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Title: Snowdrop & Other Tales

Author: Jacob Grimm
Wilhelm Grimm

Illustrator: Arthur Rackham

Release date: September 10, 2011 [eBook #37381]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37381

Credits: Produced by David Edwards, Sam W. and the Online Distributed
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SNOWDROP &
OTHER TALES ***

SNOWDROP
& OTHER TALES
BY THE
BROTHERS GRIMM

ILLUSTRATED BY
ARTHUR RACKHAM

NEW YORK
E P DUTTON & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

Originally published in ‘Grimm’s Fairy Tales. Illustrated by
Arthur Rackham’ 1909
Re-issued separately 1920

GRIMM’S FAIRY TALES
Illustrated by ARTHUR RACKHAM

HANSEL AND GRETHEL
SNOWDROP
LITTLE BROTHER AND LITTLE SISTER

Contents
PAGE
SNOWDROP 1
THE PINK 11
BRIAR ROSE 17
THE JEW AMONG THE THORNS 22
ASHENPUTTEL 28
THE WHITE SNAKE 37
THE WOLF AND THE SEVEN KIDS 42
THE QUEEN BEE 46
THE ELVES AND THE SHOEMAKER 49
THE WOLF AND THE MAN 51
THE TURNIP 53
CLEVER HANS 57
THE THREE LANGUAGES 63
THE FOX AND THE CAT 67
THE FOUR CLEVER BROTHERS 69
THE LADY AND THE LION 75
THE FOX AND THE HORSE 81
THE BLUE LIGHT 84
THE GOOSEGIRL 90
THE GOLDEN GOOSE 97
THE WATER OF LIFE 104
CLEVER GRETHEL 111
THE KING OF THE GOLDEN MOUNTAIN 114
DOCTOR KNOW-ALL 121
THE SEVEN RAVENS 124
THE MARRIAGE OF MRS. REYNARD 128
THE SALAD 132

THE YOUTH WHO COULD NOT SHUDDER 140
KING THRUSHBEARD 152
IRON HANS 157

List of Illustrations in Colour
The Dwarfs, when they came in the evening, found
Snowdrop lying on the ground Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
The King could not contain himself for joy 18
The young Prince said, ‘I am not afraid; I am determined
to go and look upon the lovely Briar Rose’ 20
Ashenputtel goes to the ball 30
The Fishes, in their joy, stretched up their heads above
the water, and promised to reward him 38
The Seven Kids and their mother capered and danced
round the spring in their joy 44
The Ducks, which he had once saved, dived and brought
up the key from the depths 48
So the four Brothers took their sticks in their hands, bade
their Father good-bye, and passed out of the town
gate 68
The King’s only daughter had been carried off by a
Dragon 72
She went away accompanied by the Lions 76
Alas! dear Falada, there thou hangest 92
Blow, blow, little breeze, And Conrad’s hat seize 96
Good Dwarf, can you not tell me where my brothers are? 106
Then he ran after him, still holding the carving-knife, and
cried, ‘Only one, only one!’ 112
The Son made a circle, and his Father and he took their
places within it, and the little black Mannikin
appeared 116
Once upon a time a poor Peasant, named Crabb, was 120
taking a load of wood drawn by two oxen to the

town for sale
The good little Sister cut off her own tiny finger, fitted it
into the lock, and succeeded in opening it 124
But they said one after another: ‘Halloa! who has been
eating off my plate? Who has been drinking out of
my cup?’ 126
Then the Youth took the axe and split the anvil with one
blow, catching in the Old Man’s beard at the same
time 150
The Beggar took her by the hand and led her away 154

List of Black and White Illustrations
PAGE
Headpiece 1
‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall, Who is fairest of us all?’ 2
In the evening the seven Dwarfs came back 4
The scullions brought live coals, which he had to eat until the
flames poured out of his mouth 13
‘The Thirteenth Fairy’ 18
But round the castle a hedge of briar roses began to grow up 20
The Jew was forced to spring up and begin to dance 24
Dancing as hard as he could 26
The Three Sleeping Princesses 48
So the rich Brother had to put his Brother’s Turnip into a cart,
and have it taken home 54
When he got home he had the rope in his hand, but there was
nothing at the end of it 61
On the way he passed a swamp, in which a number of Frogs were
croaking 64
The Cat crept stealthily up to the topmost branch 67
They found the Princess still on the rock, but the Dragon was
asleep with his head on her lap 73
The poor Horse was very sad, and went into the forest to get a
little shelter from the wind and weather 82
Then the Horse sprang up, and dragged the Lion away behind
him 83
Before long the Witch came by riding at a furious pace on a tom
cat 86
There stands an old tree; cut it down, and you will find
something at the roots 98

So now there were seven people running behind Simpleton and
his Goose 99
And so they followed up hill and down dale after Simpleton and
his Goose 100
The King could no longer withhold his daughter 105
When she entered she met a Dwarf 126
The Ravens coming home 127
Does the gentleman wear red breeches, and has he a pointed
muzzle? 131
But the Old Woman was a witch 133
He tied them all together and drove them along till he came to a
mill 138
Crowds of black cats and dogs swarmed out of every corner 146
She immediately clutched at his cap to pull it off; but he held it
on with both hands 161
He called three times, ‘Iron Hans,’ as loud as he could 162

Snowdrop

I T was the middle of winter, and the snowflakes were falling from the
sky like feathers. Now, a Queen sat sewing at a window framed in black
ebony, and as she sewed she looked out upon the snow. Suddenly she
pricked her finger and three drops of blood fell on to the snow. And the red
looked so lovely on the white that she thought to herself: ‘If only I had a
child as white as snow and as red as blood, and as black as the wood of the
window frame!’ Soon after, she had a daughter, whose hair was black as
ebony, while her cheeks were red as blood, and her skin as white as snow;
so she was called Snowdrop. But when the child was born the Queen died.
A year after the King took another wife. She was a handsome woman, but
proud and overbearing, and could not endure that any one should surpass
her in beauty. She had a magic looking-glass, and when she stood before it
and looked at herself she used to say:

‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
Who is fairest of us all?’

then the Glass answered,

‘Queen, thou’rt fairest of them all.’

Then she was content, for she knew that the Looking-glass spoke the truth.
But Snowdrop grew up and became more and more beautiful, so that when
she was seven years old she was as beautiful as the day, and far surpassed
the Queen. Once, when she asked her Glass,

‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
Who is fairest of us all?’

it answered—

‘Queen, thou art fairest here, I hold,
But Snowdrop is fairer a
thousandfold.’

Then the Queen was horror-struck, and turned green and yellow with
jealousy. From the hour that she saw Snowdrop her heart sank, and she
hated the little girl.

‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
Who is fairest of us all?’

The pride and envy of her heart grew like a weed, so that she had no rest
day nor night. At last she called a Huntsman, and said: ‘Take the child out
into the wood; I will not set eyes on her again; you must kill her and bring
me her lungs and liver as tokens.’
The Huntsman obeyed, and took Snowdrop out into the forest, but when he
drew his hunting-knife and was preparing to plunge it into her innocent

heart, she began to cry:
‘Alas! dear Huntsman, spare my life, and I will run away into the wild
forest and never come back again.’
And because of her beauty the Huntsman had pity on her and said, ‘Well,
run away, poor child.’ Wild beasts will soon devour you, he thought, but
still he felt as though a weight were lifted from his heart because he had not
been obliged to kill her. And as just at that moment a young fawn came
leaping by, he pierced it and took the lungs and liver as tokens to the Queen.
The Cook was ordered to serve them up in pickle, and the wicked Queen ate
them thinking that they were Snowdrop’s.
Now the poor child was alone in the great wood, with no living soul near,
and she was so frightened that she knew not what to do. Then she began to
run, and ran over the sharp stones and through the brambles, while the
animals passed her by without harming her. She ran as far as her feet could
carry her till it was nearly evening, when she saw a little house and went in
to rest. Inside, everything was small, but as neat and clean as could be. A
small table covered with a white cloth stood ready with seven small plates,
and by every plate was a spoon, knife, fork, and cup. Seven little beds were
ranged against the walls, covered with snow-white coverlets. As Snowdrop
was very hungry and thirsty she ate a little bread and vegetable from each
plate, and drank a little wine from each cup, for she did not want to eat up
the whole of one portion. Then, being very tired, she lay down in one of the
beds. She tried them all but none suited her; one was too short, another too
long, all except the seventh, which was just right. She remained in it, said
her prayers, and fell asleep.
When it was quite dark the masters of the house came in. They were seven
Dwarfs, who used to dig in the mountains for ore. They kindled their lights,
and as soon as they could see they noticed that some one had been there, for
everything was not in the order in which they had left it.
The first said, ‘Who has been sitting in my chair?’
The second said, ‘Who has been eating off my plate?’
The third said, ‘Who has been nibbling my bread?’

The fourth said, ‘Who has been eating my vegetables?’
The fifth said, ‘Who has been using my fork?’
The sixth said, ‘Who has been cutting with my knife?’
The seventh said, ‘Who has been drinking out of my cup?’

In the evening the seven Dwarfs came back.

Then the first looked and saw a slight impression on his bed, and said,
‘Who has been treading on my bed?’ The others came running up and said,
‘And mine, and mine.’ But the seventh, when he looked into his bed, saw
Snowdrop, who lay there asleep. He called the others, who came up and
cried out with astonishment, as they held their lights and gazed at
Snowdrop. ‘Heavens! what a beautiful child,’ they said, and they were so
delighted that they did not wake her up but left her asleep in bed. And the

seventh Dwarf slept with his comrades, an hour with each all through the
night.
When morning came Snowdrop woke up, and when she saw the seven
Dwarfs she was frightened.
But they were very kind and asked her name.
‘I am called Snowdrop,’ she answered.
‘How did you get into our house?’ they asked.
Then she told them how her stepmother had wished to get rid of her, how
the Huntsman had spared her life, and how she had run all day till she had
found the house.
Then the Dwarfs said, ‘Will you look after our household, cook, make the
beds, wash, sew and knit, and keep everything neat and clean? If so you
shall stay with us and want for nothing.’
‘Yes,’ said Snowdrop, ‘with all my heart’; and she stayed with them and
kept the house in order.
In the morning they went to the mountain and searched for copper and gold,
and in the evening they came back and then their meal had to be ready. All
day the maiden was alone, and the good Dwarfs warned her and said,
‘Beware of your stepmother, who will soon learn that you are here. Don’t
let any one in.’
But the Queen, having, as she imagined, eaten Snowdrop’s liver and lungs,
and feeling certain that she was the fairest of all, stepped in front of her
Glass, and asked—

‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
Who is fairest of us all?’

the Glass answered as usual—

‘Queen, thou art fairest here, I hold,
But Snowdrop over the fells,
Who with the seven Dwarfs dwells,

Is fairer still a thousandfold.’
She was dismayed, for she knew that the Glass told no lies, and she saw that
the Hunter had deceived her and that Snowdrop still lived. Accordingly she
began to wonder afresh how she might compass her death; for as long as
she was not the fairest in the land her jealous heart left her no rest. At last
she thought of a plan. She dyed her face and dressed up like an old Pedlar,
so that she was quite unrecognisable. In this guise she crossed over the
seven mountains to the home of the seven Dwarfs and called out, ‘Wares for
sale.’
Snowdrop peeped out of the window and said, ‘Good-day, mother, what
have you got to sell?’
‘Good wares, fine wares,’ she answered, ‘laces of every colour’; and she
held out one which was made of gay plaited silk.
‘I may let the honest woman in,’ thought Snowdrop, and she unbolted the
door and bought the pretty lace.
‘Child,’ said the Old Woman, ‘what a sight you are, I will lace you properly
for once.’
Snowdrop made no objection, and placed herself before the Old Woman to
let her lace her with the new lace. But the Old Woman laced so quickly and
tightly that she took away Snowdrop’s breath and she fell down as though
dead.
‘Now I am the fairest,’ she said to herself, and hurried away.
Not long after the seven Dwarfs came home, and were horror-struck when
they saw their dear little Snowdrop lying on the floor without stirring, like
one dead. When they saw she was laced too tight they cut the lace,
whereupon she began to breathe and soon came back to life again. When
the Dwarfs heard what had happened, they said that the old Pedlar was no
other than the wicked Queen. ‘Take care not to let any one in when we are
not here,’ they said.
Now the wicked Queen, as soon as she got home, went to the Glass and
asked—

‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
Who is fairest of us all?’

and it answered as usual—

‘Queen, thou art fairest here, I hold,
But Snowdrop over the fells,
Who with the seven Dwarfs dwells,
Is fairer still a thousandfold.’

When she heard it all her blood flew to her heart, so enraged was she, for
she knew that Snowdrop had come back to life again. Then she thought to
herself, ‘I must plan something which will put an end to her.’ By means of
witchcraft, in which she was skilled, she made a poisoned comb. Next she
disguised herself and took the form of a different Old Woman. She crossed
the mountains and came to the home of the seven Dwarfs, and knocked at
the door calling out, ‘Good wares to sell.’
Snowdrop looked out of the window and said, ‘Go away, I must not let any
one in.’
‘At least you may look,’ answered the Old Woman, and she took the
poisoned comb and held it up.
The child was so pleased with it that she let herself be beguiled, and opened
the door.
When she had made a bargain the Old Woman said, ‘Now I will comb your
hair properly for once.’
Poor Snowdrop, suspecting no evil, let the Old Woman have her way, but
scarcely was the poisoned comb fixed in her hair than the poison took
effect, and the maiden fell down unconscious.
‘You paragon of beauty,’ said the wicked woman, ‘now it is all over with
you,’ and she went away.
Happily it was near the time when the seven Dwarfs came home. When
they saw Snowdrop lying on the ground as though dead, they immediately
suspected her stepmother, and searched till they found the poisoned comb.

No sooner had they removed it than Snowdrop came to herself again and
related what had happened. They warned her again to be on her guard, and
to open the door to no one.
When she got home the Queen stood before her Glass and said—

‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
Who is fairest of us all?’

and it answered as usual—

‘Queen, thou art fairest here, I hold,
But Snowdrop over the fells,
Who with the seven Dwarfs dwells,
Is fairer still a thousandfold.’

When she heard the Glass speak these words she trembled and quivered
with rage. ‘Snowdrop shall die,’ she said, ‘even if it cost me my own life.’
Thereupon she went into a secret room, which no one ever entered but
herself, and made a poisonous apple. Outwardly it was beautiful to look
upon, with rosy cheeks, and every one who saw it longed for it, but
whoever ate of it was certain to die. When the apple was ready she dyed her
face and dressed herself like an old Peasant Woman and so crossed the
seven hills to the Dwarfs’ home. There she knocked.
Snowdrop put her head out of the window and said, ‘I must not let any one
in, the seven Dwarfs have forbidden me.’
‘It is all the same to me,’ said the Peasant Woman. ‘I shall soon get rid of
my apples. There, I will give you one.’
‘No; I must not take anything.’
‘Are you afraid of poison?’ said the woman. ‘See, I will cut the apple in
half: you eat the red side and I will keep the other.’
Now the apple was so cunningly painted that the red half alone was
poisoned. Snowdrop longed for the apple, and when she saw the Peasant
Woman eating she could hold out no longer, stretched out her hand and took

the poisoned half. Scarcely had she put a bit into her mouth than she fell
dead to the ground.
The Queen looked with a fiendish glance, and laughed aloud and said,
‘White as snow, red as blood, and black as ebony, this time the Dwarfs
cannot wake you up again.’ And when she got home and asked the Looking-
glass—

‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
Who is fairest of us all?’

it answered at last—

‘Queen, thou’rt fairest of them all.’

Then her jealous heart was at rest, as much at rest as a jealous heart can be.
The Dwarfs, when they came at evening, found Snowdrop lying on the
ground and not a breath escaped her lips, and she was quite dead. They
lifted her up and looked to see whether any poison was to be found, unlaced
her dress, combed her hair, washed her with wine and water, but it was no
use; their dear child was dead. They laid her on a bier, and all seven sat
down and bewailed her and lamented over her for three whole days. Then
they prepared to bury her, but she looked so fresh and living, and still had
such beautiful rosy cheeks, that they said, ‘We cannot bury her in the dark
earth.’ And so they had a transparent glass coffin made, so that she could be
seen from every side, laid her inside and wrote on it in letters of gold her
name and how she was a King’s daughter. Then they set the coffin out on
the mountain, and one of them always stayed by and watched it. And the
birds came too and mourned for Snowdrop, first an owl, then a raven, and
lastly a dove.
Now Snowdrop lay a long, long time in her coffin, looking as though she
were asleep. It happened that a Prince was wandering in the wood, and
came to the home of the seven Dwarfs to pass the night. He saw the coffin
on the mountain and lovely Snowdrop inside, and read what was written in
golden letters. Then he said to the Dwarfs, ‘Let me have the coffin; I will
give you whatever you like for it.’
But they said, ‘We will not give it up for all the gold of the world.’

Then he said, ‘Then give it to me as a gift, for I cannot live without
Snowdrop to gaze upon; and I will honour and reverence it as my dearest
treasure.’
When he had said these words the good Dwarfs pitied him and gave him the
coffin.
The Prince bade his servants carry it on their shoulders. Now it happened
that they stumbled over some brushwood, and the shock dislodged the piece
of apple from Snowdrop’s throat. In a short time she opened her eyes, lifted
the lid of the coffin, sat up and came back to life again completely.
‘O Heaven! where am I?’ she asked.
The Prince, full of joy, said, ‘You are with me,’ and he related what had
happened, and then said, ‘I love you better than all the world; come with me
to my father’s castle and be my wife.’
Snowdrop agreed and went with him, and their wedding was celebrated
with great magnificence. Snowdrop’s wicked stepmother was invited to the
feast; and when she had put on her fine clothes she stepped to her Glass and
asked—

‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
Who is fairest of us all?’

The Glass answered—

‘Queen, thou art fairest here, I hold,
The young Queen fairer a
thousandfold.’

Then the wicked woman uttered a curse, and was so terribly frightened that
she didn’t know what to do. Yet she had no rest: she felt obliged to go and
see the young Queen. And when she came in she recognised Snowdrop, and
stood stock still with fear and terror. But iron slippers were heated over the
fire, and were soon brought in with tongs and put before her. And she had to
step into the red-hot shoes and dance till she fell down dead.

The Pink

T HERE was once a Queen, who had not been blessed with children. As
she walked in her garden, she prayed every morning that a son or
daughter might be given to her. Then one day an Angel came, and said
to her: ‘Be content: you shall have a son, and he shall be endowed with the
power of wishing, so that whatsoever he wishes for shall be granted to him.’
She hurried to the King, and told him the joyful news; and when the time
came a son was born to them, and they were filled with delight.
Every morning the Queen used to take her little son into the gardens, where
the wild animals were kept, to bathe him in a clear, sparkling fountain. It
happened one day, when the child was a little older, that as she sat with him
on her lap she fell asleep.
The old Cook, who knew that the child had the power of wishing, came by
and stole it; he also killed a Chicken, and dropped some of its blood on the
Queen’s garments. Then he took the child away to a secret place, where he
placed it out to be nursed. Then he ran back to the King, and accused the
Queen of having allowed her child to be carried off by a wild animal.
When the King saw the blood on the Queen’s garments he believed the
story, and was overwhelmed with anger. He caused a high tower to be built,
into which neither the sun nor the moon could penetrate. Then he ordered
his wife to be shut up in it, and the door walled up. She was to stay there for
seven years, without eating or drinking, so as gradually to pine away. But
two Angels from heaven, in the shape of white doves, came to her, bringing
food twice a day till the seven years were ended.
Meanwhile the Cook thought, ‘If the child really has the power of wishing,
and I stay here, I might easily fall into disgrace.’ So he left the palace, and
went to the boy, who was then old enough to talk, and said to him, ‘Wish
for a beautiful castle, with a garden, and everything belonging to it.’ Hardly
had the words passed the boy’s lips than all that he had asked for was there.

After a time the Cook said, ‘It is not good for you to be so much alone;
wish for a beautiful Maiden to be your companion.’
The Prince uttered the wish, and immediately a Maiden stood before them,
more beautiful than any painter could paint. So they grew very fond of each
other, and played together, while the old Cook went out hunting like any
grand gentleman. But the idea came to him one day that the Prince might
wish to go to his father some time, and he would thereby be placed in a very
awkward position. So he took the Maiden aside, and said to her, ‘To-night,
when the boy is asleep, go and drive this knife into his heart. Then bring me
his heart and his tongue. If you fail to do it, you will lose your own life.’
Then he went away; but when the next day came the Maiden had not yet
obeyed his command, and she said, ‘Why should I shed his innocent blood,
when he has never done harm to any creature in his life?’
The Cook again said, ‘If you do not obey me, you will lose your own life.’
When he had gone away, she ordered a young hind to be brought and killed;
then she cut out its heart and its tongue, and put them on a dish. When she
saw the old man coming she said to the boy, ‘Get into bed, and cover
yourself right over.’
The old scoundrel came in and said, ‘Where are the tongue and the heart of
the boy?’

The scullions brought live coals, which he had to eat till the flames poured out of his mouth.

The Maiden gave him the dish; but the Prince threw off the coverings, and
said, ‘You old sinner, why did you want to kill me? Now hear your
sentence. You shall be turned into a black Poodle, with a gold chain round
your neck, and you shall be made to eat live coals, so that flames of fire
may come out of your mouth.’
As he said the words, the old man was changed into a black Poodle, with a
gold chain round his neck; and the scullions brought live coals, which he
had to eat till the flames poured out of his mouth.
The Prince stayed on at the castle for a time, thinking of his mother, and
wondering if she were still alive. At last he said to the Maiden, ‘I am going
into my own country. If you like you can go with me; I will take you.’
She answered: ‘Alas! it is so far off, and what should I do in a strange
country where I know no one?’
As she did not wish to go, and yet they could not bear to be parted, he
changed her into a beautiful Pink, which he took with him.

Then he set out on his journey, and the Poodle was made to run alongside
till the Prince reached his own country.
Arrived there, he went straight to the tower where his mother was
imprisoned, and as the tower was so high he wished for a ladder to reach
the top. Then he climbed up, looked in, and cried, ‘Dearest mother, lady
Queen, are you still alive?’
She, thinking it was the Angels who brought her food come back, said, ‘I
have just eaten; I do not want anything more.’
Then he said, ‘I am your own dear son whom the wild animals were
supposed to have devoured; but I am still alive, and I shall soon come and
rescue you.’
Then he got down and went to his father. He had himself announced as a
strange Huntsman, anxious to take service with the King, who said, ‘Yes; if
he was skilled in game preserving, and could procure plenty of venison, he
would engage him. But there had never before been any game in the whole
district.’
The Huntsman promised to procure as much game as the King could
possibly require for the royal table.
Then he called the whole Hunt together, and ordered them all to come into
the forest with him. He caused a great circle to be enclosed, with only one
outlet; then he took his place in the middle, and began to wish as hard as he
could. Immediately over two hundred head of game came running into the
enclosure; these the Huntsmen had to shoot, and then they were piled on to
sixty country wagons, and driven home to the King. So for once he was
able to load his board with game, after having had none for many years.
The King was much pleased, and commanded his whole court to a banquet
on the following day. When they were all assembled, he said to the
Huntsman, ‘You shall sit by me as you are so clever.’
He answered, ‘My lord and King, may it please your Majesty, I am only a
poor Huntsman!’
The King, however, insisted, and said, ‘I command you to sit by me.’

As he sat there, his thoughts wandered to his dear mother, and he wished
one of the courtiers would speak of her. Hardly had he wished it than the
Lord High Marshal said—
‘Your Majesty, we are all rejoicing here, how fares it with Her Majesty the
Queen? Is she still alive in the tower, or has she perished?’
But the King answered, ‘She allowed my beloved son to be devoured by
wild animals, and I do not wish to hear anything about her.’
Then the Huntsman stood up and said—
‘Gracious father, she is still alive, and I am her son. He was not devoured
by wild animals; he was taken away by the scoundrel of a Cook. He stole
me while my mother was asleep, and sprinkled her garments with the blood
of a chicken.’ Then he brought up the black Poodle with the golden chain,
and said, ‘This is the villain.’
He ordered some live coals to be brought, which he made the dog eat in the
sight of all the people till the flames poured out of his mouth. Then he asked
the King if he would like to see the Cook in his true shape, and wished him
back, and there he stood in his white apron, with his knife at his side.
The King was furious when he saw him, and ordered him to be thrown into
the deepest dungeon. Then the Huntsman said further—
‘My father would you like to see the Maiden who so tenderly saved my life
when she was ordered to kill me, although by so doing she might have lost
her own life?’
The King answered, ‘Yes, I will gladly see her.’
Then his son said, ‘Gracious father, I will show her to you first in the guise
of a beautiful flower.’
He put his hand into his pocket, and brought out the Pink. It was a finer one
than the King had ever seen before. Then his son said, ‘Now, I will show
her to you in her true form.’
The moment his wish was uttered, she stood before them in all her beauty,
which was greater than any artist could paint.

The King sent ladies and gentlemen-in-waiting to the tower to bring the
Queen back to his royal table. But when they reached the tower they found
that she would no longer eat or drink, and she said, ‘The merciful God, who
has preserved my life so long, will soon release me now.’
Three days after she died. At her burial the two white Doves which had
brought her food during her captivity, followed and hovered over her grave.
The old King caused the wicked Cook to be torn into four quarters; but his
own heart was filled with grief and remorse, and he died soon after.
His son married the beautiful Maiden he had brought home with him as a
Flower, and, for all I know, they may be living still.

Briar Rose

A LONG time ago there lived a King and Queen, who said every day,
‘If only we had a child’; but for a long time they had none.
It fell out once, as the Queen was bathing, that a frog crept out of the water
on to the land, and said to her: ‘Your wish shall be fulfilled; before a year
has passed you shall bring a daughter into the world.’
The frog’s words came true. The Queen had a little girl who was so
beautiful that the King could not contain himself for joy, and prepared a
great feast. He invited not only his relations, friends, and acquaintances, but
the fairies, in order that they might be favourably and kindly disposed
towards the child. There were thirteen of them in the kingdom, but as the
King had only twelve golden plates for them to eat from, one of the fairies
had to stay at home.
The feast was held with all splendour, and when it came to an end the
fairies all presented the child with a magic gift. One gave her virtue, another
beauty, a third riches, and so on, with everything in the world that she could
wish for.
When eleven of the fairies had said their say, the thirteenth suddenly
appeared. She wanted to revenge herself for not having been invited.
Without greeting any one, or even glancing at the company, she called out
in a loud voice: ‘The Princess shall prick herself with a distaff in her
fifteenth year and shall fall down dead’; and without another word she
turned and left the hall.
Every one was terror-struck, but the twelfth fairy, whose wish was still
unspoken, stepped forward. She could not cancel the curse, but could only
soften it, so she said: ‘It shall not be death, but a deep sleep lasting a
hundred years, into which your daughter shall fall.’

