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Title: Grimms' Fairy Tales

Author: Jacob Grimm
Wilhelm Grimm

Release date: April 1, 2001 [eBook #2591]
Most recently updated: June 28, 2021

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2591

Credits: Emma Dudding, John Bickers, Dagny and David Widger

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRIMMS' FAIRY
TALES ***

G r i m m s ’ F a i r y Ta l e s

By Jacob Grimm and Wilhelm Grimm

PREPARER’S NOTE

The text is based on translations from the Grimms’
Kinder und Hausmärchen by Edgar Taylor and
Marian Edwardes.

CONTENTS

THE BROTHERS GRIMM FAIRY TALES

THE GOLDEN BIRD
HANS IN LUCK
JORINDA AND JORINDEL
THE TRAVELLING MUSICIANS
OLD SULTAN
THE STRAW, THE COAL, AND THE BEAN
BRIAR ROSE
THE DOG AND THE SPARROW
THE TWELVE DANCING PRINCESSES
THE FISHERMAN AND HIS WIFE
THE WILLOW-WREN AND THE BEAR
THE FROG-PRINCE
CAT AND MOUSE IN PARTNERSHIP
THE GOOSE-GIRL
THE ADVENTURES OF CHANTICLEER AND PARTLET
RAPUNZEL
FUNDEVOGEL
THE VALIANT LITTLE TAILOR
HANSEL AND GRETEL
THE MOUSE, THE BIRD, AND THE SAUSAGE
MOTHER HOLLE
LITTLE RED-CAP [LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD]
THE ROBBER BRIDEGROOM
TOM THUMB

RUMPELSTILTSKIN
CLEVER GRETEL
THE OLD MAN AND HIS GRANDSON
THE LITTLE PEASANT
FREDERICK AND CATHERINE
SWEETHEART ROLAND
SNOWDROP
THE PINK
CLEVER ELSIE
THE MISER IN THE BUSH
ASHPUTTEL
THE WHITE SNAKE
THE WOLF AND THE SEVEN LITTLE KIDS
THE QUEEN BEE
THE ELVES AND THE SHOEMAKER
THE JUNIPER-TREE
THE TURNIP
CLEVER HANS
THE THREE LANGUAGES
THE FOX AND THE CAT
THE FOUR CLEVER BROTHERS
LILY AND THE LION
THE FOX AND THE HORSE
THE BLUE LIGHT
THE RAVEN
THE GOLDEN GOOSE
THE WATER OF LIFE
THE TWELVE HUNTSMEN
THE KING OF THE GOLDEN MOUNTAIN
DOCTOR KNOWALL
THE SEVEN RAVENS
THE WEDDING OF MRS FOX

THE SALAD
THE STORY OF THE YOUTH WHO WENT FORTH TO LEARN WHAT
FEAR WAS
KING GRISLY-BEARD
IRON HANS
CAT-SKIN
SNOW-WHITE AND ROSE-RED

THE BROTHERS GRIMM FAIRY TALES

THE GOLDEN BIRD

A certain king had a beautiful garden, and in the garden stood a tree
which bore golden apples. These apples were always counted, and about the
time when they began to grow ripe it was found that every night one of
them was gone. The king became very angry at this, and ordered the
gardener to keep watch all night under the tree. The gardener set his eldest
son to watch; but about twelve o’clock he fell asleep, and in the morning
another of the apples was missing. Then the second son was ordered to
watch; and at midnight he too fell asleep, and in the morning another apple
was gone. Then the third son offered to keep watch; but the gardener at first
would not let him, for fear some harm should come to him: however, at last
he consented, and the young man laid himself under the tree to watch. As
the clock struck twelve he heard a rustling noise in the air, and a bird came
flying that was of pure gold; and as it was snapping at one of the apples
with its beak, the gardener’s son jumped up and shot an arrow at it. But the
arrow did the bird no harm; only it dropped a golden feather from its tail,
and then flew away. The golden feather was brought to the king in the
morning, and all the council was called together. Everyone agreed that it
was worth more than all the wealth of the kingdom: but the king said, ‘One
feather is of no use to me, I must have the whole bird.’
Then the gardener’s eldest son set out and thought to find the golden bird
very easily; and when he had gone but a little way, he came to a wood, and
by the side of the wood he saw a fox sitting; so he took his bow and made
ready to shoot at it. Then the fox said, ‘Do not shoot me, for I will give you
good counsel; I know what your business is, and that you want to find the
golden bird. You will reach a village in the evening; and when you get
there, you will see two inns opposite to each other, one of which is very
pleasant and beautiful to look at: go not in there, but rest for the night in the
other, though it may appear to you to be very poor and mean.’ But the son
thought to himself, ‘What can such a beast as this know about the matter?’

So he shot his arrow at the fox; but he missed it, and it set up its tail above
its back and ran into the wood. Then he went his way, and in the evening
came to the village where the two inns were; and in one of these were
people singing, and dancing, and feasting; but the other looked very dirty,
and poor. ‘I should be very silly,’ said he, ‘if I went to that shabby house,
and left this charming place’; so he went into the smart house, and ate and
drank at his ease, and forgot the bird, and his country too.
Time passed on; and as the eldest son did not come back, and no tidings
were heard of him, the second son set out, and the same thing happened to
him. He met the fox, who gave him the good advice: but when he came to
the two inns, his eldest brother was standing at the window where the
merrymaking was, and called to him to come in; and he could not withstand
the temptation, but went in, and forgot the golden bird and his country in
the same manner.
Time passed on again, and the youngest son too wished to set out into the
wide world to seek for the golden bird; but his father would not listen to it
for a long while, for he was very fond of his son, and was afraid that some
ill luck might happen to him also, and prevent his coming back. However,
at last it was agreed he should go, for he would not rest at home; and as he
came to the wood, he met the fox, and heard the same good counsel. But he
was thankful to the fox, and did not attempt his life as his brothers had
done; so the fox said, ‘Sit upon my tail, and you will travel faster.’ So he sat
down, and the fox began to run, and away they went over stock and stone so
quick that their hair whistled in the wind.
When they came to the village, the son followed the fox’s counsel, and
without looking about him went to the shabby inn and rested there all night
at his ease. In the morning came the fox again and met him as he was
beginning his journey, and said, ‘Go straight forward, till you come to a
castle, before which lie a whole troop of soldiers fast asleep and snoring:
take no notice of them, but go into the castle and pass on and on till you
come to a room, where the golden bird sits in a wooden cage; close by it
stands a beautiful golden cage; but do not try to take the bird out of the
shabby cage and put it into the handsome one, otherwise you will repent it.’
Then the fox stretched out his tail again, and the young man sat himself
down, and away they went over stock and stone till their hair whistled in the
wind.

Before the castle gate all was as the fox had said: so the son went in and
found the chamber where the golden bird hung in a wooden cage, and
below stood the golden cage, and the three golden apples that had been lost
were lying close by it. Then thought he to himself, ‘It will be a very droll
thing to bring away such a fine bird in this shabby cage’; so he opened the
door and took hold of it and put it into the golden cage. But the bird set up
such a loud scream that all the soldiers awoke, and they took him prisoner
and carried him before the king. The next morning the court sat to judge
him; and when all was heard, it sentenced him to die, unless he should bring
the king the golden horse which could run as swiftly as the wind; and if he
did this, he was to have the golden bird given him for his own.
So he set out once more on his journey, sighing, and in great despair,
when on a sudden his friend the fox met him, and said, ‘You see now what
has happened on account of your not listening to my counsel. I will still,
however, tell you how to find the golden horse, if you will do as I bid you.
You must go straight on till you come to the castle where the horse stands in
his stall: by his side will lie the groom fast asleep and snoring: take away
the horse quietly, but be sure to put the old leathern saddle upon him, and
not the golden one that is close by it.’ Then the son sat down on the fox’s
tail, and away they went over stock and stone till their hair whistled in the
wind.
All went right, and the groom lay snoring with his hand upon the golden
saddle. But when the son looked at the horse, he thought it a great pity to
put the leathern saddle upon it. ‘I will give him the good one,’ said he; ‘I am
sure he deserves it.’ As he took up the golden saddle the groom awoke and
cried out so loud, that all the guards ran in and took him prisoner, and in the
morning he was again brought before the court to be judged, and was
sentenced to die. But it was agreed, that, if he could bring thither the
beautiful princess, he should live, and have the bird and the horse given him
for his own.
Then he went his way very sorrowful; but the old fox came and said,
‘Why did not you listen to me? If you had, you would have carried away
both the bird and the horse; yet will I once more give you counsel. Go
straight on, and in the evening you will arrive at a castle. At twelve o’clock
at night the princess goes to the bathing-house: go up to her and give her a
kiss, and she will let you lead her away; but take care you do not suffer her

to go and take leave of her father and mother.’ Then the fox stretched out
his tail, and so away they went over stock and stone till their hair whistled
again.
As they came to the castle, all was as the fox had said, and at twelve
o’clock the young man met the princess going to the bath and gave her the
kiss, and she agreed to run away with him, but begged with many tears that
he would let her take leave of her father. At first he refused, but she wept
still more and more, and fell at his feet, till at last he consented; but the
moment she came to her father’s house the guards awoke and he was taken
prisoner again.
Then he was brought before the king, and the king said, ‘You shall never
have my daughter unless in eight days you dig away the hill that stops the
view from my window.’ Now this hill was so big that the whole world could
not take it away: and when he had worked for seven days, and had done
very little, the fox came and said. ‘Lie down and go to sleep; I will work for
you.’ And in the morning he awoke and the hill was gone; so he went
merrily to the king, and told him that now that it was removed he must give
him the princess.
Then the king was obliged to keep his word, and away went the young
man and the princess; and the fox came and said to him, ‘We will have all
three, the princess, the horse, and the bird.’ ‘Ah!’ said the young man, ‘that
would be a great thing, but how can you contrive it?’
‘If you will only listen,’ said the fox, ‘it can be done. When you come to
the king, and he asks for the beautiful princess, you must say, “Here she is!”
Then he will be very joyful; and you will mount the golden horse that they
are to give you, and put out your hand to take leave of them; but shake
hands with the princess last. Then lift her quickly on to the horse behind
you; clap your spurs to his side, and gallop away as fast as you can.’
All went right: then the fox said, ‘When you come to the castle where the
bird is, I will stay with the princess at the door, and you will ride in and
speak to the king; and when he sees that it is the right horse, he will bring
out the bird; but you must sit still, and say that you want to look at it, to see
whether it is the true golden bird; and when you get it into your hand, ride
away.’
This, too, happened as the fox said; they carried off the bird, the princess
mounted again, and they rode on to a great wood. Then the fox came, and

said, ‘Pray kill me, and cut off my head and my feet.’ But the young man
refused to do it: so the fox said, ‘I will at any rate give you good counsel:
beware of two things; ransom no one from the gallows, and sit down by the
side of no river.’ Then away he went. ‘Well,’ thought the young man, ‘it is
no hard matter to keep that advice.’
He rode on with the princess, till at last he came to the village where he
had left his two brothers. And there he heard a great noise and uproar; and
when he asked what was the matter, the people said, ‘Two men are going to
be hanged.’ As he came nearer, he saw that the two men were his brothers,
who had turned robbers; so he said, ‘Cannot they in any way be saved?’ But
the people said ‘No,’ unless he would bestow all his money upon the rascals
and buy their liberty. Then he did not stay to think about the matter, but paid
what was asked, and his brothers were given up, and went on with him
towards their home.
And as they came to the wood where the fox first met them, it was so
cool and pleasant that the two brothers said, ‘Let us sit down by the side of
the river, and rest a while, to eat and drink.’ So he said, ‘Yes,’ and forgot the
fox’s counsel, and sat down on the side of the river; and while he suspected
nothing, they came behind, and threw him down the bank, and took the
princess, the horse, and the bird, and went home to the king their master,
and said. ‘All this have we won by our labour.’ Then there was great
rejoicing made; but the horse would not eat, the bird would not sing, and
the princess wept.
The youngest son fell to the bottom of the river’s bed: luckily it was
nearly dry, but his bones were almost broken, and the bank was so steep
that he could find no way to get out. Then the old fox came once more, and
scolded him for not following his advice; otherwise no evil would have
befallen him: ‘Yet,’ said he, ‘I cannot leave you here, so lay hold of my tail
and hold fast.’ Then he pulled him out of the river, and said to him, as he
got upon the bank, ‘Your brothers have set watch to kill you, if they find
you in the kingdom.’ So he dressed himself as a poor man, and came
secretly to the king’s court, and was scarcely within the doors when the
horse began to eat, and the bird to sing, and the princess left off weeping.
Then he went to the king, and told him all his brothers’ roguery; and they
were seized and punished, and he had the princess given to him again; and
after the king’s death he was heir to his kingdom.

A long while after, he went to walk one day in the wood, and the old fox
met him, and besought him with tears in his eyes to kill him, and cut off his
head and feet. And at last he did so, and in a moment the fox was changed
into a man, and turned out to be the brother of the princess, who had been
lost a great many many years.

HANS IN LUCK

Some men are born to good luck: all they do or try to do comes right—all
that falls to them is so much gain—all their geese are swans—all their cards
are trumps—toss them which way you will, they will always, like poor
puss, alight upon their legs, and only move on so much the faster. The
world may very likely not always think of them as they think of themselves,
but what care they for the world? what can it know about the matter?
One of these lucky beings was neighbour Hans. Seven long years he had
worked hard for his master. At last he said, ‘Master, my time is up; I must
go home and see my poor mother once more: so pray pay me my wages and
let me go.’ And the master said, ‘You have been a faithful and good servant,
Hans, so your pay shall be handsome.’ Then he gave him a lump of silver as
big as his head.
Hans took out his pocket-handkerchief, put the piece of silver into it,
threw it over his shoulder, and jogged off on his road homewards. As he
went lazily on, dragging one foot after another, a man came in sight, trotting
gaily along on a capital horse. ‘Ah!’ said Hans aloud, ‘what a fine thing it is
to ride on horseback! There he sits as easy and happy as if he was at home,
in the chair by his fireside; he trips against no stones, saves shoe-leather,
and gets on he hardly knows how.’ Hans did not speak so softly but the
horseman heard it all, and said, ‘Well, friend, why do you go on foot then?’
‘Ah!’ said he, ‘I have this load to carry: to be sure it is silver, but it is so
heavy that I can’t hold up my head, and you must know it hurts my shoulder
sadly.’ ‘What do you say of making an exchange?’ said the horseman. ‘I
will give you my horse, and you shall give me the silver; which will save
you a great deal of trouble in carrying such a heavy load about with you.’
‘With all my heart,’ said Hans: ‘but as you are so kind to me, I must tell you
one thing—you will have a weary task to draw that silver about with you.’
However, the horseman got off, took the silver, helped Hans up, gave him

the bridle into one hand and the whip into the other, and said, ‘When you
want to go very fast, smack your lips loudly together, and cry “Jip!”’
Hans was delighted as he sat on the horse, drew himself up, squared his
elbows, turned out his toes, cracked his whip, and rode merrily off, one
minute whistling a merry tune, and another singing,
‘No care and no sorrow,
A fig for the morrow!
We’ll laugh and be merry,
Sing neigh down derry!’

After a time he thought he should like to go a little faster, so he smacked
his lips and cried ‘Jip!’ Away went the horse full gallop; and before Hans
knew what he was about, he was thrown off, and lay on his back by the
road-side. His horse would have ran off, if a shepherd who was coming by,
driving a cow, had not stopped it. Hans soon came to himself, and got upon
his legs again, sadly vexed, and said to the shepherd, ‘This riding is no joke,
when a man has the luck to get upon a beast like this that stumbles and
flings him off as if it would break his neck. However, I’m off now once for
all: I like your cow now a great deal better than this smart beast that played
me this trick, and has spoiled my best coat, you see, in this puddle; which,
by the by, smells not very like a nosegay. One can walk along at one’s
leisure behind that cow—keep good company, and have milk, butter, and
cheese, every day, into the bargain. What would I give to have such a
prize!’ ‘Well,’ said the shepherd, ‘if you are so fond of her, I will change my
cow for your horse; I like to do good to my neighbours, even though I lose
by it myself.’ ‘Done!’ said Hans, merrily. ‘What a noble heart that good
man has!’ thought he. Then the shepherd jumped upon the horse, wished
Hans and the cow good morning, and away he rode.
Hans brushed his coat, wiped his face and hands, rested a while, and then
drove off his cow quietly, and thought his bargain a very lucky one. ‘If I
have only a piece of bread (and I certainly shall always be able to get that),
I can, whenever I like, eat my butter and cheese with it; and when I am
thirsty I can milk my cow and drink the milk: and what can I wish for
more?’ When he came to an inn, he halted, ate up all his bread, and gave
away his last penny for a glass of beer. When he had rested himself he set
off again, driving his cow towards his mother’s village. But the heat grew
greater as soon as noon came on, till at last, as he found himself on a wide

heath that would take him more than an hour to cross, he began to be so hot
and parched that his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth. ‘I can find a cure
for this,’ thought he; ‘now I will milk my cow and quench my thirst’: so he
tied her to the stump of a tree, and held his leathern cap to milk into; but not
a drop was to be had. Who would have thought that this cow, which was to
bring him milk and butter and cheese, was all that time utterly dry? Hans
had not thought of looking to that.
While he was trying his luck in milking, and managing the matter very
clumsily, the uneasy beast began to think him very troublesome; and at last
gave him such a kick on the head as knocked him down; and there he lay a
long while senseless. Luckily a butcher soon came by, driving a pig in a
wheelbarrow. ‘What is the matter with you, my man?’ said the butcher, as
he helped him up. Hans told him what had happened, how he was dry, and
wanted to milk his cow, but found the cow was dry too. Then the butcher
gave him a flask of ale, saying, ‘There, drink and refresh yourself; your cow
will give you no milk: don’t you see she is an old beast, good for nothing
but the slaughter-house?’ ‘Alas, alas!’ said Hans, ‘who would have thought
it? What a shame to take my horse, and give me only a dry cow! If I kill
her, what will she be good for? I hate cow-beef; it is not tender enough for
me. If it were a pig now—like that fat gentleman you are driving along at
his ease—one could do something with it; it would at any rate make
sausages.’ ‘Well,’ said the butcher, ‘I don’t like to say no, when one is asked
to do a kind, neighbourly thing. To please you I will change, and give you
my fine fat pig for the cow.’ ‘Heaven reward you for your kindness and
self-denial!’ said Hans, as he gave the butcher the cow; and taking the pig
off the wheel-barrow, drove it away, holding it by the string that was tied to
its leg.
So on he jogged, and all seemed now to go right with him: he had met
with some misfortunes, to be sure; but he was now well repaid for all. How
could it be otherwise with such a travelling companion as he had at last got?
The next man he met was a countryman carrying a fine white goose. The
countryman stopped to ask what was o’clock; this led to further chat; and
Hans told him all his luck, how he had so many good bargains, and how all
the world went gay and smiling with him. The countryman then began to
tell his tale, and said he was going to take the goose to a christening. ‘Feel,’
said he, ‘how heavy it is, and yet it is only eight weeks old. Whoever roasts

and eats it will find plenty of fat upon it, it has lived so well!’ ‘You’re
right,’ said Hans, as he weighed it in his hand; ‘but if you talk of fat, my pig
is no trifle.’ Meantime the countryman began to look grave, and shook his
head. ‘Hark ye!’ said he, ‘my worthy friend, you seem a good sort of fellow,
so I can’t help doing you a kind turn. Your pig may get you into a scrape. In
the village I just came from, the squire has had a pig stolen out of his sty. I
was dreadfully afraid when I saw you that you had got the squire’s pig. If
you have, and they catch you, it will be a bad job for you. The least they
will do will be to throw you into the horse-pond. Can you swim?’
Poor Hans was sadly frightened. ‘Good man,’ cried he, ‘pray get me out
of this scrape. I know nothing of where the pig was either bred or born; but
he may have been the squire’s for aught I can tell: you know this country
better than I do, take my pig and give me the goose.’ ‘I ought to have
something into the bargain,’ said the countryman; ‘give a fat goose for a
pig, indeed! ‘Tis not everyone would do so much for you as that. However,
I will not be hard upon you, as you are in trouble.’ Then he took the string
in his hand, and drove off the pig by a side path; while Hans went on the
way homewards free from care. ‘After all,’ thought he, ‘that chap is pretty
well taken in. I don’t care whose pig it is, but wherever it came from it has
been a very good friend to me. I have much the best of the bargain. First
there will be a capital roast; then the fat will find me in goose-grease for six
months; and then there are all the beautiful white feathers. I will put them
into my pillow, and then I am sure I shall sleep soundly without rocking.
How happy my mother will be! Talk of a pig, indeed! Give me a fine fat
goose.’
As he came to the next village, he saw a scissor-grinder with his wheel,
working and singing,
‘O’er hill and o’er dale
So happy I roam,
Work light and live well,
All the world is my home;
Then who so blythe, so merry as I?’

Hans stood looking on for a while, and at last said, ‘You must be well off,
master grinder! you seem so happy at your work.’ ‘Yes,’ said the other,
‘mine is a golden trade; a good grinder never puts his hand into his pocket
without finding money in it—but where did you get that beautiful goose?’ ‘I
did not buy it, I gave a pig for it.’ ‘And where did you get the pig?’ ‘I gave a

cow for it.’ ‘And the cow?’ ‘I gave a horse for it.’ ‘And the horse?’ ‘I gave a
lump of silver as big as my head for it.’ ‘And the silver?’ ‘Oh! I worked
hard for that seven long years.’ ‘You have thriven well in the world
hitherto,’ said the grinder, ‘now if you could find money in your pocket
whenever you put your hand in it, your fortune would be made.’ ‘Very true:
but how is that to be managed?’ ‘How? Why, you must turn grinder like
myself,’ said the other; ‘you only want a grindstone; the rest will come of
itself. Here is one that is but little the worse for wear: I would not ask more
than the value of your goose for it—will you buy?’ ‘How can you ask?’ said
Hans; ‘I should be the happiest man in the world, if I could have money
whenever I put my hand in my pocket: what could I want more? there’s the
goose.’ ‘Now,’ said the grinder, as he gave him a common rough stone that
lay by his side, ‘this is a most capital stone; do but work it well enough, and
you can make an old nail cut with it.’
Hans took the stone, and went his way with a light heart: his eyes
sparkled for joy, and he said to himself, ‘Surely I must have been born in a
lucky hour; everything I could want or wish for comes of itself. People are
so kind; they seem really to think I do them a favour in letting them make
me rich, and giving me good bargains.’
Meantime he began to be tired, and hungry too, for he had given away
his last penny in his joy at getting the cow.
At last he could go no farther, for the stone tired him sadly: and he
dragged himself to the side of a river, that he might take a drink of water,
and rest a while. So he laid the stone carefully by his side on the bank: but,
as he stooped down to drink, he forgot it, pushed it a little, and down it
rolled, plump into the stream.
For a while he watched it sinking in the deep clear water; then sprang up
and danced for joy, and again fell upon his knees and thanked Heaven, with
tears in his eyes, for its kindness in taking away his only plague, the ugly
heavy stone.
‘How happy am I!’ cried he; ‘nobody was ever so lucky as I.’ Then up he
got with a light heart, free from all his troubles, and walked on till he
reached his mother’s house, and told her how very easy the road to good
luck was.

JORINDA AND JORINDEL

There was once an old castle, that stood in the middle of a deep gloomy
wood, and in the castle lived an old fairy. Now this fairy could take any
shape she pleased. All the day long she flew about in the form of an owl, or
crept about the country like a cat; but at night she always became an old
woman again. When any young man came within a hundred paces of her
castle, he became quite fixed, and could not move a step till she came and
set him free; which she would not do till he had given her his word never to
come there again: but when any pretty maiden came within that space she
was changed into a bird, and the fairy put her into a cage, and hung her up
in a chamber in the castle. There were seven hundred of these cages
hanging in the castle, and all with beautiful birds in them.
Now there was once a maiden whose name was Jorinda. She was prettier
than all the pretty girls that ever were seen before, and a shepherd lad,
whose name was Jorindel, was very fond of her, and they were soon to be
married. One day they went to walk in the wood, that they might be alone;
and Jorindel said, ‘We must take care that we don’t go too near to the fairy’s
castle.’ It was a beautiful evening; the last rays of the setting sun shone
bright through the long stems of the trees upon the green underwood
beneath, and the turtle-doves sang from the tall birches.
Jorinda sat down to gaze upon the sun; Jorindel sat by her side; and both
felt sad, they knew not why; but it seemed as if they were to be parted from
one another for ever. They had wandered a long way; and when they looked
to see which way they should go home, they found themselves at a loss to
know what path to take.
The sun was setting fast, and already half of its circle had sunk behind
the hill: Jorindel on a sudden looked behind him, and saw through the
bushes that they had, without knowing it, sat down close under the old walls
of the castle. Then he shrank for fear, turned pale, and trembled. Jorinda
was just singing,

‘The ring-dove sang from the willow spray,
Well-a-day! Well-a-day!
He mourn’d for the fate of his darling mate,
Well-a-day!’

when her song stopped suddenly. Jorindel turned to see the reason, and
beheld his Jorinda changed into a nightingale, so that her song ended with a
mournful jug, jug. An owl with fiery eyes flew three times round them, and
three times screamed:

‘Tu whu! Tu whu! Tu whu!’

Jorindel could not move; he stood fixed as a stone, and could neither
weep, nor speak, nor stir hand or foot. And now the sun went quite down;
the gloomy night came; the owl flew into a bush; and a moment after the
old fairy came forth pale and meagre, with staring eyes, and a nose and chin
that almost met one another.
She mumbled something to herself, seized the nightingale, and went
away with it in her hand. Poor Jorindel saw the nightingale was gone—but
what could he do? He could not speak, he could not move from the spot
where he stood. At last the fairy came back and sang with a hoarse voice:

‘Till the prisoner is fast,
And her doom is cast,
There stay! Oh, stay!
When the charm is around her,
And the spell has bound her,
Hie away! away!’

On a sudden Jorindel found himself free. Then he fell on his knees before
the fairy, and prayed her to give him back his dear Jorinda: but she laughed
at him, and said he should never see her again; then she went her way.
He prayed, he wept, he sorrowed, but all in vain. ‘Alas!’ he said, ‘what
will become of me?’ He could not go back to his own home, so he went to a
strange village, and employed himself in keeping sheep. Many a time did he
walk round and round as near to the hated castle as he dared go, but all in
vain; he heard or saw nothing of Jorinda.
At last he dreamt one night that he found a beautiful purple flower, and
that in the middle of it lay a costly pearl; and he dreamt that he plucked the
flower, and went with it in his hand into the castle, and that everything he
touched with it was disenchanted, and that there he found his Jorinda again.

In the morning when he awoke, he began to search over hill and dale for
this pretty flower; and eight long days he sought for it in vain: but on the
ninth day, early in the morning, he found the beautiful purple flower; and in
the middle of it was a large dewdrop, as big as a costly pearl. Then he
plucked the flower, and set out and travelled day and night, till he came
again to the castle.
He walked nearer than a hundred paces to it, and yet he did not become
fixed as before, but found that he could go quite close up to the door.
Jorindel was very glad indeed to see this. Then he touched the door with the
flower, and it sprang open; so that he went in through the court, and listened
when he heard so many birds singing. At last he came to the chamber where
the fairy sat, with the seven hundred birds singing in the seven hundred
cages. When she saw Jorindel she was very angry, and screamed with rage;
but she could not come within two yards of him, for the flower he held in
his hand was his safeguard. He looked around at the birds, but alas! there
were many, many nightingales, and how then should he find out which was
his Jorinda? While he was thinking what to do, he saw the fairy had taken
down one of the cages, and was making the best of her way off through the
door. He ran or flew after her, touched the cage with the flower, and Jorinda
stood before him, and threw her arms round his neck looking as beautiful as
ever, as beautiful as when they walked together in the wood.
Then he touched all the other birds with the flower, so that they all took
their old forms again; and he took Jorinda home, where they were married,
and lived happily together many years: and so did a good many other lads,
whose maidens had been forced to sing in the old fairy’s cages by
themselves, much longer than they liked.

THE TRAVELLING MUSICIANS

An honest farmer had once an ass that had been a faithful servant to him
a great many years, but was now growing old and every day more and more
unfit for work. His master therefore was tired of keeping him and began to
think of putting an end to him; but the ass, who saw that some mischief was
in the wind, took himself slyly off, and began his journey towards the great
city, ‘For there,’ thought he, ‘I may turn musician.’
After he had travelled a little way, he spied a dog lying by the roadside
and panting as if he were tired. ‘What makes you pant so, my friend?’ said
the ass. ‘Alas!’ said the dog, ‘my master was going to knock me on the
head, because I am old and weak, and can no longer make myself useful to
him in hunting; so I ran away; but what can I do to earn my livelihood?’
‘Hark ye!’ said the ass, ‘I am going to the great city to turn musician:
suppose you go with me, and try what you can do in the same way?’ The
dog said he was willing, and they jogged on together.
They had not gone far before they saw a cat sitting in the middle of the
road and making a most rueful face. ‘Pray, my good lady,’ said the ass,
‘what’s the matter with you? You look quite out of spirits!’ ‘Ah, me!’ said
the cat, ‘how can one be in good spirits when one’s life is in danger?
Because I am beginning to grow old, and had rather lie at my ease by the
fire than run about the house after the mice, my mistress laid hold of me,
and was going to drown me; and though I have been lucky enough to get
away from her, I do not know what I am to live upon.’ ‘Oh,’ said the ass,
‘by all means go with us to the great city; you are a good night singer, and
may make your fortune as a musician.’ The cat was pleased with the
thought, and joined the party.
Soon afterwards, as they were passing by a farmyard, they saw a cock
perched upon a gate, and screaming out with all his might and main.
‘Bravo!’ said the ass; ‘upon my word, you make a famous noise; pray what
is all this about?’ ‘Why,’ said the cock, ‘I was just now saying that we

should have fine weather for our washing-day, and yet my mistress and the
cook don’t thank me for my pains, but threaten to cut off my head
tomorrow, and make broth of me for the guests that are coming on Sunday!’
‘Heaven forbid!’ said the ass, ‘come with us Master Chanticleer; it will be
better, at any rate, than staying here to have your head cut off! Besides, who
knows? If we care to sing in tune, we may get up some kind of a concert; so
come along with us.’ ‘With all my heart,’ said the cock: so they all four
went on jollily together.
They could not, however, reach the great city the first day; so when night
came on, they went into a wood to sleep. The ass and the dog laid
themselves down under a great tree, and the cat climbed up into the
branches; while the cock, thinking that the higher he sat the safer he should
be, flew up to the very top of the tree, and then, according to his custom,
before he went to sleep, looked out on all sides of him to see that everything
was well. In doing this, he saw afar off something bright and shining and
calling to his companions said, ‘There must be a house no great way off, for
I see a light.’ ‘If that be the case,’ said the ass, ‘we had better change our
quarters, for our lodging is not the best in the world!’ ‘Besides,’ added the
dog, ‘I should not be the worse for a bone or two, or a bit of meat.’ So they
walked off together towards the spot where Chanticleer had seen the light,
and as they drew near it became larger and brighter, till they at last came
close to a house in which a gang of robbers lived.
The ass, being the tallest of the company, marched up to the window and
peeped in. ‘Well, Donkey,’ said Chanticleer, ‘what do you see?’ ‘What do I
see?’ replied the ass. ‘Why, I see a table spread with all kinds of good
things, and robbers sitting round it making merry.’ ‘That would be a noble
lodging for us,’ said the cock. ‘Yes,’ said the ass, ‘if we could only get in’;
so they consulted together how they should contrive to get the robbers out;
and at last they hit upon a plan. The ass placed himself upright on his hind
legs, with his forefeet resting against the window; the dog got upon his
back; the cat scrambled up to the dog’s shoulders, and the cock flew up and
sat upon the cat’s head. When all was ready a signal was given, and they
began their music. The ass brayed, the dog barked, the cat mewed, and the
cock screamed; and then they all broke through the window at once, and
came tumbling into the room, amongst the broken glass, with a most
hideous clatter! The robbers, who had been not a little frightened by the

opening concert, had now no doubt that some frightful hobgoblin had
broken in upon them, and scampered away as fast as they could.
The coast once clear, our travellers soon sat down and dispatched what
the robbers had left, with as much eagerness as if they had not expected to
eat again for a month. As soon as they had satisfied themselves, they put out
the lights, and each once more sought out a resting-place to his own liking.
The donkey laid himself down upon a heap of straw in the yard, the dog
stretched himself upon a mat behind the door, the cat rolled herself up on
the hearth before the warm ashes, and the cock perched upon a beam on the
top of the house; and, as they were all rather tired with their journey, they
soon fell asleep.
But about midnight, when the robbers saw from afar that the lights were
out and that all seemed quiet, they began to think that they had been in too
great a hurry to run away; and one of them, who was bolder than the rest,
went to see what was going on. Finding everything still, he marched into
the kitchen, and groped about till he found a match in order to light a
candle; and then, espying the glittering fiery eyes of the cat, he mistook
them for live coals, and held the match to them to light it. But the cat, not
understanding this joke, sprang at his face, and spat, and scratched at him.
This frightened him dreadfully, and away he ran to the back door; but there
the dog jumped up and bit him in the leg; and as he was crossing over the
yard the ass kicked him; and the cock, who had been awakened by the
noise, crowed with all his might. At this the robber ran back as fast as he
could to his comrades, and told the captain how a horrid witch had got into
the house, and had spat at him and scratched his face with her long bony
fingers; how a man with a knife in his hand had hidden himself behind the
door, and stabbed him in the leg; how a black monster stood in the yard and
struck him with a club, and how the devil had sat upon the top of the house
and cried out, ‘Throw the rascal up here!’ After this the robbers never dared
to go back to the house; but the musicians were so pleased with their
quarters that they took up their abode there; and there they are, I dare say, at
this very day.

OLD SULTAN

A shepherd had a faithful dog, called Sultan, who was grown very old,
and had lost all his teeth. And one day when the shepherd and his wife were
standing together before the house the shepherd said, ‘I will shoot old
Sultan tomorrow morning, for he is of no use now.’ But his wife said, ‘Pray
let the poor faithful creature live; he has served us well a great many years,
and we ought to give him a livelihood for the rest of his days.’ ‘But what
can we do with him?’ said the shepherd, ‘he has not a tooth in his head, and
the thieves don’t care for him at all; to be sure he has served us, but then he
did it to earn his livelihood; tomorrow shall be his last day, depend upon it.’
Poor Sultan, who was lying close by them, heard all that the shepherd
and his wife said to one another, and was very much frightened to think
tomorrow would be his last day; so in the evening he went to his good
friend the wolf, who lived in the wood, and told him all his sorrows, and
how his master meant to kill him in the morning. ‘Make yourself easy,’ said
the wolf, ‘I will give you some good advice. Your master, you know, goes
out every morning very early with his wife into the field; and they take their
little child with them, and lay it down behind the hedge in the shade while
they are at work. Now do you lie down close by the child, and pretend to be
watching it, and I will come out of the wood and run away with it; you must
run after me as fast as you can, and I will let it drop; then you may carry it
back, and they will think you have saved their child, and will be so thankful
to you that they will take care of you as long as you live.’ The dog liked this
plan very well; and accordingly so it was managed. The wolf ran with the
child a little way; the shepherd and his wife screamed out; but Sultan soon
overtook him, and carried the poor little thing back to his master and
mistress. Then the shepherd patted him on the head, and said, ‘Old Sultan
has saved our child from the wolf, and therefore he shall live and be well
taken care of, and have plenty to eat. Wife, go home, and give him a good

dinner, and let him have my old cushion to sleep on as long as he lives.’ So
from this time forward Sultan had all that he could wish for.
Soon afterwards the wolf came and wished him joy, and said, ‘Now, my
good fellow, you must tell no tales, but turn your head the other way when I
want to taste one of the old shepherd’s fine fat sheep.’ ‘No,’ said the Sultan;
‘I will be true to my master.’ However, the wolf thought he was in joke, and
came one night to get a dainty morsel. But Sultan had told his master what
the wolf meant to do; so he laid wait for him behind the barn door, and
when the wolf was busy looking out for a good fat sheep, he had a stout
cudgel laid about his back, that combed his locks for him finely.
Then the wolf was very angry, and called Sultan ‘an old rogue,’ and
swore he would have his revenge. So the next morning the wolf sent the
boar to challenge Sultan to come into the wood to fight the matter. Now
Sultan had nobody he could ask to be his second but the shepherd’s old
three-legged cat; so he took her with him, and as the poor thing limped
along with some trouble, she stuck up her tail straight in the air.
The wolf and the wild boar were first on the ground; and when they
espied their enemies coming, and saw the cat’s long tail standing straight in
the air, they thought she was carrying a sword for Sultan to fight with; and
every time she limped, they thought she was picking up a stone to throw at
them; so they said they should not like this way of fighting, and the boar lay
down behind a bush, and the wolf jumped up into a tree. Sultan and the cat
soon came up, and looked about and wondered that no one was there. The
boar, however, had not quite hidden himself, for his ears stuck out of the
bush; and when he shook one of them a little, the cat, seeing something
move, and thinking it was a mouse, sprang upon it, and bit and scratched it,
so that the boar jumped up and grunted, and ran away, roaring out, ‘Look up
in the tree, there sits the one who is to blame.’ So they looked up, and
espied the wolf sitting amongst the branches; and they called him a
cowardly rascal, and would not suffer him to come down till he was heartily
ashamed of himself, and had promised to be good friends again with old
Sultan.

THE STRAW, THE COAL, AND THE BEAN

In a village dwelt a poor old woman, who had gathered together a dish of
beans and wanted to cook them. So she made a fire on her hearth, and that it
might burn the quicker, she lighted it with a handful of straw. When she was
emptying the beans into the pan, one dropped without her observing it, and
lay on the ground beside a straw, and soon afterwards a burning coal from
the fire leapt down to the two. Then the straw began and said: ‘Dear friends,
from whence do you come here?’ The coal replied: ‘I fortunately sprang out
of the fire, and if I had not escaped by sheer force, my death would have
been certain,—I should have been burnt to ashes.’ The bean said: ‘I too
have escaped with a whole skin, but if the old woman had got me into the
pan, I should have been made into broth without any mercy, like my
comrades.’ ‘And would a better fate have fallen to my lot?’ said the straw.
‘The old woman has destroyed all my brethren in fire and smoke; she seized
sixty of them at once, and took their lives. I luckily slipped through her
fingers.’
‘But what are we to do now?’ said the coal.
‘I think,’ answered the bean, ‘that as we have so fortunately escaped
death, we should keep together like good companions, and lest a new
mischance should overtake us here, we should go away together, and repair
to a foreign country.’
The proposition pleased the two others, and they set out on their way
together. Soon, however, they came to a little brook, and as there was no
bridge or foot-plank, they did not know how they were to get over it. The
straw hit on a good idea, and said: ‘I will lay myself straight across, and
then you can walk over on me as on a bridge.’ The straw therefore stretched
itself from one bank to the other, and the coal, who was of an impetuous
disposition, tripped quite boldly on to the newly-built bridge. But when she
had reached the middle, and heard the water rushing beneath her, she was
after all, afraid, and stood still, and ventured no farther. The straw, however,

began to burn, broke in two pieces, and fell into the stream. The coal
slipped after her, hissed when she got into the water, and breathed her last.
The bean, who had prudently stayed behind on the shore, could not but
laugh at the event, was unable to stop, and laughed so heartily that she
burst. It would have been all over with her, likewise, if, by good fortune, a
tailor who was travelling in search of work, had not sat down to rest by the
brook. As he had a compassionate heart he pulled out his needle and thread,
and sewed her together. The bean thanked him most prettily, but as the
tailor used black thread, all beans since then have a black seam.

BRIAR ROSE

A king and queen once upon a time reigned in a country a great way off,
where there were in those days fairies. Now this king and queen had plenty
of money, and plenty of fine clothes to wear, and plenty of good things to
eat and drink, and a coach to ride out in every day: but though they had
been married many years they had no children, and this grieved them very
much indeed. But one day as the queen was walking by the side of the river,
at the bottom of the garden, she saw a poor little fish, that had thrown itself
out of the water, and lay gasping and nearly dead on the bank. Then the
queen took pity on the little fish, and threw it back again into the river; and
before it swam away it lifted its head out of the water and said, ‘I know
what your wish is, and it shall be fulfilled, in return for your kindness to me
—you will soon have a daughter.’ What the little fish had foretold soon
came to pass; and the queen had a little girl, so very beautiful that the king
could not cease looking on it for joy, and said he would hold a great feast
and make merry, and show the child to all the land. So he asked his
kinsmen, and nobles, and friends, and neighbours. But the queen said, ‘I
will have the fairies also, that they might be kind and good to our little
daughter.’ Now there were thirteen fairies in the kingdom; but as the king
and queen had only twelve golden dishes for them to eat out of, they were
forced to leave one of the fairies without asking her. So twelve fairies came,
each with a high red cap on her head, and red shoes with high heels on her
feet, and a long white wand in her hand: and after the feast was over they
gathered round in a ring and gave all their best gifts to the little princess.
One gave her goodness, another beauty, another riches, and so on till she
had all that was good in the world.
Just as eleven of them had done blessing her, a great noise was heard in
the courtyard, and word was brought that the thirteenth fairy was come,
with a black cap on her head, and black shoes on her feet, and a broomstick
in her hand: and presently up she came into the dining-hall. Now, as she had

not been asked to the feast she was very angry, and scolded the king and
queen very much, and set to work to take her revenge. So she cried out,
‘The king’s daughter shall, in her fifteenth year, be wounded by a spindle,
and fall down dead.’ Then the twelfth of the friendly fairies, who had not
yet given her gift, came forward, and said that the evil wish must be
fulfilled, but that she could soften its mischief; so her gift was, that the
king’s daughter, when the spindle wounded her, should not really die, but
should only fall asleep for a hundred years.
However, the king hoped still to save his dear child altogether from the
threatened evil; so he ordered that all the spindles in the kingdom should be
bought up and burnt. But all the gifts of the first eleven fairies were in the
meantime fulfilled; for the princess was so beautiful, and well behaved, and
good, and wise, that everyone who knew her loved her.
It happened that, on the very day she was fifteen years old, the king and
queen were not at home, and she was left alone in the palace. So she roved
about by herself, and looked at all the rooms and chambers, till at last she
came to an old tower, to which there was a narrow staircase ending with a
little door. In the door there was a golden key, and when she turned it the
door sprang open, and there sat an old lady spinning away very busily.
‘Why, how now, good mother,’ said the princess; ‘what are you doing
there?’ ‘Spinning,’ said the old lady, and nodded her head, humming a tune,
while buzz! went the wheel. ‘How prettily that little thing turns round!’ said
the princess, and took the spindle and began to try and spin. But scarcely
had she touched it, before the fairy’s prophecy was fulfilled; the spindle
wounded her, and she fell down lifeless on the ground.
However, she was not dead, but had only fallen into a deep sleep; and the
king and the queen, who had just come home, and all their court, fell asleep
too; and the horses slept in the stables, and the dogs in the court, the
pigeons on the house-top, and the very flies slept upon the walls. Even the
fire on the hearth left off blazing, and went to sleep; the jack stopped, and
the spit that was turning about with a goose upon it for the king’s dinner
stood still; and the cook, who was at that moment pulling the kitchen-boy
by the hair to give him a box on the ear for something he had done amiss,
let him go, and both fell asleep; the butler, who was slyly tasting the ale, fell
asleep with the jug at his lips: and thus everything stood still, and slept
soundly.

A large hedge of thorns soon grew round the palace, and every year it
became higher and thicker; till at last the old palace was surrounded and
hidden, so that not even the roof or the chimneys could be seen. But there
went a report through all the land of the beautiful sleeping Briar Rose (for
so the king’s daughter was called): so that, from time to time, several kings’
sons came, and tried to break through the thicket into the palace. This,
however, none of them could ever do; for the thorns and bushes laid hold of
them, as it were with hands; and there they stuck fast, and died wretchedly.
After many, many years there came a king’s son into that land: and an old
man told him the story of the thicket of thorns; and how a beautiful palace
stood behind it, and how a wonderful princess, called Briar Rose, lay in it
asleep, with all her court. He told, too, how he had heard from his
grandfather that many, many princes had come, and had tried to break
through the thicket, but that they had all stuck fast in it, and died. Then the
young prince said, ‘All this shall not frighten me; I will go and see this
Briar Rose.’ The old man tried to hinder him, but he was bent upon going.
Now that very day the hundred years were ended; and as the prince came
to the thicket he saw nothing but beautiful flowering shrubs, through which
he went with ease, and they shut in after him as thick as ever. Then he came
at last to the palace, and there in the court lay the dogs asleep; and the
horses were standing in the stables; and on the roof sat the pigeons fast
asleep, with their heads under their wings. And when he came into the
palace, the flies were sleeping on the walls; the spit was standing still; the
butler had the jug of ale at his lips, going to drink a draught; the maid sat
with a fowl in her lap ready to be plucked; and the cook in the kitchen was
still holding up her hand, as if she was going to beat the boy.
Then he went on still farther, and all was so still that he could hear every
breath he drew; till at last he came to the old tower, and opened the door of
the little room in which Briar Rose was; and there she lay, fast asleep on a
couch by the window. She looked so beautiful that he could not take his
eyes off her, so he stooped down and gave her a kiss. But the moment he
kissed her she opened her eyes and awoke, and smiled upon him; and they
went out together; and soon the king and queen also awoke, and all the
court, and gazed on each other with great wonder. And the horses shook
themselves, and the dogs jumped up and barked; the pigeons took their
heads from under their wings, and looked about and flew into the fields; the

flies on the walls buzzed again; the fire in the kitchen blazed up; round
went the jack, and round went the spit, with the goose for the king’s dinner
upon it; the butler finished his draught of ale; the maid went on plucking the
fowl; and the cook gave the boy the box on his ear.
And then the prince and Briar Rose were married, and the wedding feast
was given; and they lived happily together all their lives long.

THE DOG AND THE SPARROW

A shepherd’s dog had a master who took no care of him, but often let him
suffer the greatest hunger. At last he could bear it no longer; so he took to
his heels, and off he ran in a very sad and sorrowful mood. On the road he
met a sparrow that said to him, ‘Why are you so sad, my friend?’ ‘Because,’
said the dog, ‘I am very very hungry, and have nothing to eat.’ ‘If that be
all,’ answered the sparrow, ‘come with me into the next town, and I will
soon find you plenty of food.’ So on they went together into the town: and
as they passed by a butcher’s shop, the sparrow said to the dog, ‘Stand there
a little while till I peck you down a piece of meat.’ So the sparrow perched
upon the shelf: and having first looked carefully about her to see if anyone
was watching her, she pecked and scratched at a steak that lay upon the
edge of the shelf, till at last down it fell. Then the dog snapped it up, and
scrambled away with it into a corner, where he soon ate it all up. ‘Well,’
said the sparrow, ‘you shall have some more if you will; so come with me
to the next shop, and I will peck you down another steak.’ When the dog
had eaten this too, the sparrow said to him, ‘Well, my good friend, have you
had enough now?’ ‘I have had plenty of meat,’ answered he, ‘but I should
like to have a piece of bread to eat after it.’ ‘Come with me then,’ said the
sparrow, ‘and you shall soon have that too.’ So she took him to a baker’s
shop, and pecked at two rolls that lay in the window, till they fell down: and
as the dog still wished for more, she took him to another shop and pecked
down some more for him. When that was eaten, the sparrow asked him
whether he had had enough now. ‘Yes,’ said he; ‘and now let us take a walk
a little way out of the town.’ So they both went out upon the high road; but
as the weather was warm, they had not gone far before the dog said, ‘I am
very much tired—I should like to take a nap.’ ‘Very well,’ answered the
sparrow, ‘do so, and in the meantime I will perch upon that bush.’ So the
dog stretched himself out on the road, and fell fast asleep. Whilst he slept,
there came by a carter with a cart drawn by three horses, and loaded with

two casks of wine. The sparrow, seeing that the carter did not turn out of the
way, but would go on in the track in which the dog lay, so as to drive over
him, called out, ‘Stop! stop! Mr Carter, or it shall be the worse for you.’ But
the carter, grumbling to himself, ‘You make it the worse for me, indeed!
what can you do?’ cracked his whip, and drove his cart over the poor dog,
so that the wheels crushed him to death. ‘There,’ cried the sparrow, ‘thou
cruel villain, thou hast killed my friend the dog. Now mind what I say. This
deed of thine shall cost thee all thou art worth.’ ‘Do your worst, and
welcome,’ said the brute, ‘what harm can you do me?’ and passed on. But
the sparrow crept under the tilt of the cart, and pecked at the bung of one of
the casks till she loosened it; and then all the wine ran out, without the
carter seeing it. At last he looked round, and saw that the cart was dripping,
and the cask quite empty. ‘What an unlucky wretch I am!’ cried he. ‘Not
wretch enough yet!’ said the sparrow, as she alighted upon the head of one
of the horses, and pecked at him till he reared up and kicked. When the
carter saw this, he drew out his hatchet and aimed a blow at the sparrow,
meaning to kill her; but she flew away, and the blow fell upon the poor
horse’s head with such force, that he fell down dead. ‘Unlucky wretch that I
am!’ cried he. ‘Not wretch enough yet!’ said the sparrow. And as the carter
went on with the other two horses, she again crept under the tilt of the cart,
and pecked out the bung of the second cask, so that all the wine ran out.
When the carter saw this, he again cried out, ‘Miserable wretch that I am!’
But the sparrow answered, ‘Not wretch enough yet!’ and perched on the
head of the second horse, and pecked at him too. The carter ran up and
struck at her again with his hatchet; but away she flew, and the blow fell
upon the second horse and killed him on the spot. ‘Unlucky wretch that I
am!’ said he. ‘Not wretch enough yet!’ said the sparrow; and perching upon
the third horse, she began to peck him too. The carter was mad with fury;
and without looking about him, or caring what he was about, struck again at
the sparrow; but killed his third horse as he done the other two. ‘Alas!
miserable wretch that I am!’ cried he. ‘Not wretch enough yet!’ answered
the sparrow as she flew away; ‘now will I plague and punish thee at thy
own house.’ The carter was forced at last to leave his cart behind him, and
to go home overflowing with rage and vexation. ‘Alas!’ said he to his wife,
‘what ill luck has befallen me!—my wine is all spilt, and my horses all
three dead.’ ‘Alas! husband,’ replied she, ‘and a wicked bird has come into
the house, and has brought with her all the birds in the world, I am sure, and

they have fallen upon our corn in the loft, and are eating it up at such a
rate!’ Away ran the husband upstairs, and saw thousands of birds sitting
upon the floor eating up his corn, with the sparrow in the midst of them.
‘Unlucky wretch that I am!’ cried the carter; for he saw that the corn was
almost all gone. ‘Not wretch enough yet!’ said the sparrow; ‘thy cruelty
shall cost thee thy life yet!’ and away she flew.
The carter seeing that he had thus lost all that he had, went down into his
kitchen; and was still not sorry for what he had done, but sat himself angrily
and sulkily in the chimney corner. But the sparrow sat on the outside of the
window, and cried ‘Carter! thy cruelty shall cost thee thy life!’ With that he
jumped up in a rage, seized his hatchet, and threw it at the sparrow; but it
missed her, and only broke the window. The sparrow now hopped in,
perched upon the window-seat, and cried, ‘Carter! it shall cost thee thy
life!’ Then he became mad and blind with rage, and struck the window-seat
with such force that he cleft it in two: and as the sparrow flew from place to
place, the carter and his wife were so furious, that they broke all their
furniture, glasses, chairs, benches, the table, and at last the walls, without
touching the bird at all. In the end, however, they caught her: and the wife
said, ‘Shall I kill her at once?’ ‘No,’ cried he, ‘that is letting her off too
easily: she shall die a much more cruel death; I will eat her.’ But the
sparrow began to flutter about, and stretch out her neck and cried, ‘Carter! it
shall cost thee thy life yet!’ With that he could wait no longer: so he gave
his wife the hatchet, and cried, ‘Wife, strike at the bird and kill her in my
hand.’ And the wife struck; but she missed her aim, and hit her husband on
the head so that he fell down dead, and the sparrow flew quietly home to
her nest.

