
’My darling, this is only a dream.’
’And one of the robbers saw that there was a gold ring still left on her finger, and as it was difficult to draw off, he took a hatchet and cut off her finger; but the finger sprang


into the air and fell behind the great cask into my lap. And here is the finger with the ring.’ and with these words the bride drew forth the finger and shewed it to the assembled guests.
The bridegroom,  who  during this recital had grown deadly  pale, up and tried to escape, but the guests seized him and held him  fast. They delivered him up to justice, and he and all his murderous  band were condemned to death for their wicked deeds.