‘The Thirteenth Fairy.’

The King was so anxious to guard his dear child from the misfortune, that
he sent out a command that all the distaffs in the whole kingdom should be
burned.

As time went on all the promises of the fairies came true. The Princess grew
up so beautiful, modest, kind, and clever that every one who saw her could
not but love her. Now it happened that on the very day when she was fifteen
years old the King and Queen were away from home, and the Princess was
left quite alone in the castle. She wandered about over the whole place,
looking at rooms and halls as she pleased, and at last she came to an old
tower. She ascended a narrow, winding staircase and reached a little door. A

rusty key was sticking in the lock, and when she turned it the door flew
open. In a little room sat an old woman with a spindle, spinning her flax
busily.
‘Good day, Granny,’ said the Princess; ‘what are you doing?’
‘I am spinning,’ said the old woman, and nodded her head.
‘What is the thing that whirls round so merrily?’ asked the Princess; and she
took the spindle and tried to spin too.
But she had scarcely touched it before the curse was fulfilled, and she
pricked her finger with the spindle. The instant she felt the prick she fell
upon the bed which was standing near, and lay still in a deep sleep which
spread over the whole castle.
The King and Queen, who had just come home and had stepped into the
hall, went to sleep, and all their courtiers with them. The horses went to
sleep in the stable, the dogs in the yard, the doves on the roof, the flies on
the wall; yes, even the fire flickering on the hearth grew still and went to
sleep, and the roast meat stopped crackling; the cook, who was pulling the
scullion’s hair because he had made some mistake, let him go and went to
sleep. The wind dropped, and on the trees in front of the castle not a leaf
stirred.
But round the castle a hedge of briar roses began to grow up; every year it
grew higher, till at last it surrounded the whole castle so that nothing could
be seen of it, not even the flags on the roof.
But there was a legend in the land about the lovely sleeping Briar Rose, as
the King’s daughter was called, and from time to time princes came and
tried to force a way through the hedge into the castle. They found it
impossible, for the thorns, as though they had hands, held them fast, and the
princes remained caught in them without being able to free themselves, and
so died a miserable death.

But round the castle a hedge of briar roses began to grow up.

After many, many years a Prince came again to the country and heard an
old man tell of the castle which stood behind the briar hedge, in which a
most beautiful maiden called Briar Rose had been asleep for the last
hundred years, and with her slept the King, Queen, and all her courtiers. He
knew also, from his grandfather, that many princes had already come and
sought to pierce through the briar hedge, and had remained caught in it and
died a sad death.
Then the young Prince said, ‘I am not afraid; I am determined to go and
look upon the lovely Briar Rose.’

The good old man did all in his power to dissuade him, but the Prince
would not listen to his words.
Now, however, the hundred years were just ended, and the day had come
when Briar Rose was to wake up again. When the Prince approached the
briar hedge it was in blossom, and was covered with beautiful large flowers

which made way for him of their own accord and let him pass unharmed,
and then closed up again into a hedge behind him.
In the courtyard he saw the horses and brindled hounds lying asleep, on the
roof sat the doves with their heads under their wings: and when he went
into the house the flies were asleep on the walls, and near the throne lay the
King and Queen; in the kitchen was the cook, with his hand raised as
though about to strike the scullion, and the maid sat with the black fowl in
her lap which she was about to pluck.
He went on further, and all was so still that he could hear his own breathing.
At last he reached the tower, and opened the door into the little room where
Briar Rose was asleep. There she lay, looking so beautiful that he could not
take his eyes off her; he bent down and gave her a kiss. As he touched her,
Briar Rose opened her eyes and looked lovingly at him. Then they went
down together; and the King woke up, and the Queen, and all the courtiers,
and looked at each other with astonished eyes. The horses in the stable
stood up and shook themselves, the hounds leaped about and wagged their
tails, the doves on the roof lifted their heads from under their wings, looked
round, and flew into the fields; the flies on the walls began to crawl again,
the fire in the kitchen roused itself and blazed up and cooked the food, the
meat began to crackle, and the cook boxed the scullion’s ears so soundly
that he screamed aloud, while the maid finished plucking the fowl. Then the
wedding of the Prince and Briar Rose was celebrated with all splendour,
and they lived happily till they died.

The Jew among the Thorns

T HERE was once a rich Man, and he had a Servant who served him
well and faithfully. He was first up in the morning, and last to go to
bed at night. If there was any hard work to be done which no one else
would do, he was always ready to undertake it. He never made any
complaint, but was always merry and content.
When his year of service was over, his Master did not give him any wages,
thinking: ‘This is my wisest plan. I save by it, and he is not likely to run
away.’
The Servant said nothing, and served the second year like the first. And
when at the end of the second he again received no wages, he still appeared
contented, and stayed on. When the third year had passed, the Master
bethought himself, and put his hand into his pocket, but he brought it out
empty.
At last the Servant said: ‘Master, I have served you well and truly for three
years; please pay me my wages. I want to go away and look about the world
a bit.’
The Miser answered: ‘Yes, my good fellow, you have served me honestly,
and you shall be liberally rewarded.’
Again he put his hand into his pocket, and counted three farthings, one by
one, into the Servant’s hand, and said: ‘There, you have a farthing for every
year; that is better wages than you would get from most masters.’
The good Servant, who knew little about money, put away his fortune, and
thought: ‘Now my pocket is well filled, I need no longer trouble myself
about work.’ Then he left and went singing down the hill, and dancing, in
the lightness of his heart.

Now it so happened that as he was passing a thicket, that a little Mannikin
came out and cried: ‘Whither away, my merry fellow? I see your troubles
are not too heavy to be borne.’
‘Why should I be sad?’ answered the Servant. ‘I have three years’ wages in
my pocket.’
‘And how much is your treasure?’ asked the Mannikin.
‘How much? Why, three good farthings.’
‘Listen!’ said the Mannikin. ‘I am a poor needy fellow; give me your three
farthings. I can’t work any more; but you are young, and can easily earn
your bread.’
Now the Servant had a good heart, and he was sorry for the poor little man,
so he gave him his three farthings, and said:
‘Take them, in the name of heaven! I shall not miss them.’
‘Then,’ said the Mannikin, ‘I see what a good heart you have. I will give
you three wishes, one for each farthing; and every wish shall be fulfilled.’
‘Aha!’ said the Servant, ‘you are a wonder-worker I see. Very well, then.
First, I wish for a gun which will hit everything I aim at; secondly, for a
fiddle which will make every one dance when I play; and, thirdly, if I ask
anything of any one, that he shall not be able to refuse my request.’
‘You shall have them all,’ said the Mannikin, diving into the bushes, where,
wonderful to relate, lay the gun and the fiddle ready, just as if they had been
ordered beforehand. He gave them to the Servant, and said: ‘No one will be
able to refuse anything you ask.’
‘Heart alive! what more can one desire,’ said the Servant to himself, as he
went merrily on.
Soon after, he met a Jew with a long goat’s beard, who was standing still
listening to the song of a bird sitting on the top of a tree. ‘Good heavens!’
he was saying, ‘what a tremendous noise such a tiny creature makes. If only
it were mine! If one could but put some salt upon its tail!’

‘If that is all,’ said the Servant, ‘the bird shall soon come down.’
He took aim, and down fell the bird into a quickset hedge.
‘Go, you rogue,’ he said to the Jew, ‘and pick up the bird.’
‘Leave out the “rogue,” young man. I will get the bird sure enough, as you
have killed it for me,’ said the Jew.
He lay down on the ground and began to creep into the hedge.

The Jew was forced to spring up and begin to dance.

When he had got well among the thorns, a spirit of mischief seized the
Servant, and he began to play his fiddle with all his might. The Jew was
forced to spring up and begin to dance, and the more the Servant played, the
faster he had to dance. The thorns tore his shabby coat, combed his goat’s
beard, and scratched him all over.
‘Merciful Heavens!’ cried the Jew. ‘Leave off that fiddling! I don’t want to
dance, my good fellow.’
But the Servant paid no attention to him, but thought: ‘You have fleeced
plenty of people in your time, my man, and the thorns shan’t spare you

now!’ And he played on and on, so that the Jew had to jump higher and
higher, till his coat hung in ribbons about him.
‘I cry “enough!”’ screamed the Jew. ‘I will give you anything you like if
you will only stop. Take the purse, it is full of gold.’
‘Oh, well, if you are so open-handed,’ said the Servant, ‘I am quite ready to
stop my music, but I must say in praise of your dancing, that it has quite a
style of its own.’ Then he took the purse and went on his way.
The Jew stood still looking after him till he was a good way off, then he
screamed with all his might: ‘You miserable fiddler! Just you wait till I find
you alone! I will chase you till the soles of your shoes drop off—you
rascal!’ And he went on pouring out a stream of abuse. Having relieved
himself by so doing, he hurried off to the Judge in the nearest town.
‘Just look here, your worship,’ he said, ‘look how I have been attacked, and
ill-treated, and robbed on the high road by a wretch. My condition might
melt the heart of a stone; my clothes and my body torn and scratched, and
my purse with all my poor little savings taken away from me. All my
beautiful ducats, each one prettier than the other. Oh dear! Oh dear! For
heaven’s sake, put the wretch in prison.’
The Judge said: ‘Was it a soldier who punished you so with his sword?’
‘Heaven preserve us!’ cried the Jew, ‘he had no sword, but he had a gun on
his shoulder and a fiddle round his neck. The villain is easily to be
recognised.’
So the Judge sent out men in pursuit of the honest Servant, who had walked
on slowly. They soon overtook him, and the purse of gold was found on
him. When he was brought before the Judge, he said—
‘I never touched the Jew, nor did I take his money away; he offered it to me
of his own free will if I would only stop playing, because he could not bear
my music.’
‘Heaven defend us!’ screamed the Jew, ‘his lies are as thick as flies on the
wall.’
And the Judge did not believe him either, and said:

‘That is a very lame excuse; no Jew ever did such a thing.’ So he sentenced
the honest Servant to the gallows for having committed a robbery upon the
king’s highway.
When he was being led away, the Jew screamed after him; ‘You vagabond,
you dog of a fiddler, now you will get your deserts!’
The Servant mounted the ladder to the gallows quite quietly, with the halter
round his neck; but at the last rung he turned round and said to the Judge:
‘Grant me one favour before I die.’
‘Certainly,’ said the Judge, ‘as long as you don’t ask for your life.’
‘Not my life,’ answered the Servant. ‘I only ask to play my fiddle once
more.’

Dancing as hard as he could.

The Jew raised a tremendous cry. ‘Don’t allow it, your worship, for
heaven’s sake, don’t allow it!’
But the Judge said: ‘Why should I deny him that short pleasure? His wish is
granted, and there’s an end of the matter!’
He could not have refused even if he had wished, because of the Mannikin’s
gift to the Servant.
The Jew screamed, ‘Oh dear! Oh dear! Tie me tight, tie me tight!’
The good Servant took his fiddle from his neck, and put it into position, and
at the first chord everybody began to wag their heads, the Judge, his Clerk,
and all the Officers of Justice, and the rope fell out of the hand of the man
about to bind the Jew.
At the second scrape, they all lifted their legs, and the Hangman let go his
hold of the honest Servant, to make ready to dance.
At the third scrape they one and all leapt into the air, and began to caper
about, the Judge and the Jew at the head, and they all leapt their best.
Soon, every one who had come to the market-place out of curiosity, old and
young, fat and lean, were dancing as hard as they could; even the dogs got
upon their hind legs, and pranced about with the rest. The longer he played,
the higher they jumped, till they knocked their heads together, and made
each other cry out.
At last the Judge, quite out of breath, cried: ‘I will give you your life, if
only you will stop playing.’
The honest Servant allowed himself to be prevailed upon, laid his fiddle
aside, and came down the ladder. Then he went up to the Jew, who lay upon
the ground gasping, and said to him:
‘You rascal, confess where you got the money, or I will begin to play
again.’
‘I stole it! I stole it!’ he screamed; ‘but you have honestly earned it.’
The Judge then ordered the Jew to the gallows to be hanged as a thief.

Ashenputtel

T HE wife of a rich man fell ill, and when she felt that she was nearing
her end, she called her only daughter to her bedside, and said:
‘Dear child, continue devout and good, then God will always help you, and
I will look down upon you from heaven, and watch over you.’
Thereupon she closed her eyes, and breathed her last.
The maiden went to her mother’s grave every day and wept, and she
continued to be devout and good. When the winter came, the snow spread a
white covering on the grave, and when the sun of spring had unveiled it
again, the husband took another wife. The new wife brought home with her
two daughters, who were fair and beautiful to look upon, but base and black
at heart.
Then began a sad time for the unfortunate step-child.
‘Is this stupid goose to sit with us in the parlour?’ they said.
‘Whoever wants to eat bread must earn it; go and sit with the kitchenmaid.’
They took away her pretty clothes, and made her put on an old grey frock,
and gave her wooden clogs.
‘Just look at the proud Princess, how well she’s dressed,’ they laughed, as
they led her to the kitchen. There, the girl was obliged to do hard work from
morning till night, to get up at daybreak, carry water, light the fire, cook,
and wash. Not content with that, the sisters inflicted on her every vexation
they could think of; they made fun of her, and tossed the peas and lentils
among the ashes, so that she had to sit down and pick them out again. In the
evening, when she was worn out with work, she had no bed to go to, but
had to lie on the hearth among the cinders. And because, on account of that,
she always looked dusty and dirty, they called her Ashenputtel.

It happened one day that the Father had a mind to go to the Fair. So he
asked both his step-daughters what he should bring home for them.
‘Fine clothes,’ said one.
‘Pearls and jewels,’ said the other.
‘But you, Ashenputtel?’ said he, ‘what will you have?’
‘Father, break off for me the first twig which brushes against your hat on
your way home.’
Well, for his two step-daughters he brought beautiful clothes, pearls and
jewels, and on his way home, as he was riding through a green copse, a
hazel twig grazed against him and knocked his hat off. Then he broke off
the branch and took it with him.
When he got home he gave his step-daughters what they had asked for, and
to Ashenputtel he gave the twig from the hazel bush.
Ashenputtel thanked him, and went to her mother’s grave and planted the
twig upon it; she wept so much that her tears fell and watered it. And it took
root and became a fine tree.
Ashenputtel went to the grave three times every day, wept and prayed, and
every time a little white bird came and perched upon the tree, and when she
uttered a wish, the little bird threw down to her what she had wished for.
Now it happened that the King proclaimed a festival, which was to last
three days, and to which all the beautiful maidens in the country were
invited, in order that his son might choose a bride.
When the two step-daughters heard that they were also to be present, they
were in high spirits, called Ashenputtel, and said:
‘Brush our hair and clean our shoes, and fasten our buckles, for we are
going to the feast at the King’s palace.’
Ashenputtel obeyed, but wept, for she also would gladly have gone to the
ball with them, and begged her Step-mother to give her leave to go.

‘You, Ashenputtel!’ she said. ‘Why, you are covered with dust and dirt. You
go to the festival! Besides you have no clothes or shoes, and yet you want
to go to the ball.’
As she, however, went on asking, her Step-mother said:
‘Well, I have thrown a dishful of lentils into the cinders, if you have picked
them all out in two hours you shall go with us.’
The girl went through the back door into the garden, and cried, ‘Ye gentle
doves, ye turtle doves, and all ye little birds under heaven, come and help
me,

‘The good into a dish to throw,
The bad into your crops can go.’

Then two white doves came in by the kitchen window, and were followed
by the turtle doves, and finally all the little birds under heaven flocked in,
chirping, and settled down among the ashes. And the doves gave a nod with
their little heads, peck, peck, peck; and then the rest began also, peck, peck,
peck, and collected all the good beans into the dish. Scarcely had an hour
passed before they had finished, and all flown out again.
Then the girl brought the dish to her Step-mother, and was delighted to
think that now she would be able to go to the feast with them.
But she said, ‘No, Ashenputtel, you have no clothes, and cannot dance; you
will only be laughed at.’
But when she began to cry, the Step-mother said:
‘If you can pick out two whole dishes of lentils from the ashes in an hour,
you shall go with us.’
And she thought, ‘She will never be able to do that.’

When her Step-mother had thrown the dishes of lentils among the ashes, the
girl went out through the back door, and cried, ‘Ye gentle doves, ye turtle
doves, and all ye little birds under heaven, come and help me,

‘The good into a dish to throw,
The bad into your crops can go.’

Then two white doves came in by the kitchen window, and were followed
by the turtle doves, and all the other little birds under heaven, and in less
than an hour the whole had been picked up, and they had all flown away.
Then the girl carried the dish to her Step-mother, and was delighted to think
that she would now be able to go to the ball.
But she said, ‘It’s not a bit of good. You can’t go with us, for you’ve got no
clothes, and you can’t dance. We should be quite ashamed of you.’
Thereupon she turned her back upon her, and hurried off with her two proud
daughters.
As soon as every one had left the house, Ashenputtel went out to her
mother’s grave under the hazel-tree, and cried:

‘Shiver and shake, dear little tree,
Gold and silver shower on me.’

Then the bird threw down to her a gold and silver robe, and a pair of
slippers embroidered with silk and silver. With all speed she put on the robe
and went to the feast. But her step-sisters and their mother did not recognise
her, and supposed that she was some foreign Princess, so beautiful did she
appear in her golden dress. They never gave a thought to Ashenputtel, but
imagined that she was sitting at home in the dirt picking the lentils out of
the cinders.
The Prince came up to the stranger, took her by the hand, and danced with
her. In fact, he would not dance with any one else, and never left go of her
hand. If any one came up to ask her to dance, he said, ‘This is my partner.’
She danced until nightfall, and then wanted to go home; but the Prince said,
‘I will go with you and escort you.’
For he wanted to see to whom the beautiful maiden belonged. But she
slipped out of his way and sprang into the pigeon-house.
Then the Prince waited till her Father came, and told him that the unknown
maiden had vanished into the pigeon-house.

The old man thought, ‘Could it be Ashenputtel?’ And he had an axe brought
to him, so that he might break down the pigeon-house, but there was no one
inside.
When they went home, there lay Ashenputtel in her dirty clothes among the
cinders, and a dismal oil lamp was burning in the chimney corner. For
Ashenputtel had quietly jumped down out of the pigeon-house and ran back
to the hazel-tree. There she had taken off her beautiful clothes and laid them
on the grave, and the bird had taken them away again. Then she had settled
herself among the ashes on the hearth in her old grey frock.
On the second day, when the festival was renewed, and her parents and
step-sisters had started forth again, Ashenputtel went to the hazel-tree, and
said:

‘Shiver and shake, dear little tree,
Gold and silver shower on me.’

Then the bird threw down a still more gorgeous robe than on the previous
day. And when she appeared at the festival in this robe, every one was
astounded by her beauty.
The King’s son had waited till she came, and at once took her hand, and she
danced with no one but him. When others came forward and invited her to
dance, he said, ‘This is my partner.’
At nightfall she wished to leave; but the Prince went after her, hoping to see
into what house she went, but she sprang out into the garden behind the
house. There stood a fine big tree on which the most delicious pears hung.
She climbed up among the branches as nimbly as a squirrel, and the Prince
could not make out what had become of her.
But he waited till her Father came, and then said to him, ‘The unknown
maiden has slipped away from me, and I think that she has jumped into the
pear-tree.’
The Father thought, ‘Can it be Ashenputtel?’ And he had the axe brought to
cut down the tree, but there was no one on it. When they went home and
looked into the kitchen, there lay Ashenputtel among the cinders as usual;

for she had jumped down on the other side of the tree, taken back the
beautiful clothes to the bird on the hazel-tree, and put on her old grey frock.
On the third day, when her parents and sisters had started, Ashenputtel went
again to her mother’s grave, and said:

‘Shiver and shake, dear little tree,
Gold and silver shower on me.’

Then the bird threw down a dress which was so magnificent that no one had
ever seen the like before, and the slippers were entirely of gold. When she
appeared at the festival in this attire, they were all speechless with
astonishment. The Prince danced only with her, and if any one else asked
her to dance, he said, ‘This is my partner.’
When night fell and she wanted to leave, the Prince was more desirous than
ever to accompany her, but she darted away from him so quickly that he
could not keep up with her. But the Prince had used a stratagem, and had
caused the steps to be covered with cobbler’s wax. The consequence was,
that as the maiden sprang down them, her left slipper remained sticking
there. The Prince took it up. It was small and dainty, and entirely made of
gold.
The next morning he went with it to Ashenputtel’s Father, and said to him,
‘No other shall become my wife but she whose foot this golden slipper fits.’
The two sisters were delighted at that, for they both had beautiful feet. The
eldest went into the room intending to try on the slipper, and her Mother
stood beside her. But her great toe prevented her getting it on, her foot was
too long.
Then her Mother handed her a knife, and said, ‘Cut off the toe; when you
are Queen you won’t have to walk any more.’
The girl cut off her toe, forced her foot into the slipper, stifled her pain, and
went out to the Prince. Then he took her up on his horse as his Bride, and
rode away with her.
However, they had to pass the grave on the way, and there sat the two
Doves on the hazel-tree, and cried:

‘Prithee, look back, prithee, look
back,
There’s blood on the track,
The shoe is too small,
At home the true Bride is waiting
thy call.’

Then he looked at her foot and saw how the blood was streaming from it.
So he turned his horse round and carried the false Bride back to her home,
and said that she was not the right one; the second sister must try the shoe.
Then she went into the room, and succeeded in getting her toes into the
shoe, but her heel was too big.
Then her Mother handed her a knife, and said, ‘Cut a bit off your heel;
when you are Queen you won’t have to walk any more.’
The maiden cut a bit off her heel, forced her foot into the shoe, stifled her
pain, and went out to the Prince.
Then he took her up on his horse as his Bride, and rode off with her.
As they passed the grave, the two Doves were sitting on the hazel-tree, and
crying:

‘Prithee, look back, prithee, look
back,
There’s blood on the track,
The shoe is too small,
At home the true Bride is waiting
thy call.’

He looked down at her foot and saw that it was streaming with blood, and
there were deep red spots on her stockings. Then he turned his horse and
brought the false Bride back to her home.
‘This is not the right one either,’ he said. ‘Have you no other daughter?’
‘No,’ said the man. ‘There is only a daughter of my late wife’s, a puny,
stunted drudge, but she cannot possibly be the Bride.’

The Prince said that she must be sent for.
But the Mother answered, ‘Oh no, she is much too dirty; she mustn’t be
seen on any account.’
He was, however, absolutely determined to have his way, and they were
obliged to summon Ashenputtel.
When she had washed her hands and face, she went up and curtsied to the
Prince, who handed her the golden slipper.
Then she sat down on a bench, pulled off her wooden clog and put on the
slipper, which fitted to a nicety.
And when she stood up and the Prince looked into her face, he recognised
the beautiful maiden that he had danced with, and cried: ‘This is the true
Bride!’
The Step-mother and the two sisters were dismayed and turned white with
rage; but he took Ashenputtel on his horse and rode off with her.
As they rode past the hazel-tree the two White Doves cried:

‘Prithee, look back, prithee, look
back,
No blood’s on the track,
The shoe’s not too small,
You carry the true Bride home to
your hall.’

And when they had said this they both came flying down, and settled on
Ashenputtel’s shoulders, one on the right, and one on the left, and remained
perched there.
When the wedding was going to take place, the two false sisters came and
wanted to curry favour with her, and take part in her good fortune. As the
bridal party was going to the church, the eldest was on the right side, the
youngest on the left, and the Doves picked out one of the eyes of each of
them.

Afterwards, when they were coming out of the church, the elder was on the
left, the younger on the right, and the Doves picked out the other eye of
each of them. And so for their wickedness and falseness they were punished
with blindness for the rest of their days.

The White Snake

A LONG time ago there lived a King whose wisdom was celebrated far
and wide. Nothing was unknown to him, and news of the most secret
transactions seemed to reach him through the air.
Now he had one very odd habit. Every day at dinner, when the courtiers had
withdrawn, and he was quite alone, a trusted Servant had to bring in another
dish. It was always covered, and even the Servant did not know what it
contained, nor any one else, for the King never uncovered it till he was
alone. This had gone on for a long time, when one day the Servant who
carried the dish was overcome by his curiosity, and took the dish to his own
room.
When he had carefully locked the door, he took the dish-cover off, and saw
a White Snake lying on the dish.
At the sight of it, he could not resist tasting it; so he cut a piece off, and put
it into his mouth.
Hardly had he tasted it, however, when he heard a wonderful whispering of
delicate voices.
He went to the window and listened, and he noticed that the whispers came
from the sparrows outside. They were chattering away, and telling each
other all kinds of things that they had heard in the woods and fields. Eating
the Snake had given him the power of understanding the language of birds
and animals.
Now it happened on this day that the Queen lost her most precious ring, and
suspicion fell upon this trusted Servant who went about everywhere.
The King sent for him, and threatened that if it was not found by the next
day, he would be sent to prison.
In vain he protested his innocence; he was not believed.