THE TWELVE DANCING PRINCESSES

There was a king who had twelve beautiful daughters. They slept in
twelve beds all in one room; and when they went to bed, the doors were
shut and locked up; but every morning their shoes were found to be quite
worn through as if they had been danced in all night; and yet nobody could
find out how it happened, or where they had been.
Then the king made it known to all the land, that if any person could
discover the secret, and find out where it was that the princesses danced in
the night, he should have the one he liked best for his wife, and should be
king after his death; but whoever tried and did not succeed, after three days
and nights, should be put to death.
A king’s son soon came. He was well entertained, and in the evening was
taken to the chamber next to the one where the princesses lay in their
twelve beds. There he was to sit and watch where they went to dance; and,
in order that nothing might pass without his hearing it, the door of his
chamber was left open. But the king’s son soon fell asleep; and when he
awoke in the morning he found that the princesses had all been dancing, for
the soles of their shoes were full of holes. The same thing happened the
second and third night: so the king ordered his head to be cut off. After him
came several others; but they had all the same luck, and all lost their lives in
the same manner.
Now it chanced that an old soldier, who had been wounded in battle and
could fight no longer, passed through the country where this king reigned:
and as he was travelling through a wood, he met an old woman, who asked
him where he was going. ‘I hardly know where I am going, or what I had
better do,’ said the soldier; ‘but I think I should like very well to find out
where it is that the princesses dance, and then in time I might be a king.’
‘Well,’ said the old dame, ‘that is no very hard task: only take care not to
drink any of the wine which one of the princesses will bring to you in the
evening; and as soon as she leaves you pretend to be fast asleep.’

Then she gave him a cloak, and said, ‘As soon as you put that on you will
become invisible, and you will then be able to follow the princesses
wherever they go.’ When the soldier heard all this good counsel, he
determined to try his luck: so he went to the king, and said he was willing to
undertake the task.
He was as well received as the others had been, and the king ordered fine
royal robes to be given him; and when the evening came he was led to the
outer chamber. Just as he was going to lie down, the eldest of the princesses
brought him a cup of wine; but the soldier threw it all away secretly, taking
care not to drink a drop. Then he laid himself down on his bed, and in a
little while began to snore very loud as if he was fast asleep. When the
twelve princesses heard this they laughed heartily; and the eldest said, ‘This
fellow too might have done a wiser thing than lose his life in this way!’
Then they rose up and opened their drawers and boxes, and took out all
their fine clothes, and dressed themselves at the glass, and skipped about as
if they were eager to begin dancing. But the youngest said, ‘I don’t know
how it is, while you are so happy I feel very uneasy; I am sure some
mischance will befall us.’ ‘You simpleton,’ said the eldest, ‘you are always
afraid; have you forgotten how many kings’ sons have already watched in
vain? And as for this soldier, even if I had not given him his sleeping
draught, he would have slept soundly enough.’
When they were all ready, they went and looked at the soldier; but he
snored on, and did not stir hand or foot: so they thought they were quite
safe; and the eldest went up to her own bed and clapped her hands, and the
bed sank into the floor and a trap-door flew open. The soldier saw them
going down through the trap-door one after another, the eldest leading the
way; and thinking he had no time to lose, he jumped up, put on the cloak
which the old woman had given him, and followed them; but in the middle
of the stairs he trod on the gown of the youngest princess, and she cried out
to her sisters, ‘All is not right; someone took hold of my gown.’ ‘You silly
creature!’ said the eldest, ‘it is nothing but a nail in the wall.’ Then down
they all went, and at the bottom they found themselves in a most delightful
grove of trees; and the leaves were all of silver, and glittered and sparkled
beautifully. The soldier wished to take away some token of the place; so he
broke off a little branch, and there came a loud noise from the tree. Then the
youngest daughter said again, ‘I am sure all is not right—did not you hear

that noise? That never happened before.’ But the eldest said, ‘It is only our
princes, who are shouting for joy at our approach.’
Then they came to another grove of trees, where all the leaves were of
gold; and afterwards to a third, where the leaves were all glittering
diamonds. And the soldier broke a branch from each; and every time there
was a loud noise, which made the youngest sister tremble with fear; but the
eldest still said, it was only the princes, who were crying for joy. So they
went on till they came to a great lake; and at the side of the lake there lay
twelve little boats with twelve handsome princes in them, who seemed to be
waiting there for the princesses.
One of the princesses went into each boat, and the soldier stepped into
the same boat with the youngest. As they were rowing over the lake, the
prince who was in the boat with the youngest princess and the soldier said,
‘I do not know why it is, but though I am rowing with all my might we do
not get on so fast as usual, and I am quite tired: the boat seems very heavy
today.’ ‘It is only the heat of the weather,’ said the princess: ‘I feel it very
warm too.’
On the other side of the lake stood a fine illuminated castle, from which
came the merry music of horns and trumpets. There they all landed, and
went into the castle, and each prince danced with his princess; and the
soldier, who was all the time invisible, danced with them too; and when any
of the princesses had a cup of wine set by her, he drank it all up, so that
when she put the cup to her mouth it was empty. At this, too, the youngest
sister was terribly frightened, but the eldest always silenced her. They
danced on till three o’clock in the morning, and then all their shoes were
worn out, so that they were obliged to leave off. The princes rowed them
back again over the lake (but this time the soldier placed himself in the boat
with the eldest princess); and on the opposite shore they took leave of each
other, the princesses promising to come again the next night.
When they came to the stairs, the soldier ran on before the princesses,
and laid himself down; and as the twelve sisters slowly came up very much
tired, they heard him snoring in his bed; so they said, ‘Now all is quite
safe’; then they undressed themselves, put away their fine clothes, pulled
off their shoes, and went to bed. In the morning the soldier said nothing
about what had happened, but determined to see more of this strange
adventure, and went again the second and third night; and every thing

happened just as before; the princesses danced each time till their shoes
were worn to pieces, and then returned home. However, on the third night
the soldier carried away one of the golden cups as a token of where he had
been.
As soon as the time came when he was to declare the secret, he was taken
before the king with the three branches and the golden cup; and the twelve
princesses stood listening behind the door to hear what he would say. And
when the king asked him. ‘Where do my twelve daughters dance at night?’
he answered, ‘With twelve princes in a castle under ground.’ And then he
told the king all that had happened, and showed him the three branches and
the golden cup which he had brought with him. Then the king called for the
princesses, and asked them whether what the soldier said was true: and
when they saw that they were discovered, and that it was of no use to deny
what had happened, they confessed it all. And the king asked the soldier
which of them he would choose for his wife; and he answered, ‘I am not
very young, so I will have the eldest.’—And they were married that very
day, and the soldier was chosen to be the king’s heir.

THE FISHERMAN AND HIS WIFE

There was once a fisherman who lived with his wife in a pigsty, close by
the seaside. The fisherman used to go out all day long a-fishing; and one
day, as he sat on the shore with his rod, looking at the sparkling waves and
watching his line, all on a sudden his float was dragged away deep into the
water: and in drawing it up he pulled out a great fish. But the fish said,
‘Pray let me live! I am not a real fish; I am an enchanted prince: put me in
the water again, and let me go!’ ‘Oh, ho!’ said the man, ‘you need not make
so many words about the matter; I will have nothing to do with a fish that
can talk: so swim away, sir, as soon as you please!’ Then he put him back
into the water, and the fish darted straight down to the bottom, and left a
long streak of blood behind him on the wave.
When the fisherman went home to his wife in the pigsty, he told her how
he had caught a great fish, and how it had told him it was an enchanted
prince, and how, on hearing it speak, he had let it go again. ‘Did not you ask
it for anything?’ said the wife, ‘we live very wretchedly here, in this nasty
dirty pigsty; do go back and tell the fish we want a snug little cottage.’
The fisherman did not much like the business: however, he went to the
seashore; and when he came back there the water looked all yellow and
green. And he stood at the water’s edge, and said:

‘O man of the sea!
Hearken to me!
My wife Ilsabill
Will have her own will,
And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!’

Then the fish came swimming to him, and said, ‘Well, what is her will?
What does your wife want?’ ‘Ah!’ said the fisherman, ‘she says that when I
had caught you, I ought to have asked you for something before I let you
go; she does not like living any longer in the pigsty, and wants a snug little
cottage.’ ‘Go home, then,’ said the fish; ‘she is in the cottage already!’ So

the man went home, and saw his wife standing at the door of a nice trim
little cottage. ‘Come in, come in!’ said she; ‘is not this much better than the
filthy pigsty we had?’ And there was a parlour, and a bedchamber, and a
kitchen; and behind the cottage there was a little garden, planted with all
sorts of flowers and fruits; and there was a courtyard behind, full of ducks
and chickens. ‘Ah!’ said the fisherman, ‘how happily we shall live now!’
‘We will try to do so, at least,’ said his wife.
Everything went right for a week or two, and then Dame Ilsabill said,
‘Husband, there is not near room enough for us in this cottage; the
courtyard and the garden are a great deal too small; I should like to have a
large stone castle to live in: go to the fish again and tell him to give us a
castle.’ ‘Wife,’ said the fisherman, ‘I don’t like to go to him again, for
perhaps he will be angry; we ought to be easy with this pretty cottage to live
in.’ ‘Nonsense!’ said the wife; ‘he will do it very willingly, I know; go along
and try!’
The fisherman went, but his heart was very heavy: and when he came to
the sea, it looked blue and gloomy, though it was very calm; and he went
close to the edge of the waves, and said:

‘O man of the sea!
Hearken to me!
My wife Ilsabill
Will have her own will,
And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!’

‘Well, what does she want now?’ said the fish. ‘Ah!’ said the man,
dolefully, ‘my wife wants to live in a stone castle.’ ‘Go home, then,’ said the
fish; ‘she is standing at the gate of it already.’ So away went the fisherman,
and found his wife standing before the gate of a great castle. ‘See,’ said she,
‘is not this grand?’ With that they went into the castle together, and found a
great many servants there, and the rooms all richly furnished, and full of
golden chairs and tables; and behind the castle was a garden, and around it
was a park half a mile long, full of sheep, and goats, and hares, and deer;
and in the courtyard were stables and cow-houses. ‘Well,’ said the man,
‘now we will live cheerful and happy in this beautiful castle for the rest of
our lives.’ ‘Perhaps we may,’ said the wife; ‘but let us sleep upon it, before
we make up our minds to that.’ So they went to bed.
The next morning when Dame Ilsabill awoke it was broad daylight, and
she jogged the fisherman with her elbow, and said, ‘Get up, husband, and

bestir yourself, for we must be king of all the land.’ ‘Wife, wife,’ said the
man, ‘why should we wish to be the king? I will not be king.’ ‘Then I will,’
said she. ‘But, wife,’ said the fisherman, ‘how can you be king—the fish
cannot make you a king?’ ‘Husband,’ said she, ‘say no more about it, but go
and try! I will be king.’ So the man went away quite sorrowful to think that
his wife should want to be king. This time the sea looked a dark grey
colour, and was overspread with curling waves and the ridges of foam as he
cried out:

‘O man of the sea!
Hearken to me!
My wife Ilsabill
Will have her own will,
And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!’

‘Well, what would she have now?’ said the fish. ‘Alas!’ said the poor
man, ‘my wife wants to be king.’ ‘Go home,’ said the fish; ‘she is king
already.’
Then the fisherman went home; and as he came close to the palace he
saw a troop of soldiers, and heard the sound of drums and trumpets. And
when he went in he saw his wife sitting on a throne of gold and diamonds,
with a golden crown upon her head; and on each side of her stood six fair
maidens, each a head taller than the other. ‘Well, wife,’ said the fisherman,
‘are you king?’ ‘Yes,’ said she, ‘I am king.’ And when he had looked at her
for a long time, he said, ‘Ah, wife! what a fine thing it is to be king! Now
we shall never have anything more to wish for as long as we live.’ ‘I don’t
know how that may be,’ said she; ‘never is a long time. I am king, it is true;
but I begin to be tired of that, and I think I should like to be emperor.’ ‘Alas,
wife! why should you wish to be emperor?’ said the fisherman. ‘Husband,’
said she, ‘go to the fish! I say I will be emperor.’ ‘Ah, wife!’ replied the
fisherman, ‘the fish cannot make an emperor, I am sure, and I should not
like to ask him for such a thing.’ ‘I am king,’ said Ilsabill, ‘and you are my
slave; so go at once!’
So the fisherman was forced to go; and he muttered as he went along,
‘This will come to no good, it is too much to ask; the fish will be tired at
last, and then we shall be sorry for what we have done.’ He soon came to
the seashore; and the water was quite black and muddy, and a mighty
whirlwind blew over the waves and rolled them about, but he went as near
as he could to the water’s brink, and said:

‘O man of the sea!
Hearken to me!
My wife Ilsabill
Will have her own will,
And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!’

‘What would she have now?’ said the fish. ‘Ah!’ said the fisherman, ‘she
wants to be emperor.’ ‘Go home,’ said the fish; ‘she is emperor already.’
So he went home again; and as he came near he saw his wife Ilsabill
sitting on a very lofty throne made of solid gold, with a great crown on her
head full two yards high; and on each side of her stood her guards and
attendants in a row, each one smaller than the other, from the tallest giant
down to a little dwarf no bigger than my finger. And before her stood
princes, and dukes, and earls: and the fisherman went up to her and said,
‘Wife, are you emperor?’ ‘Yes,’ said she, ‘I am emperor.’ ‘Ah!’ said the
man, as he gazed upon her, ‘what a fine thing it is to be emperor!’
‘Husband,’ said she, ‘why should we stop at being emperor? I will be pope
next.’ ‘O wife, wife!’ said he, ‘how can you be pope? there is but one pope
at a time in Christendom.’ ‘Husband,’ said she, ‘I will be pope this very
day.’ ‘But,’ replied the husband, ‘the fish cannot make you pope.’ ‘What
nonsense!’ said she; ‘if he can make an emperor, he can make a pope: go
and try him.’
So the fisherman went. But when he came to the shore the wind was
raging and the sea was tossed up and down in boiling waves, and the ships
were in trouble, and rolled fearfully upon the tops of the billows. In the
middle of the heavens there was a little piece of blue sky, but towards the
south all was red, as if a dreadful storm was rising. At this sight the
fisherman was dreadfully frightened, and he trembled so that his knees
knocked together: but still he went down near to the shore, and said:

‘O man of the sea!
Hearken to me!
My wife Ilsabill
Will have her own will,
And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!’

‘What does she want now?’ said the fish. ‘Ah!’ said the fisherman, ‘my
wife wants to be pope.’ ‘Go home,’ said the fish; ‘she is pope already.’
Then the fisherman went home, and found Ilsabill sitting on a throne that
was two miles high. And she had three great crowns on her head, and
around her stood all the pomp and power of the Church. And on each side

of her were two rows of burning lights, of all sizes, the greatest as large as
the highest and biggest tower in the world, and the least no larger than a
small rushlight. ‘Wife,’ said the fisherman, as he looked at all this greatness,
‘are you pope?’ ‘Yes,’ said she, ‘I am pope.’ ‘Well, wife,’ replied he, ‘it is a
grand thing to be pope; and now you must be easy, for you can be nothing
greater.’ ‘I will think about that,’ said the wife. Then they went to bed: but
Dame Ilsabill could not sleep all night for thinking what she should be next.
At last, as she was dropping asleep, morning broke, and the sun rose. ‘Ha!’
thought she, as she woke up and looked at it through the window, ‘after all I
cannot prevent the sun rising.’ At this thought she was very angry, and
wakened her husband, and said, ‘Husband, go to the fish and tell him I must
be lord of the sun and moon.’ The fisherman was half asleep, but the
thought frightened him so much that he started and fell out of bed. ‘Alas,
wife!’ said he, ‘cannot you be easy with being pope?’ ‘No,’ said she, ‘I am
very uneasy as long as the sun and moon rise without my leave. Go to the
fish at once!’
Then the man went shivering with fear; and as he was going down to the
shore a dreadful storm arose, so that the trees and the very rocks shook. And
all the heavens became black with stormy clouds, and the lightnings played,
and the thunders rolled; and you might have seen in the sea great black
waves, swelling up like mountains with crowns of white foam upon their
heads. And the fisherman crept towards the sea, and cried out, as well as he
could:

‘O man of the sea!
Hearken to me!
My wife Ilsabill
Will have her own will,
And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!’

‘What does she want now?’ said the fish. ‘Ah!’ said he, ‘she wants to be
lord of the sun and moon.’ ‘Go home,’ said the fish, ‘to your pigsty again.’
And there they live to this very day.

THE WILLOW-WREN AND THE BEAR

Once in summer-time the bear and the wolf were walking in the forest,
and the bear heard a bird singing so beautifully that he said: ‘Brother wolf,
what bird is it that sings so well?’ ‘That is the King of birds,’ said the wolf,
‘before whom we must bow down.’ In reality the bird was the willow-wren.
‘IF that’s the case,’ said the bear, ‘I should very much like to see his royal
palace; come, take me thither.’ ‘That is not done quite as you seem to
think,’ said the wolf; ‘you must wait until the Queen comes,’ Soon
afterwards, the Queen arrived with some food in her beak, and the lord
King came too, and they began to feed their young ones. The bear would
have liked to go at once, but the wolf held him back by the sleeve, and said:
‘No, you must wait until the lord and lady Queen have gone away again.’
So they took stock of the hole where the nest lay, and trotted away. The
bear, however, could not rest until he had seen the royal palace, and when a
short time had passed, went to it again. The King and Queen had just flown
out, so he peeped in and saw five or six young ones lying there. ‘Is that the
royal palace?’ cried the bear; ‘it is a wretched palace, and you are not
King’s children, you are disreputable children!’ When the young wrens
heard that, they were frightfully angry, and screamed: ‘No, that we are not!
Our parents are honest people! Bear, you will have to pay for that!’
The bear and the wolf grew uneasy, and turned back and went into their
holes. The young willow-wrens, however, continued to cry and scream, and
when their parents again brought food they said: ‘We will not so much as
touch one fly’s leg, no, not if we were dying of hunger, until you have
settled whether we are respectable children or not; the bear has been here
and has insulted us!’ Then the old King said: ‘Be easy, he shall be
punished,’ and he at once flew with the Queen to the bear’s cave, and called
in: ‘Old Growler, why have you insulted my children? You shall suffer for it
—we will punish you by a bloody war.’ Thus war was announced to the
Bear, and all four-footed animals were summoned to take part in it, oxen,

asses, cows, deer, and every other animal the earth contained. And the
willow-wren summoned everything which flew in the air, not only birds,
large and small, but midges, and hornets, bees and flies had to come.
When the time came for the war to begin, the willow-wren sent out spies
to discover who was the enemy’s commander-in-chief. The gnat, who was
the most crafty, flew into the forest where the enemy was assembled, and
hid herself beneath a leaf of the tree where the password was to be
announced. There stood the bear, and he called the fox before him and said:
‘Fox, you are the most cunning of all animals, you shall be general and lead
us.’ ‘Good,’ said the fox, ‘but what signal shall we agree upon?’ No one
knew that, so the fox said: ‘I have a fine long bushy tail, which almost looks
like a plume of red feathers. When I lift my tail up quite high, all is going
well, and you must charge; but if I let it hang down, run away as fast as you
can.’ When the gnat had heard that, she flew away again, and revealed
everything, down to the minutest detail, to the willow-wren. When day
broke, and the battle was to begin, all the four-footed animals came running
up with such a noise that the earth trembled. The willow-wren with his
army also came flying through the air with such a humming, and whirring,
and swarming that every one was uneasy and afraid, and on both sides they
advanced against each other. But the willow-wren sent down the hornet,
with orders to settle beneath the fox’s tail, and sting with all his might.
When the fox felt the first string, he started so that he lifted one leg, from
pain, but he bore it, and still kept his tail high in the air; at the second sting,
he was forced to put it down for a moment; at the third, he could hold out
no longer, screamed, and put his tail between his legs. When the animals
saw that, they thought all was lost, and began to flee, each into his hole, and
the birds had won the battle.
Then the King and Queen flew home to their children and cried:
‘Children, rejoice, eat and drink to your heart’s content, we have won the
battle!’ But the young wrens said: ‘We will not eat yet, the bear must come
to the nest, and beg for pardon and say that we are honourable children,
before we will do that.’ Then the willow-wren flew to the bear’s hole and
cried: ‘Growler, you are to come to the nest to my children, and beg their
pardon, or else every rib of your body shall be broken.’ So the bear crept
thither in the greatest fear, and begged their pardon. And now at last the
young wrens were satisfied, and sat down together and ate and drank, and
made merry till quite late into the night.

THE FROG-PRINCE

One fine evening a young princess put on her bonnet and clogs, and went
out to take a walk by herself in a wood; and when she came to a cool spring
of water, that rose in the midst of it, she sat herself down to rest a while.
Now she had a golden ball in her hand, which was her favourite plaything;
and she was always tossing it up into the air, and catching it again as it fell.
After a time she threw it up so high that she missed catching it as it fell; and
the ball bounded away, and rolled along upon the ground, till at last it fell
down into the spring. The princess looked into the spring after her ball, but
it was very deep, so deep that she could not see the bottom of it. Then she
began to bewail her loss, and said, ‘Alas! if I could only get my ball again, I
would give all my fine clothes and jewels, and everything that I have in the
world.’
Whilst she was speaking, a frog put its head out of the water, and said,
‘Princess, why do you weep so bitterly?’ ‘Alas!’ said she, ‘what can you do
for me, you nasty frog? My golden ball has fallen into the spring.’ The frog
said, ‘I want not your pearls, and jewels, and fine clothes; but if you will
love me, and let me live with you and eat from off your golden plate, and
sleep upon your bed, I will bring you your ball again.’ ‘What nonsense,’
thought the princess, ‘this silly frog is talking! He can never even get out of
the spring to visit me, though he may be able to get my ball for me, and
therefore I will tell him he shall have what he asks.’ So she said to the frog,
‘Well, if you will bring me my ball, I will do all you ask.’ Then the frog put
his head down, and dived deep under the water; and after a little while he
came up again, with the ball in his mouth, and threw it on the edge of the
spring. As soon as the young princess saw her ball, she ran to pick it up; and
she was so overjoyed to have it in her hand again, that she never thought of
the frog, but ran home with it as fast as she could. The frog called after her,
‘Stay, princess, and take me with you as you said,’ But she did not stop to
hear a word.

The next day, just as the princess had sat down to dinner, she heard a
strange noise—tap, tap—plash, plash—as if something was coming up the
marble staircase: and soon afterwards there was a gentle knock at the door,
and a little voice cried out and said:

‘Open the door, my princess dear,
Open the door to thy true love here!
And mind the words that thou and I said
By the fountain cool, in the greenwood shade.’

Then the princess ran to the door and opened it, and there she saw the
frog, whom she had quite forgotten. At this sight she was sadly frightened,
and shutting the door as fast as she could came back to her seat. The king,
her father, seeing that something had frightened her, asked her what was the
matter. ‘There is a nasty frog,’ said she, ‘at the door, that lifted my ball for
me out of the spring this morning: I told him that he should live with me
here, thinking that he could never get out of the spring; but there he is at the
door, and he wants to come in.’
While she was speaking the frog knocked again at the door, and said:

‘Open the door, my princess dear,
Open the door to thy true love here!
And mind the words that thou and I said
By the fountain cool, in the greenwood shade.’

Then the king said to the young princess, ‘As you have given your word
you must keep it; so go and let him in.’ She did so, and the frog hopped into
the room, and then straight on—tap, tap—plash, plash—from the bottom of
the room to the top, till he came up close to the table where the princess sat.
‘Pray lift me upon chair,’ said he to the princess, ‘and let me sit next to
you.’ As soon as she had done this, the frog said, ‘Put your plate nearer to
me, that I may eat out of it.’ This she did, and when he had eaten as much as
he could, he said, ‘Now I am tired; carry me upstairs, and put me into your
bed.’ And the princess, though very unwilling, took him up in her hand, and
put him upon the pillow of her own bed, where he slept all night long. As
soon as it was light he jumped up, hopped downstairs, and went out of the
house. ‘Now, then,’ thought the princess, ‘at last he is gone, and I shall be
troubled with him no more.’
But she was mistaken; for when night came again she heard the same
tapping at the door; and the frog came once more, and said:

‘Open the door, my princess dear,
Open the door to thy true love here!
And mind the words that thou and I said
By the fountain cool, in the greenwood shade.’

And when the princess opened the door the frog came in, and slept upon
her pillow as before, till the morning broke. And the third night he did the
same. But when the princess awoke on the following morning she was
astonished to see, instead of the frog, a handsome prince, gazing on her
with the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen, and standing at the head of
her bed.
He told her that he had been enchanted by a spiteful fairy, who had
changed him into a frog; and that he had been fated so to abide till some
princess should take him out of the spring, and let him eat from her plate,
and sleep upon her bed for three nights. ‘You,’ said the prince, ‘have broken
his cruel charm, and now I have nothing to wish for but that you should go
with me into my father’s kingdom, where I will marry you, and love you as
long as you live.’
The young princess, you may be sure, was not long in saying ‘Yes’ to all
this; and as they spoke a gay coach drove up, with eight beautiful horses,
decked with plumes of feathers and a golden harness; and behind the coach
rode the prince’s servant, faithful Heinrich, who had bewailed the
misfortunes of his dear master during his enchantment so long and so
bitterly, that his heart had well-nigh burst.
They then took leave of the king, and got into the coach with eight
horses, and all set out, full of joy and merriment, for the prince’s kingdom,
which they reached safely; and there they lived happily a great many years.

CAT AND MOUSE IN PARTNERSHIP

A certain cat had made the acquaintance of a mouse, and had said so
much to her about the great love and friendship she felt for her, that at
length the mouse agreed that they should live and keep house together. ‘But
we must make a provision for winter, or else we shall suffer from hunger,’
said the cat; ‘and you, little mouse, cannot venture everywhere, or you will
be caught in a trap some day.’ The good advice was followed, and a pot of
fat was bought, but they did not know where to put it. At length, after much
consideration, the cat said: ‘I know no place where it will be better stored
up than in the church, for no one dares take anything away from there. We
will set it beneath the altar, and not touch it until we are really in need of it.’
So the pot was placed in safety, but it was not long before the cat had a
great yearning for it, and said to the mouse: ‘I want to tell you something,
little mouse; my cousin has brought a little son into the world, and has
asked me to be godmother; he is white with brown spots, and I am to hold
him over the font at the christening. Let me go out today, and you look after
the house by yourself.’ ‘Yes, yes,’ answered the mouse, ‘by all means go,
and if you get anything very good to eat, think of me. I should like a drop of
sweet red christening wine myself.’ All this, however, was untrue; the cat
had no cousin, and had not been asked to be godmother. She went straight
to the church, stole to the pot of fat, began to lick at it, and licked the top of
the fat off. Then she took a walk upon the roofs of the town, looked out for
opportunities, and then stretched herself in the sun, and licked her lips
whenever she thought of the pot of fat, and not until it was evening did she
return home. ‘Well, here you are again,’ said the mouse, ‘no doubt you have
had a merry day.’ ‘All went off well,’ answered the cat. ‘What name did
they give the child?’ ‘Top off!’ said the cat quite coolly. ‘Top off!’ cried the
mouse, ‘that is a very odd and uncommon name, is it a usual one in your
family?’ ‘What does that matter,’ said the cat, ‘it is no worse than Crumb-
stealer, as your godchildren are called.’

Before long the cat was seized by another fit of yearning. She said to the
mouse: ‘You must do me a favour, and once more manage the house for a
day alone. I am again asked to be godmother, and, as the child has a white
ring round its neck, I cannot refuse.’ The good mouse consented, but the cat
crept behind the town walls to the church, and devoured half the pot of fat.
‘Nothing ever seems so good as what one keeps to oneself,’ said she, and
was quite satisfied with her day’s work. When she went home the mouse
inquired: ‘And what was the child christened?’ ‘Half-done,’ answered the
cat. ‘Half-done! What are you saying? I never heard the name in my life,
I’ll wager anything it is not in the calendar!’
The cat’s mouth soon began to water for some more licking. ‘All good
things go in threes,’ said she, ‘I am asked to stand godmother again. The
child is quite black, only it has white paws, but with that exception, it has
not a single white hair on its whole body; this only happens once every few
years, you will let me go, won’t you?’ ‘Top-off! Half-done!’ answered the
mouse, ‘they are such odd names, they make me very thoughtful.’ ‘You sit
at home,’ said the cat, ‘in your dark-grey fur coat and long tail, and are
filled with fancies, that’s because you do not go out in the daytime.’ During
the cat’s absence the mouse cleaned the house, and put it in order, but the
greedy cat entirely emptied the pot of fat. ‘When everything is eaten up one
has some peace,’ said she to herself, and well filled and fat she did not
return home till night. The mouse at once asked what name had been given
to the third child. ‘It will not please you more than the others,’ said the cat.
‘He is called All-gone.’ ‘All-gone,’ cried the mouse ‘that is the most
suspicious name of all! I have never seen it in print. All-gone; what can that
mean?’ and she shook her head, curled herself up, and lay down to sleep.
From this time forth no one invited the cat to be godmother, but when the
winter had come and there was no longer anything to be found outside, the
mouse thought of their provision, and said: ‘Come, cat, we will go to our
pot of fat which we have stored up for ourselves—we shall enjoy that.’
‘Yes,’ answered the cat, ‘you will enjoy it as much as you would enjoy
sticking that dainty tongue of yours out of the window.’ They set out on
their way, but when they arrived, the pot of fat certainly was still in its
place, but it was empty. ‘Alas!’ said the mouse, ‘now I see what has
happened, now it comes to light! You are a true friend! You have devoured
all when you were standing godmother. First top off, then half-done, then
—’ ‘Will you hold your tongue,’ cried the cat, ‘one word more, and I will

eat you too.’ ‘All-gone’ was already on the poor mouse’s lips; scarcely had
she spoken it before the cat sprang on her, seized her, and swallowed her
down. Verily, that is the way of the world.

THE GOOSE-GIRL

The king of a great land died, and left his queen to take care of their only
child. This child was a daughter, who was very beautiful; and her mother
loved her dearly, and was very kind to her. And there was a good fairy too,
who was fond of the princess, and helped her mother to watch over her.
When she grew up, she was betrothed to a prince who lived a great way off;
and as the time drew near for her to be married, she got ready to set off on
her journey to his country. Then the queen her mother, packed up a great
many costly things; jewels, and gold, and silver; trinkets, fine dresses, and
in short everything that became a royal bride. And she gave her a waiting-
maid to ride with her, and give her into the bridegroom’s hands; and each
had a horse for the journey. Now the princess’s horse was the fairy’s gift,
and it was called Falada, and could speak.
When the time came for them to set out, the fairy went into her bed-
chamber, and took a little knife, and cut off a lock of her hair, and gave it to
the princess, and said, ‘Take care of it, dear child; for it is a charm that may
be of use to you on the road.’ Then they all took a sorrowful leave of the
princess; and she put the lock of hair into her bosom, got upon her horse,
and set off on her journey to her bridegroom’s kingdom.
One day, as they were riding along by a brook, the princess began to feel
very thirsty: and she said to her maid, ‘Pray get down, and fetch me some
water in my golden cup out of yonder brook, for I want to drink.’ ‘Nay,’
said the maid, ‘if you are thirsty, get off yourself, and stoop down by the
water and drink; I shall not be your waiting-maid any longer.’ Then she was
so thirsty that she got down, and knelt over the little brook, and drank; for
she was frightened, and dared not bring out her golden cup; and she wept
and said, ‘Alas! what will become of me?’ And the lock answered her, and
said:

‘Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,

Sadly, sadly, would she rue it.’

But the princess was very gentle and meek, so she said nothing to her
maid’s ill behaviour, but got upon her horse again.
Then all rode farther on their journey, till the day grew so warm, and the
sun so scorching, that the bride began to feel very thirsty again; and at last,
when they came to a river, she forgot her maid’s rude speech, and said,
‘Pray get down, and fetch me some water to drink in my golden cup.’ But
the maid answered her, and even spoke more haughtily than before: ‘Drink
if you will, but I shall not be your waiting-maid.’ Then the princess was so
thirsty that she got off her horse, and lay down, and held her head over the
running stream, and cried and said, ‘What will become of me?’ And the
lock of hair answered her again:

‘Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly, would she rue it.’

And as she leaned down to drink, the lock of hair fell from her bosom,
and floated away with the water. Now she was so frightened that she did not
see it; but her maid saw it, and was very glad, for she knew the charm; and
she saw that the poor bride would be in her power, now that she had lost the
hair. So when the bride had done drinking, and would have got upon Falada
again, the maid said, ‘I shall ride upon Falada, and you may have my horse
instead’; so she was forced to give up her horse, and soon afterwards to take
off her royal clothes and put on her maid’s shabby ones.
At last, as they drew near the end of their journey, this treacherous
servant threatened to kill her mistress if she ever told anyone what had
happened. But Falada saw it all, and marked it well.
Then the waiting-maid got upon Falada, and the real bride rode upon the
other horse, and they went on in this way till at last they came to the royal
court. There was great joy at their coming, and the prince flew to meet
them, and lifted the maid from her horse, thinking she was the one who was
to be his wife; and she was led upstairs to the royal chamber; but the true
princess was told to stay in the court below.
Now the old king happened just then to have nothing else to do; so he
amused himself by sitting at his kitchen window, looking at what was going
on; and he saw her in the courtyard. As she looked very pretty, and too
delicate for a waiting-maid, he went up into the royal chamber to ask the

bride who it was she had brought with her, that was thus left standing in the
court below. ‘I brought her with me for the sake of her company on the
road,’ said she; ‘pray give the girl some work to do, that she may not be
idle.’ The old king could not for some time think of any work for her to do;
but at last he said, ‘I have a lad who takes care of my geese; she may go and
help him.’ Now the name of this lad, that the real bride was to help in
watching the king’s geese, was Curdken.
But the false bride said to the prince, ‘Dear husband, pray do me one
piece of kindness.’ ‘That I will,’ said the prince. ‘Then tell one of your
slaughterers to cut off the head of the horse I rode upon, for it was very
unruly, and plagued me sadly on the road’; but the truth was, she was very
much afraid lest Falada should some day or other speak, and tell all she had
done to the princess. She carried her point, and the faithful Falada was
killed; but when the true princess heard of it, she wept, and begged the man
to nail up Falada’s head against a large dark gate of the city, through which
she had to pass every morning and evening, that there she might still see
him sometimes. Then the slaughterer said he would do as she wished; and
cut off the head, and nailed it up under the dark gate.
Early the next morning, as she and Curdken went out through the gate,
she said sorrowfully:

‘Falada, Falada, there thou hangest!’

and the head answered:

‘Bride, bride, there thou gangest!
Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly, would she rue it.’

Then they went out of the city, and drove the geese on. And when she
came to the meadow, she sat down upon a bank there, and let down her
waving locks of hair, which were all of pure silver; and when Curdken saw
it glitter in the sun, he ran up, and would have pulled some of the locks out,
but she cried:

‘Blow, breezes, blow!
Let Curdken’s hat go!
Blow, breezes, blow!
Let him after it go!
O’er hills, dales, and rocks,
Away be it whirl’d

Till the silvery locks
Are all comb’d and curl’d!

Then there came a wind, so strong that it blew off Curdken’s hat; and
away it flew over the hills: and he was forced to turn and run after it; till, by
the time he came back, she had done combing and curling her hair, and had
put it up again safe. Then he was very angry and sulky, and would not speak
to her at all; but they watched the geese until it grew dark in the evening,
and then drove them homewards.
The next morning, as they were going through the dark gate, the poor girl
looked up at Falada’s head, and cried:

‘Falada, Falada, there thou hangest!’

and the head answered:

‘Bride, bride, there thou gangest!
Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly, would she rue it.’

Then she drove on the geese, and sat down again in the meadow, and
began to comb out her hair as before; and Curdken ran up to her, and
wanted to take hold of it; but she cried out quickly:

‘Blow, breezes, blow!
Let Curdken’s hat go!
Blow, breezes, blow!
Let him after it go!
O’er hills, dales, and rocks,
Away be it whirl’d
Till the silvery locks
Are all comb’d and curl’d!

Then the wind came and blew away his hat; and off it flew a great way,
over the hills and far away, so that he had to run after it; and when he came
back she had bound up her hair again, and all was safe. So they watched the
geese till it grew dark.
In the evening, after they came home, Curdken went to the old king, and
said, ‘I cannot have that strange girl to help me to keep the geese any
longer.’ ‘Why?’ said the king. ‘Because, instead of doing any good, she
does nothing but tease me all day long.’ Then the king made him tell him
what had happened. And Curdken said, ‘When we go in the morning
through the dark gate with our flock of geese, she cries and talks with the
head of a horse that hangs upon the wall, and says:

‘Falada, Falada, there thou hangest!’

and the head answers:

‘Bride, bride, there thou gangest!
Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly, would she rue it.’

And Curdken went on telling the king what had happened upon the
meadow where the geese fed; how his hat was blown away; and how he
was forced to run after it, and to leave his flock of geese to themselves. But
the old king told the boy to go out again the next day: and when morning
came, he placed himself behind the dark gate, and heard how she spoke to
Falada, and how Falada answered. Then he went into the field, and hid
himself in a bush by the meadow’s side; and he soon saw with his own eyes
how they drove the flock of geese; and how, after a little time, she let down
her hair that glittered in the sun. And then he heard her say:

‘Blow, breezes, blow!
Let Curdken’s hat go!
Blow, breezes, blow!
Let him after it go!
O’er hills, dales, and rocks,
Away be it whirl’d
Till the silvery locks
Are all comb’d and curl’d!

And soon came a gale of wind, and carried away Curdken’s hat, and
away went Curdken after it, while the girl went on combing and curling her
hair. All this the old king saw: so he went home without being seen; and
when the little goose-girl came back in the evening he called her aside, and
asked her why she did so: but she burst into tears, and said, ‘That I must not
tell you or any man, or I shall lose my life.’
But the old king begged so hard, that she had no peace till she had told
him all the tale, from beginning to end, word for word. And it was very
lucky for her that she did so, for when she had done the king ordered royal
clothes to be put upon her, and gazed on her with wonder, she was so
beautiful. Then he called his son and told him that he had only a false bride;
for that she was merely a waiting-maid, while the true bride stood by. And
the young king rejoiced when he saw her beauty, and heard how meek and
patient she had been; and without saying anything to the false bride, the
king ordered a great feast to be got ready for all his court. The bridegroom

sat at the top, with the false princess on one side, and the true one on the
other; but nobody knew her again, for her beauty was quite dazzling to their
eyes; and she did not seem at all like the little goose-girl, now that she had
her brilliant dress on.
When they had eaten and drank, and were very merry, the old king said
he would tell them a tale. So he began, and told all the story of the princess,
as if it was one that he had once heard; and he asked the true waiting-maid
what she thought ought to be done to anyone who would behave thus.
‘Nothing better,’ said this false bride, ‘than that she should be thrown into a
cask stuck round with sharp nails, and that two white horses should be put
to it, and should drag it from street to street till she was dead.’ ‘Thou art
she!’ said the old king; ‘and as thou has judged thyself, so shall it be done to
thee.’ And the young king was then married to his true wife, and they
reigned over the kingdom in peace and happiness all their lives; and the
good fairy came to see them, and restored the faithful Falada to life again.

THE ADVENTURES OF CHANTICLEER AND
PARTLET

1. HOW THEY WENT TO THE MOUNTAINS TO EAT NUTS
‘The nuts are quite ripe now,’ said Chanticleer to his wife Partlet,
‘suppose we go together to the mountains, and eat as many as we can,
before the squirrel takes them all away.’ ‘With all my heart,’ said Partlet,
‘let us go and make a holiday of it together.’
So they went to the mountains; and as it was a lovely day, they stayed
there till the evening. Now, whether it was that they had eaten so many nuts
that they could not walk, or whether they were lazy and would not, I do not
know: however, they took it into their heads that it did not become them to
go home on foot. So Chanticleer began to build a little carriage of nutshells:
and when it was finished, Partlet jumped into it and sat down, and bid
Chanticleer harness himself to it and draw her home. ‘That’s a good joke!’
said Chanticleer; ‘no, that will never do; I had rather by half walk home; I’ll
sit on the box and be coachman, if you like, but I’ll not draw.’ While this
was passing, a duck came quacking up and cried out, ‘You thieving
vagabonds, what business have you in my grounds? I’ll give it you well for
your insolence!’ and upon that she fell upon Chanticleer most lustily. But
Chanticleer was no coward, and returned the duck’s blows with his sharp
spurs so fiercely that she soon began to cry out for mercy; which was only
granted her upon condition that she would draw the carriage home for them.
This she agreed to do; and Chanticleer got upon the box, and drove, crying,
‘Now, duck, get on as fast as you can.’ And away they went at a pretty good
pace.
After they had travelled along a little way, they met a needle and a pin
walking together along the road: and the needle cried out, ‘Stop, stop!’ and
said it was so dark that they could hardly find their way, and such dirty
walking they could not get on at all: he told them that he and his friend, the

pin, had been at a public-house a few miles off, and had sat drinking till
they had forgotten how late it was; he begged therefore that the travellers
would be so kind as to give them a lift in their carriage. Chanticleer
observing that they were but thin fellows, and not likely to take up much
room, told them they might ride, but made them promise not to dirty the
wheels of the carriage in getting in, nor to tread on Partlet’s toes.
Late at night they arrived at an inn; and as it was bad travelling in the
dark, and the duck seemed much tired, and waddled about a good deal from
one side to the other, they made up their minds to fix their quarters there:
but the landlord at first was unwilling, and said his house was full, thinking
they might not be very respectable company: however, they spoke civilly to
him, and gave him the egg which Partlet had laid by the way, and said they
would give him the duck, who was in the habit of laying one every day: so
at last he let them come in, and they bespoke a handsome supper, and spent
the evening very jollily.
Early in the morning, before it was quite light, and when nobody was
stirring in the inn, Chanticleer awakened his wife, and, fetching the egg,
they pecked a hole in it, ate it up, and threw the shells into the fireplace:
they then went to the pin and needle, who were fast asleep, and seizing
them by the heads, stuck one into the landlord’s easy chair and the other
into his handkerchief; and, having done this, they crept away as softly as
possible. However, the duck, who slept in the open air in the yard, heard
them coming, and jumping into the brook which ran close by the inn, soon
swam out of their reach.
An hour or two afterwards the landlord got up, and took his handkerchief
to wipe his face, but the pin ran into him and pricked him: then he walked
into the kitchen to light his pipe at the fire, but when he stirred it up the
eggshells flew into his eyes, and almost blinded him. ‘Bless me!’ said he,
‘all the world seems to have a design against my head this morning’: and so
saying, he threw himself sulkily into his easy chair; but, oh dear! the needle
ran into him; and this time the pain was not in his head. He now flew into a
very great passion, and, suspecting the company who had come in the night
before, he went to look after them, but they were all off; so he swore that he
never again would take in such a troop of vagabonds, who ate a great deal,
paid no reckoning, and gave him nothing for his trouble but their apish
tricks.

2. HOW CHANTICLEER AND PARTLET WENT TO VISIT MR
KORBES
Another day, Chanticleer and Partlet wished to ride out together; so
Chanticleer built a handsome carriage with four red wheels, and harnessed
six mice to it; and then he and Partlet got into the carriage, and away they
drove. Soon afterwards a cat met them, and said, ‘Where are you going?’
And Chanticleer replied,

‘All on our way
A visit to pay
To Mr Korbes, the fox, today.’

Then the cat said, ‘Take me with you,’ Chanticleer said, ‘With all my
heart: get up behind, and be sure you do not fall off.’

‘Take care of this handsome coach of mine,
Nor dirty my pretty red wheels so fine!
Now, mice, be ready,
And, wheels, run steady!
For we are going a visit to pay
To Mr Korbes, the fox, today.’

Soon after came up a millstone, an egg, a duck, and a pin; and
Chanticleer gave them all leave to get into the carriage and go with them.
When they arrived at Mr Korbes’s house, he was not at home; so the
mice drew the carriage into the coach-house, Chanticleer and Partlet flew
upon a beam, the cat sat down in the fireplace, the duck got into the
washing cistern, the pin stuck himself into the bed pillow, the millstone laid
himself over the house door, and the egg rolled himself up in the towel.
When Mr Korbes came home, he went to the fireplace to make a fire; but
the cat threw all the ashes in his eyes: so he ran to the kitchen to wash
himself; but there the duck splashed all the water in his face; and when he
tried to wipe himself, the egg broke to pieces in the towel all over his face
and eyes. Then he was very angry, and went without his supper to bed; but
when he laid his head on the pillow, the pin ran into his cheek: at this he
became quite furious, and, jumping up, would have run out of the house;
but when he came to the door, the millstone fell down on his head, and
killed him on the spot.
3. HOW PARTLET DIED AND WAS BURIED, AND HOW
CHANTICLEER DIED OF GRIEF

Another day Chanticleer and Partlet agreed to go again to the mountains
to eat nuts; and it was settled that all the nuts which they found should be
shared equally between them. Now Partlet found a very large nut; but she
said nothing about it to Chanticleer, and kept it all to herself: however, it
was so big that she could not swallow it, and it stuck in her throat. Then she
was in a great fright, and cried out to Chanticleer, ‘Pray run as fast as you
can, and fetch me some water, or I shall be choked.’ Chanticleer ran as fast
as he could to the river, and said, ‘River, give me some water, for Partlet
lies in the mountain, and will be choked by a great nut.’ The river said, ‘Run
first to the bride, and ask her for a silken cord to draw up the water.’
Chanticleer ran to the bride, and said, ‘Bride, you must give me a silken
cord, for then the river will give me water, and the water I will carry to
Partlet, who lies on the mountain, and will be choked by a great nut.’ But
the bride said, ‘Run first, and bring me my garland that is hanging on a
willow in the garden.’ Then Chanticleer ran to the garden, and took the
garland from the bough where it hung, and brought it to the bride; and then
the bride gave him the silken cord, and he took the silken cord to the river,
and the river gave him water, and he carried the water to Partlet; but in the
meantime she was choked by the great nut, and lay quite dead, and never
moved any more.
Then Chanticleer was very sorry, and cried bitterly; and all the beasts
came and wept with him over poor Partlet. And six mice built a little hearse
to carry her to her grave; and when it was ready they harnessed themselves
before it, and Chanticleer drove them. On the way they met the fox. ‘Where
are you going, Chanticleer?’ said he. ‘To bury my Partlet,’ said the other.
‘May I go with you?’ said the fox. ‘Yes; but you must get up behind, or my
horses will not be able to draw you.’ Then the fox got up behind; and
presently the wolf, the bear, the goat, and all the beasts of the wood, came
and climbed upon the hearse.
So on they went till they came to a rapid stream. ‘How shall we get
over?’ said Chanticleer. Then said a straw, ‘I will lay myself across, and you
may pass over upon me.’ But as the mice were going over, the straw slipped
away and fell into the water, and the six mice all fell in and were drowned.
What was to be done? Then a large log of wood came and said, ‘I am big
enough; I will lay myself across the stream, and you shall pass over upon
me.’ So he laid himself down; but they managed so clumsily, that the log of
wood fell in and was carried away by the stream. Then a stone, who saw

what had happened, came up and kindly offered to help poor Chanticleer by
laying himself across the stream; and this time he got safely to the other
side with the hearse, and managed to get Partlet out of it; but the fox and the
other mourners, who were sitting behind, were too heavy, and fell back into
the water and were all carried away by the stream and drowned.
Thus Chanticleer was left alone with his dead Partlet; and having dug a
grave for her, he laid her in it, and made a little hillock over her. Then he sat
down by the grave, and wept and mourned, till at last he died too; and so all
were dead.

RAPUNZEL

There were once a man and a woman who had long in vain wished for a
child. At length the woman hoped that God was about to grant her desire.
These people had a little window at the back of their house from which a
splendid garden could be seen, which was full of the most beautiful flowers
and herbs. It was, however, surrounded by a high wall, and no one dared to
go into it because it belonged to an enchantress, who had great power and
was dreaded by all the world. One day the woman was standing by this
window and looking down into the garden, when she saw a bed which was
planted with the most beautiful rampion (rapunzel), and it looked so fresh
and green that she longed for it, she quite pined away, and began to look
pale and miserable. Then her husband was alarmed, and asked: ‘What ails
you, dear wife?’ ‘Ah,’ she replied, ‘if I can’t eat some of the rampion, which
is in the garden behind our house, I shall die.’ The man, who loved her,
thought: ‘Sooner than let your wife die, bring her some of the rampion
yourself, let it cost what it will.’ At twilight, he clambered down over the
wall into the garden of the enchantress, hastily clutched a handful of
rampion, and took it to his wife. She at once made herself a salad of it, and
ate it greedily. It tasted so good to her—so very good, that the next day she
longed for it three times as much as before. If he was to have any rest, her
husband must once more descend into the garden. In the gloom of evening
therefore, he let himself down again; but when he had clambered down the
wall he was terribly afraid, for he saw the enchantress standing before him.
‘How can you dare,’ said she with angry look, ‘descend into my garden and
steal my rampion like a thief? You shall suffer for it!’ ‘Ah,’ answered he,
‘let mercy take the place of justice, I only made up my mind to do it out of
necessity. My wife saw your rampion from the window, and felt such a
longing for it that she would have died if she had not got some to eat.’ Then
the enchantress allowed her anger to be softened, and said to him: ‘If the
case be as you say, I will allow you to take away with you as much rampion

as you will, only I make one condition, you must give me the child which
your wife will bring into the world; it shall be well treated, and I will care
for it like a mother.’ The man in his terror consented to everything, and
when the woman was brought to bed, the enchantress appeared at once,
gave the child the name of Rapunzel, and took it away with her.
Rapunzel grew into the most beautiful child under the sun. When she was
twelve years old, the enchantress shut her into a tower, which lay in a forest,
and had neither stairs nor door, but quite at the top was a little window.
When the enchantress wanted to go in, she placed herself beneath it and
cried:

‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair to me.’