In his grief and anxiety he went down into the courtyard and wondered how
he should get out of his difficulty.
A number of Ducks were lying peaceably together by a stream, stroking
down their feathers with their bills, while they chattered gaily.
The Servant stood still to listen to them. They were telling each other of
their morning’s walks and experiences.
Then one of them said somewhat fretfully: ‘I have something lying heavy
on my stomach. In my haste I swallowed the Queen’s ring this morning.’
The Servant quickly seized it by the neck, carried it off into the kitchen, and
said to the Cook: ‘Here’s a fine fat Duck. You had better kill it at once.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said the Cook, weighing it in her hand. ‘It has spared no pains
in stuffing itself; it should have been roasted long ago.’
So she killed it, and cut it open, and there, sure enough, was the Queen’s
ring.
The Servant had now no difficulty in proving his innocence, and the King,
to make up for his injustice, gave the Servant leave to ask any favour he
liked, and promised him the highest post about the Court which he might
desire.
The Servant, however, declined everything but a horse, and some money to
travel with, as he wanted to wander about for a while, to see the world.
His request being granted, he set off on his travels, and one day came to a
pond, where he saw three Fishes caught among the reeds, and gasping for
breath. Although it is said that fishes are dumb, he understood their
complaint at perishing thus miserably. As he had a compassionate heart, he
got off his horse and put the three captives back into the water. They
wriggled in their joy, stretched up their heads above the water, and cried—
‘We will remember that you saved us, and reward you for it.’

He rode on again, and after a time he seemed to hear a voice in the sand at
his feet. He listened, and heard an Ant-King complain: ‘I wish these human
beings and their animals would keep out of our way. A clumsy horse has
just put his hoof down upon a number of my people in the most heartless
way.’
He turned his horse into a side path, and the Ant-King cried: ‘We will
remember and reward you.’

The road now ran through a forest, and he saw a pair of Ravens standing by
their nest throwing out their young.
‘Away with you, you gallows birds,’ they were saying. ‘We can’t feed you
any longer. You are old enough to look after yourselves.’
The poor little nestlings lay on the ground, fluttering and flapping their
wings, and crying: ‘We, poor helpless children, to feed ourselves, and we
can’t even fly! We shall die of hunger, there is nothing else for it.’
The good Youth dismounted, killed his horse with his sword, and left the
carcase as food for the young Ravens. They hopped along to it, and cried:
‘We will remember and reward you.’
Now he had to depend upon his own legs, and after going a long way he
came to a large town.
There was much noise and bustle in the streets, where a man on horseback
was making a proclamation.
‘The King’s daughter seeks a husband, but any one who wishes to sue for
her hand must accomplish a hard task; and if he does not bring it to a
successful issue, he will forfeit his life.’
Many had already attempted the task, but they had risked their lives in vain.
When the Youth saw the Princess, he was so dazzled by her beauty that he
forgot all danger, at once sought an audience of the King, and announced
himself as a suitor.
He was immediately led out to the seashore, and a golden ring was thrown
into the water before his eyes. Then the King ordered him to fetch it out
from the depths of the sea, and added—
‘If you come to land without it, you will be thrown back every time till you
perish in the waves.’
Every one pitied the handsome Youth, but they had to go and leave him
standing solitary on the seashore.

He was pondering over what he should do, when, all at once, he saw three
Fishes swimming towards him. They were no others than the very ones
whose lives he had saved.
The middle one carried a mussel-shell in its mouth, which it laid on the
sand at the feet of the Youth. When he picked it up, and opened it, there lay
the ring.
Full of joy, he took it to the King, expecting that he would give him the
promised reward.
The proud Princess, however, when she heard that he was not her equal,
despised him, and demanded that he should perform yet another task.
So she went into the garden herself, and strewed ten sacks of millet seeds
among the grass.
‘He must pick up every one of those before the sun rises to-morrow
morning,’ said she. ‘Not a grain must be missing.’
The Youth sat miserably in the garden, wondering how it could possibly be
done. But as he could not think of a plan, he remained sadly waiting for the
dawn which would bring death to him.
But when the first sunbeams fell on the garden, he saw the ten sacks full to
the top, and not a grain was missing. The Ant-King had come in the night
with thousands and thousands of his Ants, and the grateful creatures had
picked up the millet and filled the sacks.
The Princess came into the garden herself, and saw with amazement that the
Youth had completed the task.
But still she could not control her proud heart, and she said: ‘Even if he has
accomplished these two tasks, he shall not become my husband till he
brings me an apple from the tree of life.’
The Youth had no idea where to find the tree of life. However, he started
off, meaning to walk as far as his legs would carry him; but he had no hope
of finding it.

When he had travelled through three kingdoms, he was one night passing
through a great forest, and he lay down under a tree to sleep.
He heard a rustling among the branches, and a golden apple fell into his
hand. At the same time three Ravens flew down and perched on his knee,
and said:
‘We are the young Ravens you saved from death. When we grew big, and
heard that you were looking for the golden apple, we flew across the sea to
the end of the world, where the tree of life stands, and brought you the
apple.’
The Youth, delighted, started on his homeward journey, and took the golden
apple to the beautiful Princess, who had now no further excuse to offer.
They divided the apple of life, and ate it together, and then her heart was
filled with love for him, and they lived happily to a great age.

The Wolf and the Seven Kids

T HERE was once an old Nanny-goat who had seven Kids, and she was
just as fond of them as a mother of her children. One day she was
going into the woods to fetch some food for them, so she called them
all up to her, and said—
‘My dear children, I am going out into the woods. Beware of the Wolf! If
once he gets into the house, he will eat you up, skin, and hair, and all. The
rascal often disguises himself, but you will know him by his rough voice
and his black feet.’
The Kids said, ‘Oh, we will be very careful, dear mother. You may be quite
happy about us.’
Bleating tenderly, the old Goat went off to her work. Before long, some one
knocked at the door, and cried—
‘Open the door, dear children! Your mother has come back and brought
something for each of you.’
But the Kids knew quite well by the voice that it was the Wolf.
‘We won’t open the door,’ they cried. ‘You are not our mother. She has a
soft gentle voice; but yours is rough, and we are quite sure that you are the
Wolf.’
So he went away to a shop and bought a lump of chalk, which he ate, and it
made his voice quite soft. He went back, knocked at the door again, and
cried—
‘Open the door, dear children. Your mother has come back and brought
something for each of you.’
But the Wolf had put one of his paws on the window sill, where the Kids
saw it, and cried—

‘We won’t open the door. Our mother has not got a black foot as you have;
you are the Wolf.’
Then the Wolf ran to a Baker, and said, ‘I have bruised my foot; please put
some dough on it.’ And when the Baker had put some dough on his foot, he
ran to the Miller and said, ‘Strew some flour on my foot.’
The Miller thought, ‘The old Wolf is going to take somebody in,’ and
refused.
But the Wolf said, ‘If you don’t do it, I will eat you up.’
So the Miller was frightened, and whitened his paws. People are like that,
you know.
Now the wretch went for the third time to the door, and knocked, and said
—
‘Open the door, children. Your dear mother has come home, and has
brought something for each of you out of the wood.’
The Kids cried, ‘Show us your feet first, that we may be sure you are our
mother.’
He put his paws on the window sill, and when they saw that they were
white, they believed all he said, and opened the door.
Alas! It was the Wolf who walked in. They were terrified, and tried to hide
themselves. One ran under the table, the second jumped into bed, the third
into the oven, the fourth ran into the kitchen, the fifth got into the cupboard,
the sixth into the wash-tub, and the seventh hid in the tall clock-case. But
the Wolf found them all but one, and made short work of them. He
swallowed one after the other, except the youngest one in the clock-case,
whom he did not find. When he had satisfied his appetite, he took himself
off, and lay down in a meadow outside, where he soon fell asleep.
Not long after the old Nanny-goat came back from the woods. Oh! what a
terrible sight met her eyes! The house door was wide open, table, chairs,
and benches were overturned, the washing bowl was smashed to atoms, the
covers and pillows torn from the bed. She searched all over the house for
her children, but nowhere were they to be found. She called them by name,

one by one, but no one answered. At last, when she came to the youngest, a
tiny voice cried:
‘I am here, dear mother, hidden in the clock-case.’
She brought him out, and he told her that the Wolf had come and devoured
all the others.
You may imagine how she wept over her children.
At last, in her grief, she went out, and the youngest Kid ran by her side.
When they went into the meadow, there lay the Wolf under a tree, making
the branches shake with his snores. They examined him from every side,
and they could plainly see movements within his distended body.
‘Ah, heavens!’ thought the Goat, ‘is it possible that my poor children whom
he ate for his supper, should be still alive?’
She sent the Kid running to the house to fetch scissors, needles, and thread.
Then she cut a hole in the monster’s side, and, hardly had she begun, when
a Kid popped out its head, and as soon as the hole was big enough, all six
jumped out, one after the other, all alive, and without having suffered the
least injury, for, in his greed, the monster had swallowed them whole. You
may imagine the mother’s joy. She hugged them, and skipped about like a
tailor on his wedding day. At last she said:
‘Go and fetch some big stones, children, and we will fill up the brute’s body
while he is asleep.’
Then the seven Kids brought a lot of stones, as fast as they could carry
them, and stuffed the Wolf with them till he could hold no more. The old
mother quickly sewed him up, without his having noticed anything, or even
moved.
At last, when the Wolf had had his sleep out, he got up, and, as the stones
made him feel very thirsty, he wanted to go to a spring to drink. But as soon
as he moved the stones began to roll about and rattle inside him. Then he
cried—

‘What’s the rumbling and tumbling

That sets my stomach grumbling?
I thought ’twas six Kids, flesh and
bones,
Now find it’s nought but rolling
stones.’

When he reached the spring, and stooped over the water to drink, the heavy
stones dragged him down, and he was drowned miserably.
When the seven Kids saw what had happened, they came running up, and
cried aloud—‘The Wolf is dead, the Wolf is dead!’ and they and their

mother capered and danced round the spring in their joy.

The Queen Bee

O NCE upon a time two Princes started off in search of adventure, and,
falling into a wild, free mode of life, did not come home again.
The third Brother, who was called the Blockhead, set out to look for the
other two. But when at last he found them, they mocked him for thinking of
making his way in the world with his simplicity, while they, who were so
much cleverer, could not get on.
They all three went on together till they came to an ant-heap. The two elder
Princes wanted to disturb it, to see how the little ants crept away, carrying
their eggs.
But the Blockhead said: ‘Leave the little creatures alone; I will not allow
you to disturb them.’
Then they went on further till they came to a lake, in which a great many
ducks were swimming about. The two wanted to catch and roast a pair.
But the Blockhead would not allow it, and said: ‘Leave the creatures alone.
You shall not kill them.’
At last they came to a bee’s nest, containing such a quantity of honey that it
flowed round the trunk of the tree.
The two Princes wanted to set fire to the tree, and suffocate the bees, so as
to remove the honey.
But the Blockhead stopped them again, and said: ‘Leave the creatures
alone. I will not let you burn them.’
At last the three Brothers came to a castle, where the stables were full of
stone horses, but not a soul was to be seen. They went through all the rooms
till they came to a door quite at the end, fastened with three bolts. In the
middle of the door was a lattice, through which one could see into the room.

There they saw a little grey Man sitting at a table. They called to him once
—twice—but he did not hear them. Finally, when they had called him the
third time, he stood up and opened the door, and came out. He said not a
word, but led them to a richly-spread table, and when they had eaten and
drunk, he took them each to a bedroom.
The next morning the little grey Man came to the eldest Prince, beckoned,
and led him to a stone tablet whereon were inscribed three tasks by means
of which the castle should be freed from enchantment.
This was the first task: In the wood, under the moss, lay the Princesses’
pearls, a thousand in number. These had all to be found, and if at sunset a
single one were missing, the seeker was turned to stone.
The eldest went away, and searched all day, but when evening came, he had
only found the first hundred, and it happened as the inscription foretold. He
was turned to stone.
The next day the second Brother undertook the quest; but he fared no better
than the first, for he only found two hundred pearls, and he too was turned
to stone.
At last came the Blockhead’s turn; he searched in the moss, but the pearls
were hard to find, and he got on but slowly.
Then he sat down on a rock and cried, and as he was sitting there, the Ant-
King, whose life he had saved, came up with five thousand ants, and it was
not long before the little creatures had found all the pearls and laid them in
a heap.
Now the second task was to get the key of the Princesses’ room out of the
lake.
When the Blockhead came to the lake, the ducks he had once saved, swam
up, dived, and brought up the key from the depths.
But the third task was the hardest. The Prince had to find out which was the
youngest and most charming of the Princesses while they were asleep.
They were exactly alike, and could not be distinguished in any way, except
that before going to sleep each had eaten a different kind of sweet. The

eldest a piece of sugar, the second a little syrup, and the third a spoonful of
honey.
Then the Queen of the Bees, whom the Blockhead had saved from burning,
came and tried the lips of all three. Finally, she settled on the mouth of the
one who had eaten the honey, and so the Prince recognised the right one.
Then the charm was broken and everything in the castle was set free, and
those who had been turned to stone took human form again.
And the Blockhead married the youngest and sweetest Princess, and
became King after her father’s death, while his two Brothers married the
other sisters.

The Three Sleeping Princesses.

The Elves and the Shoemaker

T HERE was once a Shoemaker who, through no fault of his own, had
become so poor that at last he had only leather enough left for one
pair of shoes. At evening he cut out the shoes which he intended to
begin upon the next morning, and since he had a good conscience, he lay
down quietly, said his prayers, and fell asleep.
In the morning when he had said his prayers, and was preparing to sit down
to work, he found the pair of shoes standing finished on his table. He was
amazed, and could not understand it in the least.
He took the shoes in his hand to examine them more closely. They were so
neatly sewn that not a stitch was out of place, and were as good as the work
of a master-hand.
Soon after a purchaser came in, and as he was much pleased with the shoes,
he paid more than the ordinary price for them, so that the Shoemaker was
able to buy leather for two pairs of shoes with the money.
He cut them out in the evening, and next day, with fresh courage, was about
to go to work; but he had no need to, for when he got up, the shoes were
finished, and buyers were not lacking. These gave him so much money that
he was able to buy leather for four pairs of shoes.
Early next morning he found the four pairs finished, and so it went on; what
he cut out at evening was finished in the morning, so that he was soon again
in comfortable circumstances, and became a well-to-do man.
Now it happened one evening, not long before Christmas, when he had cut
out some shoes as usual, that he said to his Wife: ‘How would it be if we
were to sit up to-night to see who it is that lends us such a helping hand?’
The Wife agreed, lighted a candle, and they hid themselves in the corner of
the room behind the clothes which were hanging there.

At midnight came two little naked men who sat down at the Shoemaker’s
table, took up the cut-out work, and began with their tiny fingers to stitch,
sew, and hammer so neatly and quickly, that the Shoemaker could not
believe his eyes. They did not stop till everything was quite finished, and
stood complete on the table; then they ran swiftly away.
The next day the Wife said: ‘The little men have made us rich, and we
ought to show our gratitude. They were running about with nothing on, and
must freeze with cold. Now I will make them little shirts, coats, waistcoats,
and hose, and will even knit them a pair of stockings, and you shall make
them each a pair of shoes.’
The Husband agreed, and at evening, when they had everything ready, they
laid out the presents on the table, and hid themselves to see how the little
men would behave.
At midnight they came skipping in, and were about to set to work; but,
instead of the leather ready cut out, they found the charming little clothes.
At first they were surprised, then excessively delighted. With the greatest
speed they put on and smoothed down the pretty clothes, singing:

‘Now we’re boys so fine and neat,
Why cobble more for other’s feet?’

Then they hopped and danced about, and leapt over chairs and tables and
out at the door. Henceforward, they came back no more, but the Shoemaker
fared well as long as he lived, and had good luck in all his undertakings.

The Wolf and the Man

A FOX was one day talking to a Wolf about the strength of man.
‘No animals,’ he said, ‘could withstand man, and they were obliged
to use cunning to hold their own against him.’
The Wolf answered, ‘If ever I happened to see a man, I should attack him
all the same.’
‘Well, I can help you to that,’ said the Fox. ‘Come to me early to-morrow,
and I will show you one!’
The Wolf was early astir, and the Fox took him out to a road in the forest,
traversed daily by a Huntsman.
First came an old discharged soldier.
‘Is that a Man?’ asked the Wolf.
‘No,’ answered the Fox. ‘He has been a Man.’
After that, a little boy appeared on his way to school.
‘Is that a Man?’
‘No; he is going to be a Man.’
At last the Huntsman made his appearance, his gun on his back, and his
hunting-knife at his side. The Fox said to the Wolf,—
‘Look! There comes a Man. You may attack him, but I will make off to my
hole!’
The Wolf set on the Man, who said to himself when he saw him, ‘What a
pity my gun isn’t loaded with ball,’ and fired a charge of shot in the Wolf’s
face. The Wolf made a wry face, but he was not to be so easily frightened,

and attacked him again. Then the Huntsman gave him the second charge.
The Wolf swallowed the pain, and rushed at the Huntsman; but he drew his
bright hunting-knife, and hit out right and left with it, so that, streaming
with blood, the Wolf ran back to the Fox.
‘Well, brother Wolf,’ said the Fox, ‘and how did you get on with the Man?’
‘Alas!’ said the Wolf. ‘I never thought the strength of man would be what it
is. First, he took a stick from his shoulder, and blew into it, and something
flew into my face, which tickled frightfully. Then he blew into it again, and
it flew into my eyes and nose like lightning and hail. Then he drew a
shining rib out of his body, and struck at me with it till I was more dead
than alive.’
‘Now, you see,’ said the Fox, ‘what a braggart you are. You throw your
hatchet so far that you can’t get it back again.’

The Turnip

T HERE were once two Brothers who both served as soldiers, and one
was rich and the other was poor.
The poor one, wishing to better himself, discarded his uniform and worked
like a Peasant. Then he dug and hoed his little field and sowed Turnips.
The seed came up, and one of the Turnips grew to such an enormous size,
that it seemed as though it would never have finished; and it might have
been called the Queen of Turnips, for its like had never been seen before,
nor ever will be again.
At last it was so big that it filled a cart, and needed two oxen to draw it; and
the Peasant could not imagine what would come of it, whether it would
bring good luck or bad.
At last he said to himself: ‘If I sell it what shall I gain? I might eat it, but the
little Turnips would do as well for that. The best thing will be to take it to
the King and offer it to him.’
So he loaded a cart, harnessed two oxen, and took it to the Court to present
it to the King.
‘What is that extraordinary object?’ said the King. ‘I have seen many
marvels in my time, but never anything so remarkable as this. What seed
did it spring from? Perhaps it belongs to you, especially if you are a child of
good luck?’
‘Oh no,’ said the Peasant, ‘lucky I certainly am not, for I am a poor Soldier,
who, since he could keep himself no longer, has hung up his uniform on a
nail, and tills the earth. Further, I have a Brother who is rich, and well
known to you, my Lord King; but I, because I have nothing, am forgotten
by all the world.’

Then the King pitied him and said: ‘Your poverty shall be at an end, and
you shall receive such rich presents from me that your wealth will equal
that of your Brother.’
Thereupon he gave him plenty of gold, lands, fields, and flocks, and
enriched him with precious stones, so that the other Brother’s wealth could
not be compared with his.
Now, when the rich Brother heard what his Brother with the single Turnip
had acquired, he envied him, and pondered how he might gain a like
treasure for himself.

So the rich Brother had to put his Brother’s Turnip into a cart, and have it taken home.

But he wanted to show himself much cleverer, so he took gold and horses
and presented them to the King, feeling certain that he would give him a far
handsomer gift; for if his Brother got so much for a Turnip, what would not
he get for his beautiful things.
The King took the present, saying that he could give him in return nothing
rarer or better than the huge Turnip.
So the rich Brother had to put his Brother’s Turnip into a cart, and have it
taken home.
Then he did not know on whom to expend his wrath and bitterness, till evil
thoughts came to him, and he determined to kill his Brother.

He hired Murderers, who were to place themselves in ambush, and then he
went to his Brother, and said: ‘Dear Brother, I know of a secret treasure
which we will carry off and divide.’
The other agreed, and went without suspicion. But when they got out, the
Murderers sprang upon him, bound him, and prepared to hang him on a
tree.
While they were about it, they heard in the distance the clatter of hoofs and
the sound of singing, which frightened them so much that they stuck their
Prisoner into a sack, head foremost, slung it up on a branch, and took to
flight.
But the Man up in the sack worked a hole in it, and stuck his head through.
Now the traveller turned out to be nothing more than a Student, a young
fellow who was riding through the wood, singing cheerily.
When the Man up in the sack saw some one down below, he called out:
‘Good-day. You come in the nick of time.’
The Student looked all round, but could not make out where the voice came
from.
At last he said: ‘Who calls?’
A voice from above answered: ‘Raise your eyes, I am sitting up here in the
Sack of Wisdom, and in a short time I have learnt so much that the wisdom
of the schools is as air compared to mine. Soon I shall be quite perfect, and
shall come down and be the wisest of all mankind. I understand the stars
and signs of the heavens, the blowing of the winds, the sand of the sea, the
healing of sickness, the power of herbs, birds, and stones. If you were once
inside, you would feel what wonders flow from the Sack of Knowledge.’
When the Student heard this he was astonished, and said: ‘Blessed be the
hour when I met you, if only I too might get into the sack for a little.’
The other answered, as though unwillingly: ‘I will let you in for a little
while for payment and kind words, but you must wait an hour, as there is
something rather difficult which I must learn first.’

But when the Student had waited a little, he grew impatient and entreated
permission to get in, so great was his thirst for knowledge. Then the Man in
the sack pretended to give in, and said: ‘In order that I may get out of the
sack you must let it down, then you can get in.’
So the Student let it down, undid the sack and released the Prisoner, and
said: ‘Now pull me up as fast as possible’; and he tried to get into the sack
and stand upright in it.
‘Stop,’ said the other. ‘That won’t do.’ And he packed him in head first, tied
it up, and slung up the Disciple of Wisdom, dangling him in the air, and
said: ‘How are you, my dear fellow? You will soon feel wisdom coming
upon you, and will have a most interesting experience. Sit still till you are
wiser.’
Thereupon he mounted the Student’s horse, and rode off, but sent some one
in an hour to let him down again.

Clever Hans

W HERE are you going, Hans?’ asked his Mother.
‘To see Grettel,’ answered Hans.
‘Behave well, Hans!’
‘All right, Mother. Good-bye.’
‘Good-bye, Hans.’
Hans comes to Grettel.
‘Good morning, Grettel.’
‘Good morning, Hans. What have you brought me?’
‘I’ve not brought you anything. I want a present.’
Grettel gives him a needle. Hans takes the needle, and sticks it in a load of
hay, and walks home behind the cart.
‘Good evening, Mother.’
‘Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?’
‘I’ve been to Grettel’s.’
‘What did you give her?’
‘I gave her nothing. But she made me a present.’
‘What did she give you?’
‘She gave me a needle.’
‘What did you do with it?’

‘Stuck it in the hay-cart.’
‘That was stupid, Hans. You should have stuck it in your sleeve.’
‘Never mind, Mother; I’ll do better next time.’
‘Where are you going, Hans?’
‘To see Grettel, Mother.’
‘Behave well.’
‘All right, Mother. Good-bye.’
‘Good-bye, Hans.’
Hans comes to Grettel.
‘Good morning, Grettel.’
‘Good morning, Hans. What have you brought me?’
‘I’ve brought nothing. But I want something.’
Grettel gives him a knife.
‘Good-bye, Grettel.’
‘Good-bye, Hans.’
Hans takes the knife, and sticks it in his sleeve, and goes home.
‘Good evening, Mother.’
‘Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?’
‘Been to see Grettel.’
‘What did you give her?’
‘I gave her nothing. But she gave me something.’
‘What did she give you?’
‘She gave me a knife.’

‘Where is the knife, Hans?’
‘I stuck it in my sleeve.’
‘That’s a stupid place, Hans. You should have put it in your pocket.’
‘Never mind, Mother; I’ll do better next time.’
‘Where are you going, Hans?’
‘To see Grettel, Mother.’
‘Behave well, then.’
‘All right, Mother. Good-bye.’
‘Good-bye, Hans.’
Hans comes to Grettel.
‘Good morning, Grettel.’
‘Good morning, Hans. Have you brought me anything nice?’
‘I’ve brought nothing. What have you got for me?’
Grettel gives him a young kid.
‘Good-bye, Grettel.’
‘Good-bye, Hans.’
Hans takes the kid, ties its legs together, and puts it in his pocket.
When he got home, it was suffocated.
‘Good evening, Mother.’
‘Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?’
‘Been to see Grettel, Mother.’
‘What did you give her?’
‘I gave her nothing. But I brought away something.’

‘What did Grettel give you?’
‘She gave me a young kid.’
‘What did you do with the kid?’
‘Put it in my pocket, Mother.’
‘That was very stupid. You should have led it by a rope.’
‘Never mind, Mother; I’ll manage better next time.’
‘Where are you going, Hans?’
‘To see Grettel, Mother.’
‘Manage well, then.’
‘All right, Mother. Good-bye.’
‘Good-bye, Hans.’
Hans comes to Grettel.
‘Good morning, Grettel.’
‘Good morning, Hans. What have you brought me?’
‘I’ve brought you nothing. What have you got for me?’
Grettel gives him a piece of bacon.
‘Good-bye, Grettel.’
‘Good-bye, Hans.’
Hans takes the bacon, ties a rope round it, and drags it along behind him.
The dogs come after him, and eat it up. When he got home he had the rope
in his hand, but there was nothing at the end of it.
‘Good evening, Mother.’
‘Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?’

‘To see Grettel, Mother.’
‘What did you take her?’
‘I took nothing. But I brought something away.’
‘What did she give you?’
‘She gave me a piece of bacon.’
‘What did you do with the bacon, Hans?’
‘I tied it to a rope, and dragged it home. But the dogs ate it.’
‘That was a stupid business, Hans. You should have carried it on your
head.’
‘Never mind, Mother; I’ll do better next time.’
‘Where are you going, Hans?’
‘To see Grettel, Mother.’
‘Behave properly, then.’
‘All right, Mother. Good-bye.’
‘Good-bye, Hans.’
Hans comes to Grettel.
‘Good morning, Grettel.’
‘Good morning, Hans. What have you brought me?’
‘I’ve brought nothing. What have you got for me?’
Grettel gives Hans a calf.
‘Good-bye, Grettel.’
‘Good-bye, Hans.’
Hans takes the calf, and puts it on his head. It kicks his face.

‘Good evening, Mother.’
‘Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?’
‘Been to see Grettel, Mother.’
‘What did you take her?’
‘I took her nothing, Mother. She gave me something.’
‘What did she give you, Hans?’
‘She gave me a calf, Mother.’
‘What did you do with the calf?’
‘Put it on my head, Mother, and it kicked my face.’
‘That was very stupid, Hans. You should have led it by a rope, and put it in
the cow-stall.’
‘Never mind, Mother; I’ll do better next time.’
‘Where are you going, Hans?’
‘To see Grettel, Mother.’
‘Mind how you behave, Hans.’
‘All right, Mother. Good-bye.’
Hans goes to Grettel.

When he got home he had the rope in his hand, but there was nothing at the end of it.

‘Good morning, Grettel.’
‘Good morning, Hans. What have you brought me?’
‘I’ve brought you nothing. I want to take away something.’
‘I’ll go with you myself, Hans.’
Hans ties Grettel to a rope, and leads her home, where he puts her in a stall,
and ties her up. Then he goes into the house to his Mother.
‘Good evening, Mother.’
‘Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?’
‘To see Grettel, Mother.’
‘What did you take her?’
‘I took nothing.’

‘What did Grettel give you?’
‘She gave me nothing. She came with me.’
‘Where did you leave Grettel?’
‘Tied up in the stable with a rope.’
‘That was stupid. You should have cast sheep’s eyes at her.’
‘Never mind; I’ll do better next time.’
Hans went into the stable, plucked the eyes out of the cows and calves, and
threw them in Grettel’s face.
Grettel got angry, broke the rope, and ran away.
Yet she became Hans’ wife.

The Three Languages

T HERE once lived in Switzerland an old Count, who had an only son;
but he was very stupid, and could learn nothing. So his father said to
him: ‘Listen to me, my son. I can get nothing into your head, try as
hard as I may. You must go away from here, and I will hand you over to a
renowned Professor for a whole year.’ At the end of the year he came home
again, and his father asked: ‘Now, my son, what have you learnt?’
‘Father, I have learnt the language of dogs.’
‘Mercy on us!’ cried his father, ‘is that all you have learnt? I will send you
away again to another Professor in a different town.’ The youth was taken
there, and remained with this Professor also for another year. When he came
back his father asked him again: ‘My son, what have you learnt?’
He answered: ‘I have learnt bird language.’
Then the father flew into a rage, and said: ‘Oh, you hopeless creature, have
you been spending all this precious time and learnt nothing? Aren’t you
ashamed to come into my presence? I will send you to a third Professor, but
if you learn nothing this time, I won’t be your father any longer.’
The son stopped with the third Professor in the same way for a whole year,
and when he came home again and his father asked, ‘My son, what have
you learnt?’ he answered—
‘My dear father, this year I have learnt frog language.’
Thereupon his father flew into a fearful passion, and said: ‘This creature is
my son no longer. I turn him out of the house and command you to lead him
into the forest and take his life.’

On the way he passed a swamp, in which a number of Frogs were croaking.

They led him forth, but when they were about to kill him, for pity’s sake
they could not do it, and let him go. Then they cut out the eyes and tongue
of a Fawn, in order that they might take back proofs to the old Count.
The youth wandered about, and at length came to a castle, where he begged
a night’s lodging.

‘Very well,’ said the Lord of the castle. ‘If you like to pass the night down
there in the old tower, you may; but I warn you that it will be at the risk of
your life, for it is full of savage dogs. They bark and howl without ceasing,
and at certain hours they must have a man thrown to them, and they devour
him at once.’
The whole neighbourhood was distressed by the scourge, but no one could
do anything to remedy it. But the youth was not a bit afraid, and said: ‘Just
let me go down to these barking dogs, and give me something that I can
throw to them; they won’t do me any harm.’
As he would not have anything else, they gave him some food for the
savage dogs, and took him down to the tower.
The dogs did not bark at him when he entered, but ran round him wagging
their tails in a most friendly manner, ate the food he gave them, and did not
so much as touch a hair of his head.
The next morning, to the surprise of every one, he made his appearance
again, and said to the Lord of the castle, ‘The Dogs have revealed to me in
their own language why they live there and bring mischief to the country.
They are enchanted, and obliged to guard a great treasure which is hidden
under the tower, and will get no rest till it has been dug up; and how that
has to be done I have also learnt from them.’
Every one who heard this was delighted, and the Lord of the castle said he
would adopt him as a son if he accomplished the task successfully. He went
down to the tower again, and as he knew how to set to work he
accomplished his task, and brought out a chest full of gold. The howling of
the savage Dogs was from that time forward heard no more. They entirely
disappeared, and the country was delivered from the scourge.
After a time, he took it into his head to go to Rome. On the way he passed a
swamp, in which a number of Frogs were croaking. He listened, and when
he heard what they were saying he became quite pensive and sad.
At last he reached Rome, at a moment when the Pope had just died, and
there was great doubt among the Cardinals whom they ought to name as his
successor. They agreed at last that the man to whom some divine miracle
should be manifested ought to be chosen as Pope. Just as they had come to

this decision, the young Count entered the church, and suddenly two snow-
white doves flew down and alighted on his shoulders.
The clergy recognised in this the sign from Heaven, and asked him on the
spot whether he would be Pope.
He was undecided, and knew not whether he was worthy of the post; but the
Doves told him that he might accept, and at last he said ‘Yes.’
Thereupon he was anointed and consecrated, and so was fulfilled what he
had heard from the Frogs on the way, which had disturbed him so much—
namely, that he should become Pope.
Then he had to chant mass, and did not know one word of it. But the two
Doves sat upon his shoulders and whispered it to him.

The Fox and the Cat

I T happened once that the Cat met Mr. Fox in the wood, and because she
thought: ‘He is clever and experienced in all the ways of the world,’ she
addressed him in a friendly manner.
‘Good morning, dear Mr. Fox! how are you and how do you get along in
these hard times?’
The Fox, full of pride, looked at the Cat from head to foot for some time
hardly knowing whether he would deign to answer or not. At last he said—
‘Oh, you poor whisker-wiper, you piebald fool, you starveling mouse-
hunter! what has come into your head? How dare you ask me how I am
getting on? What sort of education have you had? How many arts are you
master of?’

The Cat crept stealthily up to the topmost branch.

‘Only one,’ said the Cat, meekly.
‘And what might that one be?’ asked the Fox.
‘When the hounds run after me, I can jump into a tree and save myself.’
‘Is that all?’ said the Fox. ‘I am master of a hundred arts, and I have a sack
full of cunning tricks in addition. But I pity you. Come with me, and I will
teach you how to escape the hounds.’
Just then, a huntsman came along with four hounds. The Cat sprang
trembling into a tree, and crept stealthily up to the topmost branch, where
she was entirely hidden by twigs and leaves.
‘Open your sack, Mr. Fox! open your sack!’ cried the Cat; but the hounds
had gripped him, and held him fast.
‘O Mr. Fox!’ cried the Cat, ‘you with your hundred arts, and your sack full
of tricks, are caught, while I, with my one, am safe. Had you been able to
climb up here, you would not have lost your life.’

The Four Clever Brothers

T HERE was once a poor man who had four sons, and when they were
grown up, he said to them: ‘Dear children, you must go out into the
world now, for I have nothing to give you. You must each learn a trade
and make your own way in the world.’
So the four Brothers took their sticks in their hands, bid their father good-
bye, and passed out of the town gate.
When they had walked some distance, they came to four cross roads, which
led into four different districts. Then the eldest one said: ‘We must part
here, but this day four years, we will meet here again, having in the
meantime done our best to make our fortunes.’
Then each one went his own way. The eldest met an old man, who asked
him where he came from, and what he was going to do.
‘I want to learn a trade,’ he answered.
Then the Man said: ‘Come with me and learn to be a Thief.’
‘No,’ answered he, ‘that is no longer considered an honest trade; and the
end of that song would be that I should swing as the clapper in a bell.’
‘Oh,’ said the Man, ‘you need not be afraid of the gallows. I will only teach
you how to take things no one else wants, or knows how to get hold of, and
where no one can find you out.’
So he allowed himself to be persuaded, and under the Man’s instructions he
became such an expert thief that nothing was safe from him which he had
once made up his mind to have.
The second Brother met a Man who put the same question to him, as to
what he was going to do in the world.

‘I don’t know yet,’ he answered.
‘Then come with me and be a Star-gazer. It is the grandest thing in the
world, nothing is hidden from you.’
He was pleased with the idea, and became such a clever Star-gazer, that
when he had learnt everything and wanted to go away, his master gave him
a telescope, and said—
‘With this you can see everything that happens in the sky and on earth, and
nothing can remain hidden from you.’
The third Brother was taken in hand by a Huntsman, who taught him
everything connected with sport so well, that he became a first-rate
Huntsman.
On his departure his master presented him with a gun, and said: ‘This gun
will never miss: whatever you aim at you will hit without fail.’
The youngest Brother also met a Man who asked him what he was going to
do.
‘Wouldn’t you like to be a Tailor?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know about that,’ said the young man. ‘I don’t much fancy sitting
cross-legged from morning till night, and everlastingly pulling a needle in
and out, and pushing a flat iron.’
‘Dear, dear!’ said the Man, ‘what are you talking about? If you come to me
you will learn quite a different sort of tailoring. It is a most pleasant and
agreeable trade, not to say most honourable.’
So he allowed himself to be talked over, and went with the Man, who taught
him his trade thoroughly.
On his departure, he gave him a needle, and said: ‘With this needle you will
be able to stitch anything together, be it as soft as an egg, or as hard as steel;
and it will become like a whole piece of stuff with no seam visible.’
When the four years, which the Brothers had agreed upon, had passed, they
met at the cross-roads. They embraced one another and hurried home to

their Father.
‘Well!’ said he, quite pleased to see them, ‘has the wind wafted you back to
me again?’
They told him all that had happened to them, and that each had mastered a
trade. They were sitting in front of the house under a big tree, and their
Father said—
‘Now, I will put you to the test, and see what you can do.’
Then he looked up and said to his second son—
‘There is a chaffinch’s nest in the topmost branch of this tree; tell me how
many eggs there are in it?’
The Star-gazer took his glass and said: ‘There are five.’
His Father said to the eldest: ‘Bring the eggs down without disturbing the
bird sitting on them.’
The cunning Thief climbed up and took the five eggs from under the bird so
cleverly that it never noticed they were gone, and he gave them to his
Father. His Father took them, and put them one on each corner of the table,
and one in the middle, and said to the Sportsman—
‘You must shoot the five eggs through the middle at one shot.’
The Sportsman levelled his gun, and divided each egg in half at one shot, as
his Father desired. He certainly must have had some of the powder which
shoots round the corner.
‘Now it is your turn,’ said his Father to the fourth son. ‘You will sew the
eggs together again, the shells and the young birds inside them; and you
will do it in such a manner that they will be none the worse for the shot.’
The Tailor produced his needle, and stitched away as his Father ordered.
When he had finished, the Thief had to climb up the tree again, and put the
eggs back under the bird without her noticing it. The bird spread herself
over the eggs, and a few days later the fledglings crept out of the shell, and

they all had a red line round their throats where the Tailor had sewn them
together.
‘Yes,’ said the old man to his sons; ‘I can certainly praise your skill. You
have learnt something worth knowing, and made the most of your time. I
don’t know which of you to give the palm to. I only hope you may soon
have a chance of showing your skill so that it may be settled.’
Not long after this there was a great alarm raised in the country: the King’s
only daughter had been carried off by a Dragon. The King sorrowed for her
day and night, and proclaimed that whoever brought her back should marry
her.
The four Brothers said to one another: ‘This would be an opportunity for us
to prove what we can do.’ And they decided to go out together to deliver the
Princess.
‘I shall soon know where she is,’ said the Star-gazer, as he looked through
his telescope; and then he said—
‘I see her already. She is a long way from here, she is sitting on a rock in
the middle of the sea, and the Dragon is near, watching her.’
Then he went to the King and asked for a ship for himself and his Brothers
to cross the sea in search of the rock.
They found the Princess still on the rock, but the Dragon was asleep with
his head on her lap.
The Sportsman said: ‘I dare not shoot. I should kill the beautiful maiden.’
‘Then I will try my luck,’ said the Thief, and he stole her away from
beneath the Dragon. He did it so gently and skilfully, that the monster never
discovered it, but went snoring on.
Full of joy, they hurried away with her to the ship, and steered for the open
sea. But the Dragon on waking had missed the Princess, and now came after
them through the air, foaming with rage.
Just as he was hovering over the ship and about to drop on them, the
Sportsman took aim with his gun and shot him through the heart. The

monster fell down dead, but he was so huge, that in falling, he dragged the
whole ship down with him. They managed to seize a few boards, on which
they kept themselves afloat.

They were now in great straits, but the Tailor, not to be outdone, produced
his wonderful needle, and put some great stitches into the boards, seated
himself on them, and collected all the floating bits of the ship. Then he
stitched them all together so cleverly, that in a very short time the ship was
seaworthy again, and they sailed happily home.

They found the Princess still on the rock, but the Dragon was asleep with his head on her lap.

The King was overjoyed when he saw his daughter again, and he said to the
four Brothers: ‘One of you shall marry her, but which one, you must decide
among yourselves.’
An excited discussion then took place among them, for each one made a
claim.

The Star-gazer said: ‘Had I not discovered the Princess, all your arts would
have been in vain, therefore she is mine!’
The Thief said: ‘What would have been the good of discovering her if I had
not taken her from under the Dragon? So she is mine.’
The Sportsman said: ‘You, as well as the Princess, would have been
destroyed by the monster if my shot had not hit him. So she is mine.’
The Tailor said: ‘And if I had not sewn the ship together with my skill, you
would all have been drowned miserably. Therefore she is mine.’
The King said: ‘Each of you has an equal right; but, as you can’t all have
her, none of you shall have her. I will give every one of you half a kingdom
as a reward.’
The Brothers were quite satisfied with this decision, and they said: ‘It is
better so than that we should quarrel over it.’
So each of them received half a kingdom, and they lived happily with their
Father for the rest of their days.

The Lady and the Lion

T HERE was once a Man who had to take a long journey, and when he
was saying good-bye to his daughters he asked what he should bring
back to them.
The eldest wanted pearls, the second diamonds, but the third said, ‘Dear
father, I should like a singing, soaring lark.’
The father said, ‘Very well, if I can manage it, you shall have it’; and he
kissed all three and set off. He bought pearls and diamonds for the two
eldest, but he had searched everywhere in vain for the singing, soaring lark,
and this worried him, for his youngest daughter was his favourite child.
Once his way led through a wood, in the midst of which was a splendid
castle; near it stood a tree, and right up at the top he saw a lark singing and
soaring. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘I have come across you in the nick of time’; and he
called to his Servant to dismount and catch the little creature. But as he
approached the tree a Lion sprang out from underneath, and shook himself,
and roared so that the leaves on the tree trembled.
‘Who dares to steal my lark?’ said he. ‘I will eat up the thief!’
Then the Man said, ‘I didn’t know that the bird was yours. I will make up
for my fault by paying a heavy ransom. Only spare my life.’
But the Lion said, ‘Nothing can save you, unless you promise to give me
whatever first meets you when you get home. If you consent, I will give
you your life and the bird into the bargain.’
But the Man hesitated, and said, ‘Suppose my youngest and favourite
daughter were to come running to meet me when I go home!’
But the Servant was afraid, and said, ‘Your daughter will not necessarily be
the first to come to meet you; it might just as well be a cat or a dog.’

So the Man let himself be persuaded, took the lark, and promised to the
Lion for his own whatever first met him on his return home. When he
reached home, and entered his house, the first person who met him was
none other than his youngest daughter; she came running up and kissed and
caressed him, and when she saw that he had brought the singing, soaring
lark, she was beside herself with joy. But her father could not rejoice; he
began to cry, and said, ‘My dear child, it has cost me dear, for I have had to
promise you to a Lion who will tear you in pieces when he has you in his
power.’ And he told her all that had happened, and begged her not to go,
come what might.
But she consoled him, saying, ‘Dear father, what you have promised must
be performed. I will go and will soon soften the Lion’s heart, so that I shall
come back safe and sound.’ The next morning the way was shown to her,
and she said good-bye and went confidently into the forest.
Now the Lion was an enchanted Prince, who was a Lion by day, and all his
followers were Lions too; but by night they reassumed their human form.
On her arrival she was kindly received, and conducted to the castle. When
night fell, the Lion turned into a handsome man, and their wedding was
celebrated with due magnificence. And they lived happily together, sitting
up at night and sleeping by day. One day he came to her and said, ‘To-
morrow there is a festival at your father’s house to celebrate your eldest
sister’s wedding; if you would like to go my Lions shall escort you.’
She answered that she was very eager to see her father again, so she went
away accompanied by the Lions.
There was great rejoicing on her coming, for they all thought that she had
been torn to pieces and had long been dead.

But she told them what a handsome husband she had and how well she
fared; and she stayed with them as long as the wedding festivities lasted.
Then she went back again into the wood.
When the second daughter married, and the youngest was again invited to
the wedding, she said to the Lion, ‘This time I will not go alone, you must
come too.’

But the Lion said it would be too dangerous, for if a gleam of light touched
him he would be changed into a Dove and would have to fly about for
seven years.
‘Ah,’ said she, ‘only go with me, and I will protect you and keep off every
ray of light.’
So they went away together, and took their little child with them too. They
had a hall built with such thick walls that no ray could penetrate, and thither
the Lion was to retire when the wedding torches were kindled. But the door
was made of fresh wood which split and caused a little crack which no one
noticed.
Now the wedding was celebrated with great splendour. But when the
procession came back from church with a large number of torches and
lights, a ray of light no broader than a hair fell upon the Prince, and the
minute this ray touched him he was changed; and when his wife came in
and looked for him, she saw nothing but a White Dove sitting there. The
Dove said to her, ‘For seven years I must fly about the world; every seventh
step I will let fall a drop of blood and a white feather which will show you
the way, and if you will follow the track you can free me.’
Thereupon the Dove flew out of the door, and she followed it, and every
seventh step it let fall a drop of blood and a little white feather to show her
the way. So she wandered about the world, and never rested till the seven
years were nearly passed. Then she rejoiced, thinking that she would soon
be free of her troubles; but she was still far from release. One day as they
were journeying on in the accustomed way, the feather and the drop of
blood ceased falling, and when she looked up the Dove had vanished.
‘Man cannot help me,’ she thought. So she climbed up to the Sun and said
to it, ‘You shine upon all the valleys and mountain peaks, have you not seen
a White Dove flying by?’
‘No,’ said the Sun, ‘I have not seen one; but I will give you a little casket.
Open it when you are in dire need.’
She thanked the Sun, and went on till night, when the Moon shone out.
‘You shine all night,’ she said, ‘over field and forest, have you seen a White
Dove flying by?’

‘No,’ answered the Moon, ‘I have seen none; but here is an egg. Break it
when you are in great need.’
She thanked the Moon, and went on till the Night Wind blew upon her.
‘You blow among all the trees and leaves, have not you seen a White
Dove?’ she asked.
‘No,’ said the Night Wind, ‘I have not seen one; but I will ask the other
three Winds, who may, perhaps, have seen it.’
The East Wind and the West Wind came, but they had seen no Dove. Only
the South Wind said, ‘I have seen the White Dove. It has flown away to the
Red Sea, where it has again become a Lion, since the seven years are over;
and the Lion is ever fighting with a Dragon who is an enchanted Princess.’
Then the Night Wind said, ‘I will advise you. Go to the Red Sea, you will
find tall reeds growing on the right bank; count them, and cut down the
eleventh, strike the Dragon with it and then the Lion will be able to master
it, and both will regain human shape. Next, look round, and you will see the
winged Griffin, who dwells by the Red Sea, leap upon its back with your
beloved, and it will carry you across the sea. Here is a nut. Drop it when
you come to mid-ocean; it will open immediately and a tall nut-tree will
grow up out of the water, on which the Griffin will settle. Could it not rest,
it would not be strong enough to carry you across, and if you forget to drop
the nut, it will let you fall into the sea.’
Then she journeyed on, and found everything as the Night Wind had said.
She counted the reeds by the sea and cut off the eleventh, struck the Dragon
with it, and the Lion mastered it; immediately both regained human form.
But when the Princess who had been a Dragon was free from enchantment,
she took the Prince in her arms, seated herself on the Griffin’s back, and
carried him off. And the poor wanderer, again forsaken, sat down and cried.
At last she took courage and said to herself: ‘Wherever the winds blow, I
will go, and as long as cocks crow, I will search till I find him.’
So she went on a long, long way, till she came to the castle where the Prince
and Princess were living. There she heard that there was to be a festival to
celebrate their wedding. Then she said to herself, ‘Heaven help me,’ and she
opened the casket which the Sun had given her; inside it was a dress, as

brilliant as the Sun itself. She took it out, put it on, and went into the castle,
where every one, including the Bride, looked at her with amazement. The
dress pleased the Bride so much that she asked if it was to be bought.
‘Not with gold or goods,’ she answered; ‘but with flesh and blood.’
The Bride asked what she meant, and she answered, ‘Let me speak with the
Bridegroom in his chamber to-night.’
The Bride refused. However, she wanted the dress so much that at last she
consented; but the Chamberlain was ordered to give the Prince a sleeping
draught.
At night, when the Prince was asleep, she was taken to his room. She sat
down and said: ‘For seven years I have followed you. I have been to the
Sun, and the Moon, and the Four Winds to look for you. I have helped you
against the Dragon, and will you now quite forget me?’
But the Prince slept so soundly that he thought it was only the rustling of
the wind among the pine-trees. When morning came she was taken away,
and had to give up the dress; and as it had not helped her she was very sad,
and went out into a meadow and cried. As she was sitting there, she
remembered the egg which the Moon had given her; she broke it open, and
out came a hen and twelve chickens, all of gold, who ran about chirping,
and then crept back under their mother’s wings. A prettier sight could not be
seen. She got up and drove them about the meadow, till the Bride saw them
from the window. The chickens pleased her so much that she asked if they
were for sale. ‘Not for gold and goods, but for flesh and blood. Let me
speak with the Bridegroom in his chamber once more.’
The Bride said ‘Yes,’ intending to deceive her as before; but when the
Prince went to his room he asked the Chamberlain what all the murmuring
and rustling in the night meant. Then the Chamberlain told him how he had
been ordered to give him a sleeping draught because a poor girl had been
concealed in his room, and that night he was to do the same again. ‘Pour out
the drink, and put it near my bed,’ said the Prince. At night she was brought
in again, and when she began to relate her sad fortunes he recognised the
voice of his dear wife, sprang up, and said, ‘Now I am really free for the
first time. All has been as a dream, for the foreign Princess cast a spell over

me so that I was forced to forget you; but heaven in a happy hour has taken
away my blindness.’
Then they both stole out of the castle, for they feared the Princess’s father,
because he was a sorcerer. They mounted the Griffin, who bore them over
the Red Sea, and when they got to mid-ocean, she dropped the nut. On the
spot a fine nut-tree sprang up, on which the bird rested; then it took them
home, where they found their child grown tall and beautiful, and they lived
happily till the end.

The Fox and the Horse

A PEASANT once had a faithful Horse, but it had grown old and could
no longer do its work. Its master grudged it food, and said: ‘I can’t
use you any more, but I still feel kindly towards you, and if you show
yourself strong enough to bring me a Lion I will keep you to the end of
your days. But away with you now, out of my stable’; and he drove it out
into the open country.
The poor Horse was very sad, and went into the forest to get a little shelter
from the wind and weather. There he met a Fox, who said: ‘Why do you
hang your head, and wander about in this solitary fashion?’
‘Alas!’ answered the Horse, ‘avarice and honesty cannot live together. My
master has forgotten all the service I have done him for these many years,
and because I can no longer plough he will no longer feed me, and he has
driven me away.’
‘Without any consideration?’ asked the Fox.
‘Only the poor consolation of telling me that if I was strong enough to bring
him a Lion he would keep me, but he knows well enough that the task is
beyond me.’
The Fox said: ‘But I will help you. Just you lie down here, and stretch your
legs out as if you were dead.’ The Horse did as he was told, and the Fox
went to the Lion’s den, not far off, and said: ‘There is a dead Horse out
there. Come along with me, and you will have a rare meal.’ The Lion went
with him, and when they got up to the Horse, the Fox said: ‘You can’t eat it
in comfort here. I’ll tell you what. I will tie it to you, and you can drag it
away to your den, and enjoy it at your leisure.’
The plan pleased the Lion, and he stood quite still, close to the Horse, so
that the Fox should fasten them together. But the Fox tied the Lion’s legs

together with the Horse’s tail, and twisted and knotted it so that it would be
quite impossible for it to come undone.
When he had finished his work he patted the Horse on the shoulder, and
said: ‘Pull, old Grey! Pull!’
Then the Horse sprang up, and dragged the Lion away behind him. The
Lion in his rage roared, so that all the birds in the forest were terrified, and
flew away. But the Horse let him roar, and never stopped till he stood
before his master’s door.
When the master saw him he was delighted, and said to him: ‘You shall stay
with me, and have a good time as long as you live.’
And he fed him well till he died.

Then the Horse sprang up, and dragged the Lion away behind him.

The Blue Light

T HERE was once a Soldier who had served his King well and faithfully
for many years. But, on account of his many wounds, he could serve
no longer.
The King said: ‘You can go home now. I have no further need for you. I can
only pay those who serve me.’
The Soldier did not know what to do for a living, and he went sadly away.
He walked all day, till he reached a wood, where, in the distance, he saw a
light. On approaching it, he found a house inhabited by a Witch.
‘Pray give me shelter for the night, and something to eat and drink,’ he said,
‘or I shall perish.’
‘Oh ho!’ she said. ‘Who gives anything to a runaway Soldier, I should like
to know. But I will be merciful and take you in, if you will do something for
me.’
‘What is it?’ asked the Soldier.
‘I want you to dig up my garden to-morrow.’
The Soldier agreed to this, and next day he worked as hard as he could, but
he could not finish before evening.
‘I see,’ said the Witch, ‘that you can do no more this evening. I will keep
you one night more, and to-morrow you shall split up some logs for
firewood.’
The Soldier took the whole day over this task, and in the evening the Witch
proposed that he should again stay another night.
‘You shall only have a very light task to-morrow,’ she said. ‘There is an old,
dry well behind my house. My light, which burns blue, and never goes out,

has fallen into it, and I want you to bring it back.’
Next day the Witch led him to the well, and let him down in a basket.
He found the light, and made a sign to be pulled up; but when he was near
the top, the Witch put out her hand, and wanted to take it from him.
But he, seeing her evil designs, said: ‘No; I will not give you the light till I
have both feet safe on dry land again.’
The Witch flew into a passion, let him fall back into the well again, and
went away.
The poor Soldier fell on to the damp ground without taking any harm, and
the Blue Light burnt as brightly as ever. But what was the good of that? He
saw that he could not escape death.
He sat for some time feeling very sad, then happening to put his hand into
his pocket, he found his pipe still half full.
‘This will be my last pleasure,’ he thought, as he lighted it at the Blue Light,
and began to smoke.
When the cloud of smoke he made cleared off a little, a tiny black Man
appeared before him, and asked: ‘What orders, Master?’
‘What do you mean?’ the Soldier asked in amazement.
‘I must do anything that you command,’ said the Little Man.
‘Oh, if that is so,’ said the Soldier, ‘get me out of this well first.’
The Little Man took him by the hand, and led him through an underground
passage; but the Soldier did not forget to take the Blue Light with him.
On the way he showed the Soldier all the treasures the Witch had amassed
there, and he took as much gold as he could carry.
When they reached the top he said to the Little Man: ‘Now go, bind the
Witch and take her before the Judge.’