Rapunzel had magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold, and when she
heard the voice of the enchantress she unfastened her braided tresses,
wound them round one of the hooks of the window above, and then the hair
fell twenty ells down, and the enchantress climbed up by it.
After a year or two, it came to pass that the king’s son rode through the
forest and passed by the tower. Then he heard a song, which was so
charming that he stood still and listened. This was Rapunzel, who in her
solitude passed her time in letting her sweet voice resound. The king’s son
wanted to climb up to her, and looked for the door of the tower, but none
was to be found. He rode home, but the singing had so deeply touched his
heart, that every day he went out into the forest and listened to it. Once
when he was thus standing behind a tree, he saw that an enchantress came
there, and he heard how she cried:

‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair to me.’

Then Rapunzel let down the braids of her hair, and the enchantress
climbed up to her. ‘If that is the ladder by which one mounts, I too will try
my fortune,’ said he, and the next day when it began to grow dark, he went
to the tower and cried:

‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair to me.’

Immediately the hair fell down and the king’s son climbed up.

At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man, such as her eyes
had never yet beheld, came to her; but the king’s son began to talk to her
quite like a friend, and told her that his heart had been so stirred that it had
let him have no rest, and he had been forced to see her. Then Rapunzel lost
her fear, and when he asked her if she would take him for her husband, and
she saw that he was young and handsome, she thought: ‘He will love me
more than old Dame Gothel does’; and she said yes, and laid her hand in
his. She said: ‘I will willingly go away with you, but I do not know how to
get down. Bring with you a skein of silk every time that you come, and I
will weave a ladder with it, and when that is ready I will descend, and you
will take me on your horse.’ They agreed that until that time he should
come to her every evening, for the old woman came by day. The
enchantress remarked nothing of this, until once Rapunzel said to her: ‘Tell
me, Dame Gothel, how it happens that you are so much heavier for me to
draw up than the young king’s son—he is with me in a moment.’ ‘Ah! you
wicked child,’ cried the enchantress. ‘What do I hear you say! I thought I
had separated you from all the world, and yet you have deceived me!’ In her
anger she clutched Rapunzel’s beautiful tresses, wrapped them twice round
her left hand, seized a pair of scissors with the right, and snip, snap, they
were cut off, and the lovely braids lay on the ground. And she was so
pitiless that she took poor Rapunzel into a desert where she had to live in
great grief and misery.
On the same day that she cast out Rapunzel, however, the enchantress
fastened the braids of hair, which she had cut off, to the hook of the
window, and when the king’s son came and cried:

‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair to me.’

she let the hair down. The king’s son ascended, but instead of finding his
dearest Rapunzel, he found the enchantress, who gazed at him with wicked
and venomous looks. ‘Aha!’ she cried mockingly, ‘you would fetch your
dearest, but the beautiful bird sits no longer singing in the nest; the cat has
got it, and will scratch out your eyes as well. Rapunzel is lost to you; you
will never see her again.’ The king’s son was beside himself with pain, and
in his despair he leapt down from the tower. He escaped with his life, but
the thorns into which he fell pierced his eyes. Then he wandered quite blind
about the forest, ate nothing but roots and berries, and did naught but

lament and weep over the loss of his dearest wife. Thus he roamed about in
misery for some years, and at length came to the desert where Rapunzel,
with the twins to which she had given birth, a boy and a girl, lived in
wretchedness. He heard a voice, and it seemed so familiar to him that he
went towards it, and when he approached, Rapunzel knew him and fell on
his neck and wept. Two of her tears wetted his eyes and they grew clear
again, and he could see with them as before. He led her to his kingdom
where he was joyfully received, and they lived for a long time afterwards,
happy and contented.

FUNDEVOGEL

There was once a forester who went into the forest to hunt, and as he
entered it he heard a sound of screaming as if a little child were there. He
followed the sound, and at last came to a high tree, and at the top of this a
little child was sitting, for the mother had fallen asleep under the tree with
the child, and a bird of prey had seen it in her arms, had flown down,
snatched it away, and set it on the high tree.
The forester climbed up, brought the child down, and thought to himself:
‘You will take him home with you, and bring him up with your Lina.’ He
took it home, therefore, and the two children grew up together. And the one,
which he had found on a tree was called Fundevogel, because a bird had
carried it away. Fundevogel and Lina loved each other so dearly that when
they did not see each other they were sad.
Now the forester had an old cook, who one evening took two pails and
began to fetch water, and did not go once only, but many times, out to the
spring. Lina saw this and said, ‘Listen, old Sanna, why are you fetching so
much water?’ ‘If you will never repeat it to anyone, I will tell you why.’ So
Lina said, no, she would never repeat it to anyone, and then the cook said:
‘Early tomorrow morning, when the forester is out hunting, I will heat the
water, and when it is boiling in the kettle, I will throw in Fundevogel, and
will boil him in it.’
Early next morning the forester got up and went out hunting, and when
he was gone the children were still in bed. Then Lina said to Fundevogel:
‘If you will never leave me, I too will never leave you.’ Fundevogel said:
‘Neither now, nor ever will I leave you.’ Then said Lina: ‘Then will I tell
you. Last night, old Sanna carried so many buckets of water into the house
that I asked her why she was doing that, and she said that if I would
promise not to tell anyone, and she said that early tomorrow morning when
father was out hunting, she would set the kettle full of water, throw you into

it and boil you; but we will get up quickly, dress ourselves, and go away
together.’
The two children therefore got up, dressed themselves quickly, and went
away. When the water in the kettle was boiling, the cook went into the
bedroom to fetch Fundevogel and throw him into it. But when she came in,
and went to the beds, both the children were gone. Then she was terribly
alarmed, and she said to herself: ‘What shall I say now when the forester
comes home and sees that the children are gone? They must be followed
instantly to get them back again.’
Then the cook sent three servants after them, who were to run and
overtake the children. The children, however, were sitting outside the forest,
and when they saw from afar the three servants running, Lina said to
Fundevogel: ‘Never leave me, and I will never leave you.’ Fundevogel said:
‘Neither now, nor ever.’ Then said Lina: ‘Do you become a rose-tree, and I
the rose upon it.’ When the three servants came to the forest, nothing was
there but a rose-tree and one rose on it, but the children were nowhere. Then
said they: ‘There is nothing to be done here,’ and they went home and told
the cook that they had seen nothing in the forest but a little rose-bush with
one rose on it. Then the old cook scolded and said: ‘You simpletons, you
should have cut the rose-bush in two, and have broken off the rose and
brought it home with you; go, and do it at once.’ They had therefore to go
out and look for the second time. The children, however, saw them coming
from a distance. Then Lina said: ‘Fundevogel, never leave me, and I will
never leave you.’ Fundevogel said: ‘Neither now; nor ever.’ Said Lina:
‘Then do you become a church, and I’ll be the chandelier in it.’ So when the
three servants came, nothing was there but a church, with a chandelier in it.
They said therefore to each other: ‘What can we do here, let us go home.’
When they got home, the cook asked if they had not found them; so they
said no, they had found nothing but a church, and there was a chandelier in
it. And the cook scolded them and said: ‘You fools! why did you not pull
the church to pieces, and bring the chandelier home with you?’ And now the
old cook herself got on her legs, and went with the three servants in pursuit
of the children. The children, however, saw from afar that the three servants
were coming, and the cook waddling after them. Then said Lina:
‘Fundevogel, never leave me, and I will never leave you.’ Then said
Fundevogel: ‘Neither now, nor ever.’ Said Lina: ‘Be a fishpond, and I will
be the duck upon it.’ The cook, however, came up to them, and when she

saw the pond she lay down by it, and was about to drink it up. But the duck
swam quickly to her, seized her head in its beak and drew her into the
water, and there the old witch had to drown. Then the children went home
together, and were heartily delighted, and if they have not died, they are
living still.

THE VALIANT LITTLE TAILOR

One summer’s morning a little tailor was sitting on his table by the
window; he was in good spirits, and sewed with all his might. Then came a
peasant woman down the street crying: ‘Good jams, cheap! Good jams,
cheap!’ This rang pleasantly in the tailor’s ears; he stretched his delicate
head out of the window, and called: ‘Come up here, dear woman; here you
will get rid of your goods.’ The woman came up the three steps to the tailor
with her heavy basket, and he made her unpack all the pots for him. He
inspected each one, lifted it up, put his nose to it, and at length said: ‘The
jam seems to me to be good, so weigh me out four ounces, dear woman,
and if it is a quarter of a pound that is of no consequence.’ The woman who
had hoped to find a good sale, gave him what he desired, but went away
quite angry and grumbling. ‘Now, this jam shall be blessed by God,’ cried
the little tailor, ‘and give me health and strength’; so he brought the bread
out of the cupboard, cut himself a piece right across the loaf and spread the
jam over it. ‘This won’t taste bitter,’ said he, ‘but I will just finish the jacket
before I take a bite.’ He laid the bread near him, sewed on, and in his joy,
made bigger and bigger stitches. In the meantime the smell of the sweet jam
rose to where the flies were sitting in great numbers, and they were
attracted and descended on it in hosts. ‘Hi! who invited you?’ said the little
tailor, and drove the unbidden guests away. The flies, however, who
understood no German, would not be turned away, but came back again in
ever-increasing companies. The little tailor at last lost all patience, and drew
a piece of cloth from the hole under his work-table, and saying: ‘Wait, and I
will give it to you,’ struck it mercilessly on them. When he drew it away
and counted, there lay before him no fewer than seven, dead and with legs
stretched out. ‘Are you a fellow of that sort?’ said he, and could not help
admiring his own bravery. ‘The whole town shall know of this!’ And the
little tailor hastened to cut himself a girdle, stitched it, and embroidered on
it in large letters: ‘Seven at one stroke!’ ‘What, the town!’ he continued, ‘the

whole world shall hear of it!’ and his heart wagged with joy like a lamb’s
tail. The tailor put on the girdle, and resolved to go forth into the world,
because he thought his workshop was too small for his valour. Before he
went away, he sought about in the house to see if there was anything which
he could take with him; however, he found nothing but an old cheese, and
that he put in his pocket. In front of the door he observed a bird which had
caught itself in the thicket. It had to go into his pocket with the cheese. Now
he took to the road boldly, and as he was light and nimble, he felt no
fatigue. The road led him up a mountain, and when he had reached the
highest point of it, there sat a powerful giant looking peacefully about him.
The little tailor went bravely up, spoke to him, and said: ‘Good day,
comrade, so you are sitting there overlooking the wide-spread world! I am
just on my way thither, and want to try my luck. Have you any inclination
to go with me?’ The giant looked contemptuously at the tailor, and said:
‘You ragamuffin! You miserable creature!’
‘Oh, indeed?’ answered the little tailor, and unbuttoned his coat, and
showed the giant the girdle, ‘there may you read what kind of a man I am!’
The giant read: ‘Seven at one stroke,’ and thought that they had been men
whom the tailor had killed, and began to feel a little respect for the tiny
fellow. Nevertheless, he wished to try him first, and took a stone in his hand
and squeezed it together so that water dropped out of it. ‘Do that likewise,’
said the giant, ‘if you have strength.’ ‘Is that all?’ said the tailor, ‘that is
child’s play with us!’ and put his hand into his pocket, brought out the soft
cheese, and pressed it until the liquid ran out of it. ‘Faith,’ said he, ‘that was
a little better, wasn’t it?’ The giant did not know what to say, and could not
believe it of the little man. Then the giant picked up a stone and threw it so
high that the eye could scarcely follow it. ‘Now, little mite of a man, do that
likewise,’ ‘Well thrown,’ said the tailor, ‘but after all the stone came down
to earth again; I will throw you one which shall never come back at all,’ and
he put his hand into his pocket, took out the bird, and threw it into the air.
The bird, delighted with its liberty, rose, flew away and did not come back.
‘How does that shot please you, comrade?’ asked the tailor. ‘You can
certainly throw,’ said the giant, ‘but now we will see if you are able to carry
anything properly.’ He took the little tailor to a mighty oak tree which lay
there felled on the ground, and said: ‘If you are strong enough, help me to
carry the tree out of the forest.’ ‘Readily,’ answered the little man; ‘take you
the trunk on your shoulders, and I will raise up the branches and twigs; after

all, they are the heaviest.’ The giant took the trunk on his shoulder, but the
tailor seated himself on a branch, and the giant, who could not look round,
had to carry away the whole tree, and the little tailor into the bargain: he
behind, was quite merry and happy, and whistled the song: ‘Three tailors
rode forth from the gate,’ as if carrying the tree were child’s play. The giant,
after he had dragged the heavy burden part of the way, could go no further,
and cried: ‘Hark you, I shall have to let the tree fall!’ The tailor sprang
nimbly down, seized the tree with both arms as if he had been carrying it,
and said to the giant: ‘You are such a great fellow, and yet cannot even
carry the tree!’
They went on together, and as they passed a cherry-tree, the giant laid
hold of the top of the tree where the ripest fruit was hanging, bent it down,
gave it into the tailor’s hand, and bade him eat. But the little tailor was
much too weak to hold the tree, and when the giant let it go, it sprang back
again, and the tailor was tossed into the air with it. When he had fallen
down again without injury, the giant said: ‘What is this? Have you not
strength enough to hold the weak twig?’ ‘There is no lack of strength,’
answered the little tailor. ‘Do you think that could be anything to a man
who has struck down seven at one blow? I leapt over the tree because the
huntsmen are shooting down there in the thicket. Jump as I did, if you can
do it.’ The giant made the attempt but he could not get over the tree, and
remained hanging in the branches, so that in this also the tailor kept the
upper hand.
The giant said: ‘If you are such a valiant fellow, come with me into our
cavern and spend the night with us.’ The little tailor was willing, and
followed him. When they went into the cave, other giants were sitting there
by the fire, and each of them had a roasted sheep in his hand and was eating
it. The little tailor looked round and thought: ‘It is much more spacious here
than in my workshop.’ The giant showed him a bed, and said he was to lie
down in it and sleep. The bed, however, was too big for the little tailor; he
did not lie down in it, but crept into a corner. When it was midnight, and the
giant thought that the little tailor was lying in a sound sleep, he got up, took
a great iron bar, cut through the bed with one blow, and thought he had
finished off the grasshopper for good. With the earliest dawn the giants
went into the forest, and had quite forgotten the little tailor, when all at once
he walked up to them quite merrily and boldly. The giants were terrified,

they were afraid that he would strike them all dead, and ran away in a great
hurry.
The little tailor went onwards, always following his own pointed nose.
After he had walked for a long time, he came to the courtyard of a royal
palace, and as he felt weary, he lay down on the grass and fell asleep.
Whilst he lay there, the people came and inspected him on all sides, and
read on his girdle: ‘Seven at one stroke.’ ‘Ah!’ said they, ‘what does the
great warrior want here in the midst of peace? He must be a mighty lord.’
They went and announced him to the king, and gave it as their opinion that
if war should break out, this would be a weighty and useful man who ought
on no account to be allowed to depart. The counsel pleased the king, and he
sent one of his courtiers to the little tailor to offer him military service when
he awoke. The ambassador remained standing by the sleeper, waited until
he stretched his limbs and opened his eyes, and then conveyed to him this
proposal. ‘For this very reason have I come here,’ the tailor replied, ‘I am
ready to enter the king’s service.’ He was therefore honourably received,
and a special dwelling was assigned him.
The soldiers, however, were set against the little tailor, and wished him a
thousand miles away. ‘What is to be the end of this?’ they said among
themselves. ‘If we quarrel with him, and he strikes about him, seven of us
will fall at every blow; not one of us can stand against him.’ They came
therefore to a decision, betook themselves in a body to the king, and begged
for their dismissal. ‘We are not prepared,’ said they, ‘to stay with a man who
kills seven at one stroke.’ The king was sorry that for the sake of one he
should lose all his faithful servants, wished that he had never set eyes on the
tailor, and would willingly have been rid of him again. But he did not
venture to give him his dismissal, for he dreaded lest he should strike him
and all his people dead, and place himself on the royal throne. He thought
about it for a long time, and at last found good counsel. He sent to the little
tailor and caused him to be informed that as he was a great warrior, he had
one request to make to him. In a forest of his country lived two giants, who
caused great mischief with their robbing, murdering, ravaging, and burning,
and no one could approach them without putting himself in danger of death.
If the tailor conquered and killed these two giants, he would give him his
only daughter to wife, and half of his kingdom as a dowry, likewise one
hundred horsemen should go with him to assist him. ‘That would indeed be
a fine thing for a man like me!’ thought the little tailor. ‘One is not offered a

beautiful princess and half a kingdom every day of one’s life!’ ‘Oh, yes,’ he
replied, ‘I will soon subdue the giants, and do not require the help of the
hundred horsemen to do it; he who can hit seven with one blow has no need
to be afraid of two.’
The little tailor went forth, and the hundred horsemen followed him.
When he came to the outskirts of the forest, he said to his followers: ‘Just
stay waiting here, I alone will soon finish off the giants.’ Then he bounded
into the forest and looked about right and left. After a while he perceived
both giants. They lay sleeping under a tree, and snored so that the branches
waved up and down. The little tailor, not idle, gathered two pocketsful of
stones, and with these climbed up the tree. When he was halfway up, he
slipped down by a branch, until he sat just above the sleepers, and then let
one stone after another fall on the breast of one of the giants. For a long
time the giant felt nothing, but at last he awoke, pushed his comrade, and
said: ‘Why are you knocking me?’ ‘You must be dreaming,’ said the other,
‘I am not knocking you.’ They laid themselves down to sleep again, and
then the tailor threw a stone down on the second. ‘What is the meaning of
this?’ cried the other ‘Why are you pelting me?’ ‘I am not pelting you,’
answered the first, growling. They disputed about it for a time, but as they
were weary they let the matter rest, and their eyes closed once more. The
little tailor began his game again, picked out the biggest stone, and threw it
with all his might on the breast of the first giant. ‘That is too bad!’ cried he,
and sprang up like a madman, and pushed his companion against the tree
until it shook. The other paid him back in the same coin, and they got into
such a rage that they tore up trees and belaboured each other so long, that at
last they both fell down dead on the ground at the same time. Then the little
tailor leapt down. ‘It is a lucky thing,’ said he, ‘that they did not tear up the
tree on which I was sitting, or I should have had to sprint on to another like
a squirrel; but we tailors are nimble.’ He drew out his sword and gave each
of them a couple of thrusts in the breast, and then went out to the horsemen
and said: ‘The work is done; I have finished both of them off, but it was
hard work! They tore up trees in their sore need, and defended themselves
with them, but all that is to no purpose when a man like myself comes, who
can kill seven at one blow.’ ‘But are you not wounded?’ asked the
horsemen. ‘You need not concern yourself about that,’ answered the tailor,
‘they have not bent one hair of mine.’ The horsemen would not believe him,

and rode into the forest; there they found the giants swimming in their
blood, and all round about lay the torn-up trees.
The little tailor demanded of the king the promised reward; he, however,
repented of his promise, and again bethought himself how he could get rid
of the hero. ‘Before you receive my daughter, and the half of my kingdom,’
said he to him, ‘you must perform one more heroic deed. In the forest
roams a unicorn which does great harm, and you must catch it first.’ ‘I fear
one unicorn still less than two giants. Seven at one blow, is my kind of
affair.’ He took a rope and an axe with him, went forth into the forest, and
again bade those who were sent with him to wait outside. He had not long
to seek. The unicorn soon came towards him, and rushed directly on the
tailor, as if it would gore him with its horn without more ado. ‘Softly, softly;
it can’t be done as quickly as that,’ said he, and stood still and waited until
the animal was quite close, and then sprang nimbly behind the tree. The
unicorn ran against the tree with all its strength, and stuck its horn so fast in
the trunk that it had not the strength enough to draw it out again, and thus it
was caught. ‘Now, I have got the bird,’ said the tailor, and came out from
behind the tree and put the rope round its neck, and then with his axe he
hewed the horn out of the tree, and when all was ready he led the beast
away and took it to the king.
The king still would not give him the promised reward, and made a third
demand. Before the wedding the tailor was to catch him a wild boar that
made great havoc in the forest, and the huntsmen should give him their
help. ‘Willingly,’ said the tailor, ‘that is child’s play!’ He did not take the
huntsmen with him into the forest, and they were well pleased that he did
not, for the wild boar had several times received them in such a manner that
they had no inclination to lie in wait for him. When the boar perceived the
tailor, it ran on him with foaming mouth and whetted tusks, and was about
to throw him to the ground, but the hero fled and sprang into a chapel which
was near and up to the window at once, and in one bound out again. The
boar ran after him, but the tailor ran round outside and shut the door behind
it, and then the raging beast, which was much too heavy and awkward to
leap out of the window, was caught. The little tailor called the huntsmen
thither that they might see the prisoner with their own eyes. The hero,
however, went to the king, who was now, whether he liked it or not, obliged
to keep his promise, and gave his daughter and the half of his kingdom. Had
he known that it was no warlike hero, but a little tailor who was standing

before him, it would have gone to his heart still more than it did. The
wedding was held with great magnificence and small joy, and out of a tailor
a king was made.
After some time the young queen heard her husband say in his dreams at
night: ‘Boy, make me the doublet, and patch the pantaloons, or else I will
rap the yard-measure over your ears.’ Then she discovered in what state of
life the young lord had been born, and next morning complained of her
wrongs to her father, and begged him to help her to get rid of her husband,
who was nothing else but a tailor. The king comforted her and said: ‘Leave
your bedroom door open this night, and my servants shall stand outside, and
when he has fallen asleep shall go in, bind him, and take him on board a
ship which shall carry him into the wide world.’ The woman was satisfied
with this; but the king’s armour-bearer, who had heard all, was friendly with
the young lord, and informed him of the whole plot. ‘I’ll put a screw into
that business,’ said the little tailor. At night he went to bed with his wife at
the usual time, and when she thought that he had fallen asleep, she got up,
opened the door, and then lay down again. The little tailor, who was only
pretending to be asleep, began to cry out in a clear voice: ‘Boy, make me
the doublet and patch me the pantaloons, or I will rap the yard-measure
over your ears. I smote seven at one blow. I killed two giants, I brought
away one unicorn, and caught a wild boar, and am I to fear those who are
standing outside the room.’ When these men heard the tailor speaking thus,
they were overcome by a great dread, and ran as if the wild huntsman were
behind them, and none of them would venture anything further against him.
So the little tailor was and remained a king to the end of his life.

HANSEL AND GRETEL

Hard by a great forest dwelt a poor wood-cutter with his wife and his two
children. The boy was called Hansel and the girl Gretel. He had little to bite
and to break, and once when great dearth fell on the land, he could no
longer procure even daily bread. Now when he thought over this by night in
his bed, and tossed about in his anxiety, he groaned and said to his wife:
‘What is to become of us? How are we to feed our poor children, when we
no longer have anything even for ourselves?’ ‘I’ll tell you what, husband,’
answered the woman, ‘early tomorrow morning we will take the children
out into the forest to where it is the thickest; there we will light a fire for
them, and give each of them one more piece of bread, and then we will go
to our work and leave them alone. They will not find the way home again,
and we shall be rid of them.’ ‘No, wife,’ said the man, ‘I will not do that;
how can I bear to leave my children alone in the forest?—the wild animals
would soon come and tear them to pieces.’ ‘O, you fool!’ said she, ‘then we
must all four die of hunger, you may as well plane the planks for our
coffins,’ and she left him no peace until he consented. ‘But I feel very sorry
for the poor children, all the same,’ said the man.
The two children had also not been able to sleep for hunger, and had
heard what their stepmother had said to their father. Gretel wept bitter tears,
and said to Hansel: ‘Now all is over with us.’ ‘Be quiet, Gretel,’ said
Hansel, ‘do not distress yourself, I will soon find a way to help us.’ And
when the old folks had fallen asleep, he got up, put on his little coat, opened
the door below, and crept outside. The moon shone brightly, and the white
pebbles which lay in front of the house glittered like real silver pennies.
Hansel stooped and stuffed the little pocket of his coat with as many as he
could get in. Then he went back and said to Gretel: ‘Be comforted, dear
little sister, and sleep in peace, God will not forsake us,’ and he lay down
again in his bed. When day dawned, but before the sun had risen, the
woman came and awoke the two children, saying: ‘Get up, you sluggards!

we are going into the forest to fetch wood.’ She gave each a little piece of
bread, and said: ‘There is something for your dinner, but do not eat it up
before then, for you will get nothing else.’ Gretel took the bread under her
apron, as Hansel had the pebbles in his pocket. Then they all set out
together on the way to the forest. When they had walked a short time,
Hansel stood still and peeped back at the house, and did so again and again.
His father said: ‘Hansel, what are you looking at there and staying behind
for? Pay attention, and do not forget how to use your legs.’ ‘Ah, father,’ said
Hansel, ‘I am looking at my little white cat, which is sitting up on the roof,
and wants to say goodbye to me.’ The wife said: ‘Fool, that is not your little
cat, that is the morning sun which is shining on the chimneys.’ Hansel,
however, had not been looking back at the cat, but had been constantly
throwing one of the white pebble-stones out of his pocket on the road.
When they had reached the middle of the forest, the father said: ‘Now,
children, pile up some wood, and I will light a fire that you may not be
cold.’ Hansel and Gretel gathered brushwood together, as high as a little
hill. The brushwood was lighted, and when the flames were burning very
high, the woman said: ‘Now, children, lay yourselves down by the fire and
rest, we will go into the forest and cut some wood. When we have done, we
will come back and fetch you away.’
Hansel and Gretel sat by the fire, and when noon came, each ate a little
piece of bread, and as they heard the strokes of the wood-axe they believed
that their father was near. It was not the axe, however, but a branch which
he had fastened to a withered tree which the wind was blowing backwards
and forwards. And as they had been sitting such a long time, their eyes
closed with fatigue, and they fell fast asleep. When at last they awoke, it
was already dark night. Gretel began to cry and said: ‘How are we to get
out of the forest now?’ But Hansel comforted her and said: ‘Just wait a
little, until the moon has risen, and then we will soon find the way.’ And
when the full moon had risen, Hansel took his little sister by the hand, and
followed the pebbles which shone like newly-coined silver pieces, and
showed them the way.
They walked the whole night long, and by break of day came once more
to their father’s house. They knocked at the door, and when the woman
opened it and saw that it was Hansel and Gretel, she said: ‘You naughty
children, why have you slept so long in the forest?—we thought you were

never coming back at all!’ The father, however, rejoiced, for it had cut him
to the heart to leave them behind alone.
Not long afterwards, there was once more great dearth throughout the
land, and the children heard their mother saying at night to their father:
‘Everything is eaten again, we have one half loaf left, and that is the end.
The children must go, we will take them farther into the wood, so that they
will not find their way out again; there is no other means of saving
ourselves!’ The man’s heart was heavy, and he thought: ‘It would be better
for you to share the last mouthful with your children.’ The woman,
however, would listen to nothing that he had to say, but scolded and
reproached him. He who says A must say B, likewise, and as he had yielded
the first time, he had to do so a second time also.
The children, however, were still awake and had heard the conversation.
When the old folks were asleep, Hansel again got up, and wanted to go out
and pick up pebbles as he had done before, but the woman had locked the
door, and Hansel could not get out. Nevertheless he comforted his little
sister, and said: ‘Do not cry, Gretel, go to sleep quietly, the good God will
help us.’
Early in the morning came the woman, and took the children out of their
beds. Their piece of bread was given to them, but it was still smaller than
the time before. On the way into the forest Hansel crumbled his in his
pocket, and often stood still and threw a morsel on the ground. ‘Hansel,
why do you stop and look round?’ said the father, ‘go on.’ ‘I am looking
back at my little pigeon which is sitting on the roof, and wants to say
goodbye to me,’ answered Hansel. ‘Fool!’ said the woman, ‘that is not your
little pigeon, that is the morning sun that is shining on the chimney.’ Hansel,
however little by little, threw all the crumbs on the path.
The woman led the children still deeper into the forest, where they had
never in their lives been before. Then a great fire was again made, and the
mother said: ‘Just sit there, you children, and when you are tired you may
sleep a little; we are going into the forest to cut wood, and in the evening
when we are done, we will come and fetch you away.’ When it was noon,
Gretel shared her piece of bread with Hansel, who had scattered his by the
way. Then they fell asleep and evening passed, but no one came to the poor
children. They did not awake until it was dark night, and Hansel comforted
his little sister and said: ‘Just wait, Gretel, until the moon rises, and then we

shall see the crumbs of bread which I have strewn about, they will show us
our way home again.’ When the moon came they set out, but they found no
crumbs, for the many thousands of birds which fly about in the woods and
fields had picked them all up. Hansel said to Gretel: ‘We shall soon find the
way,’ but they did not find it. They walked the whole night and all the next
day too from morning till evening, but they did not get out of the forest, and
were very hungry, for they had nothing to eat but two or three berries,
which grew on the ground. And as they were so weary that their legs would
carry them no longer, they lay down beneath a tree and fell asleep.
It was now three mornings since they had left their father’s house. They
began to walk again, but they always came deeper into the forest, and if
help did not come soon, they must die of hunger and weariness. When it
was mid-day, they saw a beautiful snow-white bird sitting on a bough,
which sang so delightfully that they stood still and listened to it. And when
its song was over, it spread its wings and flew away before them, and they
followed it until they reached a little house, on the roof of which it alighted;
and when they approached the little house they saw that it was built of
bread and covered with cakes, but that the windows were of clear sugar.
‘We will set to work on that,’ said Hansel, ‘and have a good meal. I will eat
a bit of the roof, and you Gretel, can eat some of the window, it will taste
sweet.’ Hansel reached up above, and broke off a little of the roof to try
how it tasted, and Gretel leant against the window and nibbled at the panes.
Then a soft voice cried from the parlour:

‘Nibble, nibble, gnaw,
Who is nibbling at my little house?’

The children answered:

‘The wind, the wind,
The heaven-born wind,’

and went on eating without disturbing themselves. Hansel, who liked the
taste of the roof, tore down a great piece of it, and Gretel pushed out the
whole of one round window-pane, sat down, and enjoyed herself with it.
Suddenly the door opened, and a woman as old as the hills, who supported
herself on crutches, came creeping out. Hansel and Gretel were so terribly
frightened that they let fall what they had in their hands. The old woman,
however, nodded her head, and said: ‘Oh, you dear children, who has

brought you here? do come in, and stay with me. No harm shall happen to
you.’ She took them both by the hand, and led them into her little house.
Then good food was set before them, milk and pancakes, with sugar, apples,
and nuts. Afterwards two pretty little beds were covered with clean white
linen, and Hansel and Gretel lay down in them, and thought they were in
heaven.
The old woman had only pretended to be so kind; she was in reality a
wicked witch, who lay in wait for children, and had only built the little
house of bread in order to entice them there. When a child fell into her
power, she killed it, cooked and ate it, and that was a feast day with her.
Witches have red eyes, and cannot see far, but they have a keen scent like
the beasts, and are aware when human beings draw near. When Hansel and
Gretel came into her neighbourhood, she laughed with malice, and said
mockingly: ‘I have them, they shall not escape me again!’ Early in the
morning before the children were awake, she was already up, and when she
saw both of them sleeping and looking so pretty, with their plump and rosy
cheeks she muttered to herself: ‘That will be a dainty mouthful!’ Then she
seized Hansel with her shrivelled hand, carried him into a little stable, and
locked him in behind a grated door. Scream as he might, it would not help
him. Then she went to Gretel, shook her till she awoke, and cried: ‘Get up,
lazy thing, fetch some water, and cook something good for your brother, he
is in the stable outside, and is to be made fat. When he is fat, I will eat him.’
Gretel began to weep bitterly, but it was all in vain, for she was forced to do
what the wicked witch commanded.
And now the best food was cooked for poor Hansel, but Gretel got
nothing but crab-shells. Every morning the woman crept to the little stable,
and cried: ‘Hansel, stretch out your finger that I may feel if you will soon
be fat.’ Hansel, however, stretched out a little bone to her, and the old
woman, who had dim eyes, could not see it, and thought it was Hansel’s
finger, and was astonished that there was no way of fattening him. When
four weeks had gone by, and Hansel still remained thin, she was seized with
impatience and would not wait any longer. ‘Now, then, Gretel,’ she cried to
the girl, ‘stir yourself, and bring some water. Let Hansel be fat or lean,
tomorrow I will kill him, and cook him.’ Ah, how the poor little sister did
lament when she had to fetch the water, and how her tears did flow down
her cheeks! ‘Dear God, do help us,’ she cried. ‘If the wild beasts in the

forest had but devoured us, we should at any rate have died together.’ ‘Just
keep your noise to yourself,’ said the old woman, ‘it won’t help you at all.’
Early in the morning, Gretel had to go out and hang up the cauldron with
the water, and light the fire. ‘We will bake first,’ said the old woman, ‘I
have already heated the oven, and kneaded the dough.’ She pushed poor
Gretel out to the oven, from which flames of fire were already darting.
‘Creep in,’ said the witch, ‘and see if it is properly heated, so that we can
put the bread in.’ And once Gretel was inside, she intended to shut the oven
and let her bake in it, and then she would eat her, too. But Gretel saw what
she had in mind, and said: ‘I do not know how I am to do it; how do I get
in?’ ‘Silly goose,’ said the old woman. ‘The door is big enough; just look, I
can get in myself!’ and she crept up and thrust her head into the oven. Then
Gretel gave her a push that drove her far into it, and shut the iron door, and
fastened the bolt. Oh! then she began to howl quite horribly, but Gretel ran
away and the godless witch was miserably burnt to death.
Gretel, however, ran like lightning to Hansel, opened his little stable, and
cried: ‘Hansel, we are saved! The old witch is dead!’ Then Hansel sprang
like a bird from its cage when the door is opened. How they did rejoice and
embrace each other, and dance about and kiss each other! And as they had
no longer any need to fear her, they went into the witch’s house, and in
every corner there stood chests full of pearls and jewels. ‘These are far
better than pebbles!’ said Hansel, and thrust into his pockets whatever could
be got in, and Gretel said: ‘I, too, will take something home with me,’ and
filled her pinafore full. ‘But now we must be off,’ said Hansel, ‘that we may
get out of the witch’s forest.’
When they had walked for two hours, they came to a great stretch of
water. ‘We cannot cross,’ said Hansel, ‘I see no foot-plank, and no bridge.’
‘And there is also no ferry,’ answered Gretel, ‘but a white duck is
swimming there: if I ask her, she will help us over.’ Then she cried:

‘Little duck, little duck, dost thou see,
Hansel and Gretel are waiting for thee?
There’s never a plank, or bridge in sight,
Take us across on thy back so white.’

The duck came to them, and Hansel seated himself on its back, and told
his sister to sit by him. ‘No,’ replied Gretel, ‘that will be too heavy for the
little duck; she shall take us across, one after the other.’ The good little duck

did so, and when they were once safely across and had walked for a short
time, the forest seemed to be more and more familiar to them, and at length
they saw from afar their father’s house. Then they began to run, rushed into
the parlour, and threw themselves round their father’s neck. The man had
not known one happy hour since he had left the children in the forest; the
woman, however, was dead. Gretel emptied her pinafore until pearls and
precious stones ran about the room, and Hansel threw one handful after
another out of his pocket to add to them. Then all anxiety was at an end, and
they lived together in perfect happiness. My tale is done, there runs a
mouse; whosoever catches it, may make himself a big fur cap out of it.

THE MOUSE, THE BIRD, AND THE SAUSAGE

Once upon a time, a mouse, a bird, and a sausage, entered into
partnership and set up house together. For a long time all went well; they
lived in great comfort, and prospered so far as to be able to add
considerably to their stores. The bird’s duty was to fly daily into the wood
and bring in fuel; the mouse fetched the water, and the sausage saw to the
cooking.
When people are too well off they always begin to long for something
new. And so it came to pass, that the bird, while out one day, met a fellow
bird, to whom he boastfully expatiated on the excellence of his household
arrangements. But the other bird sneered at him for being a poor simpleton,
who did all the hard work, while the other two stayed at home and had a
good time of it. For, when the mouse had made the fire and fetched in the
water, she could retire into her little room and rest until it was time to set
the table. The sausage had only to watch the pot to see that the food was
properly cooked, and when it was near dinner-time, he just threw himself
into the broth, or rolled in and out among the vegetables three or four times,
and there they were, buttered, and salted, and ready to be served. Then,
when the bird came home and had laid aside his burden, they sat down to
table, and when they had finished their meal, they could sleep their fill till
the following morning: and that was really a very delightful life.
Influenced by those remarks, the bird next morning refused to bring in
the wood, telling the others that he had been their servant long enough, and
had been a fool into the bargain, and that it was now time to make a change,
and to try some other way of arranging the work. Beg and pray as the
mouse and the sausage might, it was of no use; the bird remained master of
the situation, and the venture had to be made. They therefore drew lots, and
it fell to the sausage to bring in the wood, to the mouse to cook, and to the
bird to fetch the water.

And now what happened? The sausage started in search of wood, the bird
made the fire, and the mouse put on the pot, and then these two waited till
the sausage returned with the fuel for the following day. But the sausage
remained so long away, that they became uneasy, and the bird flew out to
meet him. He had not flown far, however, when he came across a dog who,
having met the sausage, had regarded him as his legitimate booty, and so
seized and swallowed him. The bird complained to the dog of this bare-
faced robbery, but nothing he said was of any avail, for the dog answered
that he found false credentials on the sausage, and that was the reason his
life had been forfeited.
He picked up the wood, and flew sadly home, and told the mouse all he
had seen and heard. They were both very unhappy, but agreed to make the
best of things and to remain with one another.
So now the bird set the table, and the mouse looked after the food and,
wishing to prepare it in the same way as the sausage, by rolling in and out
among the vegetables to salt and butter them, she jumped into the pot; but
she stopped short long before she reached the bottom, having already parted
not only with her skin and hair, but also with life.
Presently the bird came in and wanted to serve up the dinner, but he
could nowhere see the cook. In his alarm and flurry, he threw the wood here
and there about the floor, called and searched, but no cook was to be found.
Then some of the wood that had been carelessly thrown down, caught fire
and began to blaze. The bird hastened to fetch some water, but his pail fell
into the well, and he after it, and as he was unable to recover himself, he
was drowned.

MOTHER HOLLE

Once upon a time there was a widow who had two daughters; one of
them was beautiful and industrious, the other ugly and lazy. The mother,
however, loved the ugly and lazy one best, because she was her own
daughter, and so the other, who was only her stepdaughter, was made to do
all the work of the house, and was quite the Cinderella of the family. Her
stepmother sent her out every day to sit by the well in the high road, there to
spin until she made her fingers bleed. Now it chanced one day that some
blood fell on to the spindle, and as the girl stopped over the well to wash it
off, the spindle suddenly sprang out of her hand and fell into the well. She
ran home crying to tell of her misfortune, but her stepmother spoke harshly
to her, and after giving her a violent scolding, said unkindly, ‘As you have
let the spindle fall into the well you may go yourself and fetch it out.’
The girl went back to the well not knowing what to do, and at last in her
distress she jumped into the water after the spindle.
She remembered nothing more until she awoke and found herself in a
beautiful meadow, full of sunshine, and with countless flowers blooming in
every direction.
She walked over the meadow, and presently she came upon a baker’s
oven full of bread, and the loaves cried out to her, ‘Take us out, take us out,
or alas! we shall be burnt to a cinder; we were baked through long ago.’ So
she took the bread-shovel and drew them all out.
She went on a little farther, till she came to a tree full of apples. ‘Shake
me, shake me, I pray,’ cried the tree; ‘my apples, one and all, are ripe.’ So
she shook the tree, and the apples came falling down upon her like rain; but
she continued shaking until there was not a single apple left upon it. Then
she carefully gathered the apples together in a heap and walked on again.
The next thing she came to was a little house, and there she saw an old
woman looking out, with such large teeth, that she was terrified, and turned

to run away. But the old woman called after her, ‘What are you afraid of,
dear child? Stay with me; if you will do the work of my house properly for
me, I will make you very happy. You must be very careful, however, to
make my bed in the right way, for I wish you always to shake it thoroughly,
so that the feathers fly about; then they say, down there in the world, that it
is snowing; for I am Mother Holle.’ The old woman spoke so kindly, that
the girl summoned up courage and agreed to enter into her service.
She took care to do everything according to the old woman’s bidding and
every time she made the bed she shook it with all her might, so that the
feathers flew about like so many snowflakes. The old woman was as good
as her word: she never spoke angrily to her, and gave her roast and boiled
meats every day.
So she stayed on with Mother Holle for some time, and then she began to
grow unhappy. She could not at first tell why she felt sad, but she became
conscious at last of great longing to go home; then she knew she was
homesick, although she was a thousand times better off with Mother Holle
than with her mother and sister. After waiting awhile, she went to Mother
Holle and said, ‘I am so homesick, that I cannot stay with you any longer,
for although I am so happy here, I must return to my own people.’
Then Mother Holle said, ‘I am pleased that you should want to go back to
your own people, and as you have served me so well and faithfully, I will
take you home myself.’
Thereupon she led the girl by the hand up to a broad gateway. The gate
was opened, and as the girl passed through, a shower of gold fell upon her,
and the gold clung to her, so that she was covered with it from head to foot.
‘That is a reward for your industry,’ said Mother Holle, and as she spoke
she handed her the spindle which she had dropped into the well.
The gate was then closed, and the girl found herself back in the old world
close to her mother’s house. As she entered the courtyard, the cock who was
perched on the well, called out:

‘Cock-a-doodle-doo!
Your golden daughter’s come back to you.’

Then she went in to her mother and sister, and as she was so richly
covered with gold, they gave her a warm welcome. She related to them all
that had happened, and when the mother heard how she had come by her

great riches, she thought she should like her ugly, lazy daughter to go and
try her fortune. So she made the sister go and sit by the well and spin, and
the girl pricked her finger and thrust her hand into a thorn-bush, so that she
might drop some blood on to the spindle; then she threw it into the well,
and jumped in herself.
Like her sister she awoke in the beautiful meadow, and walked over it till
she came to the oven. ‘Take us out, take us out, or alas! we shall be burnt to
a cinder; we were baked through long ago,’ cried the loaves as before. But
the lazy girl answered, ‘Do you think I am going to dirty my hands for
you?’ and walked on.
Presently she came to the apple-tree. ‘Shake me, shake me, I pray; my
apples, one and all, are ripe,’ it cried. But she only answered, ‘A nice thing
to ask me to do, one of the apples might fall on my head,’ and passed on.
At last she came to Mother Holle’s house, and as she had heard all about
the large teeth from her sister, she was not afraid of them, and engaged
herself without delay to the old woman.
The first day she was very obedient and industrious, and exerted herself
to please Mother Holle, for she thought of the gold she should get in return.
The next day, however, she began to dawdle over her work, and the third
day she was more idle still; then she began to lie in bed in the mornings and
refused to get up. Worse still, she neglected to make the old woman’s bed
properly, and forgot to shake it so that the feathers might fly about. So
Mother Holle very soon got tired of her, and told her she might go. The lazy
girl was delighted at this, and thought to herself, ‘The gold will soon be
mine.’ Mother Holle led her, as she had led her sister, to the broad gateway;
but as she was passing through, instead of the shower of gold, a great
bucketful of pitch came pouring over her.
‘That is in return for your services,’ said the old woman, and she shut the
gate.
So the lazy girl had to go home covered with pitch, and the cock on the
well called out as she saw her:

‘Cock-a-doodle-doo!
Your dirty daughter’s come back to you.’

But, try what she would, she could not get the pitch off and it stuck to her
as long as she lived.

LITTLE RED-CAP [LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD]

Once upon a time there was a dear little girl who was loved by everyone
who looked at her, but most of all by her grandmother, and there was
nothing that she would not have given to the child. Once she gave her a
little cap of red velvet, which suited her so well that she would never wear
anything else; so she was always called ‘Little Red-Cap.’
One day her mother said to her: ‘Come, Little Red-Cap, here is a piece of
cake and a bottle of wine; take them to your grandmother, she is ill and
weak, and they will do her good. Set out before it gets hot, and when you
are going, walk nicely and quietly and do not run off the path, or you may
fall and break the bottle, and then your grandmother will get nothing; and
when you go into her room, don’t forget to say, “Good morning”, and don’t
peep into every corner before you do it.’
‘I will take great care,’ said Little Red-Cap to her mother, and gave her
hand on it.
The grandmother lived out in the wood, half a league from the village,
and just as Little Red-Cap entered the wood, a wolf met her. Red-Cap did
not know what a wicked creature he was, and was not at all afraid of him.
‘Good day, Little Red-Cap,’ said he.
‘Thank you kindly, wolf.’
‘Whither away so early, Little Red-Cap?’
‘To my grandmother’s.’
‘What have you got in your apron?’
‘Cake and wine; yesterday was baking-day, so poor sick grandmother is
to have something good, to make her stronger.’
‘Where does your grandmother live, Little Red-Cap?’
‘A good quarter of a league farther on in the wood; her house stands
under the three large oak-trees, the nut-trees are just below; you surely must

know it,’ replied Little Red-Cap.
The wolf thought to himself: ‘What a tender young creature! what a nice
plump mouthful—she will be better to eat than the old woman. I must act
craftily, so as to catch both.’ So he walked for a short time by the side of
Little Red-Cap, and then he said: ‘See, Little Red-Cap, how pretty the
flowers are about here—why do you not look round? I believe, too, that you
do not hear how sweetly the little birds are singing; you walk gravely along
as if you were going to school, while everything else out here in the wood is
merry.’
Little Red-Cap raised her eyes, and when she saw the sunbeams dancing
here and there through the trees, and pretty flowers growing everywhere,
she thought: ‘Suppose I take grandmother a fresh nosegay; that would
please her too. It is so early in the day that I shall still get there in good
time’; and so she ran from the path into the wood to look for flowers. And
whenever she had picked one, she fancied that she saw a still prettier one
farther on, and ran after it, and so got deeper and deeper into the wood.
Meanwhile the wolf ran straight to the grandmother’s house and knocked
at the door.
‘Who is there?’
‘Little Red-Cap,’ replied the wolf. ‘She is bringing cake and wine; open
the door.’
‘Lift the latch,’ called out the grandmother, ‘I am too weak, and cannot
get up.’
The wolf lifted the latch, the door sprang open, and without saying a
word he went straight to the grandmother’s bed, and devoured her. Then he
put on her clothes, dressed himself in her cap laid himself in bed and drew
the curtains.
Little Red-Cap, however, had been running about picking flowers, and
when she had gathered so many that she could carry no more, she
remembered her grandmother, and set out on the way to her.
She was surprised to find the cottage-door standing open, and when she
went into the room, she had such a strange feeling that she said to herself:
‘Oh dear! how uneasy I feel today, and at other times I like being with
grandmother so much.’ She called out: ‘Good morning,’ but received no
answer; so she went to the bed and drew back the curtains. There lay her

grandmother with her cap pulled far over her face, and looking very
strange.
‘Oh! grandmother,’ she said, ‘what big ears you have!’
‘The better to hear you with, my child,’ was the reply.
‘But, grandmother, what big eyes you have!’ she said.
‘The better to see you with, my dear.’
‘But, grandmother, what large hands you have!’
‘The better to hug you with.’
‘Oh! but, grandmother, what a terrible big mouth you have!’
‘The better to eat you with!’
And scarcely had the wolf said this, than with one bound he was out of
bed and swallowed up Red-Cap.
When the wolf had appeased his appetite, he lay down again in the bed,
fell asleep and began to snore very loud. The huntsman was just passing the
house, and thought to himself: ‘How the old woman is snoring! I must just
see if she wants anything.’ So he went into the room, and when he came to
the bed, he saw that the wolf was lying in it. ‘Do I find you here, you old
sinner!’ said he. ‘I have long sought you!’ Then just as he was going to fire
at him, it occurred to him that the wolf might have devoured the
grandmother, and that she might still be saved, so he did not fire, but took a
pair of scissors, and began to cut open the stomach of the sleeping wolf.
When he had made two snips, he saw the little Red-Cap shining, and then
he made two snips more, and the little girl sprang out, crying: ‘Ah, how
frightened I have been! How dark it was inside the wolf’; and after that the
aged grandmother came out alive also, but scarcely able to breathe. Red-
Cap, however, quickly fetched great stones with which they filled the wolf’s
belly, and when he awoke, he wanted to run away, but the stones were so
heavy that he collapsed at once, and fell dead.
Then all three were delighted. The huntsman drew off the wolf’s skin and
went home with it; the grandmother ate the cake and drank the wine which
Red-Cap had brought, and revived, but Red-Cap thought to herself: ‘As
long as I live, I will never by myself leave the path, to run into the wood,
when my mother has forbidden me to do so.’

It also related that once when Red-Cap was again taking cakes to the old
grandmother, another wolf spoke to her, and tried to entice her from the
path. Red-Cap, however, was on her guard, and went straight forward on
her way, and told her grandmother that she had met the wolf, and that he
had said ‘good morning’ to her, but with such a wicked look in his eyes, that
if they had not been on the public road she was certain he would have eaten
her up. ‘Well,’ said the grandmother, ‘we will shut the door, that he may not
come in.’ Soon afterwards the wolf knocked, and cried: ‘Open the door,
grandmother, I am Little Red-Cap, and am bringing you some cakes.’ But
they did not speak, or open the door, so the grey-beard stole twice or thrice
round the house, and at last jumped on the roof, intending to wait until Red-
Cap went home in the evening, and then to steal after her and devour her in
the darkness. But the grandmother saw what was in his thoughts. In front of
the house was a great stone trough, so she said to the child: ‘Take the pail,
Red-Cap; I made some sausages yesterday, so carry the water in which I
boiled them to the trough.’ Red-Cap carried until the great trough was quite
full. Then the smell of the sausages reached the wolf, and he sniffed and
peeped down, and at last stretched out his neck so far that he could no
longer keep his footing and began to slip, and slipped down from the roof
straight into the great trough, and was drowned. But Red-Cap went joyously
home, and no one ever did anything to harm her again.

THE ROBBER BRIDEGROOM

There was once a miller who had one beautiful daughter, and as she was
grown up, he was anxious that she should be well married and provided for.
He said to himself, ‘I will give her to the first suitable man who comes and
asks for her hand.’ Not long after a suitor appeared, and as he appeared to
be very rich and the miller could see nothing in him with which to find
fault, he betrothed his daughter to him. But the girl did not care for the man
as a girl ought to care for her betrothed husband. She did not feel that she
could trust him, and she could not look at him nor think of him without an
inward shudder. One day he said to her, ‘You have not yet paid me a visit,
although we have been betrothed for some time.’ ‘I do not know where your
house is,’ she answered. ‘My house is out there in the dark forest,’ he said.
She tried to excuse herself by saying that she would not be able to find the
way thither. Her betrothed only replied, ‘You must come and see me next
Sunday; I have already invited guests for that day, and that you may not
mistake the way, I will strew ashes along the path.’
When Sunday came, and it was time for the girl to start, a feeling of
dread came over her which she could not explain, and that she might be
able to find her path again, she filled her pockets with peas and lentils to
sprinkle on the ground as she went along. On reaching the entrance to the
forest she found the path strewed with ashes, and these she followed,
throwing down some peas on either side of her at every step she took. She
walked the whole day until she came to the deepest, darkest part of the
forest. There she saw a lonely house, looking so grim and mysterious, that it
did not please her at all. She stepped inside, but not a soul was to be seen,
and a great silence reigned throughout. Suddenly a voice cried:

‘Turn back, turn back, young maiden fair,
Linger not in this murderers’ lair.’

The girl looked up and saw that the voice came from a bird hanging in a
cage on the wall. Again it cried:

‘Turn back, turn back, young maiden fair,
Linger not in this murderers’ lair.’

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

called out, ‘Come and eat your suppers, and let the thing be till tomorrow;
the finger won’t run away.’
‘The old woman is right,’ said the robbers, and they ceased looking for
the finger and sat down.
The old woman then mixed a sleeping draught with their wine, and
before long they were all lying on the floor of the cellar, fast asleep and
snoring. As soon as the girl was assured of this, she came from behind the
cask. She was obliged to step over the bodies of the sleepers, who were
lying close together, and every moment she was filled with renewed dread
lest she should awaken them. But God helped her, so that she passed safely
over them, and then she and the old woman went upstairs, opened the door,
and hastened as fast as they could from the murderers’ den. They found the
ashes scattered by the wind, but the peas and lentils had sprouted, and
grown sufficiently above the ground, to guide them in the moonlight along
the path. All night long they walked, and it was morning before they
reached the mill. Then the girl told her father all that had happened.
The day came that had been fixed for the marriage. The bridegroom
arrived and also a large company of guests, for the miller had taken care to
invite all his friends and relations. As they sat at the feast, each guest in turn
was asked to tell a tale; the bride sat still and did not say a word.
‘And you, my love,’ said the bridegroom, turning to her, ‘is there no tale
you know? Tell us something.’
‘I will tell you a dream, then,’ said the bride. ‘I went alone through a
forest and came at last to a house; not a soul could I find within, but a bird
that was hanging in a cage on the wall cried:

‘Turn back, turn back, young maiden fair,
Linger not in this murderers’ lair.’

And again a second time it said these words.’
‘My darling, this is only a dream.’
‘I went on through the house from room to room, but they were all
empty, and everything was so grim and mysterious. At last I went down to
the cellar, and there sat a very, very old woman, who could not keep her
head still. I asked her if my betrothed lived here, and she answered, “Ah,
you poor child, you are come to a murderers’ den; your betrothed does

indeed live here, but he will kill you without mercy and afterwards cook
and eat you.”’
‘My darling, this is only a dream.’
‘The old woman hid me behind a large cask, and scarcely had she done
this when the robbers returned home, dragging a young girl along with
them. They gave her three kinds of wine to drink, white, red, and yellow,
and with that she died.’
‘My darling, this is only a dream.’
‘Then they tore off her dainty clothing, and cut her beautiful body into
pieces and sprinkled salt upon it.’
‘My darling, this is only a dream.’
‘And one of the robbers saw that there was a gold ring still left on her
finger, and as it was difficult to draw off, he took a hatchet and cut off her
finger; but the finger sprang into the air and fell behind the great cask into
my lap. And here is the finger with the ring.’ And with these words the bride
drew forth the finger and shewed it to the assembled guests.
The bridegroom, who during this recital had grown deadly pale, up and
tried to escape, but the guests seized him and held him fast. They delivered
him up to justice, and he and all his murderous band were condemned to
death for their wicked deeds.

TOM THUMB

A poor woodman sat in his cottage one night, smoking his pipe by the
fireside, while his wife sat by his side spinning. ‘How lonely it is, wife,’
said he, as he puffed out a long curl of smoke, ‘for you and me to sit here by
ourselves, without any children to play about and amuse us while other
people seem so happy and merry with their children!’ ‘What you say is very
true,’ said the wife, sighing, and turning round her wheel; ‘how happy
should I be if I had but one child! If it were ever so small—nay, if it were
no bigger than my thumb—I should be very happy, and love it dearly.’ Now
—odd as you may think it—it came to pass that this good woman’s wish
was fulfilled, just in the very way she had wished it; for, not long
afterwards, she had a little boy, who was quite healthy and strong, but was
not much bigger than my thumb. So they said, ‘Well, we cannot say we
have not got what we wished for, and, little as he is, we will love him
dearly.’ And they called him Thomas Thumb.
They gave him plenty of food, yet for all they could do he never grew
bigger, but kept just the same size as he had been when he was born. Still,
his eyes were sharp and sparkling, and he soon showed himself to be a
clever little fellow, who always knew well what he was about.
One day, as the woodman was getting ready to go into the wood to cut
fuel, he said, ‘I wish I had someone to bring the cart after me, for I want to
make haste.’ ‘Oh, father,’ cried Tom, ‘I will take care of that; the cart shall
be in the wood by the time you want it.’ Then the woodman laughed, and
said, ‘How can that be? you cannot reach up to the horse’s bridle.’ ‘Never
mind that, father,’ said Tom; ‘if my mother will only harness the horse, I
will get into his ear and tell him which way to go.’ ‘Well,’ said the father,
‘we will try for once.’
When the time came the mother harnessed the horse to the cart, and put
Tom into his ear; and as he sat there the little man told the beast how to go,
crying out, ‘Go on!’ and ‘Stop!’ as he wanted: and thus the horse went on

just as well as if the woodman had driven it himself into the wood. It
happened that as the horse was going a little too fast, and Tom was calling
out, ‘Gently! gently!’ two strangers came up. ‘What an odd thing that is!’
said one: ‘there is a cart going along, and I hear a carter talking to the horse,
but yet I can see no one.’ ‘That is queer, indeed,’ said the other; ‘let us
follow the cart, and see where it goes.’ So they went on into the wood, till at
last they came to the place where the woodman was. Then Tom Thumb,
seeing his father, cried out, ‘See, father, here I am with the cart, all right and
safe! now take me down!’ So his father took hold of the horse with one
hand, and with the other took his son out of the horse’s ear, and put him
down upon a straw, where he sat as merry as you please.
The two strangers were all this time looking on, and did not know what
to say for wonder. At last one took the other aside, and said, ‘That little
urchin will make our fortune, if we can get him, and carry him about from
town to town as a show; we must buy him.’ So they went up to the
woodman, and asked him what he would take for the little man. ‘He will be
better off,’ said they, ‘with us than with you.’ ‘I won’t sell him at all,’ said
the father; ‘my own flesh and blood is dearer to me than all the silver and
gold in the world.’ But Tom, hearing of the bargain they wanted to make,
crept up his father’s coat to his shoulder and whispered in his ear, ‘Take the
money, father, and let them have me; I’ll soon come back to you.’
So the woodman at last said he would sell Tom to the strangers for a large
piece of gold, and they paid the price. ‘Where would you like to sit?’ said
one of them. ‘Oh, put me on the rim of your hat; that will be a nice gallery
for me; I can walk about there and see the country as we go along.’ So they
did as he wished; and when Tom had taken leave of his father they took him
away with them.
They journeyed on till it began to be dusky, and then the little man said,
‘Let me get down, I’m tired.’ So the man took off his hat, and put him down
on a clod of earth, in a ploughed field by the side of the road. But Tom ran
about amongst the furrows, and at last slipped into an old mouse-hole.
‘Good night, my masters!’ said he, ‘I’m off! mind and look sharp after me
the next time.’ Then they ran at once to the place, and poked the ends of
their sticks into the mouse-hole, but all in vain; Tom only crawled farther
and farther in; and at last it became quite dark, so that they were forced to
go their way without their prize, as sulky as could be.

When Tom found they were gone, he came out of his hiding-place. ‘What
dangerous walking it is,’ said he, ‘in this ploughed field! If I were to fall
from one of these great clods, I should undoubtedly break my neck.’ At last,
by good luck, he found a large empty snail-shell. ‘This is lucky,’ said he, ‘I
can sleep here very well’; and in he crept.
Just as he was falling asleep, he heard two men passing by, chatting
together; and one said to the other, ‘How can we rob that rich parson’s
house of his silver and gold?’ ‘I’ll tell you!’ cried Tom. ‘What noise was
that?’ said the thief, frightened; ‘I’m sure I heard someone speak.’ They
stood still listening, and Tom said, ‘Take me with you, and I’ll soon show
you how to get the parson’s money.’ ‘But where are you?’ said they. ‘Look
about on the ground,’ answered he, ‘and listen where the sound comes
from.’ At last the thieves found him out, and lifted him up in their hands.
‘You little urchin!’ they said, ‘what can you do for us?’ ‘Why, I can get
between the iron window-bars of the parson’s house, and throw you out
whatever you want.’ ‘That’s a good thought,’ said the thieves; ‘come along,
we shall see what you can do.’
When they came to the parson’s house, Tom slipped through the window-
bars into the room, and then called out as loud as he could bawl, ‘Will you
have all that is here?’ At this the thieves were frightened, and said, ‘Softly,
softly! Speak low, that you may not awaken anybody.’ But Tom seemed as
if he did not understand them, and bawled out again, ‘How much will you
have? Shall I throw it all out?’ Now the cook lay in the next room; and
hearing a noise she raised herself up in her bed and listened. Meantime the
thieves were frightened, and ran off a little way; but at last they plucked up
their hearts, and said, ‘The little urchin is only trying to make fools of us.’
So they came back and whispered softly to him, saying, ‘Now let us have
no more of your roguish jokes; but throw us out some of the money.’ Then
Tom called out as loud as he could, ‘Very well! hold your hands! here it
comes.’
The cook heard this quite plain, so she sprang out of bed, and ran to open
the door. The thieves ran off as if a wolf was at their tails: and the maid,
having groped about and found nothing, went away for a light. By the time
she came back, Tom had slipped off into the barn; and when she had looked
about and searched every hole and corner, and found nobody, she went to
bed, thinking she must have been dreaming with her eyes open.

The little man crawled about in the hay-loft, and at last found a snug
place to finish his night’s rest in; so he laid himself down, meaning to sleep
till daylight, and then find his way home to his father and mother. But alas!
how woefully he was undone! what crosses and sorrows happen to us all in
this world! The cook got up early, before daybreak, to feed the cows; and
going straight to the hay-loft, carried away a large bundle of hay, with the
little man in the middle of it, fast asleep. He still, however, slept on, and did
not awake till he found himself in the mouth of the cow; for the cook had
put the hay into the cow’s rick, and the cow had taken Tom up in a mouthful
of it. ‘Good lack-a-day!’ said he, ‘how came I to tumble into the mill?’ But
he soon found out where he really was; and was forced to have all his wits
about him, that he might not get between the cow’s teeth, and so be crushed
to death. At last down he went into her stomach. ‘It is rather dark,’ said he;
‘they forgot to build windows in this room to let the sun in; a candle would
be no bad thing.’
Though he made the best of his bad luck, he did not like his quarters at
all; and the worst of it was, that more and more hay was always coming
down, and the space left for him became smaller and smaller. At last he
cried out as loud as he could, ‘Don’t bring me any more hay! Don’t bring
me any more hay!’
The maid happened to be just then milking the cow; and hearing
someone speak, but seeing nobody, and yet being quite sure it was the same
voice that she had heard in the night, she was so frightened that she fell off
her stool, and overset the milk-pail. As soon as she could pick herself up out
of the dirt, she ran off as fast as she could to her master the parson, and said,
‘Sir, sir, the cow is talking!’ But the parson said, ‘Woman, thou art surely
mad!’ However, he went with her into the cow-house, to try and see what
was the matter.
Scarcely had they set foot on the threshold, when Tom called out, ‘Don’t
bring me any more hay!’ Then the parson himself was frightened; and
thinking the cow was surely bewitched, told his man to kill her on the spot.
So the cow was killed, and cut up; and the stomach, in which Tom lay, was
thrown out upon a dunghill.
Tom soon set himself to work to get out, which was not a very easy task;
but at last, just as he had made room to get his head out, fresh ill-luck befell

him. A hungry wolf sprang out, and swallowed up the whole stomach, with
Tom in it, at one gulp, and ran away.
Tom, however, was still not disheartened; and thinking the wolf would
not dislike having some chat with him as he was going along, he called out,
‘My good friend, I can show you a famous treat.’ ‘Where’s that?’ said the
wolf. ‘In such and such a house,’ said Tom, describing his own father’s
house. ‘You can crawl through the drain into the kitchen and then into the
pantry, and there you will find cakes, ham, beef, cold chicken, roast pig,
apple-dumplings, and everything that your heart can wish.’
The wolf did not want to be asked twice; so that very night he went to the
house and crawled through the drain into the kitchen, and then into the
pantry, and ate and drank there to his heart’s content. As soon as he had had
enough he wanted to get away; but he had eaten so much that he could not
go out by the same way he came in.
This was just what Tom had reckoned upon; and now he began to set up a
great shout, making all the noise he could. ‘Will you be easy?’ said the
wolf; ‘you’ll awaken everybody in the house if you make such a clatter.’
‘What’s that to me?’ said the little man; ‘you have had your frolic, now I’ve
a mind to be merry myself’; and he began, singing and shouting as loud as
he could.
The woodman and his wife, being awakened by the noise, peeped
through a crack in the door; but when they saw a wolf was there, you may
well suppose that they were sadly frightened; and the woodman ran for his
axe, and gave his wife a scythe. ‘Do you stay behind,’ said the woodman,
‘and when I have knocked him on the head you must rip him up with the
scythe.’ Tom heard all this, and cried out, ‘Father, father! I am here, the
wolf has swallowed me.’ And his father said, ‘Heaven be praised! we have
found our dear child again’; and he told his wife not to use the scythe for
fear she should hurt him. Then he aimed a great blow, and struck the wolf
on the head, and killed him on the spot! and when he was dead they cut
open his body, and set Tommy free. ‘Ah!’ said the father, ‘what fears we
have had for you!’ ‘Yes, father,’ answered he; ‘I have travelled all over the
world, I think, in one way or other, since we parted; and now I am very glad
to come home and get fresh air again.’ ‘Why, where have you been?’ said
his father. ‘I have been in a mouse-hole—and in a snail-shell—and down a

cow’s throat—and in the wolf’s belly; and yet here I am again, safe and
sound.’
‘Well,’ said they, ‘you are come back, and we will not sell you again for
all the riches in the world.’
Then they hugged and kissed their dear little son, and gave him plenty to
eat and drink, for he was very hungry; and then they fetched new clothes for
him, for his old ones had been quite spoiled on his journey. So Master
Thumb stayed at home with his father and mother, in peace; for though he
had been so great a traveller, and had done and seen so many fine things,
and was fond enough of telling the whole story, he always agreed that, after
all, there’s no place like HOME!

RUMPELSTILTSKIN

By the side of a wood, in a country a long way off, ran a fine stream of
water; and upon the stream there stood a mill. The miller’s house was close
by, and the miller, you must know, had a very beautiful daughter. She was,
moreover, very shrewd and clever; and the miller was so proud of her, that
he one day told the king of the land, who used to come and hunt in the
wood, that his daughter could spin gold out of straw. Now this king was
very fond of money; and when he heard the miller’s boast his greediness
was raised, and he sent for the girl to be brought before him. Then he led
her to a chamber in his palace where there was a great heap of straw, and
gave her a spinning-wheel, and said, ‘All this must be spun into gold before
morning, as you love your life.’ It was in vain that the poor maiden said that
it was only a silly boast of her father, for that she could do no such thing as
spin straw into gold: the chamber door was locked, and she was left alone.
She sat down in one corner of the room, and began to bewail her hard
fate; when on a sudden the door opened, and a droll-looking little man
hobbled in, and said, ‘Good morrow to you, my good lass; what are you
weeping for?’ ‘Alas!’ said she, ‘I must spin this straw into gold, and I know
not how.’ ‘What will you give me,’ said the hobgoblin, ‘to do it for you?’
‘My necklace,’ replied the maiden. He took her at her word, and sat himself
down to the wheel, and whistled and sang:

‘Round about, round about,
Lo and behold!
Reel away, reel away,
Straw into gold!’

And round about the wheel went merrily; the work was quickly done, and
the straw was all spun into gold.
When the king came and saw this, he was greatly astonished and pleased;
but his heart grew still more greedy of gain, and he shut up the poor miller’s
daughter again with a fresh task. Then she knew not what to do, and sat

down once more to weep; but the dwarf soon opened the door, and said,
‘What will you give me to do your task?’ ‘The ring on my finger,’ said she.
So her little friend took the ring, and began to work at the wheel again, and
whistled and sang:

‘Round about, round about,
Lo and behold!
Reel away, reel away,
Straw into gold!’

till, long before morning, all was done again.
The king was greatly delighted to see all this glittering treasure; but still
he had not enough: so he took the miller’s daughter to a yet larger heap, and
said, ‘All this must be spun tonight; and if it is, you shall be my queen.’ As
soon as she was alone that dwarf came in, and said, ‘What will you give me
to spin gold for you this third time?’ ‘I have nothing left,’ said she. ‘Then
say you will give me,’ said the little man, ‘the first little child that you may
have when you are queen.’ ‘That may never be,’ thought the miller’s
daughter: and as she knew no other way to get her task done, she said she
would do what he asked. Round went the wheel again to the old song, and
the manikin once more spun the heap into gold. The king came in the
morning, and, finding all he wanted, was forced to keep his word; so he
married the miller’s daughter, and she really became queen.
At the birth of her first little child she was very glad, and forgot the
dwarf, and what she had said. But one day he came into her room, where
she was sitting playing with her baby, and put her in mind of it. Then she
grieved sorely at her misfortune, and said she would give him all the wealth
of the kingdom if he would let her off, but in vain; till at last her tears
softened him, and he said, ‘I will give you three days’ grace, and if during
that time you tell me my name, you shall keep your child.’
Now the queen lay awake all night, thinking of all the odd names that she
had ever heard; and she sent messengers all over the land to find out new
ones. The next day the little man came, and she began with TIMOTHY,
ICHABOD, BENJAMIN, JEREMIAH, and all the names she could
remember; but to all and each of them he said, ‘Madam, that is not my
name.’
The second day she began with all the comical names she could hear of,
BANDY-LEGS, HUNCHBACK, CROOK-SHANKS, and so on; but the

little gentleman still said to every one of them, ‘Madam, that is not my
name.’
The third day one of the messengers came back, and said, ‘I have
travelled two days without hearing of any other names; but yesterday, as I
was climbing a high hill, among the trees of the forest where the fox and the
hare bid each other good night, I saw a little hut; and before the hut burnt a
fire; and round about the fire a funny little dwarf was dancing upon one leg,
and singing:

“Merrily the feast I’ll make.
Today I’ll brew, tomorrow bake;
Merrily I’ll dance and sing,
For next day will a stranger bring.
Little does my lady dream
Rumpelstiltskin is my name!”

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

CLEVER GRETEL

There was once a cook named Gretel, who wore shoes with red heels,
and when she walked out with them on, she turned herself this way and
that, was quite happy and thought: ‘You certainly are a pretty girl!’ And
when she came home she drank, in her gladness of heart, a draught of wine,
and as wine excites a desire to eat, she tasted the best of whatever she was
cooking until she was satisfied, and said: ‘The cook must know what the
food is like.’
It came to pass that the master one day said to her: ‘Gretel, there is a
guest coming this evening; prepare me two fowls very daintily.’ ‘I will see
to it, master,’ answered Gretel. She killed two fowls, scalded them, plucked
them, put them on the spit, and towards evening set them before the fire,
that they might roast. The fowls began to turn brown, and were nearly
ready, but the guest had not yet arrived. Then Gretel called out to her
master: ‘If the guest does not come, I must take the fowls away from the
fire, but it will be a sin and a shame if they are not eaten the moment they
are at their juiciest.’ The master said: ‘I will run myself, and fetch the
guest.’ When the master had turned his back, Gretel laid the spit with the
fowls on one side, and thought: ‘Standing so long by the fire there, makes
one sweat and thirsty; who knows when they will come? Meanwhile, I will
run into the cellar, and take a drink.’ She ran down, set a jug, said: ‘God
bless it for you, Gretel,’ and took a good drink, and thought that wine
should flow on, and should not be interrupted, and took yet another hearty
draught.
Then she went and put the fowls down again to the fire, basted them, and
drove the spit merrily round. But as the roast meat smelt so good, Gretel
thought: ‘Something might be wrong, it ought to be tasted!’ She touched it
with her finger, and said: ‘Ah! how good fowls are! It certainly is a sin and
a shame that they are not eaten at the right time!’ She ran to the window, to
see if the master was not coming with his guest, but she saw no one, and

went back to the fowls and thought: ‘One of the wings is burning! I had
better take it off and eat it.’ So she cut it off, ate it, and enjoyed it, and when
she had done, she thought: ‘The other must go down too, or else master will
observe that something is missing.’ When the two wings were eaten, she
went and looked for her master, and did not see him. It suddenly occurred to
her: ‘Who knows? They are perhaps not coming at all, and have turned in
somewhere.’ Then she said: ‘Well, Gretel, enjoy yourself, one fowl has been
cut into, take another drink, and eat it up entirely; when it is eaten you will
have some peace, why should God’s good gifts be spoilt?’ So she ran into
the cellar again, took an enormous drink and ate up the one chicken in great
glee. When one of the chickens was swallowed down, and still her master
did not come, Gretel looked at the other and said: ‘What one is, the other
should be likewise, the two go together; what’s right for the one is right for
the other; I think if I were to take another draught it would do me no harm.’
So she took another hearty drink, and let the second chicken follow the first.
While she was making the most of it, her master came and cried: ‘Hurry
up, Gretel, the guest is coming directly after me!’ ‘Yes, sir, I will soon serve
up,’ answered Gretel. Meantime the master looked to see that the table was
properly laid, and took the great knife, wherewith he was going to carve the
chickens, and sharpened it on the steps. Presently the guest came, and
knocked politely and courteously at the house-door. Gretel ran, and looked
to see who was there, and when she saw the guest, she put her finger to her
lips and said: ‘Hush! hush! go away as quickly as you can, if my master
catches you it will be the worse for you; he certainly did ask you to supper,
but his intention is to cut off your two ears. Just listen how he is sharpening
the knife for it!’ The guest heard the sharpening, and hurried down the steps
again as fast as he could. Gretel was not idle; she ran screaming to her
master, and cried: ‘You have invited a fine guest!’ ‘Why, Gretel? What do
you mean by that?’ ‘Yes,’ said she, ‘he has taken the chickens which I was
just going to serve up, off the dish, and has run away with them!’ ‘That’s a
nice trick!’ said her master, and lamented the fine chickens. ‘If he had but
left me one, so that something remained for me to eat.’ He called to him to
stop, but the guest pretended not to hear. Then he ran after him with the
knife still in his hand, crying: ‘Just one, just one,’ meaning that the guest
should leave him just one chicken, and not take both. The guest, however,
thought no otherwise than that he was to give up one of his ears, and ran as
if fire were burning under him, in order to take them both with him.

THE OLD MAN AND HIS GRANDSON

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

THE LITTLE PEASANT

There was a certain village wherein no one lived but really rich peasants,
and just one poor one, whom they called the little peasant. He had not even
so much as a cow, and still less money to buy one, and yet he and his wife
did so wish to have one. One day he said to her: ‘Listen, I have a good idea,
there is our gossip the carpenter, he shall make us a wooden calf, and paint
it brown, so that it looks like any other, and in time it will certainly get big
and be a cow.’ the woman also liked the idea, and their gossip the carpenter
cut and planed the calf, and painted it as it ought to be, and made it with its
head hanging down as if it were eating.
Next morning when the cows were being driven out, the little peasant
called the cow-herd in and said: ‘Look, I have a little calf there, but it is still
small and has to be carried.’ The cow-herd said: ‘All right,’ and took it in
his arms and carried it to the pasture, and set it among the grass. The little
calf always remained standing like one which was eating, and the cow-herd
said: ‘It will soon run by itself, just look how it eats already!’ At night when
he was going to drive the herd home again, he said to the calf: ‘If you can
stand there and eat your fill, you can also go on your four legs; I don’t care
to drag you home again in my arms.’ But the little peasant stood at his door,
and waited for his little calf, and when the cow-herd drove the cows
through the village, and the calf was missing, he inquired where it was. The
cow-herd answered: ‘It is still standing out there eating. It would not stop
and come with us.’ But the little peasant said: ‘Oh, but I must have my beast
back again.’ Then they went back to the meadow together, but someone had
stolen the calf, and it was gone. The cow-herd said: ‘It must have run
away.’ The peasant, however, said: ‘Don’t tell me that,’ and led the cow-
herd before the mayor, who for his carelessness condemned him to give the
peasant a cow for the calf which had run away.
And now the little peasant and his wife had the cow for which they had
so long wished, and they were heartily glad, but they had no food for it, and

could give it nothing to eat, so it soon had to be killed. They salted the
flesh, and the peasant went into the town and wanted to sell the skin there,
so that he might buy a new calf with the proceeds. On the way he passed by
a mill, and there sat a raven with broken wings, and out of pity he took him
and wrapped him in the skin. But as the weather grew so bad and there was
a storm of rain and wind, he could go no farther, and turned back to the mill
and begged for shelter. The miller’s wife was alone in the house, and said to
the peasant: ‘Lay yourself on the straw there,’ and gave him a slice of bread
and cheese. The peasant ate it, and lay down with his skin beside him, and
the woman thought: ‘He is tired and has gone to sleep.’ In the meantime
came the parson; the miller’s wife received him well, and said: ‘My
husband is out, so we will have a feast.’ The peasant listened, and when he
heard them talk about feasting he was vexed that he had been forced to
make shift with a slice of bread and cheese. Then the woman served up four
different things, roast meat, salad, cakes, and wine.
Just as they were about to sit down and eat, there was a knocking outside.
The woman said: ‘Oh, heavens! It is my husband!’ she quickly hid the roast
meat inside the tiled stove, the wine under the pillow, the salad on the bed,
the cakes under it, and the parson in the closet on the porch. Then she
opened the door for her husband, and said: ‘Thank heaven, you are back
again! There is such a storm, it looks as if the world were coming to an
end.’ The miller saw the peasant lying on the straw, and asked, ‘What is that
fellow doing there?’ ‘Ah,’ said the wife, ‘the poor knave came in the storm
and rain, and begged for shelter, so I gave him a bit of bread and cheese,
and showed him where the straw was.’ The man said: ‘I have no objection,
but be quick and get me something to eat.’ The woman said: ‘But I have
nothing but bread and cheese.’ ‘I am contented with anything,’ replied the
husband, ‘so far as I am concerned, bread and cheese will do,’ and looked at
the peasant and said: ‘Come and eat some more with me.’ The peasant did
not require to be invited twice, but got up and ate. After this the miller saw
the skin in which the raven was, lying on the ground, and asked: ‘What
have you there?’ The peasant answered: ‘I have a soothsayer inside it.’ ‘Can
he foretell anything to me?’ said the miller. ‘Why not?’ answered the
peasant: ‘but he only says four things, and the fifth he keeps to himself.’
The miller was curious, and said: ‘Let him foretell something for once.’
Then the peasant pinched the raven’s head, so that he croaked and made a
noise like krr, krr. The miller said: ‘What did he say?’ The peasant

answered: ‘In the first place, he says that there is some wine hidden under
the pillow.’ ‘Bless me!’ cried the miller, and went there and found the wine.
‘Now go on,’ said he. The peasant made the raven croak again, and said: ‘In
the second place, he says that there is some roast meat in the tiled stove.’
‘Upon my word!’ cried the miller, and went thither, and found the roast
meat. The peasant made the raven prophesy still more, and said: ‘Thirdly,
he says that there is some salad on the bed.’ ‘That would be a fine thing!’
cried the miller, and went there and found the salad. At last the peasant
pinched the raven once more till he croaked, and said: ‘Fourthly, he says
that there are some cakes under the bed.’ ‘That would be a fine thing!’ cried
the miller, and looked there, and found the cakes.
And now the two sat down to the table together, but the miller’s wife was
frightened to death, and went to bed and took all the keys with her. The
miller would have liked much to know the fifth, but the little peasant said:
‘First, we will quickly eat the four things, for the fifth is something bad.’ So
they ate, and after that they bargained how much the miller was to give for
the fifth prophecy, until they agreed on three hundred talers. Then the
peasant once more pinched the raven’s head till he croaked loudly. The
miller asked: ‘What did he say?’ The peasant replied: ‘He says that the
Devil is hiding outside there in the closet on the porch.’ The miller said:
‘The Devil must go out,’ and opened the house-door; then the woman was
forced to give up the keys, and the peasant unlocked the closet. The parson
ran out as fast as he could, and the miller said: ‘It was true; I saw the black
rascal with my own eyes.’ The peasant, however, made off next morning by
daybreak with the three hundred talers.
At home the small peasant gradually launched out; he built a beautiful
house, and the peasants said: ‘The small peasant has certainly been to the
place where golden snow falls, and people carry the gold home in shovels.’
Then the small peasant was brought before the mayor, and bidden to say
from whence his wealth came. He answered: ‘I sold my cow’s skin in the
town, for three hundred talers.’ When the peasants heard that, they too
wished to enjoy this great profit, and ran home, killed all their cows, and
stripped off their skins in order to sell them in the town to the greatest
advantage. The mayor, however, said: ‘But my servant must go first.’ When
she came to the merchant in the town, he did not give her more than two
talers for a skin, and when the others came, he did not give them so much,
and said: ‘What can I do with all these skins?’

Then the peasants were vexed that the small peasant should have thus
outwitted them, wanted to take vengeance on him, and accused him of this
treachery before the mayor. The innocent little peasant was unanimously
sentenced to death, and was to be rolled into the water, in a barrel pierced
full of holes. He was led forth, and a priest was brought who was to say a
mass for his soul. The others were all obliged to retire to a distance, and
when the peasant looked at the priest, he recognized the man who had been
with the miller’s wife. He said to him: ‘I set you free from the closet, set me
free from the barrel.’ At this same moment up came, with a flock of sheep,
the very shepherd whom the peasant knew had long been wishing to be
mayor, so he cried with all his might: ‘No, I will not do it; if the whole
world insists on it, I will not do it!’ The shepherd hearing that, came up to
him, and asked: ‘What are you about? What is it that you will not do?’ The
peasant said: ‘They want to make me mayor, if I will but put myself in the
barrel, but I will not do it.’ The shepherd said: ‘If nothing more than that is
needful in order to be mayor, I would get into the barrel at once.’ The
peasant said: ‘If you will get in, you will be mayor.’ The shepherd was
willing, and got in, and the peasant shut the top down on him; then he took
the shepherd’s flock for himself, and drove it away. The parson went to the
crowd, and declared that the mass had been said. Then they came and rolled
the barrel towards the water. When the barrel began to roll, the shepherd
cried: ‘I am quite willing to be mayor.’ They believed no otherwise than that
it was the peasant who was saying this, and answered: ‘That is what we
intend, but first you shall look about you a little down below there,’ and
they rolled the barrel down into the water.
After that the peasants went home, and as they were entering the village,
the small peasant also came quietly in, driving a flock of sheep and looking
quite contented. Then the peasants were astonished, and said: ‘Peasant,
from whence do you come? Have you come out of the water?’ ‘Yes, truly,’
replied the peasant, ‘I sank deep, deep down, until at last I got to the
bottom; I pushed the bottom out of the barrel, and crept out, and there were
pretty meadows on which a number of lambs were feeding, and from thence
I brought this flock away with me.’ Said the peasants: ‘Are there any more
there?’ ‘Oh, yes,’ said he, ‘more than I could want.’ Then the peasants made
up their minds that they too would fetch some sheep for themselves, a flock
apiece, but the mayor said: ‘I come first.’ So they went to the water
together, and just then there were some of the small fleecy clouds in the

blue sky, which are called little lambs, and they were reflected in the water,
whereupon the peasants cried: ‘We already see the sheep down below!’ The
mayor pressed forward and said: ‘I will go down first, and look about me,
and if things promise well I’ll call you.’ So he jumped in; splash! went the
water; it sounded as if he were calling them, and the whole crowd plunged
in after him as one man. Then the entire village was dead, and the small
peasant, as sole heir, became a rich man.

FREDERICK AND CATHERINE

There was once a man called Frederick: he had a wife whose name was
Catherine, and they had not long been married. One day Frederick said.
‘Kate! I am going to work in the fields; when I come back I shall be hungry
so let me have something nice cooked, and a good draught of ale.’ ‘Very
well,’ said she, ‘it shall all be ready.’ When dinner-time drew nigh,
Catherine took a nice steak, which was all the meat she had, and put it on
the fire to fry. The steak soon began to look brown, and to crackle in the
pan; and Catherine stood by with a fork and turned it: then she said to
herself, ‘The steak is almost ready, I may as well go to the cellar for the
ale.’ So she left the pan on the fire and took a large jug and went into the
cellar and tapped the ale cask. The beer ran into the jug and Catherine stood
looking on. At last it popped into her head, ‘The dog is not shut up—he may
be running away with the steak; that’s well thought of.’ So up she ran from
the cellar; and sure enough the rascally cur had got the steak in his mouth,
and was making off with it.
Away ran Catherine, and away ran the dog across the field: but he ran
faster than she, and stuck close to the steak. ‘It’s all gone, and “what can’t
be cured must be endured”,’ said Catherine. So she turned round; and as she
had run a good way and was tired, she walked home leisurely to cool
herself.
Now all this time the ale was running too, for Catherine had not turned
the cock; and when the jug was full the liquor ran upon the floor till the
cask was empty. When she got to the cellar stairs she saw what had
happened. ‘My stars!’ said she, ‘what shall I do to keep Frederick from
seeing all this slopping about?’ So she thought a while; and at last
remembered that there was a sack of fine meal bought at the last fair, and
that if she sprinkled this over the floor it would suck up the ale nicely.
‘What a lucky thing,’ said she, ‘that we kept that meal! we have now a good
use for it.’ So away she went for it: but she managed to set it down just

upon the great jug full of beer, and upset it; and thus all the ale that had
been saved was set swimming on the floor also. ‘Ah! well,’ said she, ‘when
one goes another may as well follow.’ Then she strewed the meal all about
the cellar, and was quite pleased with her cleverness, and said, ‘How very
neat and clean it looks!’
At noon Frederick came home. ‘Now, wife,’ cried he, ‘what have you for
dinner?’ ‘O Frederick!’ answered she, ‘I was cooking you a steak; but while
I went down to draw the ale, the dog ran away with it; and while I ran after
him, the ale ran out; and when I went to dry up the ale with the sack of meal
that we got at the fair, I upset the jug: but the cellar is now quite dry, and
looks so clean!’ ‘Kate, Kate,’ said he, ‘how could you do all this?’ Why did
you leave the steak to fry, and the ale to run, and then spoil all the meal?’
‘Why, Frederick,’ said she, ‘I did not know I was doing wrong; you should
have told me before.’
The husband thought to himself, ‘If my wife manages matters thus, I
must look sharp myself.’ Now he had a good deal of gold in the house: so
he said to Catherine, ‘What pretty yellow buttons these are! I shall put them
into a box and bury them in the garden; but take care that you never go near
or meddle with them.’ ‘No, Frederick,’ said she, ‘that I never will.’ As soon
as he was gone, there came by some pedlars with earthenware plates and
dishes, and they asked her whether she would buy. ‘Oh dear me, I should
like to buy very much, but I have no money: if you had any use for yellow
buttons, I might deal with you.’ ‘Yellow buttons!’ said they: ‘let us have a
look at them.’ ‘Go into the garden and dig where I tell you, and you will
find the yellow buttons: I dare not go myself.’ So the rogues went: and
when they found what these yellow buttons were, they took them all away,
and left her plenty of plates and dishes. Then she set them all about the
house for a show: and when Frederick came back, he cried out, ‘Kate, what
have you been doing?’ ‘See,’ said she, ‘I have bought all these with your
yellow buttons: but I did not touch them myself; the pedlars went
themselves and dug them up.’ ‘Wife, wife,’ said Frederick, ‘what a pretty
piece of work you have made! those yellow buttons were all my money:
how came you to do such a thing?’ ‘Why,’ answered she, ‘I did not know
there was any harm in it; you should have told me.’
Catherine stood musing for a while, and at last said to her husband, ‘Hark
ye, Frederick, we will soon get the gold back: let us run after the thieves.’

‘Well, we will try,’ answered he; ‘but take some butter and cheese with you,
that we may have something to eat by the way.’ ‘Very well,’ said she; and
they set out: and as Frederick walked the fastest, he left his wife some way
behind. ‘It does not matter,’ thought she: ‘when we turn back, I shall be so
much nearer home than he.’
Presently she came to the top of a hill, down the side of which there was
a road so narrow that the cart wheels always chafed the trees on each side as
they passed. ‘Ah, see now,’ said she, ‘how they have bruised and wounded
those poor trees; they will never get well.’ So she took pity on them, and
made use of the butter to grease them all, so that the wheels might not hurt
them so much. While she was doing this kind office one of her cheeses fell
out of the basket, and rolled down the hill. Catherine looked, but could not
see where it had gone; so she said, ‘Well, I suppose the other will go the
same way and find you; he has younger legs than I have.’ Then she rolled
the other cheese after it; and away it went, nobody knows where, down the
hill. But she said she supposed that they knew the road, and would follow
her, and she could not stay there all day waiting for them.
At last she overtook Frederick, who desired her to give him something to
eat. Then she gave him the dry bread. ‘Where are the butter and cheese?’
said he. ‘Oh!’ answered she, ‘I used the butter to grease those poor trees that
the wheels chafed so: and one of the cheeses ran away so I sent the other
after it to find it, and I suppose they are both on the road together
somewhere.’ ‘What a goose you are to do such silly things!’ said the
husband. ‘How can you say so?’ said she; ‘I am sure you never told me
not.’
They ate the dry bread together; and Frederick said, ‘Kate, I hope you
locked the door safe when you came away.’ ‘No,’ answered she, ‘you did
not tell me.’ ‘Then go home, and do it now before we go any farther,’ said
Frederick, ‘and bring with you something to eat.’
Catherine did as he told her, and thought to herself by the way, ‘Frederick
wants something to eat; but I don’t think he is very fond of butter and
cheese: I’ll bring him a bag of fine nuts, and the vinegar, for I have often
seen him take some.’
When she reached home, she bolted the back door, but the front door she
took off the hinges, and said, ‘Frederick told me to lock the door, but surely
it can nowhere be so safe if I take it with me.’ So she took her time by the

way; and when she overtook her husband she cried out, ‘There, Frederick,
there is the door itself, you may watch it as carefully as you please.’ ‘Alas!
alas!’ said he, ‘what a clever wife I have! I sent you to make the house fast,
and you take the door away, so that everybody may go in and out as they
please—however, as you have brought the door, you shall carry it about
with you for your pains.’ ‘Very well,’ answered she, ‘I’ll carry the door; but
I’ll not carry the nuts and vinegar bottle also—that would be too much of a
load; so if you please, I’ll fasten them to the door.’
Frederick of course made no objection to that plan, and they set off into
the wood to look for the thieves; but they could not find them: and when it
grew dark, they climbed up into a tree to spend the night there. Scarcely
were they up, than who should come by but the very rogues they were
looking for. They were in truth great rascals, and belonged to that class of
people who find things before they are lost; they were tired; so they sat
down and made a fire under the very tree where Frederick and Catherine
were. Frederick slipped down on the other side, and picked up some stones.
Then he climbed up again, and tried to hit the thieves on the head with
them: but they only said, ‘It must be near morning, for the wind shakes the
fir-apples down.’
Catherine, who had the door on her shoulder, began to be very tired; but
she thought it was the nuts upon it that were so heavy: so she said softly,
‘Frederick, I must let the nuts go.’ ‘No,’ answered he, ‘not now, they will
discover us.’ ‘I can’t help that: they must go.’ ‘Well, then, make haste and
throw them down, if you will.’ Then away rattled the nuts down among the
boughs and one of the thieves cried, ‘Bless me, it is hailing.’
A little while after, Catherine thought the door was still very heavy: so
she whispered to Frederick, ‘I must throw the vinegar down.’ ‘Pray don’t,’
answered he, ‘it will discover us.’ ‘I can’t help that,’ said she, ‘go it must.’
So she poured all the vinegar down; and the thieves said, ‘What a heavy
dew there is!’
At last it popped into Catherine’s head that it was the door itself that was
so heavy all the time: so she whispered, ‘Frederick, I must throw the door
down soon.’ But he begged and prayed her not to do so, for he was sure it
would betray them. ‘Here goes, however,’ said she: and down went the door
with such a clatter upon the thieves, that they cried out ‘Murder!’ and not
knowing what was coming, ran away as fast as they could, and left all the

gold. So when Frederick and Catherine came down, there they found all
their money safe and sound.

SWEETHEART ROLAND

There was once upon a time a woman who was a real witch and had two
daughters, one ugly and wicked, and this one she loved because she was her
own daughter, and one beautiful and good, and this one she hated, because
she was her stepdaughter. The stepdaughter once had a pretty apron, which
the other fancied so much that she became envious, and told her mother that
she must and would have that apron. ‘Be quiet, my child,’ said the old
woman, ‘and you shall have it. Your stepsister has long deserved death;
tonight when she is asleep I will come and cut her head off. Only be careful
that you are at the far side of the bed, and push her well to the front.’ It
would have been all over with the poor girl if she had not just then been
standing in a corner, and heard everything. All day long she dared not go
out of doors, and when bedtime had come, the witch’s daughter got into bed
first, so as to lie at the far side, but when she was asleep, the other pushed
her gently to the front, and took for herself the place at the back, close by
the wall. In the night, the old woman came creeping in, she held an axe in
her right hand, and felt with her left to see if anyone were lying at the
outside, and then she grasped the axe with both hands, and cut her own
child’s head off.
When she had gone away, the girl got up and went to her sweetheart, who
was called Roland, and knocked at his door. When he came out, she said to
him: ‘Listen, dearest Roland, we must fly in all haste; my stepmother
wanted to kill me, but has struck her own child. When daylight comes, and
she sees what she has done, we shall be lost.’ ‘But,’ said Roland, ‘I counsel
you first to take away her magic wand, or we cannot escape if she pursues
us.’ The maiden fetched the magic wand, and she took the dead girl’s head
and dropped three drops of blood on the ground, one in front of the bed, one
in the kitchen, and one on the stairs. Then she hurried away with her lover.
When the old witch got up next morning, she called her daughter, and
wanted to give her the apron, but she did not come. Then the witch cried:

‘Where are you?’ ‘Here, on the stairs, I am sweeping,’ answered the first
drop of blood. The old woman went out, but saw no one on the stairs, and
cried again: ‘Where are you?’ ‘Here in the kitchen, I am warming myself,’
cried the second drop of blood. She went into the kitchen, but found no one.
Then she cried again: ‘Where are you?’ ‘Ah, here in the bed, I am sleeping,’
cried the third drop of blood. She went into the room to the bed. What did
she see there? Her own child, whose head she had cut off, bathed in her
blood. The witch fell into a passion, sprang to the window, and as she could
look forth quite far into the world, she perceived her stepdaughter hurrying
away with her sweetheart Roland. ‘That shall not help you,’ cried she, ‘even
if you have got a long way off, you shall still not escape me.’ She put on her
many-league boots, in which she covered an hour’s walk at every step, and
it was not long before she overtook them. The girl, however, when she saw
the old woman striding towards her, changed, with her magic wand, her
sweetheart Roland into a lake, and herself into a duck swimming in the
middle of it. The witch placed herself on the shore, threw breadcrumbs in,
and went to endless trouble to entice the duck; but the duck did not let
herself be enticed, and the old woman had to go home at night as she had
come. At this the girl and her sweetheart Roland resumed their natural
shapes again, and they walked on the whole night until daybreak. Then the
maiden changed herself into a beautiful flower which stood in the midst of a
briar hedge, and her sweetheart Roland into a fiddler. It was not long before
the witch came striding up towards them, and said to the musician: ‘Dear
musician, may I pluck that beautiful flower for myself?’ ‘Oh, yes,’ he
replied, ‘I will play to you while you do it.’ As she was hastily creeping into
the hedge and was just going to pluck the flower, knowing perfectly well
who the flower was, he began to play, and whether she would or not, she
was forced to dance, for it was a magical dance. The faster he played, the
more violent springs was she forced to make, and the thorns tore her clothes
from her body, and pricked her and wounded her till she bled, and as he did
not stop, she had to dance till she lay dead on the ground.
As they were now set free, Roland said: ‘Now I will go to my father and
arrange for the wedding.’ ‘Then in the meantime I will stay here and wait
for you,’ said the girl, ‘and that no one may recognize me, I will change
myself into a red stone landmark.’ Then Roland went away, and the girl
stood like a red landmark in the field and waited for her beloved. But when
Roland got home, he fell into the snares of another, who so fascinated him

that he forgot the maiden. The poor girl remained there a long time, but at
length, as he did not return at all, she was sad, and changed herself into a
flower, and thought: ‘Someone will surely come this way, and trample me
down.’
It befell, however, that a shepherd kept his sheep in the field and saw the
flower, and as it was so pretty, plucked it, took it with him, and laid it away
in his chest. From that time forth, strange things happened in the shepherd’s
house. When he arose in the morning, all the work was already done, the
room was swept, the table and benches cleaned, the fire in the hearth was
lighted, and the water was fetched, and at noon, when he came home, the
table was laid, and a good dinner served. He could not conceive how this
came to pass, for he never saw a human being in his house, and no one
could have concealed himself in it. He was certainly pleased with this good
attendance, but still at last he was so afraid that he went to a wise woman
and asked for her advice. The wise woman said: ‘There is some
enchantment behind it, listen very early some morning if anything is
moving in the room, and if you see anything, no matter what it is, throw a
white cloth over it, and then the magic will be stopped.’
The shepherd did as she bade him, and next morning just as day dawned,
he saw the chest open, and the flower come out. Swiftly he sprang towards
it, and threw a white cloth over it. Instantly the transformation came to an
end, and a beautiful girl stood before him, who admitted to him that she had
been the flower, and that up to this time she had attended to his house-
keeping. She told him her story, and as she pleased him he asked her if she
would marry him, but she answered: ‘No,’ for she wanted to remain faithful
to her sweetheart Roland, although he had deserted her. Nevertheless, she
promised not to go away, but to continue keeping house for the shepherd.
And now the time drew near when Roland’s wedding was to be
celebrated, and then, according to an old custom in the country, it was
announced that all the girls were to be present at it, and sing in honour of
the bridal pair. When the faithful maiden heard of this, she grew so sad that
she thought her heart would break, and she would not go thither, but the
other girls came and took her. When it came to her turn to sing, she stepped
back, until at last she was the only one left, and then she could not refuse.
But when she began her song, and it reached Roland’s ears, he sprang up
and cried: ‘I know the voice, that is the true bride, I will have no other!’

Everything he had forgotten, and which had vanished from his mind, had
suddenly come home again to his heart. Then the faithful maiden held her
wedding with her sweetheart Roland, and grief came to an end and joy
began.

SNOWDROP

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

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

And the glass had always answered:

‘Thou, queen, art the fairest in all the land.’

But Snowdrop grew more and more beautiful; and when she was seven
years old she was as bright as the day, and fairer than the queen herself.
Then the glass one day answered the queen, when she went to look in it as
usual:

‘Thou, queen, art fair, and beauteous to see,
But Snowdrop is lovelier far than thee!’

When she heard this she turned pale with rage and envy, and called to
one of her servants, and said, ‘Take Snowdrop away into the wide wood,
that I may never see her any more.’ Then the servant led her away; but his
heart melted when Snowdrop begged him to spare her life, and he said, ‘I
will not hurt you, thou pretty child.’ So he left her by herself; and though he
thought it most likely that the wild beasts would tear her in pieces, he felt as
if a great weight were taken off his heart when he had made up his mind not
to kill her but to leave her to her fate, with the chance of someone finding
and saving her.
Then poor Snowdrop wandered along through the wood in great fear; and
the wild beasts roared about her, but none did her any harm. In the evening
she came to a cottage among the hills, and went in to rest, for her little feet
would carry her no further. Everything was spruce and neat in the cottage:
on the table was spread a white cloth, and there were seven little plates,
seven little loaves, and seven little glasses with wine in them; and seven
knives and forks laid in order; and by the wall stood seven little beds. As
she was very hungry, she picked a little piece of each loaf and drank a very
little wine out of each glass; and after that she thought she would lie down
and rest. So she tried all the little beds; but one was too long, and another
was too short, till at last the seventh suited her: and there she laid herself
down and went to sleep.
By and by in came the masters of the cottage. Now they were seven little
dwarfs, that lived among the mountains, and dug and searched for gold.
They lighted up their seven lamps, and saw at once that all was not right.
The first said, ‘Who has been sitting on my stool?’ The second, ‘Who has
been eating off my plate?’ The third, ‘Who has been picking my bread?’
The fourth, ‘Who has been meddling with my spoon?’ The fifth, ‘Who has
been handling my fork?’ The sixth, ‘Who has been cutting with my knife?’
The seventh, ‘Who has been drinking my wine?’ Then the first looked
round and said, ‘Who has been lying on my bed?’ And the rest came
running to him, and everyone cried out that somebody had been upon his
bed. But the seventh saw Snowdrop, and called all his brethren to come and
see her; and they cried out with wonder and astonishment and brought their
lamps to look at her, and said, ‘Good heavens! what a lovely child she is!’
And they were very glad to see her, and took care not to wake her; and the
seventh dwarf slept an hour with each of the other dwarfs in turn, till the
night was gone.