Before long she came by riding at a furious pace on a tom cat, and
screaming at the top of her voice.
The Little Man soon after appeared, and said: ‘Everything is done as you
commanded, and the Witch hangs on the gallows. What further orders have
you, Master?’
‘Nothing at this moment,’ answered the Soldier. ‘You can go home; only be
at hand when I call.’
‘You only have to light your pipe at the Blue Light, and I will be there,’ said
the Little Man, and then he vanished.
The Soldier went back to the town that he had left, and ordered some new
clothes, then he went to the best inn and told the landlord to give him the
best rooms.

Before long the Witch came by riding at a furious pace on a tom cat.

When he had taken possession, he summoned the little black Man, and said:
‘I served my King faithfully, but he sent me away to die of hunger. Now I
will have my revenge.’
‘What do you wish me to do?’ asked the Little Man.

‘Late at night, when the Princess is asleep in her bed, bring her, sleeping, to
me, and I will make her do menial service for me.’
‘It is an easy enough thing for me to do,’ said the Little Man. ‘But it will be
a bad business for you if it comes out.’
As the clock struck twelve, the door sprang open, and the Little Man bore
the Maiden in.
‘Ah ha! There you are!’ cried the Soldier. ‘Set about your work at once.
Fetch the broom and sweep the floor.’
When she had finished, he sat down and ordered her to take his boots off.
Then he threw them at her, and made her pick them up and clean them. She
did everything he ordered without resistance, silently, and with half-shut
eyes.
At the first cock-crow, the Little Man carried her away to the royal palace,
and put her back in bed.
In the morning when the Princess got up, she went to her Father, and told
him that she had had an extraordinary dream.
‘I was carried through the streets at lightning speed, and taken to the room
of a Soldier, whom I had to serve as a maid, and do all kinds of menial
work. I had to sweep the room, and clean his boots. Of course, it was only a
dream, and yet I am as tired this morning as if I had done it all.’
‘The dream could not have been true,’ said the King. ‘But I will give you a
piece of advice. Fill your pocket with peas, and cut a little hole in it, then if
you are carried away again, they will drop out and leave a track on the
road.’
When the King said this, the Little Man was standing by, invisible, and
heard it all.
At night, when he again carried off the Princess, the peas certainly fell out
of her pocket, but they were useless to trace her by, for the cunning Little
Man had scattered peas all over the streets. Again the Princess had to
perform her menial duties till cock-crow.

The next morning the King sent out people who were to find the track; but
they were unable to do so, because in every street the poor children were
picking up peas, and saying: ‘It must have rained peas in the night.’
‘We must devise a better plan,’ said the King. ‘Keep your shoes on when
you go to bed, and before you come away from the place where you are
taken, hide one of them. I shall be sure to find it.’
The Little Man heard this plan also; and when the Soldier told him to bring
the Princess again, he advised him to put it off. He said he knew no further
means against their craftiness; and if the shoe were found, it would be very
dangerous for his master.
‘Do what I tell you,’ answered the Soldier; and for the third time the
Princess was brought and made to work like a servant. But before leaving
she hid one of her shoes under the bed.
Next morning the King ordered the whole town to be searched for his
Daughter’s shoe, and it was soon found in the Soldier’s room. He himself,
at the request of the Little Man, had gone outside the gates; but before long
he was seized and thrown into prison.
In his flight he had forgotten his greatest treasures, the Blue Light and his
gold. He had but one ducat in his pocket.
As he stood at his window in the prison, loaded with chains, he saw one of
his comrades going by. He tapped on the pane, and said:
‘Be so good as to fetch me the little bundle I left behind at the inn, and I
will give you a ducat.’
His comrade hurried off and brought him the bundle. As soon as the Soldier
was alone, he lighted his pipe and summoned the Little Man.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said to his Master. ‘Go where they take you, and let
what will happen, only take the Blue Light with you.’
Next day a trial was held, and although the Soldier had done no harm, the
Judge sentenced him to death.
When he was led out to execution he asked a last favour of the King.

‘What is your wish?’ asked the King.
‘That I may smoke a last pipe.’
‘You may smoke three,’ answered the King. ‘But don’t imagine that I will
therefore grant you your life.’
Then the Soldier drew out his pipe, and lighted it at the Blue Light.
As soon as a few rings of smoke arose, the Little Man appeared with a little
cudgel in his hand, and said: ‘What is my Master’s command?’
‘Strike the false Judge and his minions to the ground, and do not spare the
King either for all his cruelty to me.’
Then the Little Man flew about like lightning, zig-zag, hither and thither,
and whomever he touched with his cudgel fell to the ground, and dared not
move.
The King was now seized with alarm, and, begging on his knees that his life
might be spared, he rendered up his kingdom and gave his Daughter to the
Soldier to be his wife.

The Goosegirl

T HERE was once an old Queen whose husband had been dead for
many years, and she had a very beautiful daughter. When she grew up
she was betrothed to a Prince in a distant country. When the time
came for the maiden to be sent into this distant country to be married, the
old Queen packed up quantities of clothes and jewels, gold and silver, cups
and ornaments, and, in fact, everything suitable to a royal outfit, for she
loved her daughter very dearly.
She also sent a Waiting-woman to travel with her, and to put her hand into
that of the bridegroom. They each had a horse. The Princess’s horse was
called Falada, and it could speak.
When the hour of departure came, the old Queen went to her bedroom, and
with a sharp little knife cut her finger and made it bleed. Then she held a
piece of white cambric under it, and let three drops of blood fall on to it.
This cambric she gave to her daughter, and said, ‘Dear child, take good care
of this; it will stand you in good stead on the journey.’ They then bade each
other a sorrowful farewell. The Princess hid the piece of cambric in her
bosom, mounted her horse, and set out to her bridegroom’s country.
When they had ridden for a time the Princess became very thirsty, and said
to the Waiting-woman, ‘Get down and fetch me some water in my cup from
the stream. I must have something to drink.’
‘If you are thirsty,’ said the Waiting-woman, ‘dismount yourself, lie down
by the water and drink. I don’t choose to be your servant.’
So, in her great thirst, the Princess dismounted and stooped down to the
stream and drank, as she might not have her golden cup. The poor Princess
said, ‘Alas!’ and the drops of blood answered, ‘If your mother knew this, it
would break her heart.’

The royal bride was humble, so she said nothing, but mounted her horse
again. Then they rode several miles further; but the day was warm, the sun
was scorching, and the Princess was soon thirsty again.
When they reached a river she called out again to her Waiting-woman, ‘Get
down, and give me some water in my golden cup!’
She had forgotten all about the rude words which had been said to her. But
the Waiting-woman answered more haughtily than ever, ‘If you want to
drink, get the water for yourself. I won’t be your servant.’
Being very thirsty, the Princess dismounted, and knelt by the flowing water.
She cried, and said, ‘Ah me!’ and the drops of blood answered, ‘If your
mother knew this it would break her heart.’
While she stooped over the water to drink, the piece of cambric with the
drops of blood on it fell out of her bosom, and floated away on the stream;
but she never noticed this in her great fear. The Waiting-woman, however,
had seen it, and rejoiced at getting more power over the bride, who, by
losing the drops of blood, had become weak and powerless.
Now, when she was about to mount her horse Falada again, the Waiting-
woman said, ‘By rights, Falada belongs to me; this jade will do for you!’
The poor little Princess was obliged to give way. Then the Waiting-woman,
in a harsh voice, ordered her to take off her royal robes, and to put on her
own mean garments. Finally, she forced her to swear before heaven that she
would not tell a creature at the Court what had taken place. Had she not
taken the oath she would have been killed on the spot. But Falada saw all
this and marked it.
The Waiting-woman then mounted Falada and put the real bride on her poor
jade, and they continued their journey.
There was great rejoicing when they arrived at the castle. The Prince
hurried towards them, and lifted the Waiting-woman from her horse,
thinking she was his bride. She was led upstairs, but the real Princess had to
stay below.

The old King looked out of the window and saw the delicate, pretty little
creature standing in the courtyard; so he went to the bridal apartments and
asked the bride about her companion, who was left standing in the
courtyard, and wished to know who she was.
‘I picked her up on the way, and brought her with me for company. Give the
girl something to do to keep her from idling.’
But the old King had no work for her, and could not think of anything. At
last he said, ‘I have a little lad who looks after the geese; she may help
him.’
The boy was called little Conrad, and the real bride was sent with him to
look after the geese.
Soon after, the false bride said to the Prince, ‘Dear husband, I pray you do
me a favour.’
He answered, ‘That will I gladly.’
‘Well, then, let the knacker be called to cut off the head of the horse I rode;
it angered me on the way.’
Really, she was afraid that the horse would speak, and tell of her treatment
of the Princess. So it was settled, and the faithful Falada had to die.
When this came to the ear of the real Princess, she promised the knacker a
piece of gold if he would do her a slight service. There was a great dark
gateway to the town, through which she had to pass every morning and
evening. ‘Would he nail up Falada’s head in this gateway, so that she might
see him as she passed?’

The knacker promised to do as she wished, and when the horse’s head was
cut off, he hung it up in the dark gateway. In the early morning, when she
and Conrad went through the gateway, she said in passing—

‘Alas! dear Falada, there thou
hangest.’

And the Head answered—

‘Alas! Queen’s daughter, there thou
gangest.
If thy mother knew thy fate,
Her heart would break with grief so
great.’

Then they passed on out of the town, right into the fields, with the geese.
When they reached the meadow, the Princess sat down on the grass and let
down her hair. It shone like pure gold, and when little Conrad saw it, he was
so delighted that he wanted to pluck some out; but she said—

‘Blow, blow, little breeze,
And Conrad’s hat seize.
Let him join in the chase
While away it is whirled,
Till my tresses are curled
And I rest in my place.’

Then a strong wind sprang up, which blew away Conrad’s hat right over the
fields, and he had to run after it. When he came back, she had finished
combing her hair, and it was all put up again; so he could not get a single
hair. This made him very sulky, and he would not say another word to her.
And they tended the geese till evening, when they went home.
Next morning, when they passed under the gateway, the Princess said—

‘Alas! dear Falada, there thou
hangest.’

Falada answered:—

‘Alas! Queen’s daughter, there thou
gangest.
If thy mother knew thy fate,
Her heart would break with grief so
great.’

Again, when they reached the meadows, the Princess undid her hair and
began combing it. Conrad ran to pluck some out; but she said quickly—

‘Blow, blow, little breeze,
And Conrad’s hat seize.
Let him join in the chase
While away it is whirled,
Till my tresses are curled
And I rest in my place.’

The wind sprang up and blew Conrad’s hat far away over the fields, and he
had to run after it. When he came back the hair was all put up again, and he
could not pull a single hair out. And they tended the geese till the evening.
When they got home Conrad went to the old King, and said, ‘I won’t tend
the geese with that maiden again.’
‘Why not?’ asked the King.
‘Oh, she vexes me every day.’
The old King then ordered him to say what she did to vex him.
Conrad said, ‘In the morning, when we pass under the dark gateway with
the geese, she talks to a horse’s head which is hung up on the wall. She says
—

‘Alas! Falada, there thou hangest,’

and the Head answers—

‘Alas! Queen’s daughter, there thou
gangest.
If thy mother knew thy fate,
Her heart would break with grief so
great.’

Then Conrad went on to tell the King all that happened in the meadow, and
how he had to run after his hat in the wind.

The old King ordered Conrad to go out next day as usual. Then he placed
himself behind the dark gateway, and heard the Princess speaking to
Falada’s head. He also followed her into the field, and hid himself behind a
bush, and with his own eyes he saw the Goosegirl and the lad come driving
the geese into the field. Then, after a time, he saw the girl let down her hair,
which glittered in the sun. Directly after this, she said—

‘Blow, blow, little breeze,
And Conrad’s hat seize.
Let him join in the chase
While away it is whirled,
Till my tresses are curled
And I rest in my place.’

Then came a puff of wind, which carried off Conrad’s hat and he had to run
after it. While he was away, the maiden combed and did up her hair; and all
this the old King observed. Thereupon he went away unnoticed; and in the
evening, when the Goosegirl came home, he called her aside and asked why
she did all these things.
‘That I may not tell you, nor may I tell any human creature; for I have
sworn it under the open sky, because if I had not done so I should have lost
my life.’
He pressed her sorely, and gave her no peace, but he could get nothing out
of her. Then he said, ‘If you won’t tell me, then tell your sorrows to the iron
stove there’; and he went away.
She crept up to the stove, and, beginning to weep and lament, unburdened
her heart to it, and said: ‘Here I am, forsaken by all the world, and yet I am
a Princess. A false Waiting-woman brought me to such a pass that I had to
take off my royal robes. Then she took my place with my bridegroom,
while I have to do mean service as a Goosegirl. If my mother knew it she
would break her heart.’
The old King stood outside by the pipes of the stove, and heard all that she
said. Then he came back, and told her to go away from the stove. He caused
royal robes to be put upon her, and her beauty was a marvel. The old King

called his son, and told him that he had a false bride—she was only a
Waiting-woman; but the true bride was here, the so-called Goosegirl.
The young Prince was charmed with her youth and beauty. A great banquet
was prepared, to which all the courtiers and good friends were bidden. The
bridegroom sat at the head of the table, with the Princess on one side and
the Waiting-woman at the other; but she was dazzled, and did not recognise
the Princess in her brilliant apparel.
When they had eaten and drunk and were all very merry, the old King put a
riddle to the Waiting-woman. ‘What does a person deserve who deceives
his master?’ telling the whole story, and ending by asking, ‘What doom
does he deserve?’
The false bride answered, ‘No better than this. He must be put stark naked
into a barrel stuck with nails, and be dragged along by two white horses
from street to street till he is dead.’
‘That is your own doom,’ said the King, ‘and the judgment shall be carried
out.’
When the sentence was fulfilled, the young Prince married his true bride,
and they ruled their kingdom together in peace and happiness.

The Golden Goose

T HERE was once a man who had three sons. The youngest of them was
called Simpleton; he was scorned and despised by the others, and kept
in the background.
The eldest son was going into the forest to cut wood, and before he started,
his mother gave him a nice sweet cake and a bottle of wine to take with
him, so that he might not suffer from hunger or thirst. In the wood he met a
little, old, grey Man, who bade him good-day, and said, ‘Give me a bit of
the cake in your pocket, and let me have a drop of your wine. I am so
hungry and thirsty.’
But the clever son said: ‘If I give you my cake and wine, I shan’t have
enough for myself. Be off with you.’
He left the little Man standing there, and went on his way. But he had not
been long at work, cutting down a tree, before he made a false stroke, and
dug the axe into his own arm, and he was obliged to go home to have it
bound up.
Now, this was no accident; it was brought about by the little grey Man.
The second son now had to go into the forest to cut wood, and, like the
eldest, his mother gave him a sweet cake and a bottle of wine. In the same
way the little grey Man met him, and asked for a piece of his cake and a
drop of his wine. But the second son made the same sensible answer, ‘If I
give you any, I shall have the less for myself. Be off out of my way,’ and he
went on.
His punishment, however, was not long delayed. After a few blows at the
tree, he hit his own leg, and had to be carried home.
Then Simpleton said, ‘Let me go to cut the wood, father.’

But his father said, ‘Your brothers have only come to harm by it; you had
better leave it alone. You know nothing about it.’ But Simpleton begged so
hard to be allowed to go that at last his father said, ‘Well, off you go then.
You will be wiser when you have hurt yourself.’

There stands an old tree; cut it down, and you will find something at the roots.

His mother gave him a cake which was only mixed with water and baked in
the ashes, and a bottle of sour beer. When he reached the forest, like the
others, he met the little grey Man, who greeted him, and said, ‘Give me a
bit of your cake and a drop of your wine. I am so hungry and thirsty.’
Simpleton answered, ‘I only have a cake baked in the ashes, and some sour
beer; but, if you like such fare, we will sit down and eat it together.’
So they sat down; but when Simpleton pulled out his cake it was a sweet,
nice cake, and his sour beer was turned into good wine. So they ate and
drank, and the little Man said, ‘As you have such a good heart, and are
willing to share your goods, I will give you good luck. There stands an old
tree; cut it down, and you will find something at the roots.’

So now there were seven people running behind Simpleton and his Goose.

So saying he disappeared.
Simpleton cut down the tree, and when it fell, lo, and behold! a Goose was
sitting among the roots, and its feathers were of pure gold. He picked it up,
and taking it with him, went to an inn, where he meant to stay the night.
The landlord had three daughters, who saw the Goose, and were very
curious as to what kind of bird it could be, and wanted to get one of its
golden feathers.
The eldest thought, ‘There will soon be some opportunity for me to pull out
one of the feathers,’ and when Simpleton went outside, she took hold of its
wing to pluck out a feather; but her hand stuck fast, and she could not get
away.
Soon after, the second sister came up, meaning also to pluck out one of the
golden feathers; but she had hardly touched her sister when she found
herself held fast.
Lastly, the third one came, with the same intention, but the others screamed
out, ‘Keep away! For goodness sake, keep away!’

But she, not knowing why she was to keep away, thought, ‘Why should I
not be there, if they are there?’
So she ran up, but as soon as she touched her sisters she had to stay hanging
on to them, and they all had to pass the night like this.

And so they followed up hill and down dale after Simpleton and his Goose.

In the morning, Simpleton took up the Goose under his arm, without
noticing the three girls hanging on behind. They had to keep running
behind, dodging his legs right and left.
In the middle of the fields they met the Parson, who, when he saw the
procession, cried out: ‘For shame, you bold girls! Why do you run after the
lad like that? Do you call that proper behaviour?’
Then he took hold of the hand of the youngest girl to pull her away; but no
sooner had he touched her than he felt himself held fast, and he, too, had to
run behind.
Soon after the Sexton came up, and, seeing his master the Parson treading
on the heels of the three girls, cried out in amazement, ‘Hullo, your
Reverence! Whither away so fast? Don’t forget that we have a christening!’

So saying, he plucked the Parson by the sleeve, and soon found that he
could not get away.
As this party of five, one behind the other, tramped on, two Peasants came
along the road, carrying their hoes. The Parson called them, and asked them
to set the Sexton and himself free. But as soon as ever they touched the
Sexton they were held fast, so now there were seven people running behind
Simpleton and his Goose.
By-and-by they reached a town, where a King ruled whose only daughter
was so solemn that nothing and nobody could make her laugh. So the King
had proclaimed that whoever could make her laugh should marry her.
When Simpleton heard this he took his Goose, with all his following, before
her, and when she saw these seven people running, one behind another, she
burst into fits of laughter, and seemed as if she could never stop.
Thereupon Simpleton asked her in marriage. But the King did not like him
for a son-in-law, and he made all sorts of conditions. First, he said
Simpleton must bring him a man who could drink up a cellar full of wine.
Then Simpleton at once thought of the little grey Man who might be able to
help him, and he went out to the forest to look for him. On the very spot
where the tree that he had cut down had stood, he saw a man sitting with a
very sad face. Simpleton asked him what was the matter, and he answered
—
‘I am so thirsty, and I can’t quench my thirst. I hate cold water, and I have
already emptied a cask of wine; but what is a drop like that on a burning
stone?’
‘Well, there I can help you,’ said Simpleton. ‘Come with me, and you shall
soon have enough to drink and to spare.’
He led him to the King’s cellar, and the Man set to upon the great casks, and
he drank and drank till his sides ached, and by the end of the day the cellar
was empty.
Then again Simpleton demanded his bride. But the King was annoyed that a
wretched fellow called ‘Simpleton’ should have his daughter, and he made

new conditions. He was now to find a man who could eat up a mountain of
bread.
Simpleton did not reflect long, but went straight to the forest, and there in
the self-same place sat a man tightening a strap round his body, and making
a very miserable face. He said: ‘I have eaten up a whole ovenful of rolls,
but what is the good of that when any one is as hungry as I am. I am never
satisfied. I have to tighten my belt every day if I am not to die of hunger.’
Simpleton was delighted, and said: ‘Get up and come with me. You shall
have enough to eat.’
And he took him to the Court, where the King had caused all the flour in the
kingdom to be brought together, and a huge mountain of bread to be baked.
The Man from the forest sat down before it and began to eat, and at the end
of the day the whole mountain had disappeared.
Now, for the third time, Simpleton asked for his bride. But again the King
tried to find an excuse, and demanded a ship which could sail on land as
well as at sea.
‘As soon as you sail up in it, you shall have my daughter,’ he said.
Simpleton went straight to the forest, and there sat the little grey Man to
whom he had given his cake. The little Man said: ‘I have eaten and drunk
for you, and now I will give you the ship, too. I do it all because you were
merciful to me.’
Then he gave him the ship which could sail on land as well as at sea, and
when the King saw it he could no longer withhold his daughter. The
marriage was celebrated, and, at the King’s death, the Simpleton inherited
the kingdom, and lived long and happily with his wife.

The King could no longer withhold his daughter.

The Water of Life

T HERE was once a King who was so ill that it was thought impossible
his life could be saved. He had three sons, and they were all in great
distress on his account, and they went into the castle gardens and wept
at the thought that he must die. An old man came up to them and asked the
cause of their grief. They told him that their father was dying, and nothing
could save him. The old man said, ‘There is only one remedy which I know;
it is the Water of Life. If he drinks of it, he will recover, but it is very
difficult to find.’
The eldest son said, ‘I will soon find it’; and he went to the sick man to ask
permission to go in search of the Water of Life, as that was the only thing to
cure him.
‘No,’ said the King. ‘The danger is too great. I would rather die.’
But he persisted so long that at last the King gave his permission.
The Prince thought, ‘If I bring this water I shall be the favourite, and I shall
inherit the kingdom.’
So he set off, and when he had ridden some distance he came upon a Dwarf
standing in the road, who cried, ‘Whither away so fast?’
‘Stupid little fellow,’ said the Prince, proudly; ‘what business is it of yours?’
and rode on.
The little man was very angry, and made an evil vow.
Soon after, the Prince came to a gorge in the mountains, and the further he
rode the narrower it became, till he could go no further. His horse could
neither go forward nor turn round for him to dismount; so there he sat,
jammed in.

The sick King waited a long time for him, but he never came back. Then the
second son said, ‘Father, let me go and find the Water of Life,’ thinking, ‘if
my brother is dead I shall have the kingdom.’
The King at first refused to let him go, but at last he gave his consent. So
the Prince started on the same road as his brother, and met the same Dwarf,
who stopped him and asked where he was going in such a hurry.
‘Little Snippet, what does it matter to you?’ he said, and rode away without
looking back.
But the Dwarf cast a spell over him, and he, too, got into a narrow gorge
like his brother, where he could neither go backwards nor forwards.
This is what happens to the haughty.
As the second son also stayed away, the youngest one offered to go and
fetch the Water of Life, and at last the King was obliged to let him go.
When he met the Dwarf, and he asked him where he was hurrying to, he
stopped and said, ‘I am searching for the Water of Life, because my father
is dying.’
‘Do you know where it is to be found?’
‘No,’ said the Prince.
‘As you have spoken pleasantly to me, and not been haughty like your false
brothers, I will help you and tell you how to find the Water of Life. It flows
from a fountain in the courtyard of an enchanted castle; but you will never
get in unless I give you an iron rod and two loaves of bread. With the rod
strike three times on the iron gate of the castle, and it will spring open.
Inside you will find two Lions with wide-open jaws, but if you throw a loaf
to each they will be quiet. Then you must make haste to fetch the Water of
Life before it strikes twelve, or the gates of the castle will close and you
will be shut in.’
The Prince thanked him, took the rod and the loaves, and set off. When he
reached the castle all was just as the Dwarf had said. At the third knock the
gate flew open, and when he had pacified the Lions with the loaves, he
walked into the castle. In the great hall he found several enchanted Princes,

and he took the rings from their fingers. He also took a sword and a loaf,
which were lying by them. On passing into the next room he found a
beautiful Maiden, who rejoiced at his coming. She embraced him, and said
that he had saved her, and should have the whole of her kingdom; and if he
would come back in a year she would marry him. She also told him where
to find the fountain with the enchanted water; but, she said, he must make
haste to get out of the castle before the clock struck twelve.
Then he went on, and came to a room where there was a beautiful bed
freshly made, and as he was very tired he thought he would take a little rest;
so he lay down and fell asleep. When he woke it was striking a quarter to
twelve. He sprang up in a fright, and ran to the fountain, and took some of
the water in a cup which was lying near, and then hurried away. The clock
struck just as he reached the iron gate, and it banged so quickly that it took
off a bit of his heel.
He was rejoiced at having got some of the Water of Life, and hastened on
his homeward journey. He again passed the Dwarf, who said, when he saw
the sword and the loaf, ‘Those things will be of much service to you. You
will be able to strike down whole armies with the sword, and the loaf will
never come to an end.’
The Prince did not want to go home without his brothers, and he said,
‘Good Dwarf, can you not tell me where my brothers are? They went in
search of the Water of Life before I did, but they never came back.’
‘They are both stuck fast in a narrow mountain gorge. I cast a spell over
them because of their pride.’
Then the Prince begged so hard that they might be released that at last the
Dwarf yielded; but he warned him against them, and said, ‘Beware of them;
they have bad hearts.’