In the morning Snowdrop told them all her story; and they pitied her, and
said if she would keep all things in order, and cook and wash and knit and
spin for them, she might stay where she was, and they would take good care
of her. Then they went out all day long to their work, seeking for gold and
silver in the mountains: but Snowdrop was left at home; and they warned
her, and said, ‘The queen will soon find out where you are, so take care and
let no one in.’
But the queen, now that she thought Snowdrop was dead, believed that
she must be the handsomest lady in the land; and she went to her glass and
said:

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

And the glass answered:

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

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

In the evening the seven dwarfs came home; and I need not say how
grieved they were to see their faithful Snowdrop stretched out upon the
ground, as if she was quite dead. However, they lifted her up, and when
they found what ailed her, they cut the lace; and in a little time she began to
breathe, and very soon came to life again. Then they said, ‘The old woman
was the queen herself; take care another time, and let no one in when we are
away.’
When the queen got home, she went straight to her glass, and spoke to it
as before; but to her great grief it still said:

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

Then the blood ran cold in her heart with spite and malice, to see that
Snowdrop still lived; and she dressed herself up again, but in quite another
dress from the one she wore before, and took with her a poisoned comb.
When she reached the dwarfs’ cottage, she knocked at the door, and cried,
‘Fine wares to sell!’ But Snowdrop said, ‘I dare not let anyone in.’ Then the
queen said, ‘Only look at my beautiful combs!’ and gave her the poisoned
one. And it looked so pretty, that she took it up and put it into her hair to try
it; but the moment it touched her head, the poison was so powerful that she
fell down senseless. ‘There you may lie,’ said the queen, and went her way.
But by good luck the dwarfs came in very early that evening; and when
they saw Snowdrop lying on the ground, they thought what had happened,
and soon found the poisoned comb. And when they took it away she got
well, and told them all that had passed; and they warned her once more not
to open the door to anyone.
Meantime the queen went home to her glass, and shook with rage when
she read the very same answer as before; and she said, ‘Snowdrop shall die,
if it cost me my life.’ So she went by herself into her chamber, and got
ready a poisoned apple: the outside looked very rosy and tempting, but
whoever tasted it was sure to die. Then she dressed herself up as a peasant’s
wife, and travelled over the hills to the dwarfs’ cottage, and knocked at the
door; but Snowdrop put her head out of the window and said, ‘I dare not let
anyone in, for the dwarfs have told me not.’ ‘Do as you please,’ said the old
woman, ‘but at any rate take this pretty apple; I will give it you.’ ‘No,’ said

Snowdrop, ‘I dare not take it.’ ‘You silly girl!’ answered the other, ‘what are
you afraid of? Do you think it is poisoned? Come! do you eat one part, and
I will eat the other.’ Now the apple was so made up that one side was good,
though the other side was poisoned. Then Snowdrop was much tempted to
taste, for the apple looked so very nice; and when she saw the old woman
eat, she could wait no longer. But she had scarcely put the piece into her
mouth, when she fell down dead upon the ground. ‘This time nothing will
save thee,’ said the queen; and she went home to her glass, and at last it
said:

‘Thou, queen, art the fairest of all the fair.’

And then her wicked heart was glad, and as happy as such a heart could
be.
When evening came, and the dwarfs had gone home, they found
Snowdrop lying on the ground: no breath came from her lips, and they were
afraid that she was quite dead. They lifted her up, and combed her hair, and
washed her face with wine and water; but all was in vain, for the little girl
seemed quite dead. So they laid her down upon a bier, and all seven
watched and bewailed her three whole days; and then they thought they
would bury her: but her cheeks were still rosy; and her face looked just as it
did while she was alive; so they said, ‘We will never bury her in the cold
ground.’ And they made a coffin of glass, so that they might still look at her,
and wrote upon it in golden letters what her name was, and that she was a
king’s daughter. And the coffin was set among the hills, and one of the
dwarfs always sat by it and watched. And the birds of the air came too, and
bemoaned Snowdrop; and first of all came an owl, and then a raven, and at
last a dove, and sat by her side.
And thus Snowdrop lay for a long, long time, and still only looked as
though she was asleep; for she was even now as white as snow, and as red
as blood, and as black as ebony. At last a prince came and called at the
dwarfs’ house; and he saw Snowdrop, and read what was written in golden
letters. Then he offered the dwarfs money, and prayed and besought them to
let him take her away; but they said, ‘We will not part with her for all the
gold in the world.’ At last, however, they had pity on him, and gave him the
coffin; but the moment he lifted it up to carry it home with him, the piece of

apple fell from between her lips, and Snowdrop awoke, and said, ‘Where
am I?’ And the prince said, ‘Thou art quite safe with me.’
Then he told her all that had happened, and said, ‘I love you far better
than all the world; so come with me to my father’s palace, and you shall be
my wife.’ And Snowdrop consented, and went home with the prince; and
everything was got ready with great pomp and splendour for their wedding.
To the feast was asked, among the rest, Snowdrop’s old enemy the queen;
and as she was dressing herself in fine rich clothes, she looked in the glass
and said:

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

And the glass answered:

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

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

THE PINK

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

companion.’ Then the king’s son wished for one, and she immediately stood
before him, and was more beautiful than any painter could have painted her.
The two played together, and loved each other with all their hearts, and the
old cook went out hunting like a nobleman. The thought occurred to him,
however, that the king’s son might some day wish to be with his father, and
thus bring him into great peril. So he went out and took the maiden aside,
and said: ‘Tonight when the boy is asleep, go to his bed and plunge this
knife into his heart, and bring me his heart and tongue, and if you do not do
it, you shall lose your life.’ Thereupon he went away, and when he returned
next day she had not done it, and said: ‘Why should I shed the blood of an
innocent boy who has never harmed anyone?’ The cook once more said: ‘If
you do not do it, it shall cost you your own life.’ When he had gone away,
she had a little hind brought to her, and ordered her to be killed, and took
her heart and tongue, and laid them on a plate, and when she saw the old
man coming, she said to the boy: ‘Lie down in your bed, and draw the
clothes over you.’ Then the wicked wretch came in and said: ‘Where are the
boy’s heart and tongue?’ The girl reached the plate to him, but the king’s
son threw off the quilt, and said: ‘You old sinner, why did you want to kill
me? Now will I pronounce thy sentence. You shall become a black poodle
and have a gold collar round your neck, and shall eat burning coals, till the
flames burst forth from your throat.’ And when he had spoken these words,
the old man was changed into a poodle dog, and had a gold collar round his
neck, and the cooks were ordered to bring up some live coals, and these he
ate, until the flames broke forth from his throat. The king’s son remained
there a short while longer, and he thought of his mother, and wondered if
she were still alive. At length he said to the maiden: ‘I will go home to my
own country; if you will go with me, I will provide for you.’ ‘Ah,’ she
replied, ‘the way is so long, and what shall I do in a strange land where I am
unknown?’ As she did not seem quite willing, and as they could not be
parted from each other, he wished that she might be changed into a
beautiful pink, and took her with him. Then he went away to his own
country, and the poodle had to run after him. He went to the tower in which
his mother was confined, and as it was so high, he wished for a ladder
which would reach up to the very top. Then he mounted up and looked
inside, and cried: ‘Beloved mother, Lady Queen, are you still alive, or are
you dead?’ She answered: ‘I have just eaten, and am still satisfied,’ for she
thought the angels were there. Said he: ‘I am your dear son, whom the wild

beasts were said to have torn from your arms; but I am alive still, and will
soon set you free.’ Then he descended again, and went to his father, and
caused himself to be announced as a strange huntsman, and asked if he
could offer him service. The king said yes, if he was skilful and could get
game for him, he should come to him, but that deer had never taken up their
quarters in any part of the district or country. Then the huntsman promised
to procure as much game for him as he could possibly use at the royal table.
So he summoned all the huntsmen together, and bade them go out into the
forest with him. And he went with them and made them form a great circle,
open at one end where he stationed himself, and began to wish. Two
hundred deer and more came running inside the circle at once, and the
huntsmen shot them. Then they were all placed on sixty country carts, and
driven home to the king, and for once he was able to deck his table with
game, after having had none at all for years.
Now the king felt great joy at this, and commanded that his entire
household should eat with him next day, and made a great feast. When they
were all assembled together, he said to the huntsman: ‘As you are so clever,
you shall sit by me.’ He replied: ‘Lord King, your majesty must excuse me,
I am a poor huntsman.’ But the king insisted on it, and said: ‘You shall sit
by me,’ until he did it. Whilst he was sitting there, he thought of his dearest
mother, and wished that one of the king’s principal servants would begin to
speak of her, and would ask how it was faring with the queen in the tower,
and if she were alive still, or had perished. Hardly had he formed the wish
than the marshal began, and said: ‘Your majesty, we live joyously here, but
how is the queen living in the tower? Is she still alive, or has she died?’ But
the king replied: ‘She let my dear son be torn to pieces by wild beasts; I will
not have her named.’ Then the huntsman arose and said: ‘Gracious lord
father she is alive still, and I am her son, and I was not carried away by wild
beasts, but by that wretch the old cook, who tore me from her arms when
she was asleep, and sprinkled her apron with the blood of a chicken.’
Thereupon he took the dog with the golden collar, and said: ‘That is the
wretch!’ and caused live coals to be brought, and these the dog was
compelled to devour before the sight of all, until flames burst forth from its
throat. On this the huntsman asked the king if he would like to see the dog
in his true shape, and wished him back into the form of the cook, in which
he stood immediately, with his white apron, and his knife by his side. When
the king saw him he fell into a passion, and ordered him to be cast into the

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

CLEVER ELSIE

There was once a man who had a daughter who was called Clever Elsie.
And when she had grown up her father said: ‘We will get her married.’
‘Yes,’ said the mother, ‘if only someone would come who would have her.’
At length a man came from a distance and wooed her, who was called Hans;
but he stipulated that Clever Elsie should be really smart. ‘Oh,’ said the
father, ‘she has plenty of good sense’; and the mother said: ‘Oh, she can see
the wind coming up the street, and hear the flies coughing.’ ‘Well,’ said
Hans, ‘if she is not really smart, I won’t have her.’ When they were sitting
at dinner and had eaten, the mother said: ‘Elsie, go into the cellar and fetch
some beer.’ Then Clever Elsie took the pitcher from the wall, went into the
cellar, and tapped the lid briskly as she went, so that the time might not
appear long. When she was below she fetched herself a chair, and set it
before the barrel so that she had no need to stoop, and did not hurt her back
or do herself any unexpected injury. Then she placed the can before her, and
turned the tap, and while the beer was running she would not let her eyes be
idle, but looked up at the wall, and after much peering here and there, saw a
pick-axe exactly above her, which the masons had accidentally left there.
Then Clever Elsie began to weep and said: ‘If I get Hans, and we have a
child, and he grows big, and we send him into the cellar here to draw beer,
then the pick-axe will fall on his head and kill him.’ Then she sat and wept
and screamed with all the strength of her body, over the misfortune which
lay before her. Those upstairs waited for the drink, but Clever Elsie still did
not come. Then the woman said to the servant: ‘Just go down into the cellar
and see where Elsie is.’ The maid went and found her sitting in front of the
barrel, screaming loudly. ‘Elsie why do you weep?’ asked the maid. ‘Ah,’
she answered, ‘have I not reason to weep? If I get Hans, and we have a
child, and he grows big, and has to draw beer here, the pick-axe will
perhaps fall on his head, and kill him.’ Then said the maid: ‘What a clever
Elsie we have!’ and sat down beside her and began loudly to weep over the

misfortune. After a while, as the maid did not come back, and those upstairs
were thirsty for the beer, the man said to the boy: ‘Just go down into the
cellar and see where Elsie and the girl are.’ The boy went down, and there
sat Clever Elsie and the girl both weeping together. Then he asked: ‘Why
are you weeping?’ ‘Ah,’ said Elsie, ‘have I not reason to weep? If I get
Hans, and we have a child, and he grows big, and has to draw beer here, the
pick-axe will fall on his head and kill him.’ Then said the boy: ‘What a
clever Elsie we have!’ and sat down by her, and likewise began to howl
loudly. Upstairs they waited for the boy, but as he still did not return, the
man said to the woman: ‘Just go down into the cellar and see where Elsie
is!’ The woman went down, and found all three in the midst of their
lamentations, and inquired what was the cause; then Elsie told her also that
her future child was to be killed by the pick-axe, when it grew big and had
to draw beer, and the pick-axe fell down. Then said the mother likewise:
‘What a clever Elsie we have!’ and sat down and wept with them. The man
upstairs waited a short time, but as his wife did not come back and his thirst
grew ever greater, he said: ‘I must go into the cellar myself and see where
Elsie is.’ But when he got into the cellar, and they were all sitting together
crying, and he heard the reason, and that Elsie’s child was the cause, and the
Elsie might perhaps bring one into the world some day, and that he might be
killed by the pick-axe, if he should happen to be sitting beneath it, drawing
beer just at the very time when it fell down, he cried: ‘Oh, what a clever
Elsie!’ and sat down, and likewise wept with them. The bridegroom stayed
upstairs alone for a long time; then as no one would come back he thought:
‘They must be waiting for me below: I too must go there and see what they
are about.’ When he got down, the five of them were sitting screaming and
lamenting quite piteously, each out-doing the other. ‘What misfortune has
happened then?’ asked he. ‘Ah, dear Hans,’ said Elsie, ‘if we marry each
other and have a child, and he is big, and we perhaps send him here to draw
something to drink, then the pick-axe which has been left up there might
dash his brains out if it were to fall down, so have we not reason to weep?’
‘Come,’ said Hans, ‘more understanding than that is not needed for my
household, as you are such a clever Elsie, I will have you,’ and seized her
hand, took her upstairs with him, and married her.
After Hans had had her some time, he said: ‘Wife, I am going out to work
and earn some money for us; go into the field and cut the corn that we may
have some bread.’ ‘Yes, dear Hans, I will do that.’ After Hans had gone

away, she cooked herself some good broth and took it into the field with
her. When she came to the field she said to herself: ‘What shall I do; shall I
cut first, or shall I eat first? Oh, I will eat first.’ Then she drank her cup of
broth and when she was fully satisfied, she once more said: ‘What shall I
do? Shall I cut first, or shall I sleep first? I will sleep first.’ Then she lay
down among the corn and fell asleep. Hans had been at home for a long
time, but Elsie did not come; then said he: ‘What a clever Elsie I have; she
is so industrious that she does not even come home to eat.’ But when
evening came and she still stayed away, Hans went out to see what she had
cut, but nothing was cut, and she was lying among the corn asleep. Then
Hans hastened home and brought a fowler’s net with little bells and hung it
round about her, and she still went on sleeping. Then he ran home, shut the
house-door, and sat down in his chair and worked. At length, when it was
quite dark, Clever Elsie awoke and when she got up there was a jingling all
round about her, and the bells rang at each step which she took. Then she
was alarmed, and became uncertain whether she really was Clever Elsie or
not, and said: ‘Is it I, or is it not I?’ But she knew not what answer to make
to this, and stood for a time in doubt; at length she thought: ‘I will go home
and ask if it be I, or if it be not I, they will be sure to know.’ She ran to the
door of her own house, but it was shut; then she knocked at the window and
cried: ‘Hans, is Elsie within?’ ‘Yes,’ answered Hans, ‘she is within.’
Hereupon she was terrified, and said: ‘Ah, heavens! Then it is not I,’ and
went to another door; but when the people heard the jingling of the bells
they would not open it, and she could get in nowhere. Then she ran out of
the village, and no one has seen her since.

THE MISER IN THE BUSH

A farmer had a faithful and diligent servant, who had worked hard for
him three years, without having been paid any wages. At last it came into
the man’s head that he would not go on thus without pay any longer; so he
went to his master, and said, ‘I have worked hard for you a long time, I will
trust to you to give me what I deserve to have for my trouble.’ The farmer
was a sad miser, and knew that his man was very simple-hearted; so he took
out threepence, and gave him for every year’s service a penny. The poor
fellow thought it was a great deal of money to have, and said to himself,
‘Why should I work hard, and live here on bad fare any longer? I can now
travel into the wide world, and make myself merry.’ With that he put his
money into his purse, and set out, roaming over hill and valley.
As he jogged along over the fields, singing and dancing, a little dwarf
met him, and asked him what made him so merry. ‘Why, what should make
me down-hearted?’ said he; ‘I am sound in health and rich in purse, what
should I care for? I have saved up my three years’ earnings and have it all
safe in my pocket.’ ‘How much may it come to?’ said the little man. ‘Full
threepence,’ replied the countryman. ‘I wish you would give them to me,’
said the other; ‘I am very poor.’ Then the man pitied him, and gave him all
he had; and the little dwarf said in return, ‘As you have such a kind honest
heart, I will grant you three wishes—one for every penny; so choose
whatever you like.’ Then the countryman rejoiced at his good luck, and
said, ‘I like many things better than money: first, I will have a bow that will
bring down everything I shoot at; secondly, a fiddle that will set everyone
dancing that hears me play upon it; and thirdly, I should like that everyone
should grant what I ask.’ The dwarf said he should have his three wishes; so
he gave him the bow and fiddle, and went his way.
Our honest friend journeyed on his way too; and if he was merry before,
he was now ten times more so. He had not gone far before he met an old
miser: close by them stood a tree, and on the topmost twig sat a thrush

singing away most joyfully. ‘Oh, what a pretty bird!’ said the miser; ‘I
would give a great deal of money to have such a one.’ ‘If that’s all,’ said the
countryman, ‘I will soon bring it down.’ Then he took up his bow, and down
fell the thrush into the bushes at the foot of the tree. The miser crept into the
bush to find it; but directly he had got into the middle, his companion took
up his fiddle and played away, and the miser began to dance and spring
about, capering higher and higher in the air. The thorns soon began to tear
his clothes till they all hung in rags about him, and he himself was all
scratched and wounded, so that the blood ran down. ‘Oh, for heaven’s
sake!’ cried the miser, ‘Master! master! pray let the fiddle alone. What have
I done to deserve this?’ ‘Thou hast shaved many a poor soul close enough,’
said the other; ‘thou art only meeting thy reward’: so he played up another
tune. Then the miser began to beg and promise, and offered money for his
liberty; but he did not come up to the musician’s price for some time, and
he danced him along brisker and brisker, and the miser bid higher and
higher, till at last he offered a round hundred of florins that he had in his
purse, and had just gained by cheating some poor fellow. When the
countryman saw so much money, he said, ‘I will agree to your proposal.’ So
he took the purse, put up his fiddle, and travelled on very pleased with his
bargain.
Meanwhile the miser crept out of the bush half-naked and in a piteous
plight, and began to ponder how he should take his revenge, and serve his
late companion some trick. At last he went to the judge, and complained
that a rascal had robbed him of his money, and beaten him into the bargain;
and that the fellow who did it carried a bow at his back and a fiddle hung
round his neck. Then the judge sent out his officers to bring up the accused
wherever they should find him; and he was soon caught and brought up to
be tried.
The miser began to tell his tale, and said he had been robbed of his
money. ‘No, you gave it me for playing a tune to you.’ said the countryman;
but the judge told him that was not likely, and cut the matter short by
ordering him off to the gallows.
So away he was taken; but as he stood on the steps he said, ‘My Lord
Judge, grant me one last request.’ ‘Anything but thy life,’ replied the other.
‘No,’ said he, ‘I do not ask my life; only to let me play upon my fiddle for
the last time.’ The miser cried out, ‘Oh, no! no! for heaven’s sake don’t

listen to him! don’t listen to him!’ But the judge said, ‘It is only this once,
he will soon have done.’ The fact was, he could not refuse the request, on
account of the dwarf’s third gift.
Then the miser said, ‘Bind me fast, bind me fast, for pity’s sake.’ But the
countryman seized his fiddle, and struck up a tune, and at the first note
judge, clerks, and jailer were in motion; all began capering, and no one
could hold the miser. At the second note the hangman let his prisoner go,
and danced also, and by the time he had played the first bar of the tune, all
were dancing together—judge, court, and miser, and all the people who had
followed to look on. At first the thing was merry and pleasant enough; but
when it had gone on a while, and there seemed to be no end of playing or
dancing, they began to cry out, and beg him to leave off; but he stopped not
a whit the more for their entreaties, till the judge not only gave him his life,
but promised to return him the hundred florins.
Then he called to the miser, and said, ‘Tell us now, you vagabond, where
you got that gold, or I shall play on for your amusement only,’ ‘I stole it,’
said the miser in the presence of all the people; ‘I acknowledge that I stole
it, and that you earned it fairly.’ Then the countryman stopped his fiddle,
and left the miser to take his place at the gallows.

ASHPUTTEL

The wife of a rich man fell sick; and when she felt that her end drew
nigh, she called her only daughter to her bed-side, and said, ‘Always be a
good girl, and I will look down from heaven and watch over you.’ Soon
afterwards she shut her eyes and died, and was buried in the garden; and the
little girl went every day to her grave and wept, and was always good and
kind to all about her. And the snow fell and spread a beautiful white
covering over the grave; but by the time the spring came, and the sun had
melted it away again, her father had married another wife. This new wife
had two daughters of her own, that she brought home with her; they were
fair in face but foul at heart, and it was now a sorry time for the poor little
girl. ‘What does the good-for-nothing want in the parlour?’ said they; ‘they
who would eat bread should first earn it; away with the kitchen-maid!’ Then
they took away her fine clothes, and gave her an old grey frock to put on,
and laughed at her, and turned her into the kitchen.
There she was forced to do hard work; to rise early before daylight, to
bring the water, to make the fire, to cook and to wash. Besides that, the
sisters plagued her in all sorts of ways, and laughed at her. In the evening
when she was tired, she had no bed to lie down on, but was made to lie by
the hearth among the ashes; and as this, of course, made her always dusty
and dirty, they called her Ashputtel.
It happened once that the father was going to the fair, and asked his
wife’s daughters what he should bring them. ‘Fine clothes,’ said the first;
‘Pearls and diamonds,’ cried the second. ‘Now, child,’ said he to his own
daughter, ‘what will you have?’ ‘The first twig, dear father, that brushes
against your hat when you turn your face to come homewards,’ said she.
Then he bought for the first two the fine clothes and pearls and diamonds
they had asked for: and on his way home, as he rode through a green copse,
a hazel twig brushed against him, and almost pushed off his hat: so he broke
it off and brought it away; and when he got home he gave it to his daughter.

Then she took it, and went to her mother’s grave and planted it there; and
cried so much that it was watered with her tears; and there it grew and
became a fine tree. Three times every day she went to it and cried; and soon
a little bird came and built its nest upon the tree, and talked with her, and
watched over her, and brought her whatever she wished for.
Now it happened that the king of that land held a feast, which was to last
three days; and out of those who came to it his son was to choose a bride for
himself. Ashputtel’s two sisters were asked to come; so they called her up,
and said, ‘Now, comb our hair, brush our shoes, and tie our sashes for us,
for we are going to dance at the king’s feast.’ Then she did as she was told;
but when all was done she could not help crying, for she thought to herself,
she should so have liked to have gone with them to the ball; and at last she
begged her mother very hard to let her go. ‘You, Ashputtel!’ said she; ‘you
who have nothing to wear, no clothes at all, and who cannot even dance—
you want to go to the ball? And when she kept on begging, she said at last,
to get rid of her, ‘I will throw this dishful of peas into the ash-heap, and if in
two hours’ time you have picked them all out, you shall go to the feast too.’
Then she threw the peas down among the ashes, but the little maiden ran
out at the back door into the garden, and cried out:

‘Hither, hither, through the sky,
Turtle-doves and linnets, fly!
Blackbird, thrush, and chaffinch gay,
Hither, hither, haste away!
One and all come help me, quick!
Haste ye, haste ye!—pick, pick, pick!’

Then first came two white doves, flying in at the kitchen window; next
came two turtle-doves; and after them came all the little birds under heaven,
chirping and fluttering in: and they flew down into the ashes. And the little
doves stooped their heads down and set to work, pick, pick, pick; and then
the others began to pick, pick, pick: and among them all they soon picked
out all the good grain, and put it into a dish but left the ashes. Long before
the end of the hour the work was quite done, and all flew out again at the
windows.
Then Ashputtel brought the dish to her mother, overjoyed at the thought
that now she should go to the ball. But the mother said, ‘No, no! you slut,
you have no clothes, and cannot dance; you shall not go.’ And when
Ashputtel begged very hard to go, she said, ‘If you can in one hour’s time

pick two of those dishes of peas out of the ashes, you shall go too.’ And thus
she thought she should at least get rid of her. So she shook two dishes of
peas into the ashes.
But the little maiden went out into the garden at the back of the house,
and cried out as before:

‘Hither, hither, through the sky,
Turtle-doves and linnets, fly!
Blackbird, thrush, and chaffinch gay,
Hither, hither, haste away!
One and all come help me, quick!
Haste ye, haste ye!—pick, pick, pick!’

Then first came two white doves in at the kitchen window; next came
two turtle-doves; and after them came all the little birds under heaven,
chirping and hopping about. And they flew down into the ashes; and the
little doves put their heads down and set to work, pick, pick, pick; and then
the others began pick, pick, pick; and they put all the good grain into the
dishes, and left all the ashes. Before half an hour’s time all was done, and
out they flew again. And then Ashputtel took the dishes to her mother,
rejoicing to think that she should now go to the ball. But her mother said, ‘It
is all of no use, you cannot go; you have no clothes, and cannot dance, and
you would only put us to shame’: and off she went with her two daughters
to the ball.
Now when all were gone, and nobody left at home, Ashputtel went
sorrowfully and sat down under the hazel-tree, and cried out:

‘Shake, shake, hazel-tree,
Gold and silver over me!’

Then her friend the bird flew out of the tree, and brought a gold and
silver dress for her, and slippers of spangled silk; and she put them on, and
followed her sisters to the feast. But they did not know her, and thought it
must be some strange princess, she looked so fine and beautiful in her rich
clothes; and they never once thought of Ashputtel, taking it for granted that
she was safe at home in the dirt.
The king’s son soon came up to her, and took her by the hand and danced
with her, and no one else: and he never left her hand; but when anyone else
came to ask her to dance, he said, ‘This lady is dancing with me.’

Thus they danced till a late hour of the night; and then she wanted to go
home: and the king’s son said, ‘I shall go and take care of you to your
home’; for he wanted to see where the beautiful maiden lived. But she
slipped away from him, unawares, and ran off towards home; and as the
prince followed her, she jumped up into the pigeon-house and shut the door.
Then he waited till her father came home, and told him that the unknown
maiden, who had been at the feast, had hid herself in the pigeon-house. But
when they had broken open the door they found no one within; and as they
came back into the house, Ashputtel was lying, as she always did, in her
dirty frock by the ashes, and her dim little lamp was burning in the
chimney. For she had run as quickly as she could through the pigeon-house
and on to the hazel-tree, and had there taken off her beautiful clothes, and
put them beneath the tree, that the bird might carry them away, and had lain
down again amid the ashes in her little grey frock.
The next day when the feast was again held, and her father, mother, and
sisters were gone, Ashputtel went to the hazel-tree, and said:

‘Shake, shake, hazel-tree,
Gold and silver over me!’

And the bird came and brought a still finer dress than the one she had
worn the day before. And when she came in it to the ball, everyone
wondered at her beauty: but the king’s son, who was waiting for her, took
her by the hand, and danced with her; and when anyone asked her to dance,
he said as before, ‘This lady is dancing with me.’
When night came she wanted to go home; and the king’s son followed
here as before, that he might see into what house she went: but she sprang
away from him all at once into the garden behind her father’s house. In this
garden stood a fine large pear-tree full of ripe fruit; and Ashputtel, not
knowing where to hide herself, jumped up into it without being seen. Then
the king’s son lost sight of her, and could not find out where she was gone,
but waited till her father came home, and said to him, ‘The unknown lady
who danced with me has slipped away, and I think she must have sprung
into the pear-tree.’ The father thought to himself, ‘Can it be Ashputtel?’ So
he had an axe brought; and they cut down the tree, but found no one upon
it. And when they came back into the kitchen, there lay Ashputtel among
the ashes; for she had slipped down on the other side of the tree, and carried

her beautiful clothes back to the bird at the hazel-tree, and then put on her
little grey frock.
The third day, when her father and mother and sisters were gone, she
went again into the garden, and said:

‘Shake, shake, hazel-tree,
Gold and silver over me!’

Then her kind friend the bird brought a dress still finer than the former
one, and slippers which were all of gold: so that when she came to the feast
no one knew what to say, for wonder at her beauty: and the king’s son
danced with nobody but her; and when anyone else asked her to dance, he
said, ‘This lady is my partner, sir.’
When night came she wanted to go home; and the king’s son would go
with her, and said to himself, ‘I will not lose her this time’; but, however,
she again slipped away from him, though in such a hurry that she dropped
her left golden slipper upon the stairs.
The prince took the shoe, and went the next day to the king his father,
and said, ‘I will take for my wife the lady that this golden slipper fits.’ Then
both the sisters were overjoyed to hear it; for they had beautiful feet, and
had no doubt that they could wear the golden slipper. The eldest went first
into the room where the slipper was, and wanted to try it on, and the mother
stood by. But her great toe could not go into it, and the shoe was altogether
much too small for her. Then the mother gave her a knife, and said, ‘Never
mind, cut it off; when you are queen you will not care about toes; you will
not want to walk.’ So the silly girl cut off her great toe, and thus squeezed
on the shoe, and went to the king’s son. Then he took her for his bride, and
set her beside him on his horse, and rode away with her homewards.
But on their way home they had to pass by the hazel-tree that Ashputtel
had planted; and on the branch sat a little dove singing:

‘Back again! back again! look to the shoe!
The shoe is too small, and not made for you!
Prince! prince! look again for thy bride,
For she’s not the true one that sits by thy side.’

Then the prince got down and looked at her foot; and he saw, by the
blood that streamed from it, what a trick she had played him. So he turned
his horse round, and brought the false bride back to her home, and said,

‘This is not the right bride; let the other sister try and put on the slipper.’
Then she went into the room and got her foot into the shoe, all but the heel,
which was too large. But her mother squeezed it in till the blood came, and
took her to the king’s son: and he set her as his bride by his side on his
horse, and rode away with her.
But when they came to the hazel-tree the little dove sat there still, and
sang:

‘Back again! back again! look to the shoe!
The shoe is too small, and not made for you!
Prince! prince! look again for thy bride,
For she’s not the true one that sits by thy side.’

Then he looked down, and saw that the blood streamed so much from the
shoe, that her white stockings were quite red. So he turned his horse and
brought her also back again. ‘This is not the true bride,’ said he to the
father; ‘have you no other daughters?’ ‘No,’ said he; ‘there is only a little
dirty Ashputtel here, the child of my first wife; I am sure she cannot be the
bride.’ The prince told him to send her. But the mother said, ‘No, no, she is
much too dirty; she will not dare to show herself.’ However, the prince
would have her come; and she first washed her face and hands, and then
went in and curtsied to him, and he reached her the golden slipper. Then she
took her clumsy shoe off her left foot, and put on the golden slipper; and it
fitted her as if it had been made for her. And when he drew near and looked
at her face he knew her, and said, ‘This is the right bride.’ But the mother
and both the sisters were frightened, and turned pale with anger as he took
Ashputtel on his horse, and rode away with her. And when they came to the
hazel-tree, the white dove sang:

‘Home! home! look at the shoe!
Princess! the shoe was made for you!
Prince! prince! take home thy bride,
For she is the true one that sits by thy side!’

And when the dove had done its song, it came flying, and perched upon
her right shoulder, and so went home with her.

THE WHITE SNAKE

A long time ago there lived a king who was famed for his wisdom
through all the land. Nothing was hidden from him, and it seemed as if
news of the most secret things was brought to him through the air. But he
had a strange custom; every day after dinner, when the table was cleared,
and no one else was present, a trusty servant had to bring him one more
dish. It was covered, however, and even the servant did not know what was
in it, neither did anyone know, for the king never took off the cover to eat of
it until he was quite alone.
This had gone on for a long time, when one day the servant, who took
away the dish, was overcome with such curiosity that he could not help
carrying the dish into his room. When he had carefully locked the door, he
lifted up the cover, and saw a white snake lying on the dish. But when he
saw it he could not deny himself the pleasure of tasting it, so he cut of a
little bit and put it into his mouth. No sooner had it touched his tongue than
he heard a strange whispering of little voices outside his window. He went
and listened, and then noticed that it was the sparrows who were chattering
together, and telling one another of all kinds of things which they had seen
in the fields and woods. Eating the snake had given him power of
understanding the language of animals.
Now it so happened that on this very day the queen lost her most
beautiful ring, and suspicion of having stolen it fell upon this trusty servant,
who was allowed to go everywhere. The king ordered the man to be brought
before him, and threatened with angry words that unless he could before the
morrow point out the thief, he himself should be looked upon as guilty and
executed. In vain he declared his innocence; he was dismissed with no
better answer.
In his trouble and fear he went down into the courtyard and took thought
how to help himself out of his trouble. Now some ducks were sitting
together quietly by a brook and taking their rest; and, whilst they were

making their feathers smooth with their bills, they were having a
confidential conversation together. The servant stood by and listened. They
were telling one another of all the places where they had been waddling
about all the morning, and what good food they had found; and one said in
a pitiful tone: ‘Something lies heavy on my stomach; as I was eating in
haste I swallowed a ring which lay under the queen’s window.’ The servant
at once seized her by the neck, carried her to the kitchen, and said to the
cook: ‘Here is a fine duck; pray, kill her.’ ‘Yes,’ said the cook, and weighed
her in his hand; ‘she has spared no trouble to fatten herself, and has been
waiting to be roasted long enough.’ So he cut off her head, and as she was
being dressed for the spit, the queen’s ring was found inside her.
The servant could now easily prove his innocence; and the king, to make
amends for the wrong, allowed him to ask a favour, and promised him the
best place in the court that he could wish for. The servant refused
everything, and only asked for a horse and some money for travelling, as he
had a mind to see the world and go about a little. When his request was
granted he set out on his way, and one day came to a pond, where he saw
three fishes caught in the reeds and gasping for water. Now, though it is said
that fishes are dumb, he heard them lamenting that they must perish so
miserably, and, as he had a kind heart, he got off his horse and put the three
prisoners back into the water. They leapt with delight, put out their heads,
and cried to him: ‘We will remember you and repay you for saving us!’
He rode on, and after a while it seemed to him that he heard a voice in
the sand at his feet. He listened, and heard an ant-king complain: ‘Why
cannot folks, with their clumsy beasts, keep off our bodies? That stupid
horse, with his heavy hoofs, has been treading down my people without
mercy!’ So he turned on to a side path and the ant-king cried out to him:
‘We will remember you—one good turn deserves another!’
The path led him into a wood, and there he saw two old ravens standing
by their nest, and throwing out their young ones. ‘Out with you, you idle,
good-for-nothing creatures!’ cried they; ‘we cannot find food for you any
longer; you are big enough, and can provide for yourselves.’ But the poor
young ravens lay upon the ground, flapping their wings, and crying: ‘Oh,
what helpless chicks we are! We must shift for ourselves, and yet we cannot
fly! What can we do, but lie here and starve?’ So the good young fellow
alighted and killed his horse with his sword, and gave it to them for food.

Then they came hopping up to it, satisfied their hunger, and cried: ‘We will
remember you—one good turn deserves another!’
And now he had to use his own legs, and when he had walked a long
way, he came to a large city. There was a great noise and crowd in the
streets, and a man rode up on horseback, crying aloud: ‘The king’s daughter
wants a husband; but whoever seeks her hand must perform a hard task, and
if he does not succeed he will forfeit his life.’ Many had already made the
attempt, but in vain; nevertheless when the youth saw the king’s daughter
he was so overcome by her great beauty that he forgot all danger, went
before the king, and declared himself a suitor.
So he was led out to the sea, and a gold ring was thrown into it, before
his eyes; then the king ordered him to fetch this ring up from the bottom of
the sea, and added: ‘If you come up again without it you will be thrown in
again and again until you perish amid the waves.’ All the people grieved for
the handsome youth; then they went away, leaving him alone by the sea.
He stood on the shore and considered what he should do, when suddenly
he saw three fishes come swimming towards him, and they were the very
fishes whose lives he had saved. The one in the middle held a mussel in its
mouth, which it laid on the shore at the youth’s feet, and when he had taken
it up and opened it, there lay the gold ring in the shell. Full of joy he took it
to the king and expected that he would grant him the promised reward.
But when the proud princess perceived that he was not her equal in birth,
she scorned him, and required him first to perform another task. She went
down into the garden and strewed with her own hands ten sacksful of
millet-seed on the grass; then she said: ‘Tomorrow morning before sunrise
these must be picked up, and not a single grain be wanting.’
The youth sat down in the garden and considered how it might be
possible to perform this task, but he could think of nothing, and there he sat
sorrowfully awaiting the break of day, when he should be led to death. But
as soon as the first rays of the sun shone into the garden he saw all the ten
sacks standing side by side, quite full, and not a single grain was missing.
The ant-king had come in the night with thousands and thousands of ants,
and the grateful creatures had by great industry picked up all the millet-seed
and gathered them into the sacks.
Presently the king’s daughter herself came down into the garden, and was
amazed to see that the young man had done the task she had given him. But

she could not yet conquer her proud heart, and said: ‘Although he has
performed both the tasks, he shall not be my husband until he had brought
me an apple from the Tree of Life.’ The youth did not know where the Tree
of Life stood, but he set out, and would have gone on for ever, as long as his
legs would carry him, though he had no hope of finding it. After he had
wandered through three kingdoms, he came one evening to a wood, and lay
down under a tree to sleep. But he heard a rustling in the branches, and a
golden apple fell into his hand. At the same time three ravens flew down to
him, perched themselves upon his knee, and said: ‘We are the three young
ravens whom you saved from starving; when we had grown big, and heard
that you were seeking the Golden Apple, we flew over the sea to the end of
the world, where the Tree of Life stands, and have brought you the apple.’
The youth, full of joy, set out homewards, and took the Golden Apple to the
king’s beautiful daughter, who had now no more excuses left to make. They
cut the Apple of Life in two and ate it together; and then her heart became
full of love for him, and they lived in undisturbed happiness to a great age.

THE WOLF AND THE SEVEN LITTLE KIDS

There was once upon a time an old goat who had seven little kids, and
loved them with all the love of a mother for her children. One day she
wanted to go into the forest and fetch some food. So she called all seven to
her and said: ‘Dear children, I have to go into the forest, be on your guard
against the wolf; if he comes in, he will devour you all—skin, hair, and
everything. The wretch often disguises himself, but you will know him at
once by his rough voice and his black feet.’ The kids said: ‘Dear mother, we
will take good care of ourselves; you may go away without any anxiety.’
Then the old one bleated, and went on her way with an easy mind.
It was not long before someone knocked at the house-door and called:
‘Open the door, dear children; your mother is here, and has brought
something back with her for each of you.’ But the little kids knew that it
was the wolf, by the rough voice. ‘We will not open the door,’ cried they,
‘you are not our mother. She has a soft, pleasant voice, but your voice is
rough; you are the wolf!’ Then the wolf went away to a shopkeeper and
bought himself a great lump of chalk, ate this and made his voice soft with
it. Then he came back, knocked at the door of the house, and called: ‘Open
the door, dear children, your mother is here and has brought something back
with her for each of you.’ But the wolf had laid his black paws against the
window, and the children saw them and cried: ‘We will not open the door,
our mother has not black feet like you: you are the wolf!’ Then the wolf ran
to a baker and said: ‘I have hurt my feet, rub some dough over them for
me.’ And when the baker had rubbed his feet over, he ran to the miller and
said: ‘Strew some white meal over my feet for me.’ The miller thought to
himself: ‘The wolf wants to deceive someone,’ and refused; but the wolf
said: ‘If you will not do it, I will devour you.’ Then the miller was afraid,
and made his paws white for him. Truly, this is the way of mankind.
So now the wretch went for the third time to the house-door, knocked at
it and said: ‘Open the door for me, children, your dear little mother has

come home, and has brought every one of you something back from the
forest with her.’ The little kids cried: ‘First show us your paws that we may
know if you are our dear little mother.’ Then he put his paws in through the
window and when the kids saw that they were white, they believed that all
he said was true, and opened the door. But who should come in but the
wolf! They were terrified and wanted to hide themselves. One sprang under
the table, the second into the bed, the third into the stove, the fourth into the
kitchen, the fifth into the cupboard, the sixth under the washing-bowl, and
the seventh into the clock-case. But the wolf found them all, and used no
great ceremony; one after the other he swallowed them down his throat. The
youngest, who was in the clock-case, was the only one he did not find.
When the wolf had satisfied his appetite he took himself off, laid himself
down under a tree in the green meadow outside, and began to sleep. Soon
afterwards the old goat came home again from the forest. Ah! what a sight
she saw there! The house-door stood wide open. The table, chairs, and
benches were thrown down, the washing-bowl lay broken to pieces, and the
quilts and pillows were pulled off the bed. She sought her children, but they
were nowhere to be found. She called them one after another by name, but
no one answered. At last, when she came to the youngest, a soft voice cried:
‘Dear mother, I am in the clock-case.’ She took the kid out, and it told her
that the wolf had come and had eaten all the others. Then you may imagine
how she wept over her poor children.
At length in her grief she went out, and the youngest kid ran with her.
When they came to the meadow, there lay the wolf by the tree and snored
so loud that the branches shook. She looked at him on every side and saw
that something was moving and struggling in his gorged belly. ‘Ah,
heavens,’ she said, ‘is it possible that my poor children whom he has
swallowed down for his supper, can be still alive?’ Then the kid had to run
home and fetch scissors, and a needle and thread, and the goat cut open the
monster’s stomach, and hardly had she made one cut, than one little kid
thrust its head out, and when she had cut farther, all six sprang out one after
another, and were all still alive, and had suffered no injury whatever, for in
his greediness the monster had swallowed them down whole. What
rejoicing there was! They embraced their dear mother, and jumped like a
tailor at his wedding. The mother, however, said: ‘Now go and look for
some big stones, and we will fill the wicked beast’s stomach with them
while he is still asleep.’ Then the seven kids dragged the stones thither with

all speed, and put as many of them into this stomach as they could get in;
and the mother sewed him up again in the greatest haste, so that he was not
aware of anything and never once stirred.
When the wolf at length had had his fill of sleep, he got on his legs, and
as the stones in his stomach made him very thirsty, he wanted to go to a
well to drink. But when he began to walk and to move about, the stones in
his stomach knocked against each other and rattled. Then cried he:

‘What rumbles and tumbles
Against my poor bones?
I thought ‘twas six kids,
But it feels like big stones.’

And when he got to the well and stooped over the water to drink, the
heavy stones made him fall in, and he drowned miserably. When the seven
kids saw that, they came running to the spot and cried aloud: ‘The wolf is
dead! The wolf is dead!’ and danced for joy round about the well with their
mother.

THE QUEEN BEE

Two kings’ sons once upon a time went into the world to seek their
fortunes; but they soon fell into a wasteful foolish way of living, so that
they could not return home again. Then their brother, who was a little
insignificant dwarf, went out to seek for his brothers: but when he had
found them they only laughed at him, to think that he, who was so young
and simple, should try to travel through the world, when they, who were so
much wiser, had been unable to get on. However, they all set out on their
journey together, and came at last to an ant-hill. The two elder brothers
would have pulled it down, in order to see how the poor ants in their fright
would run about and carry off their eggs. But the little dwarf said, ‘Let the
poor things enjoy themselves, I will not suffer you to trouble them.’
So on they went, and came to a lake where many many ducks were
swimming about. The two brothers wanted to catch two, and roast them.
But the dwarf said, ‘Let the poor things enjoy themselves, you shall not kill
them.’ Next they came to a bees’-nest in a hollow tree, and there was so
much honey that it ran down the trunk; and the two brothers wanted to light
a fire under the tree and kill the bees, so as to get their honey. But the dwarf
held them back, and said, ‘Let the pretty insects enjoy themselves, I cannot
let you burn them.’
At length the three brothers came to a castle: and as they passed by the
stables they saw fine horses standing there, but all were of marble, and no
man was to be seen. Then they went through all the rooms, till they came to
a door on which were three locks: but in the middle of the door was a
wicket, so that they could look into the next room. There they saw a little
grey old man sitting at a table; and they called to him once or twice, but he
did not hear: however, they called a third time, and then he rose and came
out to them.
He said nothing, but took hold of them and led them to a beautiful table
covered with all sorts of good things: and when they had eaten and drunk,

he showed each of them to a bed-chamber.
The next morning he came to the eldest and took him to a marble table,
where there were three tablets, containing an account of the means by
which the castle might be disenchanted. The first tablet said: ‘In the wood,
under the moss, lie the thousand pearls belonging to the king’s daughter;
they must all be found: and if one be missing by set of sun, he who seeks
them will be turned into marble.’
The eldest brother set out, and sought for the pearls the whole day: but
the evening came, and he had not found the first hundred: so he was turned
into stone as the tablet had foretold.
The next day the second brother undertook the task; but he succeeded no
better than the first; for he could only find the second hundred of the pearls;
and therefore he too was turned into stone.
At last came the little dwarf’s turn; and he looked in the moss; but it was
so hard to find the pearls, and the job was so tiresome!—so he sat down
upon a stone and cried. And as he sat there, the king of the ants (whose life
he had saved) came to help him, with five thousand ants; and it was not
long before they had found all the pearls and laid them in a heap.
The second tablet said: ‘The key of the princess’s bed-chamber must be
fished up out of the lake.’ And as the dwarf came to the brink of it, he saw
the two ducks whose lives he had saved swimming about; and they dived
down and soon brought in the key from the bottom.
The third task was the hardest. It was to choose out the youngest and the
best of the king’s three daughters. Now they were all beautiful, and all
exactly alike: but he was told that the eldest had eaten a piece of sugar, the
next some sweet syrup, and the youngest a spoonful of honey; so he was to
guess which it was that had eaten the honey.
Then came the queen of the bees, who had been saved by the little dwarf
from the fire, and she tried the lips of all three; but at last she sat upon the
lips of the one that had eaten the honey: and so the dwarf knew which was
the youngest. Thus the spell was broken, and all who had been turned into
stones awoke, and took their proper forms. And the dwarf married the
youngest and the best of the princesses, and was king after her father’s
death; but his two brothers married the other two sisters.

THE ELVES AND THE SHOEMAKER

There was once a shoemaker, who worked very hard and was very
honest: but still he could not earn enough to live upon; and at last all he had
in the world was gone, save just leather enough to make one pair of shoes.
Then he cut his leather out, all ready to make up the next day, meaning to
rise early in the morning to his work. His conscience was clear and his heart
light amidst all his troubles; so he went peaceably to bed, left all his cares to
Heaven, and soon fell asleep. In the morning after he had said his prayers,
he sat himself down to his work; when, to his great wonder, there stood the
shoes all ready made, upon the table. The good man knew not what to say
or think at such an odd thing happening. He looked at the workmanship;
there was not one false stitch in the whole job; all was so neat and true, that
it was quite a masterpiece.
The same day a customer came in, and the shoes suited him so well that
he willingly paid a price higher than usual for them; and the poor
shoemaker, with the money, bought leather enough to make two pairs more.
In the evening he cut out the work, and went to bed early, that he might get
up and begin betimes next day; but he was saved all the trouble, for when
he got up in the morning the work was done ready to his hand. Soon in
came buyers, who paid him handsomely for his goods, so that he bought
leather enough for four pair more. He cut out the work again overnight and
found it done in the morning, as before; and so it went on for some time:
what was got ready in the evening was always done by daybreak, and the
good man soon became thriving and well off again.
One evening, about Christmas-time, as he and his wife were sitting over
the fire chatting together, he said to her, ‘I should like to sit up and watch
tonight, that we may see who it is that comes and does my work for me.’
The wife liked the thought; so they left a light burning, and hid themselves
in a corner of the room, behind a curtain that was hung up there, and
watched what would happen.

As soon as it was midnight, there came in two little naked dwarfs; and
they sat themselves upon the shoemaker’s bench, took up all the work that
was cut out, and began to ply with their little fingers, stitching and rapping
and tapping away at such a rate, that the shoemaker was all wonder, and
could not take his eyes off them. And on they went, till the job was quite
done, and the shoes stood ready for use upon the table. This was long before
daybreak; and then they bustled away as quick as lightning.
The next day the wife said to the shoemaker. ‘These little wights have
made us rich, and we ought to be thankful to them, and do them a good turn
if we can. I am quite sorry to see them run about as they do; and indeed it is
not very decent, for they have nothing upon their backs to keep off the cold.
I’ll tell you what, I will make each of them a shirt, and a coat and waistcoat,
and a pair of pantaloons into the bargain; and do you make each of them a
little pair of shoes.’
The thought pleased the good cobbler very much; and one evening, when
all the things were ready, they laid them on the table, instead of the work
that they used to cut out, and then went and hid themselves, to watch what
the little elves would do.
About midnight in they came, dancing and skipping, hopped round the
room, and then went to sit down to their work as usual; but when they saw
the clothes lying for them, they laughed and chuckled, and seemed mightily
delighted.
Then they dressed themselves in the twinkling of an eye, and danced and
capered and sprang about, as merry as could be; till at last they danced out
at the door, and away over the green.
The good couple saw them no more; but everything went well with them
from that time forward, as long as they lived.

THE JUNIPER-TREE

Long, long ago, some two thousand years or so, there lived a rich man
with a good and beautiful wife. They loved each other dearly, but sorrowed
much that they had no children. So greatly did they desire to have one, that
the wife prayed for it day and night, but still they remained childless.
In front of the house there was a court, in which grew a juniper-tree. One
winter’s day the wife stood under the tree to peel some apples, and as she
was peeling them, she cut her finger, and the blood fell on the snow. ‘Ah,’
sighed the woman heavily, ‘if I had but a child, as red as blood and as white
as snow,’ and as she spoke the words, her heart grew light within her, and it
seemed to her that her wish was granted, and she returned to the house
feeling glad and comforted. A month passed, and the snow had all
disappeared; then another month went by, and all the earth was green. So
the months followed one another, and first the trees budded in the woods,
and soon the green branches grew thickly intertwined, and then the
blossoms began to fall. Once again the wife stood under the juniper-tree,
and it was so full of sweet scent that her heart leaped for joy, and she was so
overcome with her happiness, that she fell on her knees. Presently the fruit
became round and firm, and she was glad and at peace; but when they were
fully ripe she picked the berries and ate eagerly of them, and then she grew
sad and ill. A little while later she called her husband, and said to him,
weeping. ‘If I die, bury me under the juniper-tree.’ Then she felt comforted
and happy again, and before another month had passed she had a little child,
and when she saw that it was as white as snow and as red as blood, her joy
was so great that she died.
Her husband buried her under the juniper-tree, and wept bitterly for her.
By degrees, however, his sorrow grew less, and although at times he still
grieved over his loss, he was able to go about as usual, and later on he
married again.

He now had a little daughter born to him; the child of his first wife was a
boy, who was as red as blood and as white as snow. The mother loved her
daughter very much, and when she looked at her and then looked at the boy,
it pierced her heart to think that he would always stand in the way of her
own child, and she was continually thinking how she could get the whole of
the property for her. This evil thought took possession of her more and
more, and made her behave very unkindly to the boy. She drove him from
place to place with cuffings and buffetings, so that the poor child went
about in fear, and had no peace from the time he left school to the time he
went back.
One day the little daughter came running to her mother in the store-room,
and said, ‘Mother, give me an apple.’ ‘Yes, my child,’ said the wife, and she
gave her a beautiful apple out of the chest; the chest had a very heavy lid
and a large iron lock.
‘Mother,’ said the little daughter again, ‘may not brother have one too?’
The mother was angry at this, but she answered, ‘Yes, when he comes out
of school.’
Just then she looked out of the window and saw him coming, and it
seemed as if an evil spirit entered into her, for she snatched the apple out of
her little daughter’s hand, and said, ‘You shall not have one before your
brother.’ She threw the apple into the chest and shut it to. The little boy now
came in, and the evil spirit in the wife made her say kindly to him, ‘My son,
will you have an apple?’ but she gave him a wicked look. ‘Mother,’ said the
boy, ‘how dreadful you look! Yes, give me an apple.’ The thought came to
her that she would kill him. ‘Come with me,’ she said, and she lifted up the
lid of the chest; ‘take one out for yourself.’ And as he bent over to do so, the
evil spirit urged her, and crash! down went the lid, and off went the little
boy’s head. Then she was overwhelmed with fear at the thought of what she
had done. ‘If only I can prevent anyone knowing that I did it,’ she thought.
So she went upstairs to her room, and took a white handkerchief out of her
top drawer; then she set the boy’s head again on his shoulders, and bound it
with the handkerchief so that nothing could be seen, and placed him on a
chair by the door with an apple in his hand.
Soon after this, little Marleen came up to her mother who was stirring a
pot of boiling water over the fire, and said, ‘Mother, brother is sitting by the

door with an apple in his hand, and he looks so pale; and when I asked him
to give me the apple, he did not answer, and that frightened me.’
‘Go to him again,’ said her mother, ‘and if he does not answer, give him a
box on the ear.’ So little Marleen went, and said, ‘Brother, give me that
apple,’ but he did not say a word; then she gave him a box on the ear, and
his head rolled off. She was so terrified at this, that she ran crying and
screaming to her mother. ‘Oh!’ she said, ‘I have knocked off brother’s
head,’ and then she wept and wept, and nothing would stop her.
‘What have you done!’ said her mother, ‘but no one must know about it,
so you must keep silence; what is done can’t be undone; we will make him
into puddings.’ And she took the little boy and cut him up, made him into
puddings, and put him in the pot. But Marleen stood looking on, and wept
and wept, and her tears fell into the pot, so that there was no need of salt.
Presently the father came home and sat down to his dinner; he asked,
‘Where is my son?’ The mother said nothing, but gave him a large dish of
black pudding, and Marleen still wept without ceasing.
The father again asked, ‘Where is my son?’
‘Oh,’ answered the wife, ‘he is gone into the country to his mother’s
great uncle; he is going to stay there some time.’
‘What has he gone there for, and he never even said goodbye to me!’
‘Well, he likes being there, and he told me he should be away quite six
weeks; he is well looked after there.’
‘I feel very unhappy about it,’ said the husband, ‘in case it should not be
all right, and he ought to have said goodbye to me.’
With this he went on with his dinner, and said, ‘Little Marleen, why do
you weep? Brother will soon be back.’ Then he asked his wife for more
pudding, and as he ate, he threw the bones under the table.
Little Marleen went upstairs and took her best silk handkerchief out of
her bottom drawer, and in it she wrapped all the bones from under the table
and carried them outside, and all the time she did nothing but weep. Then
she laid them in the green grass under the juniper-tree, and she had no
sooner done so, then all her sadness seemed to leave her, and she wept no
more. And now the juniper-tree began to move, and the branches waved
backwards and forwards, first away from one another, and then together
again, as it might be someone clapping their hands for joy. After this a mist

came round the tree, and in the midst of it there was a burning as of fire,
and out of the fire there flew a beautiful bird, that rose high into the air,
singing magnificently, and when it could no more be seen, the juniper-tree
stood there as before, and the silk handkerchief and the bones were gone.
Little Marleen now felt as lighthearted and happy as if her brother were
still alive, and she went back to the house and sat down cheerfully to the
table and ate.
The bird flew away and alighted on the house of a goldsmith and began
to sing:

‘My mother killed her little son;
My father grieved when I was gone;
My sister loved me best of all;
She laid her kerchief over me,
And took my bones that they might lie
Underneath the juniper-tree
Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!’

The goldsmith was in his workshop making a gold chain, when he heard
the song of the bird on his roof. He thought it so beautiful that he got up and
ran out, and as he crossed the threshold he lost one of his slippers. But he
ran on into the middle of the street, with a slipper on one foot and a sock on
the other; he still had on his apron, and still held the gold chain and the
pincers in his hands, and so he stood gazing up at the bird, while the sun
came shining brightly down on the street.
‘Bird,’ he said, ‘how beautifully you sing! Sing me that song again.’
‘Nay,’ said the bird, ‘I do not sing twice for nothing. Give that gold chain,
and I will sing it you again.’
‘Here is the chain, take it,’ said the goldsmith. ‘Only sing me that again.’
The bird flew down and took the gold chain in his right claw, and then he
alighted again in front of the goldsmith and sang:

‘My mother killed her little son;
My father grieved when I was gone;
My sister loved me best of all;
She laid her kerchief over me,
And took my bones that they might lie
Underneath the juniper-tree
Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!’

Then he flew away, and settled on the roof of a shoemaker’s house and
sang:

‘My mother killed her little son;
My father grieved when I was gone;
My sister loved me best of all;
She laid her kerchief over me,
And took my bones that they might lie
Underneath the juniper-tree
Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!’

The shoemaker heard him, and he jumped up and ran out in his shirt-
sleeves, and stood looking up at the bird on the roof with his hand over his
eyes to keep himself from being blinded by the sun.
‘Bird,’ he said, ‘how beautifully you sing!’ Then he called through the
door to his wife: ‘Wife, come out; here is a bird, come and look at it and
hear how beautifully it sings.’ Then he called his daughter and the children,
then the apprentices, girls and boys, and they all ran up the street to look at
the bird, and saw how splendid it was with its red and green feathers, and its
neck like burnished gold, and eyes like two bright stars in its head.
‘Bird,’ said the shoemaker, ‘sing me that song again.’
‘Nay,’ answered the bird, ‘I do not sing twice for nothing; you must give
me something.’
‘Wife,’ said the man, ‘go into the garret; on the upper shelf you will see a
pair of red shoes; bring them to me.’ The wife went in and fetched the
shoes.
‘There, bird,’ said the shoemaker, ‘now sing me that song again.’
The bird flew down and took the red shoes in his left claw, and then he
went back to the roof and sang:

‘My mother killed her little son;
My father grieved when I was gone;
My sister loved me best of all;
She laid her kerchief over me,
And took my bones that they might lie
Underneath the juniper-tree
Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!’

When he had finished, he flew away. He had the chain in his right claw
and the shoes in his left, and he flew right away to a mill, and the mill went
‘Click clack, click clack, click clack.’ Inside the mill were twenty of the
miller’s men hewing a stone, and as they went ‘Hick hack, hick hack, hick
hack,’ the mill went ‘Click clack, click clack, click clack.’
The bird settled on a lime-tree in front of the mill and sang:

‘My mother killed her little son;

then one of the men left off,

My father grieved when I was gone;

two more men left off and listened,

My sister loved me best of all;

then four more left off,

She laid her kerchief over me,
And took my bones that they might lie

Now there were only eight at work,

Underneath,

and now only five,

the juniper-tree.

and now only one,

Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!’

then he looked up and the last one had left off work.
‘Bird,’ he said, ‘what a beautiful song that is you sing! Let me hear it too;
sing it again.’
‘Nay,’ answered the bird, ‘I do not sing twice for nothing; give me that
millstone, and I will sing it again.’
‘If it belonged to me alone,’ said the man, ‘you should have it.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said the others: ‘if he will sing again, he can have it.’
The bird came down, and all the twenty millers set to and lifted up the
stone with a beam; then the bird put his head through the hole and took the
stone round his neck like a collar, and flew back with it to the tree and sang
—

‘My mother killed her little son;
My father grieved when I was gone;
My sister loved me best of all;
She laid her kerchief over me,

And took my bones that they might lie
Underneath the juniper-tree
Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!’

And when he had finished his song, he spread his wings, and with the
chain in his right claw, the shoes in his left, and the millstone round his
neck, he flew right away to his father’s house.
The father, the mother, and little Marleen were having their dinner.
‘How lighthearted I feel,’ said the father, ‘so pleased and cheerful.’
‘And I,’ said the mother, ‘I feel so uneasy, as if a heavy thunderstorm
were coming.’
But little Marleen sat and wept and wept.
Then the bird came flying towards the house and settled on the roof.
‘I do feel so happy,’ said the father, ‘and how beautifully the sun shines; I
feel just as if I were going to see an old friend again.’
‘Ah!’ said the wife, ‘and I am so full of distress and uneasiness that my
teeth chatter, and I feel as if there were a fire in my veins,’ and she tore
open her dress; and all the while little Marleen sat in the corner and wept,
and the plate on her knees was wet with her tears.
The bird now flew to the juniper-tree and began singing:

‘My mother killed her little son;

the mother shut her eyes and her ears, that she might see and hear
nothing, but there was a roaring sound in her ears like that of a violent
storm, and in her eyes a burning and flashing like lightning:

My father grieved when I was gone;

‘Look, mother,’ said the man, ‘at the beautiful bird that is singing so
magnificently; and how warm and bright the sun is, and what a delicious
scent of spice in the air!’

My sister loved me best of all;

then little Marleen laid her head down on her knees and sobbed.
‘I must go outside and see the bird nearer,’ said the man.
‘Ah, do not go!’ cried the wife. ‘I feel as if the whole house were in
flames!’

But the man went out and looked at the bird.

She laid her kerchief over me,
And took my bones that they might lie
Underneath the juniper-tree
Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!’

With that the bird let fall the gold chain, and it fell just round the man’s
neck, so that it fitted him exactly.
He went inside, and said, ‘See, what a splendid bird that is; he has given
me this beautiful gold chain, and looks so beautiful himself.’
But the wife was in such fear and trouble, that she fell on the floor, and
her cap fell from her head.
Then the bird began again:

‘My mother killed her little son;

‘Ah me!’ cried the wife, ‘if I were but a thousand feet beneath the earth,
that I might not hear that song.’

My father grieved when I was gone;

then the woman fell down again as if dead.

My sister loved me best of all;

‘Well,’ said little Marleen, ‘I will go out too and see if the bird will give
me anything.’
So she went out.

She laid her kerchief over me,
And took my bones that they might lie

and he threw down the shoes to her,

Underneath the juniper-tree
Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!’

And she now felt quite happy and lighthearted; she put on the shoes and
danced and jumped about in them. ‘I was so miserable,’ she said, ‘when I
came out, but that has all passed away; that is indeed a splendid bird, and he
has given me a pair of red shoes.’

The wife sprang up, with her hair standing out from her head like flames
of fire. ‘Then I will go out too,’ she said, ‘and see if it will lighten my
misery, for I feel as if the world were coming to an end.’
But as she crossed the threshold, crash! the bird threw the millstone down
on her head, and she was crushed to death.
The father and little Marleen heard the sound and ran out, but they only
saw mist and flame and fire rising from the spot, and when these had
passed, there stood the little brother, and he took the father and little
Marleen by the hand; then they all three rejoiced, and went inside together
and sat down to their dinners and ate.

THE TURNIP

There were two brothers who were both soldiers; the one was rich and
the other poor. The poor man thought he would try to better himself; so,
pulling off his red coat, he became a gardener, and dug his ground well, and
sowed turnips.
When the seed came up, there was one plant bigger than all the rest; and
it kept getting larger and larger, and seemed as if it would never cease
growing; so that it might have been called the prince of turnips for there
never was such a one seen before, and never will again. At last it was so big
that it filled a cart, and two oxen could hardly draw it; and the gardener
knew not what in the world to do with it, nor whether it would be a blessing
or a curse to him. One day he said to himself, ‘What shall I do with it? if I
sell it, it will bring no more than another; and for eating, the little turnips
are better than this; the best thing perhaps is to carry it and give it to the
king as a mark of respect.’
Then he yoked his oxen, and drew the turnip to the court, and gave it to
the king. ‘What a wonderful thing!’ said the king; ‘I have seen many strange
things, but such a monster as this I never saw. Where did you get the seed?
or is it only your good luck? If so, you are a true child of fortune.’ ‘Ah, no!’
answered the gardener, ‘I am no child of fortune; I am a poor soldier, who
never could get enough to live upon; so I laid aside my red coat, and set to
work, tilling the ground. I have a brother, who is rich, and your majesty
knows him well, and all the world knows him; but because I am poor,
everybody forgets me.’
The king then took pity on him, and said, ‘You shall be poor no longer. I
will give you so much that you shall be even richer than your brother.’ Then
he gave him gold and lands and flocks, and made him so rich that his
brother’s fortune could not at all be compared with his.

When the brother heard of all this, and how a turnip had made the
gardener so rich, he envied him sorely, and bethought himself how he could
contrive to get the same good fortune for himself. However, he determined
to manage more cleverly than his brother, and got together a rich present of
gold and fine horses for the king; and thought he must have a much larger
gift in return; for if his brother had received so much for only a turnip, what
must his present be worth?
The king took the gift very graciously, and said he knew not what to give
in return more valuable and wonderful than the great turnip; so the soldier
was forced to put it into a cart, and drag it home with him. When he reached
home, he knew not upon whom to vent his rage and spite; and at length
wicked thoughts came into his head, and he resolved to kill his brother.
So he hired some villains to murder him; and having shown them where
to lie in ambush, he went to his brother, and said, ‘Dear brother, I have
found a hidden treasure; let us go and dig it up, and share it between us.’
The other had no suspicions of his roguery: so they went out together, and
as they were travelling along, the murderers rushed out upon him, bound
him, and were going to hang him on a tree.
But whilst they were getting all ready, they heard the trampling of a horse
at a distance, which so frightened them that they pushed their prisoner neck
and shoulders together into a sack, and swung him up by a cord to the tree,
where they left him dangling, and ran away. Meantime he worked and
worked away, till he made a hole large enough to put out his head.
When the horseman came up, he proved to be a student, a merry fellow,
who was journeying along on his nag, and singing as he went. As soon as
the man in the sack saw him passing under the tree, he cried out, ‘Good
morning! good morning to thee, my friend!’ The student looked about
everywhere; and seeing no one, and not knowing where the voice came
from, cried out, ‘Who calls me?’
Then the man in the tree answered, ‘Lift up thine eyes, for behold here I
sit in the sack of wisdom; here have I, in a short time, learned great and
wondrous things. Compared to this seat, all the learning of the schools is as
empty air. A little longer, and I shall know all that man can know, and shall
come forth wiser than the wisest of mankind. Here I discern the signs and
motions of the heavens and the stars; the laws that control the winds; the
number of the sands on the seashore; the healing of the sick; the virtues of

all simples, of birds, and of precious stones. Wert thou but once here, my
friend, though wouldst feel and own the power of knowledge.
The student listened to all this and wondered much; at last he said,
‘Blessed be the day and hour when I found you; cannot you contrive to let
me into the sack for a little while?’ Then the other answered, as if very
unwillingly, ‘A little space I may allow thee to sit here, if thou wilt reward
me well and entreat me kindly; but thou must tarry yet an hour below, till I
have learnt some little matters that are yet unknown to me.’
So the student sat himself down and waited a while; but the time hung
heavy upon him, and he begged earnestly that he might ascend forthwith,
for his thirst for knowledge was great. Then the other pretended to give
way, and said, ‘Thou must let the sack of wisdom descend, by untying
yonder cord, and then thou shalt enter.’ So the student let him down, opened
the sack, and set him free. ‘Now then,’ cried he, ‘let me ascend quickly.’ As
he began to put himself into the sack heels first, ‘Wait a while,’ said the
gardener, ‘that is not the way.’ Then he pushed him in head first, tied up the
sack, and soon swung up the searcher after wisdom dangling in the air.
‘How is it with thee, friend?’ said he, ‘dost thou not feel that wisdom comes
unto thee? Rest there in peace, till thou art a wiser man than thou wert.’
So saying, he trotted off on the student’s nag, and left the poor fellow to
gather wisdom till somebody should come and let him down.

CLEVER HANS

The mother of Hans said: ‘Whither away, Hans?’ Hans answered: ‘To
Gretel.’ ‘Behave well, Hans.’ ‘Oh, I’ll behave well. Goodbye, mother.’
‘Goodbye, Hans.’ Hans comes to Gretel. ‘Good day, Gretel.’ ‘Good day,
Hans. What do you bring that is good?’ ‘I bring nothing, I want to have
something given me.’ Gretel presents Hans with a needle, Hans says:
‘Goodbye, Gretel.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’
Hans takes the needle, sticks it into a hay-cart, and follows the cart home.
‘Good evening, mother.’ ‘Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?’
‘With Gretel.’ ‘What did you take her?’ ‘Took nothing; had something given
me.’ ‘What did Gretel give you?’ ‘Gave me a needle.’ ‘Where is the needle,
Hans?’ ‘Stuck in the hay-cart.’ ‘That was ill done, Hans. You should have
stuck the needle in your sleeve.’ ‘Never mind, I’ll do better next time.’
‘Whither away, Hans?’ ‘To Gretel, mother.’ ‘Behave well, Hans.’ ‘Oh, I’ll
behave well. Goodbye, mother.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’ Hans comes to Gretel.
‘Good day, Gretel.’ ‘Good day, Hans. What do you bring that is good?’ ‘I
bring nothing. I want to have something given to me.’ Gretel presents Hans
with a knife. ‘Goodbye, Gretel.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’ Hans takes the knife,
sticks it in his sleeve, and goes home. ‘Good evening, mother.’ ‘Good
evening, Hans. Where have you been?’ ‘With Gretel.’ What did you take
her?’ ‘Took her nothing, she gave me something.’ ‘What did Gretel give
you?’ ‘Gave me a knife.’ ‘Where is the knife, Hans?’ ‘Stuck in my sleeve.’
‘That’s ill done, Hans, you should have put the knife in your pocket.’
‘Never mind, will do better next time.’
‘Whither away, Hans?’ ‘To Gretel, mother.’ ‘Behave well, Hans.’ ‘Oh, I’ll
behave well. Goodbye, mother.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’ Hans comes to Gretel.
‘Good day, Gretel.’ ‘Good day, Hans. What good thing do you bring?’ ‘I
bring nothing, I want something given me.’ Gretel presents Hans with a
young goat. ‘Goodbye, Gretel.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’ Hans takes the goat, ties
its legs, and puts it in his pocket. When he gets home it is suffocated. ‘Good

evening, mother.’ ‘Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?’ ‘With
Gretel.’ ‘What did you take her?’ ‘Took nothing, she gave me something.’
‘What did Gretel give you?’ ‘She gave me a goat.’ ‘Where is the goat,
Hans?’ ‘Put it in my pocket.’ ‘That was ill done, Hans, you should have put
a rope round the goat’s neck.’ ‘Never mind, will do better next time.’
‘Whither away, Hans?’ ‘To Gretel, mother.’ ‘Behave well, Hans.’ ‘Oh, I’ll
behave well. Goodbye, mother.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’ Hans comes to Gretel.
‘Good day, Gretel.’ ‘Good day, Hans. What good thing do you bring?’ ‘I
bring nothing, I want something given me.’ Gretel presents Hans with a
piece of bacon. ‘Goodbye, Gretel.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’
Hans takes the bacon, ties it to a rope, and drags it away behind him. The
dogs come and devour the bacon. When he gets home, he has the rope in his
hand, and there is no longer anything hanging on to it. ‘Good evening,
mother.’ ‘Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?’ ‘With Gretel.’ ‘What
did you take her?’ ‘I took her nothing, she gave me something.’ ‘What did
Gretel give you?’ ‘Gave me a bit of bacon.’ ‘Where is the bacon, Hans?’ ‘I
tied it to a rope, brought it home, dogs took it.’ ‘That was ill done, Hans,
you should have carried the bacon on your head.’ ‘Never mind, will do
better next time.’
‘Whither away, Hans?’ ‘To Gretel, mother.’ ‘Behave well, Hans.’ ‘I’ll
behave well. Goodbye, mother.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’ Hans comes to Gretel.
‘Good day, Gretel.’ ‘Good day, Hans, What good thing do you bring?’ ‘I
bring nothing, but would have something given.’ Gretel presents Hans with
a calf. ‘Goodbye, Gretel.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’
Hans takes the calf, puts it on his head, and the calf kicks his face. ‘Good
evening, mother.’ ‘Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?’ ‘With
Gretel.’ ‘What did you take her?’ ‘I took nothing, but had something given
me.’ ‘What did Gretel give you?’ ‘A calf.’ ‘Where have you the calf, Hans?’
‘I set it on my head and it kicked my face.’ ‘That was ill done, Hans, you
should have led the calf, and put it in the stall.’ ‘Never mind, will do better
next time.’
‘Whither away, Hans?’ ‘To Gretel, mother.’ ‘Behave well, Hans.’ ‘I’ll
behave well. Goodbye, mother.’ ‘Goodbye, Hans.’
Hans comes to Gretel. ‘Good day, Gretel.’ ‘Good day, Hans. What good
thing do you bring?’ ‘I bring nothing, but would have something given.’
Gretel says to Hans: ‘I will go with you.’

Hans takes Gretel, ties her to a rope, leads her to the rack, and binds her
fast. Then Hans goes to his mother. ‘Good evening, mother.’ ‘Good
evening, Hans. Where have you been?’ ‘With Gretel.’ ‘What did you take
her?’ ‘I took her nothing.’ ‘What did Gretel give you?’ ‘She gave me
nothing, she came with me.’ ‘Where have you left Gretel?’ ‘I led her by the
rope, tied her to the rack, and scattered some grass for her.’ ‘That was ill
done, Hans, you should have cast friendly eyes on her.’ ‘Never mind, will
do better.’
Hans went into the stable, cut out all the calves’ and sheep’s eyes, and
threw them in Gretel’s face. Then Gretel became angry, tore herself loose
and ran away, and was no longer the bride of Hans.

THE THREE LANGUAGES

An aged count once lived in Switzerland, who had an only son, but he
was stupid, and could learn nothing. Then said the father: ‘Hark you, my
son, try as I will I can get nothing into your head. You must go from hence,
I will give you into the care of a celebrated master, who shall see what he
can do with you.’ The youth was sent into a strange town, and remained a
whole year with the master. At the end of this time, he came home again,
and his father asked: ‘Now, my son, what have you learnt?’ ‘Father, I have
learnt what the dogs say when they bark.’ ‘Lord have mercy on us!’ cried
the father; ‘is that all you have learnt? I will send you into another town, to
another master.’ The youth was taken thither, and stayed a year with this
master likewise. When he came back the father again asked: ‘My son, what
have you learnt?’ He answered: ‘Father, I have learnt what the birds say.’
Then the father fell into a rage and said: ‘Oh, you lost man, you have spent
the precious time and learnt nothing; are you not ashamed to appear before
my eyes? I will send you to a third master, but if you learn nothing this time
also, I will no longer be your father.’ The youth remained a whole year with
the third master also, and when he came home again, and his father
inquired: ‘My son, what have you learnt?’ he answered: ‘Dear father, I have
this year learnt what the frogs croak.’ Then the father fell into the most
furious anger, sprang up, called his people thither, and said: ‘This man is no
longer my son, I drive him forth, and command you to take him out into the
forest, and kill him.’ They took him forth, but when they should have killed
him, they could not do it for pity, and let him go, and they cut the eyes and
tongue out of a deer that they might carry them to the old man as a token.
The youth wandered on, and after some time came to a fortress where he
begged for a night’s lodging. ‘Yes,’ said the lord of the castle, ‘if you will
pass the night down there in the old tower, go thither; but I warn you, it is at
the peril of your life, for it is full of wild dogs, which bark and howl
without stopping, and at certain hours a man has to be given to them, whom

they at once devour.’ The whole district was in sorrow and dismay because
of them, and yet no one could do anything to stop this. The youth, however,
was without fear, and said: ‘Just let me go down to the barking dogs, and
give me something that I can throw to them; they will do nothing to harm
me.’ As he himself would have it so, they gave him some food for the wild
animals, and led him down to the tower. When he went inside, the dogs did
not bark at him, but wagged their tails quite amicably around him, ate what
he set before them, and did not hurt one hair of his head. Next morning, to
the astonishment of everyone, he came out again safe and unharmed, and
said to the lord of the castle: ‘The dogs have revealed to me, in their own
language, why they dwell there, and bring evil on the land. They are
bewitched, and are obliged to watch over a great treasure which is below in
the tower, and they can have no rest until it is taken away, and I have
likewise learnt, from their discourse, how that is to be done.’ Then all who
heard this rejoiced, and the lord of the castle said he would adopt him as a
son if he accomplished it successfully. He went down again, and as he knew
what he had to do, he did it thoroughly, and brought a chest full of gold out
with him. The howling of the wild dogs was henceforth heard no more; they
had disappeared, and the country was freed from the trouble.
After some time he took it in his head that he would travel to Rome. On
the way he passed by a marsh, in which a number of frogs were sitting
croaking. He listened to them, and when he became aware of what they
were saying, he grew very thoughtful and sad. At last he arrived in Rome,
where the Pope had just died, and there was great doubt among the
cardinals as to whom they should appoint as his successor. They at length
agreed that the person should be chosen as pope who should be
distinguished by some divine and miraculous token. And just as that was
decided on, the young count entered into the church, and suddenly two
snow-white doves flew on his shoulders and remained sitting there. The
ecclesiastics recognized therein the token from above, and asked him on the
spot if he would be pope. He was undecided, and knew not if he were
worthy of this, but the doves counselled him to do it, and at length he said
yes. Then was he anointed and consecrated, and thus was fulfilled what he
had heard from the frogs on his way, which had so affected him, that he was
to be his Holiness the Pope. Then he had to sing a mass, and did not know
one word of it, but the two doves sat continually on his shoulders, and said
it all in his ear.

THE FOX AND THE CAT

It happened that the cat met the fox in a forest, and as she thought to
herself: ‘He is clever and full of experience, and much esteemed in the
world,’ she spoke to him in a friendly way. ‘Good day, dear Mr Fox, how
are you? How is all with you? How are you getting on in these hard times?’
The fox, full of all kinds of arrogance, looked at the cat from head to foot,
and for a long time did not know whether he would give any answer or not.
At last he said: ‘Oh, you wretched beard-cleaner, you piebald fool, you
hungry mouse-hunter, what can you be thinking of? Have you the cheek to
ask how I am getting on? What have you learnt? How many arts do you
understand?’ ‘I understand but one,’ replied the cat, modestly. ‘What art is
that?’ asked the fox. ‘When the hounds are following me, I can spring into a
tree and save myself.’ ‘Is that all?’ said the fox. ‘I am master of a hundred
arts, and have into the bargain a sackful of cunning. You make me sorry for
you; come with me, I will teach you how people get away from the
hounds.’ Just then came a hunter with four dogs. The cat sprang nimbly up a
tree, and sat down at the top of it, where the branches and foliage quite
concealed her. ‘Open your sack, Mr Fox, open your sack,’ cried the cat to
him, but the dogs had already seized him, and were holding him fast. ‘Ah,
Mr Fox,’ cried the cat. ‘You with your hundred arts are left in the lurch!
Had you been able to climb like me, you would not have lost your life.’

THE FOUR CLEVER BROTHERS

‘Dear children,’ said a poor man to his four sons, ‘I have nothing to give
you; you must go out into the wide world and try your luck. Begin by
learning some craft or another, and see how you can get on.’ So the four
brothers took their walking-sticks in their hands, and their little bundles on
their shoulders, and after bidding their father goodbye, went all out at the
gate together. When they had got on some way they came to four
crossways, each leading to a different country. Then the eldest said, ‘Here
we must part; but this day four years we will come back to this spot, and in
the meantime each must try what he can do for himself.’
So each brother went his way; and as the eldest was hastening on a man
met him, and asked him where he was going, and what he wanted. ‘I am
going to try my luck in the world, and should like to begin by learning some
art or trade,’ answered he. ‘Then,’ said the man, ‘go with me, and I will
teach you to become the cunningest thief that ever was.’ ‘No,’ said the
other, ‘that is not an honest calling, and what can one look to earn by it in
the end but the gallows?’ ‘Oh!’ said the man, ‘you need not fear the
gallows; for I will only teach you to steal what will be fair game: I meddle
with nothing but what no one else can get or care anything about, and where
no one can find you out.’ So the young man agreed to follow his trade, and
he soon showed himself so clever, that nothing could escape him that he
had once set his mind upon.
The second brother also met a man, who, when he found out what he was
setting out upon, asked him what craft he meant to follow. ‘I do not know
yet,’ said he. ‘Then come with me, and be a star-gazer. It is a noble art, for
nothing can be hidden from you, when once you understand the stars.’ The
plan pleased him much, and he soon became such a skilful star-gazer, that
when he had served out his time, and wanted to leave his master, he gave
him a glass, and said, ‘With this you can see all that is passing in the sky
and on earth, and nothing can be hidden from you.’

The third brother met a huntsman, who took him with him, and taught
him so well all that belonged to hunting, that he became very clever in the
craft of the woods; and when he left his master he gave him a bow, and
said, ‘Whatever you shoot at with this bow you will be sure to hit.’
The youngest brother likewise met a man who asked him what he wished
to do. ‘Would not you like,’ said he, ‘to be a tailor?’ ‘Oh, no!’ said the
young man; ‘sitting cross-legged from morning to night, working
backwards and forwards with a needle and goose, will never suit me.’ ‘Oh!’
answered the man, ‘that is not my sort of tailoring; come with me, and you
will learn quite another kind of craft from that.’ Not knowing what better to
do, he came into the plan, and learnt tailoring from the beginning; and when
he left his master, he gave him a needle, and said, ‘You can sew anything
with this, be it as soft as an egg or as hard as steel; and the joint will be so
fine that no seam will be seen.’
After the space of four years, at the time agreed upon, the four brothers
met at the four cross-roads; and having welcomed each other, set off
towards their father’s home, where they told him all that had happened to
them, and how each had learned some craft.
Then, one day, as they were sitting before the house under a very high
tree, the father said, ‘I should like to try what each of you can do in this
way.’ So he looked up, and said to the second son, ‘At the top of this tree
there is a chaffinch’s nest; tell me how many eggs there are in it.’ The star-
gazer took his glass, looked up, and said, ‘Five.’ ‘Now,’ said the father to
the eldest son, ‘take away the eggs without letting the bird that is sitting
upon them and hatching them know anything of what you are doing.’ So the
cunning thief climbed up the tree, and brought away to his father the five
eggs from under the bird; and it never saw or felt what he was doing, but
kept sitting on at its ease. Then the father took the eggs, and put one on each
corner of the table, and the fifth in the middle, and said to the huntsman,
‘Cut all the eggs in two pieces at one shot.’ The huntsman took up his bow,
and at one shot struck all the five eggs as his father wished.
‘Now comes your turn,’ said he to the young tailor; ‘sew the eggs and the
young birds in them together again, so neatly that the shot shall have done
them no harm.’ Then the tailor took his needle, and sewed the eggs as he
was told; and when he had done, the thief was sent to take them back to the
nest, and put them under the bird without its knowing it. Then she went on

sitting, and hatched them: and in a few days they crawled out, and had only
a little red streak across their necks, where the tailor had sewn them
together.
‘Well done, sons!’ said the old man; ‘you have made good use of your
time, and learnt something worth the knowing; but I am sure I do not know
which ought to have the prize. Oh, that a time might soon come for you to
turn your skill to some account!’
Not long after this there was a great bustle in the country; for the king’s
daughter had been carried off by a mighty dragon, and the king mourned
over his loss day and night, and made it known that whoever brought her
back to him should have her for a wife. Then the four brothers said to each
other, ‘Here is a chance for us; let us try what we can do.’ And they agreed
to see whether they could not set the princess free. ‘I will soon find out
where she is, however,’ said the star-gazer, as he looked through his glass;
and he soon cried out, ‘I see her afar off, sitting upon a rock in the sea, and I
can spy the dragon close by, guarding her.’ Then he went to the king, and
asked for a ship for himself and his brothers; and they sailed together over
the sea, till they came to the right place. There they found the princess
sitting, as the star-gazer had said, on the rock; and the dragon was lying
asleep, with his head upon her lap. ‘I dare not shoot at him,’ said the
huntsman, ‘for I should kill the beautiful young lady also.’ ‘Then I will try
my skill,’ said the thief, and went and stole her away from under the dragon,
so quietly and gently that the beast did not know it, but went on snoring.
Then away they hastened with her full of joy in their boat towards the
ship; but soon came the dragon roaring behind them through the air; for he
awoke and missed the princess. But when he got over the boat, and wanted
to pounce upon them and carry off the princess, the huntsman took up his
bow and shot him straight through the heart so that he fell down dead. They
were still not safe; for he was such a great beast that in his fall he overset
the boat, and they had to swim in the open sea upon a few planks. So the
tailor took his needle, and with a few large stitches put some of the planks
together; and he sat down upon these, and sailed about and gathered up all
pieces of the boat; and then tacked them together so quickly that the boat
was soon ready, and they then reached the ship and got home safe.
When they had brought home the princess to her father, there was great
rejoicing; and he said to the four brothers, ‘One of you shall marry her, but

you must settle amongst yourselves which it is to be.’ Then there arose a
quarrel between them; and the star-gazer said, ‘If I had not found the
princess out, all your skill would have been of no use; therefore she ought
to be mine.’ ‘Your seeing her would have been of no use,’ said the thief, ‘if I
had not taken her away from the dragon; therefore she ought to be mine.’
‘No, she is mine,’ said the huntsman; ‘for if I had not killed the dragon, he
would, after all, have torn you and the princess into pieces.’ ‘And if I had
not sewn the boat together again,’ said the tailor, ‘you would all have been
drowned, therefore she is mine.’ Then the king put in a word, and said,
‘Each of you is right; and as all cannot have the young lady, the best way is
for neither of you to have her: for the truth is, there is somebody she likes a
great deal better. But to make up for your loss, I will give each of you, as a
reward for his skill, half a kingdom.’ So the brothers agreed that this plan
would be much better than either quarrelling or marrying a lady who had no
mind to have them. And the king then gave to each half a kingdom, as he
had said; and they lived very happily the rest of their days, and took good
care of their father; and somebody took better care of the young lady, than
to let either the dragon or one of the craftsmen have her again.

LILY AND THE LION

A merchant, who had three daughters, was once setting out upon a
journey; but before he went he asked each daughter what gift he should
bring back for her. The eldest wished for pearls; the second for jewels; but
the third, who was called Lily, said, ‘Dear father, bring me a rose.’ Now it
was no easy task to find a rose, for it was the middle of winter; yet as she
was his prettiest daughter, and was very fond of flowers, her father said he
would try what he could do. So he kissed all three, and bid them goodbye.
And when the time came for him to go home, he had bought pearls and
jewels for the two eldest, but he had sought everywhere in vain for the rose;
and when he went into any garden and asked for such a thing, the people
laughed at him, and asked him whether he thought roses grew in snow. This
grieved him very much, for Lily was his dearest child; and as he was
journeying home, thinking what he should bring her, he came to a fine
castle; and around the castle was a garden, in one half of which it seemed to
be summer-time and in the other half winter. On one side the finest flowers
were in full bloom, and on the other everything looked dreary and buried in
the snow. ‘A lucky hit!’ said he, as he called to his servant, and told him to
go to a beautiful bed of roses that was there, and bring him away one of the
finest flowers.
This done, they were riding away well pleased, when up sprang a fierce
lion, and roared out, ‘Whoever has stolen my roses shall be eaten up alive!’
Then the man said, ‘I knew not that the garden belonged to you; can
nothing save my life?’ ‘No!’ said the lion, ‘nothing, unless you undertake to
give me whatever meets you on your return home; if you agree to this, I
will give you your life, and the rose too for your daughter.’ But the man was
unwilling to do so and said, ‘It may be my youngest daughter, who loves
me most, and always runs to meet me when I go home.’ Then the servant
was greatly frightened, and said, ‘It may perhaps be only a cat or a dog.’

And at last the man yielded with a heavy heart, and took the rose; and said
he would give the lion whatever should meet him first on his return.
And as he came near home, it was Lily, his youngest and dearest
daughter, that met him; she came running, and kissed him, and welcomed
him home; and when she saw that he had brought her the rose, she was still
more glad. But her father began to be very sorrowful, and to weep, saying,
‘Alas, my dearest child! I have bought this flower at a high price, for I have
said I would give you to a wild lion; and when he has you, he will tear you
in pieces, and eat you.’ Then he told her all that had happened, and said she
should not go, let what would happen.
But she comforted him, and said, ‘Dear father, the word you have given
must be kept; I will go to the lion, and soothe him: perhaps he will let me
come safe home again.’
The next morning she asked the way she was to go, and took leave of her
father, and went forth with a bold heart into the wood. But the lion was an
enchanted prince. By day he and all his court were lions, but in the evening
they took their right forms again. And when Lily came to the castle, he
welcomed her so courteously that she agreed to marry him. The wedding-
feast was held, and they lived happily together a long time. The prince was
only to be seen as soon as evening came, and then he held his court; but
every morning he left his bride, and went away by himself, she knew not
whither, till the night came again.
After some time he said to her, ‘Tomorrow there will be a great feast in
your father’s house, for your eldest sister is to be married; and if you wish
to go and visit her my lions shall lead you thither.’ Then she rejoiced much
at the thoughts of seeing her father once more, and set out with the lions;
and everyone was overjoyed to see her, for they had thought her dead long
since. But she told them how happy she was, and stayed till the feast was
over, and then went back to the wood.
Her second sister was soon after married, and when Lily was asked to go
to the wedding, she said to the prince, ‘I will not go alone this time—you
must go with me.’ But he would not, and said that it would be a very
hazardous thing; for if the least ray of the torch-light should fall upon him
his enchantment would become still worse, for he should be changed into a
dove, and be forced to wander about the world for seven long years.
However, she gave him no rest, and said she would take care no light

should fall upon him. So at last they set out together, and took with them
their little child; and she chose a large hall with thick walls for him to sit in
while the wedding-torches were lighted; but, unluckily, no one saw that
there was a crack in the door. Then the wedding was held with great pomp,
but as the train came from the church, and passed with the torches before
the hall, a very small ray of light fell upon the prince. In a moment he
disappeared, and when his wife came in and looked for him, she found only
a white dove; and it said to her, ‘Seven years must I fly up and down over
the face of the earth, but every now and then I will let fall a white feather,
that will show you the way I am going; follow it, and at last you may
overtake and set me free.’
This said, he flew out at the door, and poor Lily followed; and every now
and then a white feather fell, and showed her the way she was to journey.
Thus she went roving on through the wide world, and looked neither to the
right hand nor to the left, nor took any rest, for seven years. Then she began
to be glad, and thought to herself that the time was fast coming when all her
troubles should end; yet repose was still far off, for one day as she was
travelling on she missed the white feather, and when she lifted up her eyes
she could nowhere see the dove. ‘Now,’ thought she to herself, ‘no aid of
man can be of use to me.’ So she went to the sun and said, ‘Thou shinest
everywhere, on the hill’s top and the valley’s depth—hast thou anywhere
seen my white dove?’ ‘No,’ said the sun, ‘I have not seen it; but I will give
thee a casket—open it when thy hour of need comes.’
So she thanked the sun, and went on her way till eventide; and when the
moon arose, she cried unto it, and said, ‘Thou shinest through the night,
over field and grove—hast thou nowhere seen my white dove?’ ‘No,’ said
the moon, ‘I cannot help thee but I will give thee an egg—break it when
need comes.’
Then she thanked the moon, and went on till the night-wind blew; and
she raised up her voice to it, and said, ‘Thou blowest through every tree and
under every leaf—hast thou not seen my white dove?’ ‘No,’ said the night-
wind, ‘but I will ask three other winds; perhaps they have seen it.’ Then the
east wind and the west wind came, and said they too had not seen it, but the
south wind said, ‘I have seen the white dove—he has fled to the Red Sea,
and is changed once more into a lion, for the seven years are passed away,
and there he is fighting with a dragon; and the dragon is an enchanted

princess, who seeks to separate him from you.’ Then the night-wind said, ‘I
will give thee counsel. Go to the Red Sea; on the right shore stand many
rods—count them, and when thou comest to the eleventh, break it off, and
smite the dragon with it; and so the lion will have the victory, and both of
them will appear to you in their own forms. Then look round and thou wilt
see a griffin, winged like bird, sitting by the Red Sea; jump on to his back
with thy beloved one as quickly as possible, and he will carry you over the
waters to your home. I will also give thee this nut,’ continued the night-
wind. ‘When you are half-way over, throw it down, and out of the waters
will immediately spring up a high nut-tree on which the griffin will be able
to rest, otherwise he would not have the strength to bear you the whole way;
if, therefore, thou dost forget to throw down the nut, he will let you both fall
into the sea.’
So our poor wanderer went forth, and found all as the night-wind had
said; and she plucked the eleventh rod, and smote the dragon, and the lion
forthwith became a prince, and the dragon a princess again. But no sooner
was the princess released from the spell, than she seized the prince by the
arm and sprang on to the griffin’s back, and went off carrying the prince
away with her.
Thus the unhappy traveller was again forsaken and forlorn; but she took
heart and said, ‘As far as the wind blows, and so long as the cock crows, I
will journey on, till I find him once again.’ She went on for a long, long
way, till at length she came to the castle whither the princess had carried the
prince; and there was a feast got ready, and she heard that the wedding was
about to be held. ‘Heaven aid me now!’ said she; and she took the casket
that the sun had given her, and found that within it lay a dress as dazzling as
the sun itself. So she put it on, and went into the palace, and all the people
gazed upon her; and the dress pleased the bride so much that she asked
whether it was to be sold. ‘Not for gold and silver.’ said she, ‘but for flesh
and blood.’ The princess asked what she meant, and she said, ‘Let me speak
with the bridegroom this night in his chamber, and I will give thee the
dress.’ At last the princess agreed, but she told her chamberlain to give the
prince a sleeping draught, that he might not hear or see her. When evening
came, and the prince had fallen asleep, she was led into his chamber, and
she sat herself down at his feet, and said: ‘I have followed thee seven years.
I have been to the sun, the moon, and the night-wind, to seek thee, and at
last I have helped thee to overcome the dragon. Wilt thou then forget me

quite?’ But the prince all the time slept so soundly, that her voice only
passed over him, and seemed like the whistling of the wind among the fir-
trees.
Then poor Lily was led away, and forced to give up the golden dress; and
when she saw that there was no help for her, she went out into a meadow,
and sat herself down and wept. But as she sat she bethought herself of the
egg that the moon had given her; and when she broke it, there ran out a hen
and twelve chickens of pure gold, that played about, and then nestled under
the old one’s wings, so as to form the most beautiful sight in the world. And
she rose up and drove them before her, till the bride saw them from her
window, and was so pleased that she came forth and asked her if she would
sell the brood. ‘Not for gold or silver, but for flesh and blood: let me again
this evening speak with the bridegroom in his chamber, and I will give thee
the whole brood.’
Then the princess thought to betray her as before, and agreed to what she
asked: but when the prince went to his chamber he asked the chamberlain
why the wind had whistled so in the night. And the chamberlain told him all
—how he had given him a sleeping draught, and how a poor maiden had
come and spoken to him in his chamber, and was to come again that night.
Then the prince took care to throw away the sleeping draught; and when
Lily came and began again to tell him what woes had befallen her, and how
faithful and true to him she had been, he knew his beloved wife’s voice, and
sprang up, and said, ‘You have awakened me as from a dream, for the
strange princess had thrown a spell around me, so that I had altogether
forgotten you; but Heaven hath sent you to me in a lucky hour.’
And they stole away out of the palace by night unawares, and seated
themselves on the griffin, who flew back with them over the Red Sea.
When they were half-way across Lily let the nut fall into the water, and
immediately a large nut-tree arose from the sea, whereon the griffin rested
for a while, and then carried them safely home. There they found their
child, now grown up to be comely and fair; and after all their troubles they
lived happily together to the end of their days.

THE FOX AND THE HORSE

A farmer had a horse that had been an excellent faithful servant to him:
but he was now grown too old to work; so the farmer would give him
nothing more to eat, and said, ‘I want you no longer, so take yourself off out
of my stable; I shall not take you back again until you are stronger than a
lion.’ Then he opened the door and turned him adrift.
The poor horse was very melancholy, and wandered up and down in the
wood, seeking some little shelter from the cold wind and rain. Presently a
fox met him: ‘What’s the matter, my friend?’ said he, ‘why do you hang
down your head and look so lonely and woe-begone?’ ‘Ah!’ replied the
horse, ‘justice and avarice never dwell in one house; my master has
forgotten all that I have done for him so many years, and because I can no
longer work he has turned me adrift, and says unless I become stronger than
a lion he will not take me back again; what chance can I have of that? he
knows I have none, or he would not talk so.’
However, the fox bid him be of good cheer, and said, ‘I will help you; lie
down there, stretch yourself out quite stiff, and pretend to be dead.’ The
horse did as he was told, and the fox went straight to the lion who lived in a
cave close by, and said to him, ‘A little way off lies a dead horse; come with
me and you may make an excellent meal of his carcase.’ The lion was
greatly pleased, and set off immediately; and when they came to the horse,
the fox said, ‘You will not be able to eat him comfortably here; I’ll tell you
what—I will tie you fast to his tail, and then you can draw him to your den,
and eat him at your leisure.’
This advice pleased the lion, so he laid himself down quietly for the fox
to make him fast to the horse. But the fox managed to tie his legs together
and bound all so hard and fast that with all his strength he could not set
himself free. When the work was done, the fox clapped the horse on the
shoulder, and said, ‘Jip! Dobbin! Jip!’ Then up he sprang, and moved off,
dragging the lion behind him. The beast began to roar and bellow, till all the

birds of the wood flew away for fright; but the horse let him sing on, and
made his way quietly over the fields to his master’s house.
‘Here he is, master,’ said he, ‘I have got the better of him’: and when the
farmer saw his old servant, his heart relented, and he said. ‘Thou shalt stay
in thy stable and be well taken care of.’ And so the poor old horse had
plenty to eat, and lived—till he died.

THE BLUE LIGHT

There was once upon a time a soldier who for many years had served the
king faithfully, but when the war came to an end could serve no longer
because of the many wounds which he had received. The king said to him:
‘You may return to your home, I need you no longer, and you will not
receive any more money, for he only receives wages who renders me
service for them.’ Then the soldier did not know how to earn a living, went
away greatly troubled, and walked the whole day, until in the evening he
entered a forest. When darkness came on, he saw a light, which he went up
to, and came to a house wherein lived a witch. ‘Do give me one night’s
lodging, and a little to eat and drink,’ said he to her, ‘or I shall starve.’
‘Oho!’ she answered, ‘who gives anything to a run-away soldier? Yet will I
be compassionate, and take you in, if you will do what I wish.’ ‘What do
you wish?’ said the soldier. ‘That you should dig all round my garden for
me, tomorrow.’ The soldier consented, and next day laboured with all his
strength, but could not finish it by the evening. ‘I see well enough,’ said the
witch, ‘that you can do no more today, but I will keep you yet another night,
in payment for which you must tomorrow chop me a load of wood, and
chop it small.’ The soldier spent the whole day in doing it, and in the
evening the witch proposed that he should stay one night more. ‘Tomorrow,
you shall only do me a very trifling piece of work. Behind my house, there
is an old dry well, into which my light has fallen, it burns blue, and never
goes out, and you shall bring it up again.’ Next day the old woman took him
to the well, and let him down in a basket. He found the blue light, and made
her a signal to draw him up again. She did draw him up, but when he came
near the edge, she stretched down her hand and wanted to take the blue light
away from him. ‘No,’ said he, perceiving her evil intention, ‘I will not give
you the light until I am standing with both feet upon the ground.’ The witch
fell into a passion, let him fall again into the well, and went away.