He was delighted to see his brothers when they came back, and told them
all that had happened to him; how he had found the Water of Life, and
brought a goblet full with him. How he had released a beautiful Princess,
who would wait a year for him and then marry him, and he would become a
great Prince.
Then they rode away together, and came to a land where famine and war
were raging. The King thought he would be utterly ruined, so great was the

destitution.
The Prince went to him and gave him the loaf, and with it he fed and
satisfied his whole kingdom. The Prince also gave him his sword, and he
smote the whole army of his enemies with it, and then he was able to live in
peace and quiet. Then the Prince took back his sword and his loaf, and the
three brothers rode on. But they had to pass through two more countries
where war and famine were raging, and each time the Prince gave his sword
and his loaf to the King, and in this way he saved three kingdoms.
After that they took a ship and crossed the sea. During the passage the two
elder brothers said to each other, ‘Our youngest brother found the Water of
Life, and we did not, so our father will give him the kingdom which we
ought to have, and he will take away our fortune from us.’
This thought made them very vindictive, and they made up their minds to
get rid of him. They waited till he was asleep, and then they emptied the
Water of Life from his goblet and took it themselves, and filled up his cup
with salt sea water.
As soon as they got home the youngest Prince took his goblet to the King,
so that he might drink of the water which was to make him well; but after
drinking only a few drops of the sea water he became more ill than ever. As
he was bewailing himself, his two elder sons came to him and accused the
youngest of trying to poison him, and said that they had the real Water of
Life, and gave him some. No sooner had he drunk it than he felt better, and
he soon became as strong and well as he had been in his youth.
Then the two went to their youngest brother, and mocked him, saying, ‘It
was you who found the Water of Life; you had all the trouble, while we
have the reward. You should have been wiser, and kept your eyes open; we
stole it from you while you were asleep on the ship. When the end of the
year comes, one of us will go and bring away the beautiful Princess. But
don’t dare to betray us. Our father will certainly not believe you, and if you
say a single word you will lose your life; your only chance is to keep
silence.’
The old King was very angry with his youngest son, thinking that he had
tried to take his life. So he had the Court assembled to give judgment upon

him, and it was decided that he must be secretly got out of the way.
One day when the Prince was going out hunting, thinking no evil, the
King’s Huntsman was ordered to go with him. Seeing the Huntsman look
sad, the Prince said to him, ‘My good Huntsman, what is the matter with
you?’
The Huntsman answered, ‘I can’t bear to tell you, and yet I must.’
The Prince said, ‘Say it out; whatever it is I will forgive you.’
‘Alas!’ said the Huntsman, ‘I am to shoot you dead; it is the King’s
command.’
The Prince was horror-stricken, and said, ‘Dear Huntsman, do not kill me,
give me my life. Let me have your dress, and you shall have my royal
robes.’
The Huntsman said, ‘I will gladly do so; I could never have shot you.’ So
they changed clothes, and the Huntsman went home, but the Prince
wandered away into the forest.
After a time three wagon loads of gold and precious stones came to the
King for his youngest son. They were sent by the Kings who had been
saved by the Prince’s sword and his miraculous loaf, and who now wished
to show their gratitude.
Then the old King thought, ‘What if my son really was innocent?’ and said
to his people, ‘If only he were still alive! How sorry I am that I ordered him
to be killed.’
‘He is still alive,’ said the Huntsman. ‘I could not find it in my heart to carry
out your commands,’ and he told the King what had taken place.
A load fell from the King’s heart on hearing the good news, and he sent out
a proclamation to all parts of his kingdom that his son was to come home,
where he would be received with great favour.
In the meantime, the Princess had caused a road to be made of pure shining
gold leading to her castle, and told her people that whoever came riding
straight along it would be the true bridegroom, and they were to admit him.

But any one who came either on one side of the road or the other would not
be the right one, and he was not to be let in.
When the year had almost passed, the eldest Prince thought that he would
hurry to the Princess, and by giving himself out as her deliverer would gain
a wife and a kingdom as well. So he rode away, and when he saw the
beautiful golden road he thought it would be a thousand pities to ride upon
it; so he turned aside, and rode to the right of it. But when he reached the
gate the people told him that he was not the true bridegroom, and he had to
go away.
Soon after the second Prince came, and when he saw the golden road he
thought it would be a thousand pities for his horse to tread upon it; so he
turned aside, and rode up on the left of it. But when he reached the gate he
was also told that he was not the true bridegroom, and, like his brother, was
turned away.
When the year had quite come to an end, the third Prince came out of the
wood to ride to his beloved, and through her to forget all his past sorrows.
So on he went, thinking only of her, and wishing to be with her; and he
never even saw the golden road. His horse cantered right along the middle
of it, and when he reached the gate it was flung open and the Princess
received him joyfully, and called him her Deliverer, and the Lord of her
Kingdom. Their marriage was celebrated without delay, and with much
rejoicing. When it was over, she told him that his father had called him back
and forgiven him. So he went to him and told him everything; how his
brothers had deceived him, and how they had forced him to keep silence.
The old King wanted to punish them, but they had taken a ship and sailed
away over the sea, and they never came back as long as they lived.

Clever Grethel

T HERE was once a cook called Grethel, who wore shoes with red
rosettes; and when she went out in them, she turned and twisted about
gaily, and thought, ‘How fine I am!’
After her walk she would take a draught of wine, in her light-heartedness;
and as wine gives an appetite, she would then taste some of the dishes that
she was cooking, saying to herself, ‘The cook is bound to know how the
food tastes.’
It so happened that one day her master said to her, ‘Grethel, I have a guest
coming to-night; roast me two fowls in your best style.’
‘It shall be done, sir!’ answered Grethel. So she killed the chickens, scalded
and plucked them, and then put them on the spit; towards evening she put
them down to the fire to roast. They got brown and crisp, but still the guest
did not come. Then Grethel called to her Master, ‘If the guest does not
come I must take the fowls from the fire; but it will be a thousand pities if
they are not eaten soon while they are juicy.’
Her Master said, ‘I will go and hasten the guest myself.’
Hardly had her Master turned his back before Grethel laid the spit with the
fowls on it on one side, and said to herself, ‘It’s thirsty work standing over
the fire so long. Who knows when he will come. I’ll go down into the cellar
in the meantime and take a drop of wine.’
She ran down and held a jug to the tap, then said, ‘Here’s to your health,
Grethel,’ and took a good pull. ‘Drinking leads to drinking,’ she said, ‘and
it’s not easy to give it up,’ and again she took a good pull. Then she went
upstairs and put the fowls to the fire again, poured some butter over them,
and turned the spit round with a will. It smelt so good that she thought,
‘There may be something wanting, I must have a taste.’ And she passed her
finger over the fowls and put it in her mouth. ‘Ah, how good they are; it’s a

sin and a shame that there’s nobody to eat them.’ She ran to the window to
see if her Master was coming with the guest, but she saw nobody. Then she
went back to the fowls again, and thought, ‘One wing is catching a little,
better to eat it—and eat it I will.’ So she cut it off and ate it with much
enjoyment. When it was finished, she thought, ‘The other must follow, or
the Master will notice that something is wanting.’ When the wings were
consumed she went back to the window again to look for her Master, but no
one was in sight.
‘Who knows,’ she thought. ‘I dare say they won’t come at all; they must
have dropped in somewhere else.’ Then she said to herself, ‘Now, Grethel,
don’t be afraid, eat it all up: why should the good food be wasted? When
it’s all gone you can rest; run and have another drink and then finish it up.’
So she went down to the cellar, took a good drink, and contentedly ate up
the rest of the fowl. When it had all disappeared and still no Master came,
Grethel looked at the other fowl and said, ‘Where one is gone the other
must follow. What is good for one is right for the other. If I have a drink
first I shall be none the worse.’ So she took another hearty pull at the jug,
and then she sent the other fowl after the first one.
In the height of her enjoyment, her Master came back, and cried, ‘Hurry,
Grethel, the guest is just coming.’
‘Very well, sir, I’ll soon have it ready,’ answered Grethel.
Her Master went to see if the table was properly laid, and took the big
carving-knife with which he meant to cut up the fowls, to sharpen it. In the
meantime the guest came and knocked politely at the door. Grethel ran to
see who was there, and, seeing the guest, she put her finger to her lips and
said, ‘Be quiet, and get away quickly; if my Master catches you it will be
the worse for you. He certainly invited you to supper, but only with the
intention of cutting off both your ears. You can hear him sharpening his
knife now.’

The guest heard the knife being sharpened, and hurried off down the steps
as fast as he could.
Grethel ran with great agility to her Master, shrieking, ‘A fine guest you
have invited, indeed!’
‘Why, what’s the matter, Grethel? What do you mean?’

‘Well,’ she said, ‘he has taken the two fowls that I had just put upon the
dish, and run off with them.’
‘That’s a clever trick!’ said her Master, regretting his fine fowls. ‘If he had
only left me one so that I had something to eat.’
He called out to him to stop, but the guest pretended not to hear. Then he
ran after him, still holding the carving-knife, and cried, ‘Only one, only
one!’—meaning that the guest should leave him one fowl; but the guest
only thought that he meant he was to give him one ear, and he ran as if he
was pursued by fire, and so took both his ears safely home.

The King of the Golden Mountain

T HERE was once a Merchant who had two children, a boy and a girl.
They were both small, and not old enough to run about. He had also
two richly-laden ships at sea, and just as he was expecting to make a
great deal of money by the merchandise, news came that they had both been
lost. So now instead of being a rich man he was quite poor, and had nothing
left but one field near the town.
To turn his thoughts from his misfortune, he went out into this field, and as
he was walking up and down a little black Mannikin suddenly appeared
before him, and asked why he was so sad. The Merchant said, ‘I would tell
you at once, if you could help me.’
‘Who knows,’ answered the little Mannikin. ‘Perhaps I could help you.’
Then the Merchant told him that all his wealth had been lost in a wreck, and
that now he had nothing left but this field.
‘Don’t worry yourself,’ said the Mannikin. ‘If you will promise to bring me
in twelve years’ time the first thing which rubs against your legs when you
go home, you shall have as much gold as you want.’
The Merchant thought, ‘What could it be but my dog?’ He never thought of
his boy, but said Yes, and gave the Mannikin his bond signed and sealed,
and went home.
When he reached the house his little son, delighted to hold on to the
benches and totter towards his father, seized him by the leg to steady
himself.
The Merchant was horror-stricken, for his vow came into his head, and now
he knew what he had promised to give away. But as he still found no gold
in his chests, he thought it must only have been a joke of the Mannikin’s. A
month later he went up into the loft to gather together some old tin to sell it,

and there he found a great heap of gold on the floor. So he was soon up in
the world again, bought and sold, became a richer merchant than ever, and
was altogether contented.
In the meantime the boy had grown up, and he was both clever and wise.
But the nearer the end of the twelve years came, the more sorrowful the
Merchant grew; you could even see his misery in his face. One day his son
asked him what was the matter, but his father would not tell him. The boy,
however, persisted so long that at last he told him that, without knowing
what he was doing, he had promised to give him up at the end of twelve
years to a little black Mannikin, in return for a quantity of gold. He had
given his hand and seal on it, and the time was now near for him to go.
Then his son said, ‘O father, don’t be frightened, it will be all right. The
little black Mannikin has no power over me.’
When the time came, the son asked a blessing of the Priest, and he and his
father went to the field together; and the son made a circle within which
they took their places.
When the little black Mannikin appeared, he said to the father, ‘Have you
brought what you promised me?’
The man was silent, but his son said, ‘What do you want?’
The Mannikin said, ‘My business is with your father, and not with you.’
The son answered, ‘You deceived and cheated my father. Give me back his
bond.’
‘Oh no!’ said the little man; ‘I won’t give up my rights.’
They talked to each other for a long time, and at last they decided that, as
the son no longer belonged to his father, and declined to belong to his foe,
he should get into a boat on a flowing stream, and his father should push it
off himself, thus giving him up to the stream.
So the youth took leave of his father, got into the boat, and his father
pushed it off. Then, thinking that his son was lost to him for ever, he went
home and sorrowed for him. The little boat, however, did not sink, it drifted
quietly down the stream, and the youth sat in it in perfect safety. It drifted

for a long time, till at last it stuck fast on an unknown shore. The youth
landed, and seeing a beautiful castle near, walked towards it. As he passed
under the doorway, however, a spell fell upon him. He went through all the
rooms, but found them empty, till he came to the very last one, where a
Serpent lay coiling and uncoiling itself. The Serpent was really an
enchanted maiden, who was delighted when she saw the youth, and said,
‘Have you come at last, my preserver? I have been waiting twelve years for
you. This whole kingdom is bewitched, and you must break the spell.’
‘How am I to do that?’ he asked.
She said, ‘To-night, twelve black men hung with chains will appear, and
they will ask what you are doing here. But do not speak a word, whatever
they do or say to you. They will torment you, strike, and pinch you, but
don’t say a word. At twelve o’clock they will have to go away. On the
second night twelve more will come, and on the third twenty-four. These
will cut off your head. But at twelve o’clock their power goes, and if you
have borne it, and not spoken a word, I shall be saved. Then I will come to
you, and bring a little flask containing the Water of Life, with which I will
sprinkle you, and you will be brought to life again, as sound and well as
ever you were.’
Then he said, ‘I will gladly save you!’
Everything happened just as she had said. The black men could not force a
word out of him; and on the third night the Serpent became a beautiful
Princess, who brought the Water of Life as she had promised, and restored
the youth to life. Then she fell on his neck and kissed him, and there were
great rejoicings all over the castle.
Their marriage was celebrated, and he became King of the Golden
Mountain.

They lived happily together, and in course of time a beautiful boy was born
to them.
When eight years had passed, the King’s heart grew tender within him as he
thought of his father, and he wanted to go home to see him. But the Queen
did not want him to go. She said, ‘I know it will be to my misfortune.’
However, he gave her no peace till she agreed to let him go. On his
departure she gave him a wishing-ring, and said, ‘Take this ring, and put it
on your finger, and you will at once be at the place where you wish to be.

Only, you must promise never to use it to wish me away from here to be
with you at your father’s.’
He made the promise, and put the ring on his finger; he then wished himself
before the town where his father lived, and at the same moment found
himself at the gate. But the sentry would not let him in because his clothes,
though of rich material, were of such strange cut. So he went up a
mountain, where a Shepherd lived, and, exchanging clothing with him, put
on his old smock, and passed into the town unnoticed.
When he reached his father he began making himself known; but his father,
never thinking that it was his son, said that it was true he had once had a
son, but he had long been dead. But, he added, seeing that he was a poor
Shepherd, he would give him a plate of food.
The supposed Shepherd said to his parents, ‘I am indeed your son. Is there
no mark on my body by which you may know me?’
His mother said, ‘Yes, our son has a strawberry mark under his right arm.’
He pushed up his shirt sleeve, and there was the strawberry mark; so they
no longer doubted that he was their son. He told them that he was the King
of the Golden Mountain, his wife was a Princess, and they had a little son
seven years old.
‘That can’t be true,’ said his father. ‘You are a fine sort of King to come
home in a tattered Shepherd’s smock.’
His son grew angry, and, without stopping to reflect, turned his ring round
and wished his wife and son to appear. In a moment they both stood before
him; but his wife did nothing but weep and lament, and said that he had
broken his promise, and by so doing had made her very unhappy. He said, ‘I
have acted incautiously, but from no bad motive,’ and he tried to soothe her.
She appeared to be calmed, but really she nourished evil intentions towards
him in her heart.
Shortly after he took her outside the town to the field, and showed her the
stream down which he had drifted in the little boat. Then he said, ‘I am
tired; I want to rest a little.’

So she sat down, and he rested his head upon her lap, and soon fell fast
asleep. As soon as he was asleep, she drew the ring from his finger, and
drew herself gently away from him, leaving only her slipper behind. Last of
all, taking her child in her arms, she wished herself back in her own
kingdom. When he woke up, he found himself quite deserted; wife and
child were gone, the ring had disappeared from his finger, and only her
slipper remained as a token.
‘I can certainly never go home to my parents,’ he said. ‘They would say I
was a sorcerer. I must go away and walk till I reach my own kingdom
again.’
So he went away, and at last he came to a mountain, where three Giants
were quarrelling about the division of their father’s property. When they
saw him passing, they called him up, and said, ‘Little people have sharp
wits,’ and asked him to divide their inheritance for them.
It consisted, first, of a sword, with which in one’s hand, if one said, ‘All
heads off, mine alone remain,’ every head fell to the ground. Secondly, of a
mantle which rendered any one putting it on invisible. Thirdly, of a pair of
boots which transported the wearer to whatever place he wished.
He said, ‘Give me the three articles so that I may see if they are all in good
condition.’
So they gave him the mantle, and he at once became invisible. He took his
own shape again, and said, ‘The mantle is good; now give me the sword.’
But they said, ‘No, we can’t give you the sword. If you were to say, “All
heads off, mine alone remain,” all our heads would fall, and yours would be
the only one left.’
At last, however, they gave it to him, on condition that he was to try it on a
tree. He did as they wished, and the sword went through the tree trunk as if
it had been a straw. Then he wanted the boots, but they said, ‘No, we won’t
give them away. If you were to put them on and wish yourself on the top of
the mountain, we should be left standing here without anything.’
‘No,’ said he; ‘I won’t do that.’

So they gave him the boots too; but when he had all three he could think of
nothing but his wife and child, and said to himself, ‘Oh, if only I were on
the Golden Mountain again!’ and immediately he disappeared from the
sight of the Giants, and there was an end of their inheritance.
When he approached his castle he heard sounds of music, fiddles and flutes,
and shouts of joy. People told him that his wife was celebrating her
marriage with another husband. He was filled with rage, and said, ‘The
false creature! She deceived me, and deserted me when I was asleep.’
Then he put on his mantle, and went to the castle, invisible to all. When he
went into the hall, where a great feast was spread with the richest foods and
the costliest wines, the guests were joking and laughing while they ate and
drank. The Queen sat on her throne in their midst in gorgeous clothing, with
the crown on her head. He placed himself behind her, and no one saw him.
Whenever the Queen put a piece of meat on her plate, he took it away and
ate it, and when her glass was filled he took it away and drank it. Her plate
and her glass were constantly refilled, but she never had anything, for it
disappeared at once. At last she grew frightened, got up, and went to her
room in tears, but he followed her there too. She said to herself, ‘Am I still
in the power of the demon? Did my preserver never come?’
He struck her in the face, and said, ‘Did your preserver never come? He is
with you now, deceiver that you are. Did I deserve such treatment at your
hands?’ Then he made himself visible, and went into the hall, and cried,
‘The wedding is stopped, the real King has come.’
The Kings, Princes, and Nobles who were present laughed him to scorn.
But he only said, ‘Will you go, or will you not?’ They tried to seize him, but
he drew his sword and said,
‘All heads off, mine alone remain.’
Then all their heads fell to the ground, and he remained sole King and Lord
of the Golden Mountain.

Doctor Know-All

O NCE upon a time a poor Peasant, named Crabb, was taking a load of
wood drawn by two oxen to the town for sale. He sold it to a Doctor
for four thalers. When the money was being paid to him, it so
happened that the Doctor was sitting at dinner. When the Peasant saw how
daintily the Doctor was eating and drinking, he felt a great desire to become
a Doctor too. He remained standing and looking on for a time, and then
asked if he could not be a Doctor.
‘Oh yes!’ said the Doctor; ‘that is easily managed.’
‘What must I do?’ asked the Peasant.
‘First buy an ABC book; you can get one with a cock as a frontispiece.
Secondly, turn your wagon and oxen into money, and buy with it clothes
and other things suitable for a Doctor. Thirdly, have a sign painted with the
words, “I am Doctor Know-all,” and have it nailed over your door.’
The Peasant did everything that he was told to do.
Now when he had been doctoring for a while, not very long though, a rich
nobleman had some money stolen from him. He was told about Doctor
Know-all, who lived in such and such a village, who would be sure to know
what had become of it. So the gentleman ordered his carriage and drove to
the village.
He stopped at the Doctor’s house, and asked Crabb if he were Doctor
Know-all.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Then you must go with me to get my stolen money back.’
‘Yes, certainly; but Grethe, my wife, must come too.’

The nobleman agreed, and gave both of them seats in his carriage, and they
all drove off together.
When they reached the nobleman’s castle the dinner was ready, and Crabb
was invited to sit down to table.
‘Yes; but Grethe, my wife, must dine too’; and he seated himself with her.
When the first Servant brought in a dish of choice food, the Peasant nudged
his wife, and said: ‘Grethe, that was the first,’—meaning that the servant
was handing the first dish. But the servant thought he meant, ‘That was the
first thief.’ As he really was the thief, he became much alarmed, and said to
his comrades outside—
‘That Doctor knows everything, we shan’t get out of this hole; he said I was
the first.’
The second Servant did not want to go in at all, but he had to go, and when
he offered his dish to the Peasant he nudged his wife, and said—‘Grethe,
that is the second.’
This Servant also was frightened and hurried out.
The third one fared no better. The Peasant said again: ‘Grethe, that is the
third.’
The fourth one brought in a covered dish, and the master told the Doctor
that he must show his powers and guess what was under the cover. Now it
was a dish of crabs.
The Peasant looked at the dish and did not know what to do, so he said:
‘Wretched Crabb that I am.’
When the Master heard him he cried: ‘There, he knows it! Then he knows
where the money is too.’
Then the Servant grew terribly frightened, and signed to the Doctor to come
outside.
When he went out, they all four confessed to him that they had stolen the
money; they would gladly give it to him and a large sum in addition, if only

he would not betray them to their Master, or their necks would be in peril.
They also showed him where the money was hidden. Then the Doctor was
satisfied, went back to the table, and said—
‘Now, Sir, I will look in my book to see where the money is hidden.’
The fifth, in the meantime, had crept into the stove to hear if the Doctor
knew still more. But he sat there turning over the pages of his ABC book
looking for the cock, and as he could not find it at once, he said: ‘I know
you are there, and out you must come.’
The man in the stove thought it was meant for him, and sprang out in a
fright, crying: ‘The man knows everything.’
Then Doctor Know-all showed the nobleman where the money was hidden,
but he did not betray the servants; and he received much money from both
sides as a reward, and became a very celebrated man.

The Seven Ravens

T HERE was once a Man who had seven sons, but never a daughter,
however much he wished for one.
At last, however, he had a daughter.
His joy was great, but the child was small and delicate, and, on account of
its weakness, it was to be christened at home.
The Father sent one of his sons in haste to the spring to fetch some water;
the other six ran with him, and because each of them wanted to be the first
to draw the water, between them the pitcher fell into the brook.
There they stood and didn’t know what to do, and not one of them ventured
to go home.
As they did not come back, their Father became impatient, and said:
‘Perhaps the young rascals are playing about, and have forgotten it
altogether.’
He became anxious lest his little girl should die unbaptized, and in hot
vexation, he cried: ‘I wish the youngsters would all turn into Ravens!’
Scarcely were the words uttered, when he heard a whirring in the air above
his head, and, looking upwards, he saw seven coal-black Ravens flying
away.
The parents could not undo the spell, and were very sad about the loss of
their seven sons, but they consoled themselves in some measure with their
dear little daughter, who soon became strong, and every day more beautiful.
For a long time she was unaware that she had had any brothers, for her
parents took care not to mention it.

However, one day by chance she heard some people saying about her: ‘Oh
yes, the girl’s pretty enough; but you know she is really to blame for the
misfortune to her seven brothers.’

Then she became very sad, and went to her father and mother and asked if
she had ever had any brothers, and what had become of them.

The parents could no longer conceal the secret. They said, however, that
what had happened was by the decree of heaven, and that her birth was
merely the innocent occasion.
But the little girl could not get the matter off her conscience for a single
day, and thought that she was bound to release her brothers again. She had
no peace or quiet until she had secretly set out, and gone forth into the wide
world to trace her brothers, wherever they might be, and to free them, let it
cost what it might.
She took nothing with her but a little ring as a remembrance of her parents,
a loaf of bread against hunger, a pitcher of water against thirst, and a little
chair in case of fatigue. She kept ever going on and on until she came to the
end of the world.
Then she came to the Sun, but it was hot and terrible, it devoured little
children. She ran hastily away to the Moon, but it was too cold, and,
moreover, dismal and dreary. And when the child was looking at it, it said:
‘I smell, I smell man’s flesh!’
Then she quickly made off, and came to the Stars, and they were kind and
good, and every one sat on his own special seat.
But the Morning Star stood up, and gave her a little bone, and said: ‘Unless
you have this bone, you cannot open the glass mountain, and in the glass
mountain are your brothers.’
The girl took the bone, and wrapped it up carefully in a little kerchief, and
went on again until she came to the glass mountain.
The gate was closed, and she meant to get out the little bone. But when she
undid the kerchief it was empty, and she had lost the good Star’s present.
How, now, was she to set to work? She was determined to rescue her
brothers, but had no key to open the glass mountain.
The good little sister took a knife and cut off her own tiny finger, fitted it
into the keyhole, and succeeded in opening the lock.
When she had entered, she met a Dwarf, who said: ‘My child, what are you
looking for?’

‘I am looking for my brothers, the Seven Ravens,’ she answered.
The Dwarf said: ‘My masters, the Ravens, are not at home; but if you like
to wait until they come, please to walk in.’
Thereupon the Dwarf brought in the Ravens’ supper, on seven little plates,
and in seven little cups, and the little sister ate a crumb or two from each of
the little plates, and took a sip from each of the little cups, but she let the
ring she had brought with her fall into the last little cup.
All at once a whirring and crying were heard in the air; then the Dwarf said:
‘Now my masters the Ravens are coming home.’
Then they came in, and wanted to eat and drink, and began to look about for
their little plates and cups.
But they said one after another: ‘Halloa! who has been eating off my plate?
Who has been drinking out of my cup? There has been some human mouth
here.’

When she entered she met a Dwarf.

And when the seventh drank to the bottom of his cup, the ring rolled up
against his lips.
He looked at it, and recognised it as a ring belonging to his father and
mother, and said: ‘God grant that our sister may be here, and that we may
be delivered.’

As the maiden was standing behind the door listening, she heard the wish
and came forward, and then all the Ravens got back their human form

again.
And they embraced and kissed one another, and went joyfully home.