The poor soldier fell without injury on the moist ground, and the blue
light went on burning, but of what use was that to him? He saw very well
that he could not escape death. He sat for a while very sorrowfully, then
suddenly he felt in his pocket and found his tobacco pipe, which was still
half full. ‘This shall be my last pleasure,’ thought he, pulled it out, lit it at
the blue light and began to smoke. When the smoke had circled about the
cavern, suddenly a little black dwarf stood before him, and said: ‘Lord,
what are your commands?’ ‘What my commands are?’ replied the soldier,
quite astonished. ‘I must do everything you bid me,’ said the little man.
‘Good,’ said the soldier; ‘then in the first place help me out of this well.’
The little man took him by the hand, and led him through an underground
passage, but he did not forget to take the blue light with him. On the way
the dwarf showed him the treasures which the witch had collected and
hidden there, and the soldier took as much gold as he could carry. When he
was above, he said to the little man: ‘Now go and bind the old witch, and
carry her before the judge.’ In a short time she came by like the wind, riding
on a wild tom-cat and screaming frightfully. Nor was it long before the little
man reappeared. ‘It is all done,’ said he, ‘and the witch is already hanging
on the gallows. What further commands has my lord?’ inquired the dwarf.
‘At this moment, none,’ answered the soldier; ‘you can return home, only
be at hand immediately, if I summon you.’ ‘Nothing more is needed than
that you should light your pipe at the blue light, and I will appear before
you at once.’ Thereupon he vanished from his sight.
The soldier returned to the town from which he came. He went to the best
inn, ordered himself handsome clothes, and then bade the landlord furnish
him a room as handsome as possible. When it was ready and the soldier had
taken possession of it, he summoned the little black manikin and said: ‘I
have served the king faithfully, but he has dismissed me, and left me to
hunger, and now I want to take my revenge.’ ‘What am I to do?’ asked the
little man. ‘Late at night, when the king’s daughter is in bed, bring her here
in her sleep, she shall do servant’s work for me.’ The manikin said: ‘That is
an easy thing for me to do, but a very dangerous thing for you, for if it is
discovered, you will fare ill.’ When twelve o’clock had struck, the door
sprang open, and the manikin carried in the princess. ‘Aha! are you there?’
cried the soldier, ‘get to your work at once! Fetch the broom and sweep the
chamber.’ When she had done this, he ordered her to come to his chair, and
then he stretched out his feet and said: ‘Pull off my boots,’ and then he

threw them in her face, and made her pick them up again, and clean and
brighten them. She, however, did everything he bade her, without
opposition, silently and with half-shut eyes. When the first cock crowed, the
manikin carried her back to the royal palace, and laid her in her bed.
Next morning when the princess arose she went to her father, and told
him that she had had a very strange dream. ‘I was carried through the streets
with the rapidity of lightning,’ said she, ‘and taken into a soldier’s room,
and I had to wait upon him like a servant, sweep his room, clean his boots,
and do all kinds of menial work. It was only a dream, and yet I am just as
tired as if I really had done everything.’ ‘The dream may have been true,’
said the king. ‘I will give you a piece of advice. Fill your pocket full of
peas, and make a small hole in the pocket, and then if you are carried away
again, they will fall out and leave a track in the streets.’ But unseen by the
king, the manikin was standing beside him when he said that, and heard all.
At night when the sleeping princess was again carried through the streets,
some peas certainly did fall out of her pocket, but they made no track, for
the crafty manikin had just before scattered peas in every street there was.
And again the princess was compelled to do servant’s work until cock-crow.
Next morning the king sent his people out to seek the track, but it was all
in vain, for in every street poor children were sitting, picking up peas, and
saying: ‘It must have rained peas, last night.’ ‘We must think of something
else,’ said the king; ‘keep your shoes on when you go to bed, and before
you come back from the place where you are taken, hide one of them there,
I will soon contrive to find it.’ The black manikin heard this plot, and at
night when the soldier again ordered him to bring the princess, revealed it
to him, and told him that he knew of no expedient to counteract this
stratagem, and that if the shoe were found in the soldier’s house it would go
badly with him. ‘Do what I bid you,’ replied the soldier, and again this third
night the princess was obliged to work like a servant, but before she went
away, she hid her shoe under the bed.
Next morning the king had the entire town searched for his daughter’s
shoe. It was found at the soldier’s, and the soldier himself, who at the
entreaty of the dwarf had gone outside the gate, was soon brought back, and
thrown into prison. In his flight he had forgotten the most valuable things he
had, the blue light and the gold, and had only one ducat in his pocket. And
now loaded with chains, he was standing at the window of his dungeon,

when he chanced to see one of his comrades passing by. The soldier tapped
at the pane of glass, and when this man came up, said to him: ‘Be so kind as
to fetch me the small bundle I have left lying in the inn, and I will give you
a ducat for doing it.’ His comrade ran thither and brought him what he
wanted. As soon as the soldier was alone again, he lighted his pipe and
summoned the black manikin. ‘Have no fear,’ said the latter to his master.
‘Go wheresoever they take you, and let them do what they will, only take
the blue light with you.’ Next day the soldier was tried, and though he had
done nothing wicked, the judge condemned him to death. When he was led
forth to die, he begged a last favour of the king. ‘What is it?’ asked the king.
‘That I may smoke one more pipe on my way.’ ‘You may smoke three,’
answered the king, ‘but do not imagine that I will spare your life.’ Then the
soldier pulled out his pipe and lighted it at the blue light, and as soon as a
few wreaths of smoke had ascended, the manikin was there with a small
cudgel in his hand, and said: ‘What does my lord command?’ ‘Strike down
to earth that false judge there, and his constable, and spare not the king who
has treated me so ill.’ Then the manikin fell on them like lightning, darting
this way and that way, and whosoever was so much as touched by his
cudgel fell to earth, and did not venture to stir again. The king was terrified;
he threw himself on the soldier’s mercy, and merely to be allowed to live at
all, gave him his kingdom for his own, and his daughter to wife.

THE RAVEN

There was once a queen who had a little daughter, still too young to run
alone. One day the child was very troublesome, and the mother could not
quiet it, do what she would. She grew impatient, and seeing the ravens
flying round the castle, she opened the window, and said: ‘I wish you were
a raven and would fly away, then I should have a little peace.’ Scarcely
were the words out of her mouth, when the child in her arms was turned
into a raven, and flew away from her through the open window. The bird
took its flight to a dark wood and remained there for a long time, and
meanwhile the parents could hear nothing of their child.
Long after this, a man was making his way through the wood when he
heard a raven calling, and he followed the sound of the voice. As he drew
near, the raven said, ‘I am by birth a king’s daughter, but am now under the
spell of some enchantment; you can, however, set me free.’ ‘What am I to
do?’ he asked. She replied, ‘Go farther into the wood until you come to a
house, wherein lives an old woman; she will offer you food and drink, but
you must not take of either; if you do, you will fall into a deep sleep, and
will not be able to help me. In the garden behind the house is a large tan-
heap, and on that you must stand and watch for me. I shall drive there in my
carriage at two o’clock in the afternoon for three successive days; the first
day it will be drawn by four white, the second by four chestnut, and the last
by four black horses; but if you fail to keep awake and I find you sleeping, I
shall not be set free.’
The man promised to do all that she wished, but the raven said, ‘Alas! I
know even now that you will take something from the woman and be
unable to save me.’ The man assured her again that he would on no account
touch a thing to eat or drink.
When he came to the house and went inside, the old woman met him, and
said, ‘Poor man! how tired you are! Come in and rest and let me give you
something to eat and drink.’

‘No,’ answered the man, ‘I will neither eat not drink.’
But she would not leave him alone, and urged him saying, ‘If you will
not eat anything, at least you might take a draught of wine; one drink counts
for nothing,’ and at last he allowed himself to be persuaded, and drank.
As it drew towards the appointed hour, he went outside into the garden
and mounted the tan-heap to await the raven. Suddenly a feeling of fatigue
came over him, and unable to resist it, he lay down for a little while, fully
determined, however, to keep awake; but in another minute his eyes closed
of their own accord, and he fell into such a deep sleep, that all the noises in
the world would not have awakened him. At two o’clock the raven came
driving along, drawn by her four white horses; but even before she reached
the spot, she said to herself, sighing, ‘I know he has fallen asleep.’ When
she entered the garden, there she found him as she had feared, lying on the
tan-heap, fast asleep. She got out of her carriage and went to him; she called
him and shook him, but it was all in vain, he still continued sleeping.
The next day at noon, the old woman came to him again with food and
drink which he at first refused. At last, overcome by her persistent entreaties
that he would take something, he lifted the glass and drank again.
Towards two o’clock he went into the garden and on to the tan-heap to
watch for the raven. He had not been there long before he began to feel so
tired that his limbs seemed hardly able to support him, and he could not
stand upright any longer; so again he lay down and fell fast asleep. As the
raven drove along her four chestnut horses, she said sorrowfully to herself,
‘I know he has fallen asleep.’ She went as before to look for him, but he
slept, and it was impossible to awaken him.
The following day the old woman said to him, ‘What is this? You are not
eating or drinking anything, do you want to kill yourself?’
He answered, ‘I may not and will not either eat or drink.’
But she put down the dish of food and the glass of wine in front of him,
and when he smelt the wine, he was unable to resist the temptation, and
took a deep draught.
When the hour came round again he went as usual on to the tan-heap in
the garden to await the king’s daughter, but he felt even more overcome
with weariness than on the two previous days, and throwing himself down,
he slept like a log. At two o’clock the raven could be seen approaching, and

this time her coachman and everything about her, as well as her horses,
were black.
She was sadder than ever as she drove along, and said mournfully, ‘I
know he has fallen asleep, and will not be able to set me free.’ She found
him sleeping heavily, and all her efforts to awaken him were of no avail.
Then she placed beside him a loaf, and some meat, and a flask of wine, of
such a kind, that however much he took of them, they would never grow
less. After that she drew a gold ring, on which her name was engraved, off
her finger, and put it upon one of his. Finally, she laid a letter near him, in
which, after giving him particulars of the food and drink she had left for
him, she finished with the following words: ‘I see that as long as you
remain here you will never be able to set me free; if, however, you still wish
to do so, come to the golden castle of Stromberg; this is well within your
power to accomplish.’ She then returned to her carriage and drove to the
golden castle of Stromberg.
When the man awoke and found that he had been sleeping, he was
grieved at heart, and said, ‘She has no doubt been here and driven away
again, and it is now too late for me to save her.’ Then his eyes fell on the
things which were lying beside him; he read the letter, and knew from it all
that had happened. He rose up without delay, eager to start on his way and
to reach the castle of Stromberg, but he had no idea in which direction he
ought to go. He travelled about a long time in search of it and came at last
to a dark forest, through which he went on walking for fourteen days and
still could not find a way out. Once more the night came on, and worn out
he lay down under a bush and fell asleep. Again the next day he pursued his
way through the forest, and that evening, thinking to rest again, he lay down
as before, but he heard such a howling and wailing that he found it
impossible to sleep. He waited till it was darker and people had begun to
light up their houses, and then seeing a little glimmer ahead of him, he went
towards it.
He found that the light came from a house which looked smaller than it
really was, from the contrast of its height with that of an immense giant
who stood in front of it. He thought to himself, ‘If the giant sees me going
in, my life will not be worth much.’ However, after a while he summoned
up courage and went forward. When the giant saw him, he called out, ‘It is
lucky for that you have come, for I have not had anything to eat for a long

time. I can have you now for my supper.’ ‘I would rather you let that alone,’
said the man, ‘for I do not willingly give myself up to be eaten; if you are
wanting food I have enough to satisfy your hunger.’ ‘If that is so,’ replied
the giant, ‘I will leave you in peace; I only thought of eating you because I
had nothing else.’
So they went indoors together and sat down, and the man brought out the
bread, meat, and wine, which although he had eaten and drunk of them,
were still unconsumed. The giant was pleased with the good cheer, and ate
and drank to his heart’s content. When he had finished his supper the man
asked him if he could direct him to the castle of Stromberg. The giant said,
‘I will look on my map; on it are marked all the towns, villages, and
houses.’ So he fetched his map, and looked for the castle, but could not find
it. ‘Never mind,’ he said, ‘I have larger maps upstairs in the cupboard, we
will look on those,’ but they searched in vain, for the castle was not marked
even on these. The man now thought he should like to continue his journey,
but the giant begged him to remain for a day or two longer until the return
of his brother, who was away in search of provisions. When the brother
came home, they asked him about the castle of Stromberg, and he told them
he would look on his own maps as soon as he had eaten and appeased his
hunger. Accordingly, when he had finished his supper, they all went up
together to his room and looked through his maps, but the castle was not to
be found. Then he fetched other older maps, and they went on looking for
the castle until at last they found it, but it was many thousand miles away.
‘How shall I be able to get there?’ asked the man. ‘I have two hours to
spare,’ said the giant, ‘and I will carry you into the neighbourhood of the
castle; I must then return to look after the child who is in our care.’
The giant, thereupon, carried the man to within about a hundred leagues
of the castle, where he left him, saying, ‘You will be able to walk the
remainder of the way yourself.’ The man journeyed on day and night till he
reached the golden castle of Stromberg. He found it situated, however, on a
glass mountain, and looking up from the foot he saw the enchanted maiden
drive round her castle and then go inside. He was overjoyed to see her, and
longed to get to the top of the mountain, but the sides were so slippery that
every time he attempted to climb he fell back again. When he saw that it
was impossible to reach her, he was greatly grieved, and said to himself, ‘I
will remain here and wait for her,’ so he built himself a little hut, and there

he sat and watched for a whole year, and every day he saw the king’s
daughter driving round her castle, but still was unable to get nearer to her.
Looking out from his hut one day he saw three robbers fighting and he
called out to them, ‘God be with you.’ They stopped when they heard the
call, but looking round and seeing nobody, they went on again with their
fighting, which now became more furious. ‘God be with you,’ he cried
again, and again they paused and looked about, but seeing no one went back
to their fighting. A third time he called out, ‘God be with you,’ and then
thinking he should like to know the cause of dispute between the three men,
he went out and asked them why they were fighting so angrily with one
another. One of them said that he had found a stick, and that he had but to
strike it against any door through which he wished to pass, and it
immediately flew open. Another told him that he had found a cloak which
rendered its wearer invisible; and the third had caught a horse which would
carry its rider over any obstacle, and even up the glass mountain. They had
been unable to decide whether they would keep together and have the
things in common, or whether they would separate. On hearing this, the
man said, ‘I will give you something in exchange for those three things; not
money, for that I have not got, but something that is of far more value. I
must first, however, prove whether all you have told me about your three
things is true.’ The robbers, therefore, made him get on the horse, and
handed him the stick and the cloak, and when he had put this round him he
was no longer visible. Then he fell upon them with the stick and beat them
one after another, crying, ‘There, you idle vagabonds, you have got what
you deserve; are you satisfied now!’
After this he rode up the glass mountain. When he reached the gate of the
castle, he found it closed, but he gave it a blow with his stick, and it flew
wide open at once and he passed through. He mounted the steps and entered
the room where the maiden was sitting, with a golden goblet full of wine in
front of her. She could not see him for he still wore his cloak. He took the
ring which she had given him off his finger, and threw it into the goblet, so
that it rang as it touched the bottom. ‘That is my own ring,’ she exclaimed,
‘and if that is so the man must also be here who is coming to set me free.’
She sought for him about the castle, but could find him nowhere.
Meanwhile he had gone outside again and mounted his horse and thrown
off the cloak. When therefore she came to the castle gate she saw him, and

cried aloud for joy. Then he dismounted and took her in his arms; and she
kissed him, and said, ‘Now you have indeed set me free, and tomorrow we
will celebrate our marriage.’

THE GOLDEN GOOSE

There was a man who had three sons, the youngest of whom was called
Dummling,[*] and was despised, mocked, and sneered at on every
occasion.
[*] Simpleton

It happened that the eldest wanted to go into the forest to hew wood, and
before he went his mother gave him a beautiful sweet cake and a bottle of
wine in order that he might not suffer from hunger or thirst.
When he entered the forest he met a little grey-haired old man who bade
him good day, and said: ‘Do give me a piece of cake out of your pocket,
and let me have a draught of your wine; I am so hungry and thirsty.’ But the
clever son answered: ‘If I give you my cake and wine, I shall have none for
myself; be off with you,’ and he left the little man standing and went on.
But when he began to hew down a tree, it was not long before he made a
false stroke, and the axe cut him in the arm, so that he had to go home and
have it bound up. And this was the little grey man’s doing.
After this the second son went into the forest, and his mother gave him,
like the eldest, a cake and a bottle of wine. The little old grey man met him
likewise, and asked him for a piece of cake and a drink of wine. But the
second son, too, said sensibly enough: ‘What I give you will be taken away
from myself; be off!’ and he left the little man standing and went on. His
punishment, however, was not delayed; when he had made a few blows at
the tree he struck himself in the leg, so that he had to be carried home.
Then Dummling said: ‘Father, do let me go and cut wood.’ The father
answered: ‘Your brothers have hurt themselves with it, leave it alone, you
do not understand anything about it.’ But Dummling begged so long that at
last he said: ‘Just go then, you will get wiser by hurting yourself.’ His

mother gave him a cake made with water and baked in the cinders, and with
it a bottle of sour beer.
When he came to the forest the little old grey man met him likewise, and
greeting him, said: ‘Give me a piece of your cake and a drink out of your
bottle; I am so hungry and thirsty.’ Dummling answered: ‘I have only
cinder-cake and sour beer; if that pleases you, we will sit down and eat.’ So
they sat down, and when Dummling pulled out his cinder-cake, it was a fine
sweet cake, and the sour beer had become good wine. So they ate and
drank, and after that the little man said: ‘Since you have a good heart, and
are willing to divide what you have, I will give you good luck. There stands
an old tree, cut it down, and you will find something at the roots.’ Then the
little man took leave of him.
Dummling went and cut down the tree, and when it fell there was a goose
sitting in the roots with feathers of pure gold. He lifted her up, and taking
her with him, went to an inn where he thought he would stay the night. Now
the host had three daughters, who saw the goose and were curious to know
what such a wonderful bird might be, and would have liked to have one of
its golden feathers.
The eldest thought: ‘I shall soon find an opportunity of pulling out a
feather,’ and as soon as Dummling had gone out she seized the goose by the
wing, but her finger and hand remained sticking fast to it.
The second came soon afterwards, thinking only of how she might get a
feather for herself, but she had scarcely touched her sister than she was held
fast.
At last the third also came with the like intent, and the others screamed
out: ‘Keep away; for goodness’ sake keep away!’ But she did not
understand why she was to keep away. ‘The others are there,’ she thought,
‘I may as well be there too,’ and ran to them; but as soon as she had touched
her sister, she remained sticking fast to her. So they had to spend the night
with the goose.
The next morning Dummling took the goose under his arm and set out,
without troubling himself about the three girls who were hanging on to it.
They were obliged to run after him continually, now left, now right,
wherever his legs took him.
In the middle of the fields the parson met them, and when he saw the
procession he said: ‘For shame, you good-for-nothing girls, why are you

running across the fields after this young man? Is that seemly?’ At the same
time he seized the youngest by the hand in order to pull her away, but as
soon as he touched her he likewise stuck fast, and was himself obliged to
run behind.
Before long the sexton came by and saw his master, the parson, running
behind three girls. He was astonished at this and called out: ‘Hi! your
reverence, whither away so quickly? Do not forget that we have a
christening today!’ and running after him he took him by the sleeve, but was
also held fast to it.
Whilst the five were trotting thus one behind the other, two labourers
came with their hoes from the fields; the parson called out to them and
begged that they would set him and the sexton free. But they had scarcely
touched the sexton when they were held fast, and now there were seven of
them running behind Dummling and the goose.
Soon afterwards he came to a city, where a king ruled who had a
daughter who was so serious that no one could make her laugh. So he had
put forth a decree that whosoever should be able to make her laugh should
marry her. When Dummling heard this, he went with his goose and all her
train before the king’s daughter, and as soon as she saw the seven people
running on and on, one behind the other, she began to laugh quite loudly,
and as if she would never stop. Thereupon Dummling asked to have her for
his wife; but the king did not like the son-in-law, and made all manner of
excuses and said he must first produce a man who could drink a cellarful of
wine. Dummling thought of the little grey man, who could certainly help
him; so he went into the forest, and in the same place where he had felled
the tree, he saw a man sitting, who had a very sorrowful face. Dummling
asked him what he was taking to heart so sorely, and he answered: ‘I have
such a great thirst and cannot quench it; cold water I cannot stand, a barrel
of wine I have just emptied, but that to me is like a drop on a hot stone!’
‘There, I can help you,’ said Dummling, ‘just come with me and you
shall be satisfied.’
He led him into the king’s cellar, and the man bent over the huge barrels,
and drank and drank till his loins hurt, and before the day was out he had
emptied all the barrels. Then Dummling asked once more for his bride, but
the king was vexed that such an ugly fellow, whom everyone called
Dummling, should take away his daughter, and he made a new condition;

he must first find a man who could eat a whole mountain of bread.
Dummling did not think long, but went straight into the forest, where in the
same place there sat a man who was tying up his body with a strap, and
making an awful face, and saying: ‘I have eaten a whole ovenful of rolls,
but what good is that when one has such a hunger as I? My stomach
remains empty, and I must tie myself up if I am not to die of hunger.’
At this Dummling was glad, and said: ‘Get up and come with me; you
shall eat yourself full.’ He led him to the king’s palace where all the flour in
the whole Kingdom was collected, and from it he caused a huge mountain
of bread to be baked. The man from the forest stood before it, began to eat,
and by the end of one day the whole mountain had vanished. Then
Dummling for the third time asked for his bride; but the king again sought a
way out, and ordered a ship which could sail on land and on water. ‘As soon
as you come sailing back in it,’ said he, ‘you shall have my daughter for
wife.’
Dummling went straight into the forest, and there sat the little grey man
to whom he had given his cake. When he heard what Dummling wanted, he
said: ‘Since you have given me to eat and to drink, I will give you the ship;
and I do all this because you once were kind to me.’ Then he gave him the
ship which could sail on land and water, and when the king saw that, he
could no longer prevent him from having his daughter. The wedding was
celebrated, and after the king’s death, Dummling inherited his kingdom and
lived for a long time contentedly with his wife.

THE WATER OF LIFE

Long before you or I were born, there reigned, in a country a great way
off, a king who had three sons. This king once fell very ill—so ill that
nobody thought he could live. His sons were very much grieved at their
father’s sickness; and as they were walking together very mournfully in the
garden of the palace, a little old man met them and asked what was the
matter. They told him that their father was very ill, and that they were afraid
nothing could save him. ‘I know what would,’ said the little old man; ‘it is
the Water of Life. If he could have a draught of it he would be well again;
but it is very hard to get.’ Then the eldest son said, ‘I will soon find it’: and
he went to the sick king, and begged that he might go in search of the Water
of Life, as it was the only thing that could save him. ‘No,’ said the king. ‘I
had rather die than place you in such great danger as you must meet with in
your journey.’ But he begged so hard that the king let him go; and the prince
thought to himself, ‘If I bring my father this water, he will make me sole
heir to his kingdom.’
Then he set out: and when he had gone on his way some time he came to
a deep valley, overhung with rocks and woods; and as he looked around, he
saw standing above him on one of the rocks a little ugly dwarf, with a
sugarloaf cap and a scarlet cloak; and the dwarf called to him and said,
‘Prince, whither so fast?’ ‘What is that to thee, you ugly imp?’ said the
prince haughtily, and rode on.
But the dwarf was enraged at his behaviour, and laid a fairy spell of ill-
luck upon him; so that as he rode on the mountain pass became narrower
and narrower, and at last the way was so straitened that he could not go to
step forward: and when he thought to have turned his horse round and go
back the way he came, he heard a loud laugh ringing round him, and found
that the path was closed behind him, so that he was shut in all round. He
next tried to get off his horse and make his way on foot, but again the laugh

rang in his ears, and he found himself unable to move a step, and thus he
was forced to abide spellbound.
Meantime the old king was lingering on in daily hope of his son’s return,
till at last the second son said, ‘Father, I will go in search of the Water of
Life.’ For he thought to himself, ‘My brother is surely dead, and the
kingdom will fall to me if I find the water.’ The king was at first very
unwilling to let him go, but at last yielded to his wish. So he set out and
followed the same road which his brother had done, and met with the same
elf, who stopped him at the same spot in the mountains, saying, as before,
‘Prince, prince, whither so fast?’ ‘Mind your own affairs, busybody!’ said
the prince scornfully, and rode on.
But the dwarf put the same spell upon him as he put on his elder brother,
and he, too, was at last obliged to take up his abode in the heart of the
mountains. Thus it is with proud silly people, who think themselves above
everyone else, and are too proud to ask or take advice.
When the second prince had thus been gone a long time, the youngest
son said he would go and search for the Water of Life, and trusted he should
soon be able to make his father well again. So he set out, and the dwarf met
him too at the same spot in the valley, among the mountains, and said,
‘Prince, whither so fast?’ And the prince said, ‘I am going in search of the
Water of Life, because my father is ill, and like to die: can you help me?
Pray be kind, and aid me if you can!’ ‘Do you know where it is to be
found?’ asked the dwarf. ‘No,’ said the prince, ‘I do not. Pray tell me if you
know.’ ‘Then as you have spoken to me kindly, and are wise enough to seek
for advice, I will tell you how and where to go. The water you seek springs
from a well in an enchanted castle; and, that you may be able to reach it in
safety, I will give you an iron wand and two little loaves of bread; strike the
iron door of the castle three times with the wand, and it will open: two
hungry lions will be lying down inside gaping for their prey, but if you
throw them the bread they will let you pass; then hasten on to the well, and
take some of the Water of Life before the clock strikes twelve; for if you
tarry longer the door will shut upon you for ever.’
Then the prince thanked his little friend with the scarlet cloak for his
friendly aid, and took the wand and the bread, and went travelling on and
on, over sea and over land, till he came to his journey’s end, and found
everything to be as the dwarf had told him. The door flew open at the third

stroke of the wand, and when the lions were quieted he went on through the
castle and came at length to a beautiful hall. Around it he saw several
knights sitting in a trance; then he pulled off their rings and put them on his
own fingers. In another room he saw on a table a sword and a loaf of bread,
which he also took. Further on he came to a room where a beautiful young
lady sat upon a couch; and she welcomed him joyfully, and said, if he
would set her free from the spell that bound her, the kingdom should be his,
if he would come back in a year and marry her. Then she told him that the
well that held the Water of Life was in the palace gardens; and bade him
make haste, and draw what he wanted before the clock struck twelve.
He walked on; and as he walked through beautiful gardens he came to a
delightful shady spot in which stood a couch; and he thought to himself, as
he felt tired, that he would rest himself for a while, and gaze on the lovely
scenes around him. So he laid himself down, and sleep fell upon him
unawares, so that he did not wake up till the clock was striking a quarter to
twelve. Then he sprang from the couch dreadfully frightened, ran to the
well, filled a cup that was standing by him full of water, and hastened to get
away in time. Just as he was going out of the iron door it struck twelve, and
the door fell so quickly upon him that it snapped off a piece of his heel.
When he found himself safe, he was overjoyed to think that he had got
the Water of Life; and as he was going on his way homewards, he passed by
the little dwarf, who, when he saw the sword and the loaf, said, ‘You have
made a noble prize; with the sword you can at a blow slay whole armies,
and the bread will never fail you.’ Then the prince thought to himself, ‘I
cannot go home to my father without my brothers’; so he said, ‘My dear
friend, cannot you tell me where my two brothers are, who set out in search
of the Water of Life before me, and never came back?’ ‘I have shut them up
by a charm between two mountains,’ said the dwarf, ‘because they were
proud and ill-behaved, and scorned to ask advice.’ The prince begged so
hard for his brothers, that the dwarf at last set them free, though
unwillingly, saying, ‘Beware of them, for they have bad hearts.’ Their
brother, however, was greatly rejoiced to see them, and told them all that
had happened to him; how he had found the Water of Life, and had taken a
cup full of it; and how he had set a beautiful princess free from a spell that
bound her; and how she had engaged to wait a whole year, and then to
marry him, and to give him the kingdom.

Then they all three rode on together, and on their way home came to a
country that was laid waste by war and a dreadful famine, so that it was
feared all must die for want. But the prince gave the king of the land the
bread, and all his kingdom ate of it. And he lent the king the wonderful
sword, and he slew the enemy’s army with it; and thus the kingdom was
once more in peace and plenty. In the same manner he befriended two other
countries through which they passed on their way.
When they came to the sea, they got into a ship and during their voyage
the two eldest said to themselves, ‘Our brother has got the water which we
could not find, therefore our father will forsake us and give him the
kingdom, which is our right’; so they were full of envy and revenge, and
agreed together how they could ruin him. Then they waited till he was fast
asleep, and poured the Water of Life out of the cup, and took it for
themselves, giving him bitter sea-water instead.
When they came to their journey’s end, the youngest son brought his cup
to the sick king, that he might drink and be healed. Scarcely, however, had
he tasted the bitter sea-water when he became worse even than he was
before; and then both the elder sons came in, and blamed the youngest for
what they had done; and said that he wanted to poison their father, but that
they had found the Water of Life, and had brought it with them. He no
sooner began to drink of what they brought him, than he felt his sickness
leave him, and was as strong and well as in his younger days. Then they
went to their brother, and laughed at him, and said, ‘Well, brother, you
found the Water of Life, did you? You have had the trouble and we shall
have the reward. Pray, with all your cleverness, why did not you manage to
keep your eyes open? Next year one of us will take away your beautiful
princess, if you do not take care. You had better say nothing about this to
our father, for he does not believe a word you say; and if you tell tales, you
shall lose your life into the bargain: but be quiet, and we will let you off.’
The old king was still very angry with his youngest son, and thought that
he really meant to have taken away his life; so he called his court together,
and asked what should be done, and all agreed that he ought to be put to
death. The prince knew nothing of what was going on, till one day, when
the king’s chief huntsmen went a-hunting with him, and they were alone in
the wood together, the huntsman looked so sorrowful that the prince said,
‘My friend, what is the matter with you?’ ‘I cannot and dare not tell you,’

said he. But the prince begged very hard, and said, ‘Only tell me what it is,
and do not think I shall be angry, for I will forgive you.’ ‘Alas!’ said the
huntsman; ‘the king has ordered me to shoot you.’ The prince started at this,
and said, ‘Let me live, and I will change dresses with you; you shall take
my royal coat to show to my father, and do you give me your shabby one.’
‘With all my heart,’ said the huntsman; ‘I am sure I shall be glad to save
you, for I could not have shot you.’ Then he took the prince’s coat, and gave
him the shabby one, and went away through the wood.
Some time after, three grand embassies came to the old king’s court, with
rich gifts of gold and precious stones for his youngest son; now all these
were sent from the three kings to whom he had lent his sword and loaf of
bread, in order to rid them of their enemy and feed their people. This
touched the old king’s heart, and he thought his son might still be guiltless,
and said to his court, ‘O that my son were still alive! how it grieves me that
I had him killed!’ ‘He is still alive,’ said the huntsman; ‘and I am glad that I
had pity on him, but let him go in peace, and brought home his royal coat.’
At this the king was overwhelmed with joy, and made it known throughout
all his kingdom, that if his son would come back to his court he would
forgive him.
Meanwhile the princess was eagerly waiting till her deliverer should
come back; and had a road made leading up to her palace all of shining
gold; and told her courtiers that whoever came on horseback, and rode
straight up to the gate upon it, was her true lover; and that they must let him
in: but whoever rode on one side of it, they must be sure was not the right
one; and that they must send him away at once.
The time soon came, when the eldest brother thought that he would make
haste to go to the princess, and say that he was the one who had set her free,
and that he should have her for his wife, and the kingdom with her. As he
came before the palace and saw the golden road, he stopped to look at it,
and he thought to himself, ‘It is a pity to ride upon this beautiful road’; so
he turned aside and rode on the right-hand side of it. But when he came to
the gate, the guards, who had seen the road he took, said to him, he could
not be what he said he was, and must go about his business.
The second prince set out soon afterwards on the same errand; and when
he came to the golden road, and his horse had set one foot upon it, he
stopped to look at it, and thought it very beautiful, and said to himself,

‘What a pity it is that anything should tread here!’ Then he too turned aside
and rode on the left side of it. But when he came to the gate the guards said
he was not the true prince, and that he too must go away about his business;
and away he went.
Now when the full year was come round, the third brother left the forest
in which he had lain hid for fear of his father’s anger, and set out in search
of his betrothed bride. So he journeyed on, thinking of her all the way, and
rode so quickly that he did not even see what the road was made of, but
went with his horse straight over it; and as he came to the gate it flew open,
and the princess welcomed him with joy, and said he was her deliverer, and
should now be her husband and lord of the kingdom. When the first joy at
their meeting was over, the princess told him she had heard of his father
having forgiven him, and of his wish to have him home again: so, before his
wedding with the princess, he went to visit his father, taking her with him.
Then he told him everything; how his brothers had cheated and robbed him,
and yet that he had borne all those wrongs for the love of his father. And the
old king was very angry, and wanted to punish his wicked sons; but they
made their escape, and got into a ship and sailed away over the wide sea,
and where they went to nobody knew and nobody cared.
And now the old king gathered together his court, and asked all his
kingdom to come and celebrate the wedding of his son and the princess.
And young and old, noble and squire, gentle and simple, came at once on
the summons; and among the rest came the friendly dwarf, with the
sugarloaf hat, and a new scarlet cloak.

And the wedding was held, and the merry bells run.
And all the good people they danced and they sung,
And feasted and frolick’d I can’t tell how long.

THE TWELVE HUNTSMEN

There was once a king’s son who had a bride whom he loved very much.
And when he was sitting beside her and very happy, news came that his
father lay sick unto death, and desired to see him once again before his end.
Then he said to his beloved: ‘I must now go and leave you, I give you a ring
as a remembrance of me. When I am king, I will return and fetch you.’ So
he rode away, and when he reached his father, the latter was dangerously ill,
and near his death. He said to him: ‘Dear son, I wished to see you once
again before my end, promise me to marry as I wish,’ and he named a
certain king’s daughter who was to be his wife. The son was in such trouble
that he did not think what he was doing, and said: ‘Yes, dear father, your
will shall be done,’ and thereupon the king shut his eyes, and died.
When therefore the son had been proclaimed king, and the time of
mourning was over, he was forced to keep the promise which he had given
his father, and caused the king’s daughter to be asked in marriage, and she
was promised to him. His first betrothed heard of this, and fretted so much
about his faithfulness that she nearly died. Then her father said to her:
‘Dearest child, why are you so sad? You shall have whatsoever you will.’
She thought for a moment and said: ‘Dear father, I wish for eleven girls
exactly like myself in face, figure, and size.’ The father said: ‘If it be
possible, your desire shall be fulfilled,’ and he caused a search to be made
in his whole kingdom, until eleven young maidens were found who exactly
resembled his daughter in face, figure, and size.
When they came to the king’s daughter, she had twelve suits of
huntsmen’s clothes made, all alike, and the eleven maidens had to put on
the huntsmen’s clothes, and she herself put on the twelfth suit. Thereupon
she took her leave of her father, and rode away with them, and rode to the
court of her former betrothed, whom she loved so dearly. Then she asked if
he required any huntsmen, and if he would take all of them into his service.
The king looked at her and did not know her, but as they were such

handsome fellows, he said: ‘Yes,’ and that he would willingly take them,
and now they were the king’s twelve huntsmen.
The king, however, had a lion which was a wondrous animal, for he
knew all concealed and secret things. It came to pass that one evening he
said to the king: ‘You think you have twelve huntsmen?’ ‘Yes,’ said the
king, ‘they are twelve huntsmen.’ The lion continued: ‘You are mistaken,
they are twelve girls.’ The king said: ‘That cannot be true! How will you
prove that to me?’ ‘Oh, just let some peas be strewn in the ante-chamber,’
answered the lion, ‘and then you will soon see. Men have a firm step, and
when they walk over peas none of them stir, but girls trip and skip, and drag
their feet, and the peas roll about.’ The king was well pleased with the
counsel, and caused the peas to be strewn.
There was, however, a servant of the king’s who favoured the huntsmen,
and when he heard that they were going to be put to this test he went to
them and repeated everything, and said: ‘The lion wants to make the king
believe that you are girls.’ Then the king’s daughter thanked him, and said
to her maidens: ‘Show some strength, and step firmly on the peas.’ So next
morning when the king had the twelve huntsmen called before him, and
they came into the ante-chamber where the peas were lying, they stepped so
firmly on them, and had such a strong, sure walk, that not one of the peas
either rolled or stirred. Then they went away again, and the king said to the
lion: ‘You have lied to me, they walk just like men.’ The lion said: ‘They
have been informed that they were going to be put to the test, and have
assumed some strength. Just let twelve spinning-wheels be brought into the
ante-chamber, and they will go to them and be pleased with them, and that
is what no man would do.’ The king liked the advice, and had the spinning-
wheels placed in the ante-chamber.
But the servant, who was well disposed to the huntsmen, went to them,
and disclosed the project. So when they were alone the king’s daughter said
to her eleven girls: ‘Show some constraint, and do not look round at the
spinning-wheels.’ And next morning when the king had his twelve
huntsmen summoned, they went through the ante-chamber, and never once
looked at the spinning-wheels. Then the king again said to the lion: ‘You
have deceived me, they are men, for they have not looked at the spinning-
wheels.’ The lion replied: ‘They have restrained themselves.’ The king,
however, would no longer believe the lion.

The twelve huntsmen always followed the king to the chase, and his
liking for them continually increased. Now it came to pass that once when
they were out hunting, news came that the king’s bride was approaching.
When the true bride heard that, it hurt her so much that her heart was almost
broken, and she fell fainting to the ground. The king thought something had
happened to his dear huntsman, ran up to him, wanted to help him, and
drew his glove off. Then he saw the ring which he had given to his first
bride, and when he looked in her face he recognized her. Then his heart was
so touched that he kissed her, and when she opened her eyes he said: ‘You
are mine, and I am yours, and no one in the world can alter that.’ He sent a
messenger to the other bride, and entreated her to return to her own
kingdom, for he had a wife already, and someone who had just found an old
key did not require a new one. Thereupon the wedding was celebrated, and
the lion was again taken into favour, because, after all, he had told the truth.

THE KING OF THE GOLDEN MOUNTAIN

There was once a merchant who had only one child, a son, that was very
young, and barely able to run alone. He had two richly laden ships then
making a voyage upon the seas, in which he had embarked all his wealth, in
the hope of making great gains, when the news came that both were lost.
Thus from being a rich man he became all at once so very poor that nothing
was left to him but one small plot of land; and there he often went in an
evening to take his walk, and ease his mind of a little of his trouble.
One day, as he was roaming along in a brown study, thinking with no
great comfort on what he had been and what he now was, and was like to
be, all on a sudden there stood before him a little, rough-looking, black
dwarf. ‘Prithee, friend, why so sorrowful?’ said he to the merchant; ‘what is
it you take so deeply to heart?’ ‘If you would do me any good I would
willingly tell you,’ said the merchant. ‘Who knows but I may?’ said the
little man: ‘tell me what ails you, and perhaps you will find I may be of
some use.’ Then the merchant told him how all his wealth was gone to the
bottom of the sea, and how he had nothing left but that little plot of land.
‘Oh, trouble not yourself about that,’ said the dwarf; ‘only undertake to
bring me here, twelve years hence, whatever meets you first on your going
home, and I will give you as much as you please.’ The merchant thought
this was no great thing to ask; that it would most likely be his dog or his cat,
or something of that sort, but forgot his little boy Heinel; so he agreed to the
bargain, and signed and sealed the bond to do what was asked of him.
But as he drew near home, his little boy was so glad to see him that he
crept behind him, and laid fast hold of his legs, and looked up in his face
and laughed. Then the father started, trembling with fear and horror, and
saw what it was that he had bound himself to do; but as no gold was come,
he made himself easy by thinking that it was only a joke that the dwarf was
playing him, and that, at any rate, when the money came, he should see the
bearer, and would not take it in.

About a month afterwards he went upstairs into a lumber-room to look
for some old iron, that he might sell it and raise a little money; and there,
instead of his iron, he saw a large pile of gold lying on the floor. At the sight
of this he was overjoyed, and forgetting all about his son, went into trade
again, and became a richer merchant than before.
Meantime little Heinel grew up, and as the end of the twelve years drew
near the merchant began to call to mind his bond, and became very sad and
thoughtful; so that care and sorrow were written upon his face. The boy one
day asked what was the matter, but his father would not tell for some time;
at last, however, he said that he had, without knowing it, sold him for gold
to a little, ugly-looking, black dwarf, and that the twelve years were coming
round when he must keep his word. Then Heinel said, ‘Father, give yourself
very little trouble about that; I shall be too much for the little man.’
When the time came, the father and son went out together to the place
agreed upon: and the son drew a circle on the ground, and set himself and
his father in the middle of it. The little black dwarf soon came, and walked
round and round about the circle, but could not find any way to get into it,
and he either could not, or dared not, jump over it. At last the boy said to
him. ‘Have you anything to say to us, my friend, or what do you want?’
Now Heinel had found a friend in a good fairy, that was fond of him, and
had told him what to do; for this fairy knew what good luck was in store for
him. ‘Have you brought me what you said you would?’ said the dwarf to the
merchant. The old man held his tongue, but Heinel said again, ‘What do
you want here?’ The dwarf said, ‘I come to talk with your father, not with
you.’ ‘You have cheated and taken in my father,’ said the son; ‘pray give
him up his bond at once.’ ‘Fair and softly,’ said the little old man; ‘right is
right; I have paid my money, and your father has had it, and spent it; so be
so good as to let me have what I paid it for.’ ‘You must have my consent to
that first,’ said Heinel, ‘so please to step in here, and let us talk it over.’ The
old man grinned, and showed his teeth, as if he should have been very glad
to get into the circle if he could. Then at last, after a long talk, they came to
terms. Heinel agreed that his father must give him up, and that so far the
dwarf should have his way: but, on the other hand, the fairy had told Heinel
what fortune was in store for him, if he followed his own course; and he did
not choose to be given up to his hump-backed friend, who seemed so
anxious for his company.

So, to make a sort of drawn battle of the matter, it was settled that Heinel
should be put into an open boat, that lay on the sea-shore hard by; that the
father should push him off with his own hand, and that he should thus be set
adrift, and left to the bad or good luck of wind and weather. Then he took
leave of his father, and set himself in the boat, but before it got far off a
wave struck it, and it fell with one side low in the water, so the merchant
thought that poor Heinel was lost, and went home very sorrowful, while the
dwarf went his way, thinking that at any rate he had had his revenge.
The boat, however, did not sink, for the good fairy took care of her
friend, and soon raised the boat up again, and it went safely on. The young
man sat safe within, till at length it ran ashore upon an unknown land. As he
jumped upon the shore he saw before him a beautiful castle but empty and
dreary within, for it was enchanted. ‘Here,’ said he to himself, ‘must I find
the prize the good fairy told me of.’ So he once more searched the whole
palace through, till at last he found a white snake, lying coiled up on a
cushion in one of the chambers.
Now the white snake was an enchanted princess; and she was very glad
to see him, and said, ‘Are you at last come to set me free? Twelve long
years have I waited here for the fairy to bring you hither as she promised,
for you alone can save me. This night twelve men will come: their faces
will be black, and they will be dressed in chain armour. They will ask what
you do here, but give no answer; and let them do what they will—beat,
whip, pinch, prick, or torment you—bear all; only speak not a word, and at
twelve o’clock they must go away. The second night twelve others will
come: and the third night twenty-four, who will even cut off your head; but
at the twelfth hour of that night their power is gone, and I shall be free, and
will come and bring you the Water of Life, and will wash you with it, and
bring you back to life and health.’ And all came to pass as she had said;
Heinel bore all, and spoke not a word; and the third night the princess came,
and fell on his neck and kissed him. Joy and gladness burst forth throughout
the castle, the wedding was celebrated, and he was crowned king of the
Golden Mountain.
They lived together very happily, and the queen had a son. And thus eight
years had passed over their heads, when the king thought of his father; and
he began to long to see him once again. But the queen was against his
going, and said, ‘I know well that misfortunes will come upon us if you go.’

However, he gave her no rest till she agreed. At his going away she gave
him a wishing-ring, and said, ‘Take this ring, and put it on your finger;
whatever you wish it will bring you; only promise never to make use of it to
bring me hence to your father’s house.’ Then he said he would do what she
asked, and put the ring on his finger, and wished himself near the town
where his father lived.
Heinel found himself at the gates in a moment; but the guards would not
let him go in, because he was so strangely clad. So he went up to a
neighbouring hill, where a shepherd dwelt, and borrowed his old frock, and
thus passed unknown into the town. When he came to his father’s house, he
said he was his son; but the merchant would not believe him, and said he
had had but one son, his poor Heinel, who he knew was long since dead:
and as he was only dressed like a poor shepherd, he would not even give
him anything to eat. The king, however, still vowed that he was his son, and
said, ‘Is there no mark by which you would know me if I am really your
son?’ ‘Yes,’ said his mother, ‘our Heinel had a mark like a raspberry on his
right arm.’ Then he showed them the mark, and they knew that what he had
said was true.
He next told them how he was king of the Golden Mountain, and was
married to a princess, and had a son seven years old. But the merchant said,
‘that can never be true; he must be a fine king truly who travels about in a
shepherd’s frock!’ At this the son was vexed; and forgetting his word,
turned his ring, and wished for his queen and son. In an instant they stood
before him; but the queen wept, and said he had broken his word, and bad
luck would follow. He did all he could to soothe her, and she at last seemed
to be appeased; but she was not so in truth, and was only thinking how she
should punish him.
One day he took her to walk with him out of the town, and showed her
the spot where the boat was set adrift upon the wide waters. Then he sat
himself down, and said, ‘I am very much tired; sit by me, I will rest my
head in your lap, and sleep a while.’ As soon as he had fallen asleep,
however, she drew the ring from his finger, and crept softly away, and
wished herself and her son at home in their kingdom. And when he awoke
he found himself alone, and saw that the ring was gone from his finger. ‘I
can never go back to my father’s house,’ said he; ‘they would say I am a

sorcerer: I will journey forth into the world, till I come again to my
kingdom.’
So saying he set out and travelled till he came to a hill, where three giants
were sharing their father’s goods; and as they saw him pass they cried out
and said, ‘Little men have sharp wits; he shall part the goods between us.’
Now there was a sword that cut off an enemy’s head whenever the wearer
gave the words, ‘Heads off!’; a cloak that made the owner invisible, or gave
him any form he pleased; and a pair of boots that carried the wearer
wherever he wished. Heinel said they must first let him try these wonderful
things, then he might know how to set a value upon them. Then they gave
him the cloak, and he wished himself a fly, and in a moment he was a fly.
‘The cloak is very well,’ said he: ‘now give me the sword.’ ‘No,’ said they;
‘not unless you undertake not to say, “Heads off!” for if you do we are all
dead men.’ So they gave it him, charging him to try it on a tree. He next
asked for the boots also; and the moment he had all three in his power, he
wished himself at the Golden Mountain; and there he was at once. So the
giants were left behind with no goods to share or quarrel about.
As Heinel came near his castle he heard the sound of merry music; and
the people around told him that his queen was about to marry another
husband. Then he threw his cloak around him, and passed through the castle
hall, and placed himself by the side of the queen, where no one saw him.
But when anything to eat was put upon her plate, he took it away and ate it
himself; and when a glass of wine was handed to her, he took it and drank
it; and thus, though they kept on giving her meat and drink, her plate and
cup were always empty.
Upon this, fear and remorse came over her, and she went into her
chamber alone, and sat there weeping; and he followed her there. ‘Alas!’
said she to herself, ‘was I not once set free? Why then does this
enchantment still seem to bind me?’
‘False and fickle one!’ said he. ‘One indeed came who set thee free, and
he is now near thee again; but how have you used him? Ought he to have
had such treatment from thee?’ Then he went out and sent away the
company, and said the wedding was at an end, for that he was come back to
the kingdom. But the princes, peers, and great men mocked at him.
However, he would enter into no parley with them, but only asked them if
they would go in peace or not. Then they turned upon him and tried to seize

him; but he drew his sword. ‘Heads Off!’ cried he; and with the word the
traitors’ heads fell before him, and Heinel was once more king of the
Golden Mountain.

DOCTOR KNOWALL

There was once upon a time a poor peasant called Crabb, who drove with
two oxen a load of wood to the town, and sold it to a doctor for two talers.
When the money was being counted out to him, it so happened that the
doctor was sitting at table, and when the peasant saw how well he ate and
drank, his heart desired what he saw, and would willingly have been a
doctor too. So he remained standing a while, and at length inquired if he too
could not be a doctor. ‘Oh, yes,’ said the doctor, ‘that is soon managed.’
‘What must I do?’ asked the peasant. ‘In the first place buy yourself an A B
C book of the kind which has a cock on the frontispiece; in the second, turn
your cart and your two oxen into money, and get yourself some clothes, and
whatsoever else pertains to medicine; thirdly, have a sign painted for
yourself with the words: “I am Doctor Knowall,” and have that nailed up
above your house-door.’ The peasant did everything that he had been told to
do. When he had doctored people awhile, but not long, a rich and great lord
had some money stolen. Then he was told about Doctor Knowall who lived
in such and such a village, and must know what had become of the money.
So the lord had the horses harnessed to his carriage, drove out to the village,
and asked Crabb if he were Doctor Knowall. Yes, he was, he said. Then he
was to go with him and bring back the stolen money. ‘Oh, yes, but Grete,
my wife, must go too.’ The lord was willing, and let both of them have a
seat in the carriage, and they all drove away together. When they came to
the nobleman’s castle, the table was spread, and Crabb was told to sit down
and eat. ‘Yes, but my wife, Grete, too,’ said he, and he seated himself with
her at the table. And when the first servant came with a dish of delicate fare,
the peasant nudged his wife, and said: ‘Grete, that was the first,’ meaning
that was the servant who brought the first dish. The servant, however,
thought he intended by that to say: ‘That is the first thief,’ and as he actually
was so, he was terrified, and said to his comrade outside: ‘The doctor
knows all: we shall fare ill, he said I was the first.’ The second did not want

to go in at all, but was forced. So when he went in with his dish, the peasant
nudged his wife, and said: ‘Grete, that is the second.’ This servant was
equally alarmed, and he got out as fast as he could. The third fared no
better, for the peasant again said: ‘Grete, that is the third.’ The fourth had to
carry in a dish that was covered, and the lord told the doctor that he was to
show his skill, and guess what was beneath the cover. Actually, there were
crabs. The doctor looked at the dish, had no idea what to say, and cried:
‘Ah, poor Crabb.’ When the lord heard that, he cried: ‘There! he knows it;
he must also know who has the money!’
On this the servants looked terribly uneasy, and made a sign to the doctor
that they wished him to step outside for a moment. When therefore he went
out, all four of them confessed to him that they had stolen the money, and
said that they would willingly restore it and give him a heavy sum into the
bargain, if he would not denounce them, for if he did they would be hanged.
They led him to the spot where the money was concealed. With this the
doctor was satisfied, and returned to the hall, sat down to the table, and
said: ‘My lord, now will I search in my book where the gold is hidden.’ The
fifth servant, however, crept into the stove to hear if the doctor knew still
more. But the doctor sat still and opened his A B C book, turned the pages
backwards and forwards, and looked for the cock. As he could not find it
immediately he said: ‘I know you are there, so you had better come out!’
Then the fellow in the stove thought that the doctor meant him, and full of
terror, sprang out, crying: ‘That man knows everything!’ Then Doctor
Knowall showed the lord where the money was, but did not say who had
stolen it, and received from both sides much money in reward, and became
a renowned man.