The Ravens coming home.

The Marriage of Mrs. Reynard

T HERE was once an old Fox who thought that his wife was not true to
him, and determined to put her to the test. He stretched himself under
the bank, lay motionless, and pretended to be as dead as a door nail.
Mrs. Reynard went to her chamber, and shut herself in; and her servant,
Mistress Cat, sat by the fire, and cooked the dinner.
Now, when it became known that the old Fox was dead, suitors began to
announce themselves. Soon afterwards, the servant heard some one
knocking at the front door. She went and opened the door, and there stood a
young Fox, who said—

‘What are ye doing, pray, Mistress
Cat?
Sleeping or waking? or what are ye
at?’

She answered—

‘I’m not asleep; I’m wide awake.
D’ye want to know what now I
make?
I’m warming beer, with butter in it;
I beg ye’ll taste it in a minute.’

‘I’m much obliged, Mistress,’ said the Fox. ‘What is Mrs. Reynard doing?’
The Maid answered—

‘In chamber sad she sits alone,
And ceases not with grief to moan.
She weeps until her eyes are red,
Because the dear old Fox is dead.’

‘Well, just tell her, Mistress, that there’s a young Fox here, who would be
glad to woo her.’
‘Very well, young gentleman.’

‘Then went the Cat with pit-a-pat
And smote the door, rat-tata-tat!
“Pray, Mrs. Reynard, are you in?
Outside a wooer waits below!”’

‘Well, what’s he like? I want to know. Has he got nine such beautiful tails
as the late lamented Mr. Reynard?’
‘Oh dear no,’ answered the Cat. ‘He has only got one.’
‘Then I won’t have him.’
Mistress Cat went down, and sent the wooer away.
Soon after this there was knocking again, and another Fox appeared at the
door, who wished to pay his addresses to Mrs. Reynard. He had two tails,
but he came off no better than the first. Afterwards others came, each with
one tail more; but they were all rejected, till at last one came that had nine
tails like old Mr. Reynard.
When the widow heard this, full of joy, she said to the Cat—

‘Open the gates and doors; be swift.
Old Mr. Reynard turn adrift.’

But when the wedding was about to be celebrated, then old Mr. Reynard
under the bank roused himself, and gave the whole crew a good drubbing,
and sent them, Mrs. Reynard and all, helter-skelter out of the house.

Second Tale

When old Mr. Reynard really died, the Wolf came as a suitor, and knocked
at the door, and the Cat who acted as servant to Mrs. Reynard, opened it.
The Wolf greeted her, and said—

‘Good-day, Miss Cat, of sprightly
wit,
How comes it that alone you sit?
What are you making there, so
good?’

The Cat answered—

‘Tumbling milk and butter up.
Will your Lordship have a sup?’

‘Thank you kindly, Mistress Cat. Mistress Reynard is not at home, I
suppose.’

‘Upstairs in her chamber she sits,
And weeps as her sorrow befits.
Her sad case she doth much deplore,
Because Mr. Reynard’s no more.’

The Wolf answered—

‘“If now she wants to wed again,
She must come down the stairs, ’tis
plain.”
The Cat ran up without delay,
Nor did her claws their clatter stay
Until she reached the long saloon.
There, tapping with her five gold
rings,
“Is Mrs. Reynard in?” she sings.
“If now she wants to wed again,
She must come down the stairs, ’tis
plain.”’

Mrs. Reynard asked: ‘Does the gentleman wear red breeches, and has he a
pointed muzzle?’
‘No,’ answered the Cat.

‘Then he is no use to me.’
When the Wolf was rejected, there came a Dog, a Stag, a Hare, a Bear, and
one after another every sort of wild animal. But in every one there was
wanting some of the good qualities which old Mr. Reynard had possessed,
and the Cat was obliged to dismiss the suitors every time. At last there came
a young Fox. Then Mrs. Reynard asked: ‘Does the gentleman wear red
breeches, and has he got a pointed muzzle?’
‘Yes,’ said the Cat. ‘He has both.’
‘Then let him come up,’ said Mrs. Reynard, and ordered the maid to make
ready the wedding feast.

‘Now, Cat, set to and sweep the
room.
Then fling the old Fox from the
house;
Bring in many a good fat mouse,
But eat them all yourself alone,
Nor give your mistress e’er a one.’

Then the wedding with young Mr. Fox was held, and there was merry-
making and dancing, and if they haven’t stopped, they are dancing still.

Does the gentleman wear red breeches, and has he a pointed muzzle?

The Salad

T HERE was once a merry young Huntsman, who went into the forest to
hunt. He was gay and light-hearted, and whistled a tune upon a leaf as
he went along.
Suddenly an ugly old Crone spoke to him, and said: ‘Good morning, dear
Huntsman; you are merry and happy enough, while I am hungry and thirsty.
Pray give me an alms.’
The Huntsman pitied the poor Old Woman, put his hand in his pocket, and
made her a present according to his means.
Then he wanted to go on. But the Old Woman held him back, and said:
‘Hark ye, dear Huntsman, I will make you a present because of your good
heart. Go on your way, and you will come to a tree, on which nine birds are
sitting. They will have a cloak in their claws, over which they are fighting.
Take aim with your gun, and shoot into the middle of them. They will drop
the cloak, and one of the birds will fall down dead. Take the cloak with you,
it is a wishing-cloak. When you throw it round your shoulders you only
have to wish yourself at a place to be there at once. Take the heart out of the
dead bird and swallow it whole, then you will find a gold coin under your
pillow every single morning when you wake.’
The Huntsman thanked the Wise Woman, and thought: ‘She promises fine
things, if only they turn out as well.’
When he had gone about a hundred paces, he heard above him, in the
branches of a tree, such a chattering and screaming that he looked up.
There he saw a flock of birds tearing a garment with their beaks and claws;
snatching and tearing at it as if each one wanted to have it for himself.
‘Well,’ said the Huntsman, ‘this is extraordinary, it is exactly what the Old
Woman said.’

He put his gun to his shoulder, took aim and fired right into the middle of
them, making the feathers fly about.
The birds took flight with a great noise, all except one, which fell down
dead, and the cloak dropped at his feet.
He did as the Old Woman had told him, cut the heart out of the bird and
swallowed it whole. Then he took the cloak home with him.
When he woke in the morning, he remembered the Old Woman’s promise,
and looked under his pillow to see if it was true.
There, sure enough, lay the golden coin shining before him, and the next
morning he found another, and the same every morning when he got up.
He collected quite a heap of gold, and at last he thought: ‘What is the good
of all my gold if I stay at home here? I will go and look about me in the
world.’
So he took leave of his parents, shouldered his gun, and started off into the
world.

But the Old Woman was a witch.

It so happened that one day he came to a thick forest, and when he got
through it, he saw a fine castle lying in the plain beyond.
He saw an Old Woman standing in one of the windows looking out, with a
beautiful Maiden beside her.

But the Old Woman was a witch, and she said to the Maiden: ‘Here comes
some one out of the forest. He has a wonderful treasure inside him; we must
try to get it from him, my darling, it will suit us better than him. He has a
bird’s heart about him, and therefore he finds a gold coin every morning
under his pillow when he wakes.’
She told the girl how he had got it, and at last said: ‘If you don’t get it from
him, it will be the worse for you.’
When the Huntsman got nearer, he saw the Maiden, and said: ‘I have been
wandering about for a long time, I will go into this castle and take a rest. I
have plenty of money.’
But the real reason was that he had caught sight of the pretty picture at the
window. He went in, and he was kindly received and hospitably treated.
Before long, he was so enamoured of the Witch-Maiden that he thought of
nothing else, and cared for nothing but pleasing her.
The Old Woman said to the Maiden: ‘Now we must get the bird’s heart, he
will never miss it.’
They concocted a potion, and when it was ready they put it into a goblet.
And the Maiden took it to him, and said: ‘Now, my beloved, you must drink
to me.’
He took the cup and drank the potion, and when he was overpowered by it
the bird’s heart came out of his mouth.
The Maiden took it away secretly and swallowed it herself, for the Old
Woman wanted to have it.
From this time the Huntsman found no more gold under his pillow; but the
coin was always under the Maiden’s instead, and the Old Woman used to
fetch it away every morning.
But he was so much in love, that he thought of nothing but enjoying himself
in the Maiden’s company.

Then the Old Woman said: ‘We have got the bird’s heart, but we must have
his wishing-cloak too.’
The Maiden said: ‘Let us leave him that; we have taken away his wealth.’
The Old Woman was very angry, and said: ‘A cloak like that is a very
wonderful thing, and not often to be got. Have it I must, and will!’
So she obeyed the Witch’s orders, placed herself at the window, and looked
sadly out at the distant hills.
The Huntsman said: ‘Why are you so sad?’
‘Alas! my love,’ was her answer, ‘over there are the garnet mountains,
where the precious stones are found. I long for them so much that I grow
sad whenever I think of them. But who could ever get them? The birds
which fly, perhaps; no mortal could ever reach them.’
‘If that is all your trouble,’ said the Huntsman, ‘I can soon lift that load
from your heart.’
Then he drew her under his cloak, and in a moment they were both sitting
on the mountain. The precious stones were glittering around them; their
hearts rejoiced at the sight of them, and they soon gathered together some
of the finest and largest.
Now the Witch had so managed that the Huntsman began to feel his eyes
grow very heavy.
So he said to the Maiden: ‘We will sit down to rest a while, I am so tired I
can hardly stand.’
So they sat down, and he laid his head on her lap and was soon fast asleep.
As soon as he was asleep, the Maiden slipped the cloak from his shoulders
and put it on her own, loaded herself with the precious garnets, and wished
herself at home.
When the Huntsman had had his sleep out, he woke up and saw that his
beloved had betrayed him, and left him alone on the wild mountain.

‘Oh, what treachery there is in the world!’ he exclaimed, as he sat down in
grief, and did not know what to do.
Now the mountain belonged to some wild and savage Giants who lived on
it, and before long he saw three of them striding along.
He quickly lay down again and pretended to be fast asleep.
The first one, as he came along, stumbled against him, and said: ‘What kind
of earthworm is this?’
The second said: ‘Tread on him and kill him.’
But the third said: ‘It isn’t worth the trouble. Let him alone,—he can’t live
here; and when he climbs higher up the mountain, the clouds will roll down
and carry him off.’
Then they passed on, and as soon as they were gone, the Huntsman, who
had heard all they said, got up and climbed up to the top of the mountain.
After he had sat there for a time, a cloud floated over him, and carried him
away.
At first he was swept through the air, but then he was gently lowered and
deposited within a large walled garden, upon a soft bed of lettuces and other
herbs.
He looked around him and said: ‘If only I had something to eat; I am so
hungry. And it will be difficult to get away from here. I see neither apples
nor pears, nor any other fruit, nothing but salad and herbs.’
At last, however, he thought: ‘At the worst, I can eat some of this salad; it
does not taste very good, but it will, at least, be refreshing.’
He picked out a fine head of lettuce, and began eating it. But he had hardly
swallowed a little piece, when he began to feel very odd, and quite changed.
He felt four legs growing, a big head, and two long ears, and he saw to his
horror that he was changed into an ass.
As he at the same time felt as hungry as ever, and the juicy salad was now
very much to his taste, he went on eating greedily.

At last he reached another kind of salad, which he had hardly tasted when
he felt a new change taking place, and found himself back in his human
shape.
After this he lay down and slept off his fatigue.
When he woke next morning he broke off a head of the bad salad, and a
head of the good, and thought: ‘These will help me to regain my own, and
also to punish the traitors.’
He put the salad into his wallet, climbed over the wall, and went off to find
the castle of his beloved.
After wandering about for a few days, he was fortunate enough to find it.
Then he stained his face, and disguised himself so that his own mother
would not have known him, and went to the castle to ask for shelter.
‘I am so tired,’ he said; ‘I cannot go any further.’
The Witch said: ‘Who are you, countryman, and what do you want?’
He answered: ‘I am a messenger from the King. He sent me to find the
rarest salad which grows under the sun. I have been lucky enough to find it,
and I carry it with me. But the sun is so burning, that I am afraid the tender
plant will be withered, and I don’t know if I shall be able to take it any
further.’
When the Old Witch heard about the rare salad, she felt a great desire to
have some, and said: ‘Good countryman, let me try the wonderful salad!’
‘By all means,’ he answered. ‘I have two heads with me, and you shall have
one.’ So saying, he opened his sack, and handed her the bad one.
The Witch had no suspicions, and her mouth so watered for the new dish,
that she went to the kitchen herself to prepare it.
When it was ready, she could not wait till it was put upon the table, but put
a few leaves into her mouth at once.
Hardly had she swallowed them, when she lost her human shape, and ran
out into the courtyard, as an old she-ass.

Then the Maid came into the kitchen, saw the salad standing ready, and was
about to put it on the table. But on the way the fancy seized her to taste it,
according to her usual habit, and she ate a few leaves.
The power of the salad at once became apparent, because she also turned
into an ass, and ran out into the yard to join the Old Witch, while the dish of
salad fell to the ground.
In the meantime the messenger was sitting with the beautiful Maiden, and
as no one appeared with the salad, she also was seized with a desire to taste
it, and said: ‘I don’t know what has become of the salad.’
But the Huntsman thought: ‘The plant must have done its work,’ and said: ‘I
will go into the kitchen and see.’
As soon as he got downstairs he saw the two asses running about, and the
salad lying on the ground.
‘This is all right!’ he said; ‘two of them are done for.’
Then he picked up the leaves, put them on a dish, and took them to the
Maiden.
‘I am bringing the precious food to you myself,’ said he, ‘so that you may
not have to wait any longer.’
She ate some, and, like the others, was immediately changed into an ass,
and ran out to them in the yard.

He tied them all together and drove them along till he came to a mill.

When the Huntsman had washed his face so that the transformed creatures
might know him, he went into the courtyard, and said: ‘Now, you shall be
paid for your treachery.’
He tied them all together with a rope, and drove them along till he came to a
mill. He tapped at the window, and the Miller put his head out and asked
what he wanted.
‘I have three bad animals here,’ he said, ‘that I want to get rid of. If you will
take them and feed them, and treat them as I wish, I will pay you what you
like to ask.’
‘Why not?’ said the Miller. ‘How do you want them treated?’
The Huntsman said he wanted the old she-ass (the Witch) to be well beaten
three times a day and fed once. The younger one, which was the Maid,
beaten once and fed three times. The youngest of all, who was the beautiful
Maiden, was to be fed three times, and not beaten at all; he could not find it
in his heart to have her beaten.
Then he went back to the castle and found everything he wanted in it.

A few days later the Miller came and told him that the old ass which was to
be beaten three times and fed once, was dead. ‘The other two,’ he said,
‘which are to be fed three times, are not dead, but they are pining away, and
won’t last long.’
The Huntsman’s heart was stirred with pity, and he told the Miller to bring
them back to him.
When they came he gave them some of the other salad to eat, so that they
took their human shapes again.
The beautiful Maiden fell on her knees before him, and said: ‘O my
beloved, forgive me all the wrong I have done you. My mother forced me to
do it. It was against my own will, for I love you dearly. Your wishing-cloak
is hanging in the cupboard, and you shall have the bird’s heart back too.’
But he said: ‘Keep it; it will be all the same, as I will take you to be my own
true wife.’
Their marriage was soon after celebrated, and they lived happily together
till they died.

The Youth who could not Shudder

T HERE was once a Father who had two sons. One was clever and
sensible, and always knew how to get on. But the younger one was
stupid, and could not learn anything, and he had no imagination.
When people saw him, they said: ‘His Father will have plenty of trouble
with him.’
Whenever there was anything to be done, the eldest one always had to do it.
But if his Father sent him to fetch anything late in the evening, or at night,
and the way lay through the churchyard, or any other dreary place, he
would answer: ‘Oh no, Father, not there; it makes me shudder!’ For he was
afraid.
In the evening, when stories were being told round the fire which made
one’s flesh creep, and the listeners said: ‘Oh, you make me shudder!’ the
youngest son, sitting in the corner listening, could not imagine what they
meant. ‘They always say “It makes me shudder! It makes me shudder!” And
it doesn’t make me shudder a bit. It must be some art which I can’t
understand.’
Now it happened one day that his Father said to him: ‘I say, you in the
corner there, you are growing big and strong. You must learn something by
which you can make a living. See what pains your brother takes, but you
are not worth your salt.’
‘Well, Father,’ he answered, ‘I am quite ready to learn something; nay, I
should very much like to learn how to shudder, for I know nothing about
that.’
The elder son laughed when he heard him, and thought: ‘Good heavens!
what a fool my brother is; he will never do any good as long as he lives.’

But his Father sighed, and answered: ‘You will easily enough learn how to
shudder, but you won’t make your bread by it.’
Soon after, the Sexton came to the house on a visit, and the Father confided
his troubles about his son to him. He told him how stupid he was, and how
he never could learn anything. ‘Would you believe that when I asked him
how he was going to make his living, he said he would like to learn how to
shudder?’
‘If that’s all,’ said the Sexton, ‘he may learn that from me. Just let me have
him, and I’ll soon put the polish on him.’
The Father was pleased, for he thought: ‘Anyhow, the Lad will gain
something by it.’
So the Sexton took him home with him, and he had to ring the church bells.
A few days after, the Sexton woke him at midnight, and told him to get up
and ring the bells. ‘You shall soon be taught how to shudder!’ he thought, as
he crept stealthily up the stairs beforehand.
When the Lad got up into the tower, and turned round to catch hold of the
bell rope, he saw a white figure standing on the steps opposite the belfry
window.
‘Who is there?’ he cried; but the figure neither moved nor answered.
‘Answer,’ cried the Lad, ‘or get out of the way. You have no business here
in the night.’
But so that the Lad should think he was a ghost, the Sexton did not stir.
The Lad cried for the second time: ‘What do you want here? Speak if you
are an honest fellow, or I’ll throw you down the stairs.’
The Sexton did not think he would go to such lengths, so he made no sound,
and stood as still as if he were made of stone.
Then the Lad called to him the third time, and, as he had no answer, he took
a run and threw the ghost down the stairs. It fell down ten steps, and
remained lying in a corner.

Then he rang the bells, went home, and, without saying a word to anybody,
went to bed and was soon fast asleep.
The Sexton’s wife waited a long time for her husband, but, as he never
came back, she got frightened, and woke up the Lad.
‘Don’t you know what has become of my husband?’ she asked. ‘He went up
into the church tower before you.’
‘No,’ answered the Lad. ‘There was somebody standing on the stairs
opposite the belfry window, and, as he would neither answer me nor go
away, I took him to be a rogue and threw him downstairs. Go and see if it
was your husband; I should be sorry if it were.’
The woman hurried away and found her husband lying in the corner,
moaning, with a broken leg. She carried him down, and then hastened with
loud cries to the Lad’s father.
‘Your son has brought about a great misfortune; he has thrown my husband
downstairs and broken his leg. Take the good-for-nothing fellow away, out
of our house.’
The Father was horrified, and, going back with her, gave the Lad a good
scolding.
‘What is the meaning of this inhuman prank? The evil one must have put it
into your head.’
‘Father,’ answered the Lad, ‘just listen to me. I am quite innocent. He stood
there in the dark, like a man with some wicked design. I did not know who
it was, and I warned him three times to speak, or to go away!’
‘Alas!’ said his Father, ‘you bring me nothing but disaster. Go away out of
my sight. I will have nothing more to do with you.’
‘Gladly, Father. Only wait till daylight; then I will go away, and learn to
shudder. Then, at least, I shall have one art to make my living by.’
‘Learn what you like,’ said his Father. ‘It’s all the same to me. Here are fifty
thalers for you. Go out into the world, and don’t tell a creature where you
come from, or who your Father is, for you will only bring me to shame.’

‘Just as you please, Father. If that is all you want, I can easily fulfil your
desire.’
At daybreak, the Lad put his fifty thalers into his pocket, and went out
along the high road, repeating over and over to himself as he went: ‘If only
I could shudder, if only I could shudder.’
A Man came by and overheard the words the Lad was saying to himself,
and when they had gone a little further, and came within sight of the
gallows, he said: ‘See, there is the tree where those seven have been
wedded to the ropemaker’s daughter, and are now learning to fly. Sit down
below them, and when night comes you will soon learn to shudder.’
‘If nothing more than that is needed,’ said the Lad, ‘it is easily done. And if
I learn to shudder as easily as that, you shall have my fifty thalers. Come
back to me early to-morrow morning.’
Then the Lad went up to the gallows, and sat down under them to wait till
night came.
As he was cold he lighted a fire, but at midnight the wind grew so cold that
he did not know how to keep himself warm.
The wind blew the men on the gallows backwards and forwards, and swung
them against each other, so he thought: ‘Here am I freezing by the fire, how
much colder they must be up there.’
And as he was very compassionate, he mounted the ladder, undid them, and
brought all seven down one by one.
Then he blew up the fire, and placed them round it to warm themselves.
They sat there and never moved, even when the fire caught their clothing.
‘Take care, or I will hang you all up again.’
The dead men, of course, could not hear, and remained silent while their
few rags were burnt up.
Then he grew angry, and said: ‘If you won’t take care of yourselves, I can’t
help you, and I won’t be burnt with you.’

So he hung them all up again in a row, and sat down by the fire and went to
sleep again.
Next morning, the Man, wanting to get his fifty thalers, came to him and
said: ‘Now do you know what shuddering means?’
‘No,’ he said; ‘how should I have learnt it? Those fellows up there never
opened their mouths, and they were so stupid that they let the few poor rags
they had about them burn.’
Then the Man saw that no thalers would be his that day, and he went away,
saying: ‘Never in my life have I seen such a fellow as this.’
The Lad also went on his way, and again began saying to himself: ‘Oh, if
only I could learn to shudder, if only I could learn to shudder.’
A Carter, walking behind him, heard this, and asked: ‘Who are you?’
‘I don’t know,’ answered the Youth.
‘Who is your Father?’
‘That I must not say.’
‘What are you always mumbling in your beard?’
‘Ah,’ answered the Youth, ‘I want to learn to shudder, but no one can teach
me.’
‘Stop your silly chatter,’ said the Carter. ‘Just you come with me, and I’ll
see that you have what you want.’
The Youth went with the Carter, and in the evening they reached an inn,
where they meant to pass the night. He said quite loud, as they entered: ‘Oh,
if only I could learn to shudder, if only I could learn to shudder.’
The Landlord, who heard him, laughed, and said: ‘If that’s what you want,
there should be plenty of opportunity for you here.’
‘I will have nothing to say to it,’ said the Landlady. ‘So many a prying
fellow has already paid the penalty with his life. It would be a sin and a
shame if those bright eyes should not see the light of day again.’

But the Youth said: ‘I will learn it somehow, however hard it may be. I have
been driven out for not knowing it.’
He gave the Landlord no peace till he told him that there was an enchanted
castle a little way off, where any one could be made to shudder, if he would
pass three nights in it.
The King had promised his daughter to wife to any one who dared do it,
and she was the prettiest maiden the sun had ever shone on.
There were also great treasures hidden in the castle, watched over by evil
spirits, enough to make any poor man rich who could break the spell.
Already many had gone in, but none had ever come out.
Next morning the Youth went to the King, and said: ‘By your leave, I
should like to pass three nights in the enchanted castle.’
The King looked at him, and, as he took a fancy to him, he said: ‘You may
ask three things to take into the castle with you, but they must be lifeless
things.’
He answered: ‘Then I ask for a fire, a turning-lathe, and a cooper’s bench
with the knife.’
The King had all three carried into the castle for him.
When night fell, the Youth went up to the castle and made a bright fire in
one of the rooms. He put the cooper’s bench with the knife near the fire,
and seated himself on the turning-lathe.
‘Oh, if only I could shudder,’ he said; ‘but I shan’t learn it here either.’
Towards midnight he wanted to make up the fire, and, as he was blowing it
up, something in one corner began to shriek: ‘Miau, miau, how cold we
are!’
‘You fools!’ he cried. ‘What do you shriek for? If you are cold, come and
warm yourselves by the fire.’
As he spoke, two big black cats bounded up and sat down, one on each side
of him, and stared at him with wild, fiery eyes.

After a time, when they had warmed themselves, they said: ‘Comrade, shall
we have a game of cards?’
‘Why not?’ he answered; ‘but show me your paws first.’
Then they stretched out their claws.
‘Why,’ he said, ‘what long nails you’ve got. Wait a bit; I must cut them for
you.’
He seized them by the scruff of their necks, lifted them on to the cooper’s
bench, and screwed their paws firmly to it.

Crowds of black cats and dogs swarmed out of every corner.

‘I have looked at your fingers, and the desire to play cards with you has
passed.’

Then he killed them and threw them out into the moat.
But no sooner had he got rid of these two cats, and was about to sit down by
his fire again, than crowds of black cats and dogs swarmed out of every
corner, more and more of them.
They howled horribly, and trampled on his fire, and tried to put it out.
For a time he looked quietly on, but when it grew too bad he seized his
cooper’s knife, and cried: ‘Away with you, you rascally pack,’ and let fly
among them right and left. Some of them sprang away, the others he killed,
and threw them out into the water.
When he came back he scraped the embers of his fire together again, and
warmed himself. He could hardly keep his eyes open, and felt the greatest
desire to go to sleep. He looked round, and in one corner he saw a big bed.
‘That’s the very thing,’ he said, and lay down in it. As soon as he closed his
eyes, the bed began to move, and soon it was tearing round and round the
castle. ‘Very good!’ he said. ‘The faster the better!’ The bed rolled on as if it
were dragged by six horses; over thresholds and stairs, up and down.
Suddenly it went hop, hop, hop, and turned topsy-turvy, so that it lay upon
him like a mountain. But he pitched the pillows and blankets into the air,
slipped out of it, and said: ‘Now any one may ride who likes.’
Then he lay down by his fire and slept till daylight.
In the morning the King came, and when he saw him lying on the floor, he
thought the ghosts had killed him, and he was dead. So he said: ‘It’s a sad
pity, for such a handsome fellow.’
But the Youth heard him, and sat up, saying: ‘It has not come to that yet.’
The King was surprised and delighted, and asked him how he had got on.
‘Pretty well!’ he answered. ‘One night is gone, I suppose I shall get through
the others too.’
When the Landlord saw him he opened his eyes, and said: ‘I never thought I
should see you alive again. Have you learnt how to shudder now?’

‘No,’ he answered; ‘it’s all in vain. If only some one would tell me how.’
The second night came, and up he went again and sat down by the fire, and
began his old song: ‘Oh, if only I could learn to shudder.’
In the middle of the night a great noise and uproar began, first soft, and then
growing louder; then for a short time there would be silence.
At last, with a loud scream, half the body of a man fell down the chimney in
front of him.
‘Hullo!’ he said, ‘another half is wanting here; this is too little.’
The noise began again, and, amidst shrieks and howls, the other half fell
down.
‘Wait a bit,’ he said; ‘I’ll blow up the fire.’
When this was done, and he looked round, the two halves had come
together, and a hideous man sat in his place.
‘We didn’t bargain for that,’ said the Youth. ‘The bench is mine.’
The man wanted to push him out of the way, but the Youth would not have
it, flung him aside, and took his own seat.
Then more men fell down the chimney, one after the other, and they fetched
nine human shin bones and two skulls, and began to play skittles.
The Youth felt inclined to join them, and cried: ‘I say, can I play too?’
‘Yes, if you’ve got any money.’
‘Money enough,’ he answered, ‘but your balls aren’t quite round.’
Then he took the skulls and turned them on the lathe till they were quite
round. ‘Now they will roll better,’ he said. ‘Here goes! The more, the
merrier!’
So he played with them, and lost some money, but when it struck twelve
everything disappeared. He lay down, and was soon fast asleep.

Next morning the King came again to look after him, and said: ‘Well, how
did you get on this time?’
‘I played skittles,’ he answered, ‘and lost a few coins.’
‘Didn’t you learn to shudder?’
‘Not I. I only made merry. Oh, if I could but find out how to shudder.’
On the third night he again sat down on his bench, and said quite savagely:
‘If only I could shudder!’
When it grew late, six tall men came in, carrying a bier, and he said: ‘Hullo
there! That must be my cousin who died a few days ago.’ And he beckoned
and said: ‘Come along, cousin, come along.’
The men put the coffin on the floor, and he went up and took the lid off, and
there lay a dead man. He felt the face, and it was as cold as ice. ‘Wait,’ he
said; ‘I will warm him.’
Then he went to the fire and warmed his hand, and laid it on his face, but
the dead man remained cold. He took him out of the coffin, sat down by the
fire, and took him on his knees, and rubbed his arms to make the blood
circulate.
But it was all no good. Next, it came into his head that if two people were in
bed together, they warmed each other. So he put the dead man in the bed,
covered him up, and lay down beside him.
After a time the dead man grew warm, and began to move.
Then the Youth said: ‘There, you see, cousin mine, have I not warmed
you?’
But the Man rose up, and cried: ‘Now, I will strangle you!’
‘What!’ said he, ‘are those all the thanks I get? Back you go into your coffin
then.’ So saying, he lifted him up, threw him in, and fastened down the lid.
Then the six men came back and carried the coffin away.
‘I cannot shudder,’ he said; ‘and I shall never learn it here.’

Just then a huge Man appeared. He was frightful to look at, old, and with a
long white beard.
‘Oh, you miserable wight!’ he cried. ‘You shall soon learn what shuddering
is, for you shall die.’
‘Not so fast,’ said the Youth. ‘If I am to die, I must be present.’
‘I will make short work of you,’ said the old monster.
‘Softly! softly! don’t you boast. I am as strong as you, and very likely much
stronger.’
‘We shall see about that,’ said the Old Man. ‘If you are the stronger, I will
let you go. Come; we will try.’
Then he led him through numberless dark passages to a smithy, took an axe,
and with one blow struck one of the anvils into the earth.
‘I can better that,’ said the Youth, and went to the other anvil. The Old Man
placed himself near to see, and his white beard hung over.
Then the Youth took the axe and split the anvil with one blow, catching in
the Old Man’s beard at the same time.
‘Now, I have you fast,’ said the Youth, ‘and you will be the one to die.’
Then he seized an iron rod, and belaboured the Old Man with it, till he
shrieked for mercy, and promised him great riches if he would stop.
Then the Youth pulled out the axe and released him, and the Old Man led
him back into the castle, and showed him three chests of gold in a cellar.
‘One is for the poor,’ he said, ‘one for the King, and one for you.’
The clock struck twelve, and the ghost disappeared, leaving the Youth in the
dark.
‘I must manage to get out somehow,’ he said, and groped about till he found
his way back to his room, where he lay down by the fire and went to sleep.

Next morning the King came and said: ‘Now you must have learnt how to
shudder.’

‘No,’ said he. ‘What can it be? My dead cousin was there, and an Old Man
with a beard came and showed me a lot of gold. But what shuddering is,
that no man can tell me.’
Then said the King: ‘You have broken the spell on the castle, and you shall
marry my daughter.’
‘That is all very well,’ he said; ‘but still I don’t know what shuddering is.’

The gold was got out of the castle, and the marriage was celebrated, but,
happy as the young King was, and much as he loved his wife, he was
always saying: ‘Oh, if only I could learn to shudder, if only I could learn to
shudder.’
At last his wife was vexed by it, and her waiting-woman said: ‘I can help
you; he shall be taught the meaning of shuddering.’
And she went out to the brook which ran through the garden and got a pail
full of cold water and little fishes.
At night, when the young King was asleep, his wife took the coverings off
and poured the cold water over him, and all the little fishes flopped about
him.
Then he woke up, and cried: ‘Oh, how I am shuddering, dear wife, how I
am shuddering! Now I know what shuddering is!’

King Thrushbeard

T HERE was once a King who had a Daughter. She was more beautiful
than words can tell, but at the same time so proud and haughty that no
man who came to woo her was good enough for her. She turned away
one after another, and even mocked them.
One day her father ordered a great feast to be given, and invited to it all the
marriageable young men from far and near.
They were all placed in a row, according to their rank and position. First
came Kings, then Princes, then Dukes, Earls, and Barons.
The Princess was led through the ranks, but she had some fault to find with
all of them.
One was too stout. ‘That barrel!’ she said. The next was too tall. ‘Long and
lean is no good!’ The third was too short. ‘Short and stout, can’t turn
about!’ The fourth was too white. ‘Pale as death!’ The fifth was too red.
‘Turkey-cock!’ The sixth was not straight. ‘Oven-dried!’
So there was something against each of them. But she made specially merry
over one good King, who stood quite at the head of the row, and whose chin
was a little hooked.
‘Why!’ she cried, ‘he has a chin like the beak of a thrush.’
After that, he was always called ‘King Thrushbeard.’
When the old King saw that his Daughter only made fun of them, and
despised all the suitors who were assembled, he was very angry, and swore
that the first beggar who came to the door should be her husband.
A few days after, a wandering Musician began to sing at the window,
hoping to receive charity.

When the King heard him, he said: ‘Let him be brought in.’
The Musician came in, dressed in dirty rags, and sang to the King and his
Daughter, and when he had finished, he begged alms of them.
The King said: ‘Your song has pleased me so much, that I will give you my
Daughter to be your wife.’
The Princess was horror-stricken. But the King said: ‘I have sworn an oath
to give you to the first beggar who came; and I will keep my word.’
No entreaties were of any avail. A Parson was brought, and she had to
marry the Musician there and then.
When the marriage was completed, the King said: ‘Now you are a beggar-
woman, you can’t stay in my castle any longer. You must go away with
your Husband.’
The Beggar took her by the hand and led her away, and she was obliged to
go with him on foot.
When they came to a big wood, she asked:

‘Ah! who is the Lord of this forest
so fine?’
‘It belongs to King Thrushbeard. It
might have been thine,
If his Queen you had been.’
‘Ah! sad must I sing!
I would I’d accepted the hand of the
King.’

After that they reached a great meadow, and she asked again:

‘Ah! who is the Lord of these
meadows so fine?’
‘They belong to King Thrushbeard,
and would have been thine,
If his Queen you had been.’
‘Ah! sad must I sing!

I would I’d accepted the love of the
King.’
Then they passed through a large town, and again she asked:

‘Ah! who is the Lord of this city so
fine?’
‘It belongs to King Thrushbeard,
and it might have been thine,
If his Queen you had been.’
‘Ah! sad must I sing!
I would I’d accepted the heart of the
King.’

‘It doesn’t please me at all,’ said the Musician, ‘that you are always wishing
for another husband. Am I not good enough for you?’
At last they came to a miserable little hovel, and she said:

‘Ah, heavens! what’s this house, so
mean and small?
This wretched little hut’s no house
at all.’

The Musician answered: ‘This is my house, and yours; where we are to live
together.’
The door was so low that she had to stoop to get in.
‘Where are the servants?’ asked the Princess.
‘Servants indeed!’ answered the Beggar. ‘Whatever you want done, you
must do for yourself. Light the fire, and put the kettle on to make my
supper. I am very tired.’
But the Princess knew nothing about lighting fires or cooking, and to get it
done at all, the Beggar had to do it himself.
When they had finished their humble fare, they went to bed. But in the
morning the Man made her get up very early to do the housework.

They lived like this for a few days, till they had eaten up all their store of
food.
Then the Man said: ‘Wife, this won’t do any longer; we can’t live here
without working. You shall make baskets.’
So he went out and cut some osiers, and brought them home. She began to
weave them, but the hard osiers bruised her tender hands.
‘I see that won’t do,’ said the Beggar. ‘You had better spin; perhaps you can
manage that.’
So she sat down and tried to spin, but the harsh yarn soon cut her delicate
fingers and made them bleed.
‘Now you see,’ said the Man, ‘what a good-for-nothing you are. I have
made a bad bargain in you. But I will try to start a trade in earthenware. You
must sit in the market and offer your goods for sale.’

‘Alas!’ she thought, ‘if any of the people from my father’s kingdom come
and see me sitting in the market-place, offering goods for sale, they will
scoff at me.’ But it was no good. She had to obey, unless she meant to die of
hunger.
All went well the first time. The people willingly bought her wares because
she was so handsome, and they paid what she asked them—nay, some even

gave her the money and left her the pots as well.
They lived on the gains as long as they lasted, and then the Man laid in a
new stock of wares.
She took her seat in a corner of the market, set out her crockery about her,
and began to cry her wares.
Suddenly, a drunken Hussar came galloping up, and rode right in among the
pots, breaking them into thousands of bits.
She began to cry, and was so frightened that she did not know what to do.
‘Oh! what will become of me?’ she cried. ‘What will my Husband say to
me?’ She ran home, and told him her misfortune.
‘Who would ever think of sitting at the corner of the market with crockery?’
he said. ‘Stop that crying. I see you are no manner of use for any decent
kind of work. I have been to our King’s palace, and asked if they do not
want a kitchen wench, and they have promised to try you. You will get your
victuals free, at any rate.’
So the Princess became a kitchen wench, and had to wait upon the Cook
and do all the dirty work. She fixed a pot into each of her pockets, and in
them took home her share of the scraps and leavings, and upon these they
lived.
It so happened that the marriage of the eldest Princess just then took place,
and the poor Woman went upstairs and stood behind the door to peep at all
the splendour.
When the rooms were lighted up, and she saw the guests streaming in, one
more beautiful than the other, and the scene grew more and more brilliant,
she thought, with a heavy heart, of her sad fate. She cursed the pride and
haughtiness which had been the cause of her humiliation, and of her being
brought to such depths.
Every now and then the Servants would throw her bits from the savoury
dishes they were carrying away from the feast, and these she put into her
pots to take home with her.

All at once the King’s son came in. He was dressed in silk and velvet, and
he had a golden chain round his neck.
When he saw the beautiful Woman standing at the door, he seized her by
the hand, and wanted to dance with her.
But she shrank and refused, because she saw that it was King Thrushbeard,
who had been one of the suitors for her hand, and whom she had most
scornfully driven away.
Her resistance was no use, and he dragged her into the hall. The string by
which her pockets were suspended broke. Down fell the pots, and the soup
and savoury morsels were spilt all over the floor.
When the guests saw it, they burst into shouts of mocking laughter.
She was so ashamed, that she would gladly have sunk into the earth. She
rushed to the door, and tried to escape, but on the stairs a Man stopped her
and brought her back.
When she looked at him, it was no other than King Thrushbeard again.
He spoke kindly to her, and said: ‘Do not be afraid. I and the Beggar-Man,
who lived in the poor little hovel with you, are one and the same. For love
of you I disguised myself; and I was also the Hussar who rode among your
pots. All this I did to bend your proud spirit, and to punish you for the
haughtiness with which you mocked me.’
She wept bitterly, and said: ‘I was very wicked, and I am not worthy to be
your wife.’
But he said: ‘Be happy! Those evil days are over. Now we will celebrate
our true wedding.’
The waiting-women came and put rich clothing upon her, and her Father,
with all his Court, came and wished her joy on her marriage with King
Thrushbeard.
Then, in truth, her happiness began. I wish we had been there to see it, you
and I.

Iron Hans

T HERE was once a King whose castle was surrounded by a forest full
of game. One day he sent a Huntsman out to shoot a deer, but he
never came back.
‘Perhaps an accident has happened to him,’ said the King.
Next day he sent out two more Huntsmen to look for him, but they did not
return either. On the third day he sent for all his Huntsmen, and said to
them, ‘Search the whole forest without ceasing, until you have found all
three.’
But not a single man of all these, or one of the pack of hounds they took
with them, ever came back. From this time forth no one would venture into
the forest; so there it lay, wrapped in silence and solitude, with only an
occasional eagle or hawk circling over it.
This continued for several years, and then one day a strange Huntsman
sought an audience of the King, and offered to penetrate into the dangerous
wood. The King, however, would not give him permission, and said, ‘It’s
not safe, and I am afraid if you go in that you will never come out again,
any more than all the others.’
The Huntsman answered, ‘Sire, I will take the risk upon myself. I do not
know fear.’
So the Huntsman went into the wood with his Dog. Before long the Dog put
up some game, and wanted to chase it; but hardly had he taken a few steps
when he came to a deep pool, and could go no further. A naked arm
appeared out of the water, seized him, and drew him down.
When the Huntsman saw this, he went back and fetched three men with
pails to empty the pool. When they got to the bottom they found a Wild
Man, whose body was as brown as rusty iron, and his hair hanging down

over his face to his knees. They bound him with cords, and carried him
away to the castle. There was great excitement over the Wild Man, and the
King had an iron cage made for him in the courtyard. He forbade any one to
open the door of the cage on pain of death, and the Queen had to keep the
key in her own charge.
After this, anybody could walk in the forest with safety.
The King had a little son eight years old, and one day he was playing in the
courtyard. In his play his golden ball fell into the cage. The boy ran up, and
said, ‘Give me back my ball.’
‘Not until you have opened the door,’ said the Wild Man.
‘No; I can’t do that,’ said the boy. ‘My father has forbidden it,’ and then he
ran away.
Next day he came again, and asked for his ball. The Man said, ‘Open my
door’; but he would not.
On the third day the King went out hunting, and the boy came again, and
said, ‘Even if I would, I could not open the door. I have not got the key.’
Then the Wild Man said, ‘It is lying under your mother’s pillow. You can
easily get it.’
The boy, who was very anxious to have his ball back, threw his scruples to
the winds, and fetched the key. The door was very stiff, and he pinched his
fingers in opening it. As soon as it was open the Wild Man came out, gave
the boy his ball, and hurried away. The boy was now very frightened, and
cried out, ‘O Wild Man, don’t go away, or I shall be beaten!’
The Wild Man turned back, picked up the boy, put him on his shoulder, and
walked hurriedly off into the wood.
When the King came home he saw at once the cage was empty, and asked
the Queen how it had come about. She knew nothing about it, and went to
look for the key, which was of course gone. They called the boy, but there
was no answer. The King sent people out into the fields to look for him, but
all in vain; he was gone. The King easily guessed what had happened, and
great grief fell on the royal household.

When the Wild Man got back into the depths of the dark forest he took the
boy down off his shoulder, and said, ‘You will never see your father and
mother again; but I will keep you here with me, because you had pity on me
and set me free. If you do as you are told, you will be well treated. I have
treasures and gold enough and to spare, more than anybody in the world.’
He made a bed of moss for the boy, on which he went to sleep. Next
morning the Man led him to a spring, and said, ‘You see this golden well is
bright and clear as crystal? You must sit by it, and take care that nothing
falls into it, or it will be contaminated. I shall come every evening to see if
you have obeyed my orders.’
The boy sat down on the edge of the spring to watch it; sometimes he would
see a gold fish or a golden snake darting through it, and he guarded it well,
so that nothing should fall into it. One day as he was sitting like this his
finger pained him so much that involuntarily he dipped it into the water. He
drew it out very quickly, but saw that it was gilded, and although he tried
hard to clean it, it remained golden. In the evening Iron Hans came back,
looked at the boy, and said, ‘What has happened to the well to-day?’
‘Nothing, nothing!’ he answered, keeping his finger behind his back, so that
Iron Hans should not see it.
But he said, ‘You have dipped your finger into the water. It does not matter
this time, but take care that nothing of the kind occurs again.’
Early next morning the boy took his seat by the spring again to watch. His
finger still hurt very much, and he put his hand up above his head; but,
unfortunately, in so doing he brushed a hair into the well. He quickly took it
out, but it was already gilded. When Iron Hans came in the evening, he
knew very well what had happened.
‘You have let a hair fall into the well,’ he said. ‘I will overlook it once more,
but if it happens for the third time, the well will be polluted, and you can no
longer stay with me.’
On the third day the boy again sat by the well; but he took good care not to
move a finger, however much it might hurt. The time seemed very long to
him as he looked at his face reflected in the water. As he bent over further
and further to look into his eyes, his long hair fell over his shoulder right

into the water. He started up at once, but not before his whole head of hair
had become golden, and glittered like the sun. You may imagine how
frightened the poor boy was. He took his pocket-handkerchief and tied it
over his head, so that Iron Hans should not see it. But he knew all about it
before he came, and at once said, ‘Take that handkerchief off your head,’
and then all the golden hair tumbled out. All the poor boy’s excuses were no
good. ‘You have not stood the test, and you can no longer stay here. You
must go out into the world, and there you will learn the meaning of poverty.
But as your heart is not bad, and as I wish you well, I will grant you one
thing. When you are in great need, go to the forest and cry “Iron Hans,” and
I will come and help you. My power is great, greater than you think, and I
have gold and silver in abundance.’
So the King’s son left the forest, and wandered over trodden and untrodden
paths till he reached a great city. He tried to get work, but he could not find
any; besides, he knew no trade by which to make a living. At last he went to
the castle and asked if they would employ him. The courtiers did not know
what use they could make of him, but they were taken with his appearance,
and said he might stay. At last the Cook took him into his service, and said
he might carry wood and water for him, and sweep up the ashes.
One day, as there was no one else at hand, the Cook ordered him to carry
the food up to the royal table. As he did not want his golden hair to be seen,
he kept his cap on. Nothing of the sort had ever happened in the presence of
the King before, and he said, ‘When you come into the royal presence, you
must take your cap off.’
‘Alas, Sire,’ he said, ‘I cannot take it off, I have a bad wound on my head.’
Then the King ordered the Cook to be called, and asked how he could take
such a boy into his service, and ordered him to be sent away at once. But
the Cook was sorry for him, and exchanged him with the Gardener’s boy.
Now the boy had to dig and hoe, plant and water, in every kind of weather.
One day in the summer, when he was working alone in the garden, it was
very hot, and he took off his cap for the fresh air to cool his head. When the
sun shone on his hair it glittered so that the beams penetrated right into the
Princess’s bedroom, and she sprang up to see what it was. She discovered
the youth, and called to him, ‘Bring me a nosegay, young man.’

He hurriedly put on his cap, picked a lot of wild flowers, and tied them up.
On his way up to the Princess, the Gardener met him, and said, ‘How can
you take such poor flowers to the Princess? Quickly cut another bouquet,
and mind they are the choicest and rarest flowers.’
‘Oh no,’ said the youth. ‘The wild flowers have a sweeter scent, and will
please her better.’

She immediately clutched at his cap to pull it off; but he held it on with both hands.

As soon as he went into the room the Princess said, ‘Take off your cap; it is
not proper for you to wear it before me.’
He answered again, ‘I may not take it off, because I have a wound on my
head.’
But she took hold of the cap, and pulled it off, and all his golden hair
tumbled over his shoulders in a shower. It was quite a sight. He tried to get
away, but she took hold of his arm, and gave him a handful of ducats. He
took them, but he cared nothing for the gold, and gave it to the Gardener for
his children to play with.

Next day the Princess again called him to bring her a bunch of wild flowers,
and when he brought it she immediately clutched at his cap to pull it off;
but he held it on with both hands. Again she gave him a handful of ducats,
but he would not keep them, and gave them to the Gardener’s children. The
third day the same thing happened, but she could not take off his cap, and
he would not keep the gold.
Not long after this the kingdom was invaded. The King assembled his
warriors. He did not know whether they would be able to conquer his
enemies or not, as they were very powerful, and had a mighty army. Then
the Gardener’s assistant said, ‘I have been brought up to fight; give me a
horse, and I will go too.’

He called three times, ‘Iron Hans,’ as loud as he could.

The others laughed and said, ‘When we are gone, find one for yourself. We
will leave one behind in the stable for you.’
When they were gone, he went and got the horse out; it was lame in one
leg, and hobbled along, humpety-hump, humpety-hump. Nevertheless, he
mounted it and rode away to the dark forest. When he came to the edge of
it, he called three times, ‘Iron Hans,’ as loud as he could, till the trees
resounded with it.
The Wild Man appeared immediately, and said, ‘What do you want?’
‘I want a strong horse to go to the war.’

‘You shall have it, and more besides.’
The Wild Man went back into the wood, and before long a Groom came
out, leading a fiery charger with snorting nostrils. Behind him followed a
great body of warriors, all in armour, and their swords gleaming in the sun.
The youth handed over his three-legged steed to the Groom, mounted the
other, and rode away at the head of the troop.
When he approached the battle-field a great many of the King’s men had
already fallen, and before long the rest must have given in. Then the youth,
at the head of his iron troop, charged, and bore down the enemy like a
mighty wind, smiting everything which came in their way. They tried to fly,
but the youth fell upon them, and did not stop while one remained alive.
Instead of joining the King, he led his troop straight back to the wood and
called Iron Hans again.
‘What do you want?’ asked the Wild Man.
‘Take back your charger and your troop, and give me back my three-legged
steed.’
His request was granted, and he rode his three-legged steed home.
When the King returned to the castle his daughter met him and
congratulated him on his victory.
‘It was not I who won it,’ he said; ‘but a strange Knight, who came to my
assistance with his troop.’ His daughter asked who the strange Knight was,
but the King did not know, and said, ‘He pursued the enemy, and I have not
seen him since.’
She asked the Gardener about his assistant, but he laughed, and said, ‘He
has just come home on his three-legged horse, and the others made fun of
him, and said, “Here comes our hobbler back again,” and asked which
hedge he had been sleeping under. He answered, “I did my best, and
without me things would have gone badly.” Then they laughed at him more
than ever.’
The King said to his daughter, ‘I will give a great feast lasting three days,
and you shall throw a golden apple. Perhaps the unknown Knight will come

among the others to try and catch it.’
When notice was given of the feast, the youth went to the wood and called
Iron Hans.
‘What do you want?’ he asked.
‘I want to secure the King’s golden apple,’ he said.
‘It is as good as yours already,’ answered Iron Hans. ‘You shall have a
tawny suit, and ride a proud chestnut.’
When the day arrived the youth took his place among the other Knights, but
no one knew him. The Princess stepped forward and threw the apple among
the Knights, and he was the only one who could catch it. As soon as he had
it he rode away.
On the second day Iron Hans fitted him out as a White Knight, riding a
gallant grey. Again he caught the apple; but he did not stay a minute, and, as
before, hurried away.
The King now grew angry, and said, ‘This must not be; he must come
before me and give me his name.’
He gave an order that if the Knight made off again he was to be pursued and
brought back.
On the third day the youth received from Iron Hans a black outfit, and a
fiery black charger.
Again he caught the apple; but as he was riding off with it the King’s people
chased him, and one came so near that he wounded him in the leg. Still he
escaped, but his horse galloped so fast that his helmet fell off, and they all
saw that he had golden hair. So they rode back, and told the King what they
had seen.
Next day the Princess asked the Gardener about his assistant.
‘He is working in the garden. The queer fellow went to the feast, and he
only came back last night. He has shown my children three golden apples
which he won.’

The King ordered him to be brought before him. When he appeared he still
wore his cap. But the Princess went up to him and took it off; then all his
golden hair fell over his shoulders, and it was so beautiful that they were all
amazed by it.
‘Are you the Knight who came to the feast every day in a different colour,
and who caught the three golden apples?’ asked the King.
‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘and here are the apples,’ bringing them out of his
pocket, and giving them to the King. ‘If you want further proof, here is the
wound in my leg given me by your people when they pursued me. But I am
also the Knight who helped you to conquer the enemy.’
‘If you can do such deeds you are no Gardener’s boy. Tell me who is your
father?’
‘My father is a powerful King, and I have plenty of gold—as much as ever I
want.’
‘I see very well,’ said the King, ‘that we owe you many thanks. Can I do
anything to please you?’
‘Yes,’ he answered; ‘indeed, you can. Give me your daughter to be my
wife!’
The maiden laughed, and said, ‘He does not beat about the bush; but I saw
long ago that he was no Gardener’s boy.’
Then she went up to him and kissed him.
His father and mother came to the wedding, and they were full of joy, for
they had long given up all hope of ever seeing their dear son again. As they
were all sitting at the wedding feast, the music suddenly stopped, the doors
flew open, and a proud King walked in at the head of a great following. He
went up to the Bridegroom, embraced him, and said, ‘I am Iron Hans, who
was bewitched and changed into a Wild Man; but you have broken the spell
and set me free. All the treasure that I have is now your own.’

Printed in Great Britain by
T. and A. Constable, Printers to His Majesty
at the University Press, Edinburgh

Transcriber's Note
Minor punctuation errors have been repaired. Capitalisation and
hyphen usage has been made consistent within individual stories.
Illustrations have been moved where necessary so that they did not
fall in the middle of a paragraph. Omitted page numbers were the
original location of illustrations.

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