THE SEVEN RAVENS

There was once a man who had seven sons, and last of all one daughter.
Although the little girl was very pretty, she was so weak and small that they
thought she could not live; but they said she should at once be christened.
So the father sent one of his sons in haste to the spring to get some water,
but the other six ran with him. Each wanted to be first at drawing the water,
and so they were in such a hurry that all let their pitchers fall into the well,
and they stood very foolishly looking at one another, and did not know what
to do, for none dared go home. In the meantime the father was uneasy, and
could not tell what made the young men stay so long. ‘Surely,’ said he, ‘the
whole seven must have forgotten themselves over some game of play’; and
when he had waited still longer and they yet did not come, he flew into a
rage and wished them all turned into ravens. Scarcely had he spoken these
words when he heard a croaking over his head, and looked up and saw
seven ravens as black as coal flying round and round. Sorry as he was to see
his wish so fulfilled, he did not know how what was done could be undone,
and comforted himself as well as he could for the loss of his seven sons
with his dear little daughter, who soon became stronger and every day more
beautiful.
For a long time she did not know that she had ever had any brothers; for
her father and mother took care not to speak of them before her: but one day
by chance she heard the people about her speak of them. ‘Yes,’ said they,
‘she is beautiful indeed, but still ‘tis a pity that her brothers should have
been lost for her sake.’ Then she was much grieved, and went to her father
and mother, and asked if she had any brothers, and what had become of
them. So they dared no longer hide the truth from her, but said it was the
will of Heaven, and that her birth was only the innocent cause of it; but the
little girl mourned sadly about it every day, and thought herself bound to do
all she could to bring her brothers back; and she had neither rest nor ease,
till at length one day she stole away, and set out into the wide world to find

her brothers, wherever they might be, and free them, whatever it might cost
her.
She took nothing with her but a little ring which her father and mother
had given her, a loaf of bread in case she should be hungry, a little pitcher
of water in case she should be thirsty, and a little stool to rest upon when
she should be weary. Thus she went on and on, and journeyed till she came
to the world’s end; then she came to the sun, but the sun looked much too
hot and fiery; so she ran away quickly to the moon, but the moon was cold
and chilly, and said, ‘I smell flesh and blood this way!’ so she took herself
away in a hurry and came to the stars, and the stars were friendly and kind
to her, and each star sat upon his own little stool; but the morning star rose
up and gave her a little piece of wood, and said, ‘If you have not this little
piece of wood, you cannot unlock the castle that stands on the glass-
mountain, and there your brothers live.’ The little girl took the piece of
wood, rolled it up in a little cloth, and went on again until she came to the
glass-mountain, and found the door shut. Then she felt for the little piece of
wood; but when she unwrapped the cloth it was not there, and she saw she
had lost the gift of the good stars. What was to be done? She wanted to save
her brothers, and had no key of the castle of the glass-mountain; so this
faithful little sister took a knife out of her pocket and cut off her little finger,
that was just the size of the piece of wood she had lost, and put it in the
door and opened it.
As she went in, a little dwarf came up to her, and said, ‘What are you
seeking for?’ ‘I seek for my brothers, the seven ravens,’ answered she. Then
the dwarf said, ‘My masters are not at home; but if you will wait till they
come, pray step in.’ Now the little dwarf was getting their dinner ready, and
he brought their food upon seven little plates, and their drink in seven little
glasses, and set them upon the table, and out of each little plate their sister
ate a small piece, and out of each little glass she drank a small drop; but she
let the ring that she had brought with her fall into the last glass.
On a sudden she heard a fluttering and croaking in the air, and the dwarf
said, ‘Here come my masters.’ When they came in, they wanted to eat and
drink, and looked for their little plates and glasses. Then said one after the
other,
‘Who has eaten from my little plate? And who has been drinking out of
my little glass?’

‘Caw! Caw! well I ween
Mortal lips have this way been.’

When the seventh came to the bottom of his glass, and found there the
ring, he looked at it, and knew that it was his father’s and mother’s, and
said, ‘O that our little sister would but come! then we should be free.’ When
the little girl heard this (for she stood behind the door all the time and
listened), she ran forward, and in an instant all the ravens took their right
form again; and all hugged and kissed each other, and went merrily home.

THE WEDDING OF MRS FOX

FIRST STORY
There was once upon a time an old fox with nine tails, who believed that
his wife was not faithful to him, and wished to put her to the test. He
stretched himself out under the bench, did not move a limb, and behaved as
if he were stone dead. Mrs Fox went up to her room, shut herself in, and her
maid, Miss Cat, sat by the fire, and did the cooking. When it became known
that the old fox was dead, suitors presented themselves. The maid heard
someone standing at the house-door, knocking. She went and opened it, and
it was a young fox, who said:

‘What may you be about, Miss Cat?
Do you sleep or do you wake?’

She answered:

‘I am not sleeping, I am waking,
Would you know what I am making?
I am boiling warm beer with butter,
Will you be my guest for supper?’

‘No, thank you, miss,’ said the fox, ‘what is Mrs Fox doing?’ The maid
replied:

‘She is sitting in her room,
Moaning in her gloom,
Weeping her little eyes quite red,
Because old Mr Fox is dead.’

‘Do just tell her, miss, that a young fox is here, who would like to woo
her.’ ‘Certainly, young sir.’

The cat goes up the stairs trip, trap,
The door she knocks at tap, tap, tap,
‘Mistress Fox, are you inside?’
‘Oh, yes, my little cat,’ she cried.

‘A wooer he stands at the door out there.’
‘What does he look like, my dear?’

‘Has he nine as beautiful tails as the late Mr Fox?’ ‘Oh, no,’ answered the
cat, ‘he has only one.’ ‘Then I will not have him.’
Miss Cat went downstairs and sent the wooer away. Soon afterwards
there was another knock, and another fox was at the door who wished to
woo Mrs Fox. He had two tails, but he did not fare better than the first.
After this still more came, each with one tail more than the other, but they
were all turned away, until at last one came who had nine tails, like old Mr
Fox. When the widow heard that, she said joyfully to the cat:

‘Now open the gates and doors all wide,
And carry old Mr Fox outside.’

But just as the wedding was going to be solemnized, old Mr Fox stirred
under the bench, and cudgelled all the rabble, and drove them and Mrs Fox
out of the house.
SECOND STORY
When old Mr Fox was dead, the wolf came as a suitor, and knocked at
the door, and the cat who was servant to Mrs Fox, opened it for him. The
wolf greeted her, and said:

‘Good day, Mrs Cat of Kehrewit,
How comes it that alone you sit?
What are you making good?’

The cat replied:

‘In milk I’m breaking bread so sweet,
Will you be my guest, and eat?’

‘No, thank you, Mrs Cat,’ answered the wolf. ‘Is Mrs Fox not at home?’
The cat said:

‘She sits upstairs in her room,
Bewailing her sorrowful doom,
Bewailing her trouble so sore,
For old Mr Fox is no more.’

The wolf answered:

‘If she’s in want of a husband now,
Then will it please her to step below?’

The cat runs quickly up the stair,
And lets her tail fly here and there,
Until she comes to the parlour door.
With her five gold rings at the door she knocks:
‘Are you within, good Mistress Fox?
If you’re in want of a husband now,
Then will it please you to step below?

Mrs Fox asked: ‘Has the gentleman red stockings on, and has he a
pointed mouth?’ ‘No,’ answered the cat. ‘Then he won’t do for me.’
When the wolf was gone, came a dog, a stag, a hare, a bear, a lion, and all
the beasts of the forest, one after the other. But one of the good qualities
which old Mr Fox had possessed, was always lacking, and the cat had
continually to send the suitors away. At length came a young fox. Then Mrs
Fox said: ‘Has the gentleman red stockings on, and has a little pointed
mouth?’ ‘Yes,’ said the cat, ‘he has.’ ‘Then let him come upstairs,’ said Mrs
Fox, and ordered the servant to prepare the wedding feast.

‘Sweep me the room as clean as you can,
Up with the window, fling out my old man!
For many a fine fat mouse he brought,
Yet of his wife he never thought,
But ate up every one he caught.’

Then the wedding was solemnized with young Mr Fox, and there was
much rejoicing and dancing; and if they have not left off, they are dancing
still.

THE SALAD

As a merry young huntsman was once going briskly along through a
wood, there came up a little old woman, and said to him, ‘Good day, good
day; you seem merry enough, but I am hungry and thirsty; do pray give me
something to eat.’ The huntsman took pity on her, and put his hand in his
pocket and gave her what he had. Then he wanted to go his way; but she
took hold of him, and said, ‘Listen, my friend, to what I am going to tell
you; I will reward you for your kindness; go your way, and after a little time
you will come to a tree where you will see nine birds sitting on a cloak.
Shoot into the midst of them, and one will fall down dead: the cloak will
fall too; take it, it is a wishing-cloak, and when you wear it you will find
yourself at any place where you may wish to be. Cut open the dead bird,
take out its heart and keep it, and you will find a piece of gold under your
pillow every morning when you rise. It is the bird’s heart that will bring you
this good luck.’
The huntsman thanked her, and thought to himself, ‘If all this does
happen, it will be a fine thing for me.’ When he had gone a hundred steps or
so, he heard a screaming and chirping in the branches over him, and looked
up and saw a flock of birds pulling a cloak with their bills and feet;
screaming, fighting, and tugging at each other as if each wished to have it
himself. ‘Well,’ said the huntsman, ‘this is wonderful; this happens just as
the old woman said’; then he shot into the midst of them so that their
feathers flew all about. Off went the flock chattering away; but one fell
down dead, and the cloak with it. Then the huntsman did as the old woman
told him, cut open the bird, took out the heart, and carried the cloak home
with him.
The next morning when he awoke he lifted up his pillow, and there lay
the piece of gold glittering underneath; the same happened next day, and
indeed every day when he arose. He heaped up a great deal of gold, and at

last thought to himself, ‘Of what use is this gold to me whilst I am at home?
I will go out into the world and look about me.’
Then he took leave of his friends, and hung his bag and bow about his
neck, and went his way. It so happened that his road one day led through a
thick wood, at the end of which was a large castle in a green meadow, and
at one of the windows stood an old woman with a very beautiful young lady
by her side looking about them. Now the old woman was a witch, and said
to the young lady, ‘There is a young man coming out of the wood who
carries a wonderful prize; we must get it away from him, my dear child, for
it is more fit for us than for him. He has a bird’s heart that brings a piece of
gold under his pillow every morning.’ Meantime the huntsman came nearer
and looked at the lady, and said to himself, ‘I have been travelling so long
that I should like to go into this castle and rest myself, for I have money
enough to pay for anything I want’; but the real reason was, that he wanted
to see more of the beautiful lady. Then he went into the house, and was
welcomed kindly; and it was not long before he was so much in love that he
thought of nothing else but looking at the lady’s eyes, and doing everything
that she wished. Then the old woman said, ‘Now is the time for getting the
bird’s heart.’ So the lady stole it away, and he never found any more gold
under his pillow, for it lay now under the young lady’s, and the old woman
took it away every morning; but he was so much in love that he never
missed his prize.
‘Well,’ said the old witch, ‘we have got the bird’s heart, but not the
wishing-cloak yet, and that we must also get.’ ‘Let us leave him that,’ said
the young lady; ‘he has already lost his wealth.’ Then the witch was very
angry, and said, ‘Such a cloak is a very rare and wonderful thing, and I must
and will have it.’ So she did as the old woman told her, and set herself at the
window, and looked about the country and seemed very sorrowful; then the
huntsman said, ‘What makes you so sad?’ ‘Alas! dear sir,’ said she, ‘yonder
lies the granite rock where all the costly diamonds grow, and I want so
much to go there, that whenever I think of it I cannot help being sorrowful,
for who can reach it? only the birds and the flies—man cannot.’ ‘If that’s all
your grief,’ said the huntsman, ‘I’ll take you there with all my heart’; so he
drew her under his cloak, and the moment he wished to be on the granite
mountain they were both there. The diamonds glittered so on all sides that
they were delighted with the sight and picked up the finest. But the old
witch made a deep sleep come upon him, and he said to the young lady,

‘Let us sit down and rest ourselves a little, I am so tired that I cannot stand
any longer.’ So they sat down, and he laid his head in her lap and fell
asleep; and whilst he was sleeping on she took the cloak from his shoulders,
hung it on her own, picked up the diamonds, and wished herself home
again.
When he awoke and found that his lady had tricked him, and left him
alone on the wild rock, he said, ‘Alas! what roguery there is in the world!’
and there he sat in great grief and fear, not knowing what to do. Now this
rock belonged to fierce giants who lived upon it; and as he saw three of
them striding about, he thought to himself, ‘I can only save myself by
feigning to be asleep’; so he laid himself down as if he were in a sound
sleep. When the giants came up to him, the first pushed him with his foot,
and said, ‘What worm is this that lies here curled up?’ ‘Tread upon him and
kill him,’ said the second. ‘It’s not worth the trouble,’ said the third; ‘let him
live, he’ll go climbing higher up the mountain, and some cloud will come
rolling and carry him away.’ And they passed on. But the huntsman had
heard all they said; and as soon as they were gone, he climbed to the top of
the mountain, and when he had sat there a short time a cloud came rolling
around him, and caught him in a whirlwind and bore him along for some
time, till it settled in a garden, and he fell quite gently to the ground
amongst the greens and cabbages.
Then he looked around him, and said, ‘I wish I had something to eat, if
not I shall be worse off than before; for here I see neither apples nor pears,
nor any kind of fruits, nothing but vegetables.’ At last he thought to himself,
‘I can eat salad, it will refresh and strengthen me.’ So he picked out a fine
head and ate of it; but scarcely had he swallowed two bites when he felt
himself quite changed, and saw with horror that he was turned into an ass.
However, he still felt very hungry, and the salad tasted very nice; so he ate
on till he came to another kind of salad, and scarcely had he tasted it when
he felt another change come over him, and soon saw that he was lucky
enough to have found his old shape again.
Then he laid himself down and slept off a little of his weariness; and
when he awoke the next morning he broke off a head both of the good and
the bad salad, and thought to himself, ‘This will help me to my fortune
again, and enable me to pay off some folks for their treachery.’ So he went
away to try and find the castle of his friends; and after wandering about a

few days he luckily found it. Then he stained his face all over brown, so
that even his mother would not have known him, and went into the castle
and asked for a lodging; ‘I am so tired,’ said he, ‘that I can go no farther.’
‘Countryman,’ said the witch, ‘who are you? and what is your business?’ ‘I
am,’ said he, ‘a messenger sent by the king to find the finest salad that
grows under the sun. I have been lucky enough to find it, and have brought
it with me; but the heat of the sun scorches so that it begins to wither, and I
don’t know that I can carry it farther.’
When the witch and the young lady heard of his beautiful salad, they
longed to taste it, and said, ‘Dear countryman, let us just taste it.’ ‘To be
sure,’ answered he; ‘I have two heads of it with me, and will give you one’;
so he opened his bag and gave them the bad. Then the witch herself took it
into the kitchen to be dressed; and when it was ready she could not wait till
it was carried up, but took a few leaves immediately and put them in her
mouth, and scarcely were they swallowed when she lost her own form and
ran braying down into the court in the form of an ass. Now the servant-maid
came into the kitchen, and seeing the salad ready, was going to carry it up;
but on the way she too felt a wish to taste it as the old woman had done, and
ate some leaves; so she also was turned into an ass and ran after the other,
letting the dish with the salad fall on the ground. The messenger sat all this
time with the beautiful young lady, and as nobody came with the salad and
she longed to taste it, she said, ‘I don’t know where the salad can be.’ Then
he thought something must have happened, and said, ‘I will go into the
kitchen and see.’ And as he went he saw two asses in the court running
about, and the salad lying on the ground. ‘All right!’ said he; ‘those two
have had their share.’ Then he took up the rest of the leaves, laid them on
the dish and brought them to the young lady, saying, ‘I bring you the dish
myself that you may not wait any longer.’ So she ate of it, and like the
others ran off into the court braying away.
Then the huntsman washed his face and went into the court that they
might know him. ‘Now you shall be paid for your roguery,’ said he; and tied
them all three to a rope and took them along with him till he came to a mill
and knocked at the window. ‘What’s the matter?’ said the miller. ‘I have
three tiresome beasts here,’ said the other; ‘if you will take them, give them
food and room, and treat them as I tell you, I will pay you whatever you
ask.’ ‘With all my heart,’ said the miller; ‘but how shall I treat them?’ Then
the huntsman said, ‘Give the old one stripes three times a day and hay once;

give the next (who was the servant-maid) stripes once a day and hay three
times; and give the youngest (who was the beautiful lady) hay three times a
day and no stripes’: for he could not find it in his heart to have her beaten.
After this he went back to the castle, where he found everything he wanted.
Some days after, the miller came to him and told him that the old ass was
dead; ‘The other two,’ said he, ‘are alive and eat, but are so sorrowful that
they cannot last long.’ Then the huntsman pitied them, and told the miller to
drive them back to him, and when they came, he gave them some of the
good salad to eat. And the beautiful young lady fell upon her knees before
him, and said, ‘O dearest huntsman! forgive me all the ill I have done you;
my mother forced me to it, it was against my will, for I always loved you
very much. Your wishing-cloak hangs up in the closet, and as for the bird’s
heart, I will give it you too.’ But he said, ‘Keep it, it will be just the same
thing, for I mean to make you my wife.’ So they were married, and lived
together very happily till they died.

THE STORY OF THE YOUTH WHO WENT
FORTH TO LEARN WHAT FEAR WAS

A certain father had two sons, the elder of who was smart and sensible,
and could do everything, but the younger was stupid and could neither learn
nor understand anything, and when people saw him they said: ‘There’s a
fellow who will give his father some trouble!’ When anything had to be
done, it was always the elder who was forced to do it; but if his father bade
him fetch anything when it was late, or in the night-time, and the way led
through the churchyard, or any other dismal place, he answered: ‘Oh, no
father, I’ll not go there, it makes me shudder!’ for he was afraid. Or when
stories were told by the fire at night which made the flesh creep, the
listeners sometimes said: ‘Oh, it makes us shudder!’ The younger sat in a
corner and listened with the rest of them, and could not imagine what they
could mean. ‘They are always saying: “It makes me shudder, it makes me
shudder!” It does not make me shudder,’ thought he. ‘That, too, must be an
art of which I understand nothing!’
Now it came to pass that his father said to him one day: ‘Hearken to me,
you fellow in the corner there, you are growing tall and strong, and you too
must learn something by which you can earn your bread. Look how your
brother works, but you do not even earn your salt.’ ‘Well, father,’ he replied,
‘I am quite willing to learn something—indeed, if it could but be managed,
I should like to learn how to shudder. I don’t understand that at all yet.’ The
elder brother smiled when he heard that, and thought to himself: ‘Goodness,
what a blockhead that brother of mine is! He will never be good for
anything as long as he lives! He who wants to be a sickle must bend himself
betimes.’
The father sighed, and answered him: ‘You shall soon learn what it is to
shudder, but you will not earn your bread by that.’

Soon after this the sexton came to the house on a visit, and the father
bewailed his trouble, and told him how his younger son was so backward in
every respect that he knew nothing and learnt nothing. ‘Just think,’ said he,
‘when I asked him how he was going to earn his bread, he actually wanted
to learn to shudder.’ ‘If that be all,’ replied the sexton, ‘he can learn that
with me. Send him to me, and I will soon polish him.’ The father was glad
to do it, for he thought: ‘It will train the boy a little.’ The sexton therefore
took him into his house, and he had to ring the church bell. After a day or
two, the sexton awoke him at midnight, and bade him arise and go up into
the church tower and ring the bell. ‘You shall soon learn what shuddering
is,’ thought he, and secretly went there before him; and when the boy was at
the top of the tower and turned round, and was just going to take hold of the
bell rope, he saw a white figure standing on the stairs opposite the sounding
hole. ‘Who is there?’ cried he, but the figure made no reply, and did not
move or stir. ‘Give an answer,’ cried the boy, ‘or take yourself off, you have
no business here at night.’
The sexton, however, remained standing motionless that the boy might
think he was a ghost. The boy cried a second time: ‘What do you want
here?—speak if you are an honest fellow, or I will throw you down the
steps!’ The sexton thought: ‘He can’t mean to be as bad as his words,’
uttered no sound and stood as if he were made of stone. Then the boy called
to him for the third time, and as that was also to no purpose, he ran against
him and pushed the ghost down the stairs, so that it fell down the ten steps
and remained lying there in a corner. Thereupon he rang the bell, went
home, and without saying a word went to bed, and fell asleep. The sexton’s
wife waited a long time for her husband, but he did not come back. At
length she became uneasy, and wakened the boy, and asked: ‘Do you know
where my husband is? He climbed up the tower before you did.’ ‘No, I
don’t know,’ replied the boy, ‘but someone was standing by the sounding
hole on the other side of the steps, and as he would neither give an answer
nor go away, I took him for a scoundrel, and threw him downstairs. Just go
there and you will see if it was he. I should be sorry if it were.’ The woman
ran away and found her husband, who was lying moaning in the corner, and
had broken his leg.
She carried him down, and then with loud screams she hastened to the
boy’s father, ‘Your boy,’ cried she, ‘has been the cause of a great
misfortune! He has thrown my husband down the steps so that he broke his

leg. Take the good-for-nothing fellow out of our house.’ The father was
terrified, and ran thither and scolded the boy. ‘What wicked tricks are
these?’ said he. ‘The devil must have put them into your head.’ ‘Father,’ he
replied, ‘do listen to me. I am quite innocent. He was standing there by
night like one intent on doing evil. I did not know who it was, and I
entreated him three times either to speak or to go away.’ ‘Ah,’ said the
father, ‘I have nothing but unhappiness with you. Go out of my sight. I will
see you no more.’
‘Yes, father, right willingly, wait only until it is day. Then will I go forth
and learn how to shudder, and then I shall, at any rate, understand one art
which will support me.’ ‘Learn what you will,’ spoke the father, ‘it is all the
same to me. Here are fifty talers for you. Take these and go into the wide
world, and tell no one from whence you come, and who is your father, for I
have reason to be ashamed of you.’ ‘Yes, father, it shall be as you will. If
you desire nothing more than that, I can easily keep it in mind.’
When the day dawned, therefore, the boy put his fifty talers into his
pocket, and went forth on the great highway, and continually said to
himself: ‘If I could but shudder! If I could but shudder!’ Then a man
approached who heard this conversation which the youth was holding with
himself, and when they had walked a little farther to where they could see
the gallows, the man said to him: ‘Look, there is the tree where seven men
have married the ropemaker’s daughter, and are now learning how to fly. Sit
down beneath it, and wait till night comes, and you will soon learn how to
shudder.’ ‘If that is all that is wanted,’ answered the youth, ‘it is easily done;
but if I learn how to shudder as fast as that, you shall have my fifty talers.
Just come back to me early in the morning.’ Then the youth went to the
gallows, sat down beneath it, and waited till evening came. And as he was
cold, he lighted himself a fire, but at midnight the wind blew so sharply that
in spite of his fire, he could not get warm. And as the wind knocked the
hanged men against each other, and they moved backwards and forwards,
he thought to himself: ‘If you shiver below by the fire, how those up above
must freeze and suffer!’ And as he felt pity for them, he raised the ladder,
and climbed up, unbound one of them after the other, and brought down all
seven. Then he stoked the fire, blew it, and set them all round it to warm
themselves. But they sat there and did not stir, and the fire caught their
clothes. So he said: ‘Take care, or I will hang you up again.’ The dead men,
however, did not hear, but were quite silent, and let their rags go on

burning. At this he grew angry, and said: ‘If you will not take care, I cannot
help you, I will not be burnt with you,’ and he hung them up again each in
his turn. Then he sat down by his fire and fell asleep, and the next morning
the man came to him and wanted to have the fifty talers, and said: ‘Well do
you know how to shudder?’ ‘No,’ answered he, ‘how should I know? Those
fellows up there did not open their mouths, and were so stupid that they let
the few old rags which they had on their bodies get burnt.’ Then the man
saw that he would not get the fifty talers that day, and went away saying:
‘Such a youth has never come my way before.’
The youth likewise went his way, and once more began to mutter to
himself: ‘Ah, if I could but shudder! Ah, if I could but shudder!’ A
waggoner who was striding behind him heard this and asked: ‘Who are
you?’ ‘I don’t know,’ answered the youth. Then the waggoner asked: ‘From
whence do you come?’ ‘I know not.’ ‘Who is your father?’ ‘That I may not
tell you.’ ‘What is it that you are always muttering between your teeth?’
‘Ah,’ replied the youth, ‘I do so wish I could shudder, but no one can teach
me how.’ ‘Enough of your foolish chatter,’ said the waggoner. ‘Come, go
with me, I will see about a place for you.’ The youth went with the
waggoner, and in the evening they arrived at an inn where they wished to
pass the night. Then at the entrance of the parlour the youth again said quite
loudly: ‘If I could but shudder! If I could but shudder!’ The host who heard
this, laughed and said: ‘If that is your desire, there ought to be a good
opportunity for you here.’ ‘Ah, be silent,’ said the hostess, ‘so many prying
persons have already lost their lives, it would be a pity and a shame if such
beautiful eyes as these should never see the daylight again.’
But the youth said: ‘However difficult it may be, I will learn it. For this
purpose indeed have I journeyed forth.’ He let the host have no rest, until
the latter told him, that not far from thence stood a haunted castle where
anyone could very easily learn what shuddering was, if he would but watch
in it for three nights. The king had promised that he who would venture
should have his daughter to wife, and she was the most beautiful maiden the
sun shone on. Likewise in the castle lay great treasures, which were
guarded by evil spirits, and these treasures would then be freed, and would
make a poor man rich enough. Already many men had gone into the castle,
but as yet none had come out again. Then the youth went next morning to
the king, and said: ‘If it be allowed, I will willingly watch three nights in
the haunted castle.’

The king looked at him, and as the youth pleased him, he said: ‘You may
ask for three things to take into the castle with you, but they must be things
without life.’ Then he answered: ‘Then I ask for a fire, a turning lathe, and a
cutting-board with the knife.’
The king had these things carried into the castle for him during the day.
When night was drawing near, the youth went up and made himself a bright
fire in one of the rooms, placed the cutting-board and knife beside it, and
seated himself by the turning-lathe. ‘Ah, if I could but shudder!’ said he,
‘but I shall not learn it here either.’ Towards midnight he was about to poke
his fire, and as he was blowing it, something cried suddenly from one
corner: ‘Au, miau! how cold we are!’ ‘You fools!’ cried he, ‘what are you
crying about? If you are cold, come and take a seat by the fire and warm
yourselves.’ And when he had said that, two great black cats came with one
tremendous leap and sat down on each side of him, and looked savagely at
him with their fiery eyes. After a short time, when they had warmed
themselves, they said: ‘Comrade, shall we have a game of cards?’ ‘Why
not?’ he replied, ‘but just show me your paws.’ Then they stretched out their
claws. ‘Oh,’ said he, ‘what long nails you have! Wait, I must first cut them
for you.’ Thereupon he seized them by the throats, put them on the cutting-
board and screwed their feet fast. ‘I have looked at your fingers,’ said he,
‘and my fancy for card-playing has gone,’ and he struck them dead and
threw them out into the water. But when he had made away with these two,
and was about to sit down again by his fire, out from every hole and corner
came black cats and black dogs with red-hot chains, and more and more of
them came until he could no longer move, and they yelled horribly, and got
on his fire, pulled it to pieces, and tried to put it out. He watched them for a
while quietly, but at last when they were going too far, he seized his cutting-
knife, and cried: ‘Away with you, vermin,’ and began to cut them down.
Some of them ran away, the others he killed, and threw out into the fish-
pond. When he came back he fanned the embers of his fire again and
warmed himself. And as he thus sat, his eyes would keep open no longer,
and he felt a desire to sleep. Then he looked round and saw a great bed in
the corner. ‘That is the very thing for me,’ said he, and got into it. When he
was just going to shut his eyes, however, the bed began to move of its own
accord, and went over the whole of the castle. ‘That’s right,’ said he, ‘but go
faster.’ Then the bed rolled on as if six horses were harnessed to it, up and
down, over thresholds and stairs, but suddenly hop, hop, it turned over

upside down, and lay on him like a mountain. But he threw quilts and
pillows up in the air, got out and said: ‘Now anyone who likes, may drive,’
and lay down by his fire, and slept till it was day. In the morning the king
came, and when he saw him lying there on the ground, he thought the evil
spirits had killed him and he was dead. Then said he: ‘After all it is a pity,—
for so handsome a man.’ The youth heard it, got up, and said: ‘It has not
come to that yet.’ Then the king was astonished, but very glad, and asked
how he had fared. ‘Very well indeed,’ answered he; ‘one night is past, the
two others will pass likewise.’ Then he went to the innkeeper, who opened
his eyes very wide, and said: ‘I never expected to see you alive again! Have
you learnt how to shudder yet?’ ‘No,’ said he, ‘it is all in vain. If someone
would but tell me!’
The second night he again went up into the old castle, sat down by the
fire, and once more began his old song: ‘If I could but shudder!’ When
midnight came, an uproar and noise of tumbling about was heard; at first it
was low, but it grew louder and louder. Then it was quiet for a while, and at
length with a loud scream, half a man came down the chimney and fell
before him. ‘Hullo!’ cried he, ‘another half belongs to this. This is not
enough!’ Then the uproar began again, there was a roaring and howling, and
the other half fell down likewise. ‘Wait,’ said he, ‘I will just stoke up the
fire a little for you.’ When he had done that and looked round again, the two
pieces were joined together, and a hideous man was sitting in his place.
‘That is no part of our bargain,’ said the youth, ‘the bench is mine.’ The man
wanted to push him away; the youth, however, would not allow that, but
thrust him off with all his strength, and seated himself again in his own
place. Then still more men fell down, one after the other; they brought nine
dead men’s legs and two skulls, and set them up and played at nine-pins
with them. The youth also wanted to play and said: ‘Listen you, can I join
you?’ ‘Yes, if you have any money.’ ‘Money enough,’ replied he, ‘but your
balls are not quite round.’ Then he took the skulls and put them in the lathe
and turned them till they were round. ‘There, now they will roll better!’ said
he. ‘Hurrah! now we’ll have fun!’ He played with them and lost some of his
money, but when it struck twelve, everything vanished from his sight. He
lay down and quietly fell asleep. Next morning the king came to inquire
after him. ‘How has it fared with you this time?’ asked he. ‘I have been
playing at nine-pins,’ he answered, ‘and have lost a couple of farthings.’

‘Have you not shuddered then?’ ‘What?’ said he, ‘I have had a wonderful
time! If I did but know what it was to shudder!’
The third night he sat down again on his bench and said quite sadly: ‘If I
could but shudder.’ When it grew late, six tall men came in and brought a
coffin. Then he said: ‘Ha, ha, that is certainly my little cousin, who died
only a few days ago,’ and he beckoned with his finger, and cried: ‘Come,
little cousin, come.’ They placed the coffin on the ground, but he went to it
and took the lid off, and a dead man lay therein. He felt his face, but it was
cold as ice. ‘Wait,’ said he, ‘I will warm you a little,’ and went to the fire
and warmed his hand and laid it on the dead man’s face, but he remained
cold. Then he took him out, and sat down by the fire and laid him on his
breast and rubbed his arms that the blood might circulate again. As this also
did no good, he thought to himself: ‘When two people lie in bed together,
they warm each other,’ and carried him to the bed, covered him over and lay
down by him. After a short time the dead man became warm too, and began
to move. Then said the youth, ‘See, little cousin, have I not warmed you?’
The dead man, however, got up and cried: ‘Now will I strangle you.’
‘What!’ said he, ‘is that the way you thank me? You shall at once go into
your coffin again,’ and he took him up, threw him into it, and shut the lid.
Then came the six men and carried him away again. ‘I cannot manage to
shudder,’ said he. ‘I shall never learn it here as long as I live.’
Then a man entered who was taller than all others, and looked terrible.
He was old, however, and had a long white beard. ‘You wretch,’ cried he,
‘you shall soon learn what it is to shudder, for you shall die.’ ‘Not so fast,’
replied the youth. ‘If I am to die, I shall have to have a say in it.’ ‘I will
soon seize you,’ said the fiend. ‘Softly, softly, do not talk so big. I am as
strong as you are, and perhaps even stronger.’ ‘We shall see,’ said the old
man. ‘If you are stronger, I will let you go—come, we will try.’ Then he led
him by dark passages to a smith’s forge, took an axe, and with one blow
struck an anvil into the ground. ‘I can do better than that,’ said the youth,
and went to the other anvil. The old man placed himself near and wanted to
look on, and his white beard hung down. Then the youth seized the axe,
split the anvil with one blow, and in it caught the old man’s beard. ‘Now I
have you,’ said the youth. ‘Now it is your turn to die.’ Then he seized an
iron bar and beat the old man till he moaned and entreated him to stop,
when he would give him great riches. The youth drew out the axe and let

him go. The old man led him back into the castle, and in a cellar showed
him three chests full of gold. ‘Of these,’ said he, ‘one part is for the poor,
the other for the king, the third yours.’ In the meantime it struck twelve, and
the spirit disappeared, so that the youth stood in darkness. ‘I shall still be
able to find my way out,’ said he, and felt about, found the way into the
room, and slept there by his fire. Next morning the king came and said:
‘Now you must have learnt what shuddering is?’ ‘No,’ he answered; ‘what
can it be? My dead cousin was here, and a bearded man came and showed
me a great deal of money down below, but no one told me what it was to
shudder.’ ‘Then,’ said the king, ‘you have saved the castle, and shall marry
my daughter.’ ‘That is all very well,’ said he, ‘but still I do not know what it
is to shudder!’
Then the gold was brought up and the wedding celebrated; but
howsoever much the young king loved his wife, and however happy he
was, he still said always: ‘If I could but shudder—if I could but shudder.’
And this at last angered her. Her waiting-maid said: ‘I will find a cure for
him; he shall soon learn what it is to shudder.’ She went out to the stream
which flowed through the garden, and had a whole bucketful of gudgeons
brought to her. At night when the young king was sleeping, his wife was to
draw the clothes off him and empty the bucket full of cold water with the
gudgeons in it over him, so that the little fishes would sprawl about him.
Then he woke up and cried: ‘Oh, what makes me shudder so?—what makes
me shudder so, dear wife? Ah! now I know what it is to shudder!’

KING GRISLY-BEARD

A great king of a land far away in the East had a daughter who was very
beautiful, but so proud, and haughty, and conceited, that none of the princes
who came to ask her in marriage was good enough for her, and she only
made sport of them.
Once upon a time the king held a great feast, and asked thither all her
suitors; and they all sat in a row, ranged according to their rank—kings, and
princes, and dukes, and earls, and counts, and barons, and knights. Then the
princess came in, and as she passed by them she had something spiteful to
say to every one. The first was too fat: ‘He’s as round as a tub,’ said she.
The next was too tall: ‘What a maypole!’ said she. The next was too short:
‘What a dumpling!’ said she. The fourth was too pale, and she called him
‘Wallface.’ The fifth was too red, so she called him ‘Coxcomb.’ The sixth
was not straight enough; so she said he was like a green stick, that had been
laid to dry over a baker’s oven. And thus she had some joke to crack upon
every one: but she laughed more than all at a good king who was there.
‘Look at him,’ said she; ‘his beard is like an old mop; he shall be called
Grisly-beard.’ So the king got the nickname of Grisly-beard.
But the old king was very angry when he saw how his daughter behaved,
and how she ill-treated all his guests; and he vowed that, willing or
unwilling, she should marry the first man, be he prince or beggar, that came
to the door.
Two days after there came by a travelling fiddler, who began to play
under the window and beg alms; and when the king heard him, he said, ‘Let
him come in.’ So they brought in a dirty-looking fellow; and when he had
sung before the king and the princess, he begged a boon. Then the king
said, ‘You have sung so well, that I will give you my daughter for your
wife.’ The princess begged and prayed; but the king said, ‘I have sworn to
give you to the first comer, and I will keep my word.’ So words and tears
were of no avail; the parson was sent for, and she was married to the fiddler.

When this was over the king said, ‘Now get ready to go—you must not stay
here—you must travel on with your husband.’
Then the fiddler went his way, and took her with him, and they soon
came to a great wood. ‘Pray,’ said she, ‘whose is this wood?’ ‘It belongs to
King Grisly-beard,’ answered he; ‘hadst thou taken him, all had been thine.’
‘Ah! unlucky wretch that I am!’ sighed she; ‘would that I had married King
Grisly-beard!’ Next they came to some fine meadows. ‘Whose are these
beautiful green meadows?’ said she. ‘They belong to King Grisly-beard,
hadst thou taken him, they had all been thine.’ ‘Ah! unlucky wretch that I
am!’ said she; ‘would that I had married King Grisly-beard!’
Then they came to a great city. ‘Whose is this noble city?’ said she. ‘It
belongs to King Grisly-beard; hadst thou taken him, it had all been thine.’
‘Ah! wretch that I am!’ sighed she; ‘why did I not marry King Grisly-
beard?’ ‘That is no business of mine,’ said the fiddler: ‘why should you
wish for another husband? Am not I good enough for you?’
At last they came to a small cottage. ‘What a paltry place!’ said she; ‘to
whom does that little dirty hole belong?’ Then the fiddler said, ‘That is your
and my house, where we are to live.’ ‘Where are your servants?’ cried she.
‘What do we want with servants?’ said he; ‘you must do for yourself
whatever is to be done. Now make the fire, and put on water and cook my
supper, for I am very tired.’ But the princess knew nothing of making fires
and cooking, and the fiddler was forced to help her. When they had eaten a
very scanty meal they went to bed; but the fiddler called her up very early
in the morning to clean the house. Thus they lived for two days: and when
they had eaten up all there was in the cottage, the man said, ‘Wife, we can’t
go on thus, spending money and earning nothing. You must learn to weave
baskets.’ Then he went out and cut willows, and brought them home, and
she began to weave; but it made her fingers very sore. ‘I see this work
won’t do,’ said he: ‘try and spin; perhaps you will do that better.’ So she sat
down and tried to spin; but the threads cut her tender fingers till the blood
ran. ‘See now,’ said the fiddler, ‘you are good for nothing; you can do no
work: what a bargain I have got! However, I’ll try and set up a trade in pots
and pans, and you shall stand in the market and sell them.’ ‘Alas!’ sighed
she, ‘if any of my father’s court should pass by and see me standing in the
market, how they will laugh at me!’

But her husband did not care for that, and said she must work, if she did
not wish to die of hunger. At first the trade went well; for many people,
seeing such a beautiful woman, went to buy her wares, and paid their
money without thinking of taking away the goods. They lived on this as
long as it lasted; and then her husband bought a fresh lot of ware, and she
sat herself down with it in the corner of the market; but a drunken soldier
soon came by, and rode his horse against her stall, and broke all her goods
into a thousand pieces. Then she began to cry, and knew not what to do.
‘Ah! what will become of me?’ said she; ‘what will my husband say?’ So
she ran home and told him all. ‘Who would have thought you would have
been so silly,’ said he, ‘as to put an earthenware stall in the corner of the
market, where everybody passes? but let us have no more crying; I see you
are not fit for this sort of work, so I have been to the king’s palace, and
asked if they did not want a kitchen-maid; and they say they will take you,
and there you will have plenty to eat.’
Thus the princess became a kitchen-maid, and helped the cook to do all
the dirtiest work; but she was allowed to carry home some of the meat that
was left, and on this they lived.
She had not been there long before she heard that the king’s eldest son
was passing by, going to be married; and she went to one of the windows
and looked out. Everything was ready, and all the pomp and brightness of
the court was there. Then she bitterly grieved for the pride and folly which
had brought her so low. And the servants gave her some of the rich meats,
which she put into her basket to take home.
All on a sudden, as she was going out, in came the king’s son in golden
clothes; and when he saw a beautiful woman at the door, he took her by the
hand, and said she should be his partner in the dance; but she trembled for
fear, for she saw that it was King Grisly-beard, who was making sport of
her. However, he kept fast hold, and led her in; and the cover of the basket
came off, so that the meats in it fell about. Then everybody laughed and
jeered at her; and she was so abashed, that she wished herself a thousand
feet deep in the earth. She sprang to the door to run away; but on the steps
King Grisly-beard overtook her, and brought her back and said, ‘Fear me
not! I am the fiddler who has lived with you in the hut. I brought you there
because I really loved you. I am also the soldier that overset your stall. I
have done all this only to cure you of your silly pride, and to show you the

folly of your ill-treatment of me. Now all is over: you have learnt wisdom,
and it is time to hold our marriage feast.’
Then the chamberlains came and brought her the most beautiful robes;
and her father and his whole court were there already, and welcomed her
home on her marriage. Joy was in every face and every heart. The feast was
grand; they danced and sang; all were merry; and I only wish that you and I
had been of the party.

IRON HANS

There was once upon a time a king who had a great forest near his
palace, full of all kinds of wild animals. One day he sent out a huntsman to
shoot him a roe, but he did not come back. ‘Perhaps some accident has
befallen him,’ said the king, and the next day he sent out two more
huntsmen who were to search for him, but they too stayed away. Then on
the third day, he sent for all his huntsmen, and said: ‘Scour the whole forest
through, and do not give up until you have found all three.’ But of these
also, none came home again, none were seen again. From that time forth, no
one would any longer venture into the forest, and it lay there in deep
stillness and solitude, and nothing was seen of it, but sometimes an eagle or
a hawk flying over it. This lasted for many years, when an unknown
huntsman announced himself to the king as seeking a situation, and offered
to go into the dangerous forest. The king, however, would not give his
consent, and said: ‘It is not safe in there; I fear it would fare with you no
better than with the others, and you would never come out again.’ The
huntsman replied: ‘Lord, I will venture it at my own risk, of fear I know
nothing.’
The huntsman therefore betook himself with his dog to the forest. It was
not long before the dog fell in with some game on the way, and wanted to
pursue it; but hardly had the dog run two steps when it stood before a deep
pool, could go no farther, and a naked arm stretched itself out of the water,
seized it, and drew it under. When the huntsman saw that, he went back and
fetched three men to come with buckets and bale out the water. When they
could see to the bottom there lay a wild man whose body was brown like
rusty iron, and whose hair hung over his face down to his knees. They
bound him with cords, and led him away to the castle. There was great
astonishment over the wild man; the king, however, had him put in an iron
cage in his courtyard, and forbade the door to be opened on pain of death,

and the queen herself was to take the key into her keeping. And from this
time forth everyone could again go into the forest with safety.
The king had a son of eight years, who was once playing in the
courtyard, and while he was playing, his golden ball fell into the cage. The
boy ran thither and said: ‘Give me my ball out.’ ‘Not till you have opened
the door for me,’ answered the man. ‘No,’ said the boy, ‘I will not do that;
the king has forbidden it,’ and ran away. The next day he again went and
asked for his ball; the wild man said: ‘Open my door,’ but the boy would
not. On the third day the king had ridden out hunting, and the boy went
once more and said: ‘I cannot open the door even if I wished, for I have not
the key.’ Then the wild man said: ‘It lies under your mother’s pillow, you
can get it there.’ The boy, who wanted to have his ball back, cast all thought
to the winds, and brought the key. The door opened with difficulty, and the
boy pinched his fingers. When it was open the wild man stepped out, gave
him the golden ball, and hurried away. The boy had become afraid; he
called and cried after him: ‘Oh, wild man, do not go away, or I shall be
beaten!’ The wild man turned back, took him up, set him on his shoulder,
and went with hasty steps into the forest. When the king came home, he
observed the empty cage, and asked the queen how that had happened. She
knew nothing about it, and sought the key, but it was gone. She called the
boy, but no one answered. The king sent out people to seek for him in the
fields, but they did not find him. Then he could easily guess what had
happened, and much grief reigned in the royal court.
When the wild man had once more reached the dark forest, he took the
boy down from his shoulder, and said to him: ‘You will never see your
father and mother again, but I will keep you with me, for you have set me
free, and I have compassion on you. If you do all I bid you, you shall fare
well. Of treasure and gold have I enough, and more than anyone in the
world.’ He made a bed of moss for the boy on which he slept, and the next
morning the man took him to a well, and said: ‘Behold, the gold well is as
bright and clear as crystal, you shall sit beside it, and take care that nothing
falls into it, or it will be polluted. I will come every evening to see if you
have obeyed my order.’ The boy placed himself by the brink of the well,
and often saw a golden fish or a golden snake show itself therein, and took
care that nothing fell in. As he was thus sitting, his finger hurt him so
violently that he involuntarily put it in the water. He drew it quickly out
again, but saw that it was quite gilded, and whatsoever pains he took to

wash the gold off again, all was to no purpose. In the evening Iron Hans
came back, looked at the boy, and said: ‘What has happened to the well?’
‘Nothing nothing,’ he answered, and held his finger behind his back, that
the man might not see it. But he said: ‘You have dipped your finger into the
water, this time it may pass, but take care you do not again let anything go
in.’ By daybreak the boy was already sitting by the well and watching it.
His finger hurt him again and he passed it over his head, and then unhappily
a hair fell down into the well. He took it quickly out, but it was already
quite gilded. Iron Hans came, and already knew what had happened. ‘You
have let a hair fall into the well,’ said he. ‘I will allow you to watch by it
once more, but if this happens for the third time then the well is polluted
and you can no longer remain with me.’
On the third day, the boy sat by the well, and did not stir his finger,
however much it hurt him. But the time was long to him, and he looked at
the reflection of his face on the surface of the water. And as he still bent
down more and more while he was doing so, and trying to look straight into
the eyes, his long hair fell down from his shoulders into the water. He raised
himself up quickly, but the whole of the hair of his head was already golden
and shone like the sun. You can imagine how terrified the poor boy was! He
took his pocket-handkerchief and tied it round his head, in order that the
man might not see it. When he came he already knew everything, and said:
‘Take the handkerchief off.’ Then the golden hair streamed forth, and let the
boy excuse himself as he might, it was of no use. ‘You have not stood the
trial and can stay here no longer. Go forth into the world, there you will
learn what poverty is. But as you have not a bad heart, and as I mean well
by you, there is one thing I will grant you; if you fall into any difficulty,
come to the forest and cry: “Iron Hans,” and then I will come and help you.
My power is great, greater than you think, and I have gold and silver in
abundance.’
Then the king’s son left the forest, and walked by beaten and unbeaten
paths ever onwards until at length he reached a great city. There he looked
for work, but could find none, and he learnt nothing by which he could help
himself. At length he went to the palace, and asked if they would take him
in. The people about court did not at all know what use they could make of
him, but they liked him, and told him to stay. At length the cook took him
into his service, and said he might carry wood and water, and rake the
cinders together. Once when it so happened that no one else was at hand,

the cook ordered him to carry the food to the royal table, but as he did not
like to let his golden hair be seen, he kept his little cap on. Such a thing as
that had never yet come under the king’s notice, and he said: ‘When you
come to the royal table you must take your hat off.’ He answered: ‘Ah,
Lord, I cannot; I have a bad sore place on my head.’ Then the king had the
cook called before him and scolded him, and asked how he could take such
a boy as that into his service; and that he was to send him away at once. The
cook, however, had pity on him, and exchanged him for the gardener’s boy.
And now the boy had to plant and water the garden, hoe and dig, and
bear the wind and bad weather. Once in summer when he was working
alone in the garden, the day was so warm he took his little cap off that the
air might cool him. As the sun shone on his hair it glittered and flashed so
that the rays fell into the bedroom of the king’s daughter, and up she sprang
to see what that could be. Then she saw the boy, and cried to him: ‘Boy,
bring me a wreath of flowers.’ He put his cap on with all haste, and
gathered wild field-flowers and bound them together. When he was
ascending the stairs with them, the gardener met him, and said: ‘How can
you take the king’s daughter a garland of such common flowers? Go
quickly, and get another, and seek out the prettiest and rarest.’ ‘Oh, no,’
replied the boy, ‘the wild ones have more scent, and will please her better.’
When he got into the room, the king’s daughter said: ‘Take your cap off, it
is not seemly to keep it on in my presence.’ He again said: ‘I may not, I
have a sore head.’ She, however, caught at his cap and pulled it off, and
then his golden hair rolled down on his shoulders, and it was splendid to
behold. He wanted to run out, but she held him by the arm, and gave him a
handful of ducats. With these he departed, but he cared nothing for the gold
pieces. He took them to the gardener, and said: ‘I present them to your
children, they can play with them.’ The following day the king’s daughter
again called to him that he was to bring her a wreath of field-flowers, and
then he went in with it, she instantly snatched at his cap, and wanted to take
it away from him, but he held it fast with both hands. She again gave him a
handful of ducats, but he would not keep them, and gave them to the
gardener for playthings for his children. On the third day things went just
the same; she could not get his cap away from him, and he would not have
her money.
Not long afterwards, the country was overrun by war. The king gathered
together his people, and did not know whether or not he could offer any

opposition to the enemy, who was superior in strength and had a mighty
army. Then said the gardener’s boy: ‘I am grown up, and will go to the wars
also, only give me a horse.’ The others laughed, and said: ‘Seek one for
yourself when we are gone, we will leave one behind us in the stable for
you.’ When they had gone forth, he went into the stable, and led the horse
out; it was lame of one foot, and limped hobblety jib, hobblety jib;
nevertheless he mounted it, and rode away to the dark forest. When he came
to the outskirts, he called ‘Iron Hans’ three times so loudly that it echoed
through the trees. Thereupon the wild man appeared immediately, and said:
‘What do you desire?’ ‘I want a strong steed, for I am going to the wars.’
‘That you shall have, and still more than you ask for.’ Then the wild man
went back into the forest, and it was not long before a stable-boy came out
of it, who led a horse that snorted with its nostrils, and could hardly be
restrained, and behind them followed a great troop of warriors entirely
equipped in iron, and their swords flashed in the sun. The youth made over
his three-legged horse to the stable-boy, mounted the other, and rode at the
head of the soldiers. When he got near the battlefield a great part of the
king’s men had already fallen, and little was wanting to make the rest give
way. Then the youth galloped thither with his iron soldiers, broke like a
hurricane over the enemy, and beat down all who opposed him. They began
to flee, but the youth pursued, and never stopped, until there was not a
single man left. Instead of returning to the king, however, he conducted his
troop by byways back to the forest, and called forth Iron Hans. ‘What do
you desire?’ asked the wild man. ‘Take back your horse and your troops,
and give me my three-legged horse again.’ All that he asked was done, and
soon he was riding on his three-legged horse. When the king returned to his
palace, his daughter went to meet him, and wished him joy of his victory. ‘I
am not the one who carried away the victory,’ said he, ‘but a strange knight
who came to my assistance with his soldiers.’ The daughter wanted to hear
who the strange knight was, but the king did not know, and said: ‘He
followed the enemy, and I did not see him again.’ She inquired of the
gardener where his boy was, but he smiled, and said: ‘He has just come
home on his three-legged horse, and the others have been mocking him, and
crying: “Here comes our hobblety jib back again!” They asked, too: “Under
what hedge have you been lying sleeping all the time?” So he said: “I did
the best of all, and it would have gone badly without me.” And then he was
still more ridiculed.’

The king said to his daughter: ‘I will proclaim a great feast that shall last
for three days, and you shall throw a golden apple. Perhaps the unknown
man will show himself.’ When the feast was announced, the youth went out
to the forest, and called Iron Hans. ‘What do you desire?’ asked he. ‘That I
may catch the king’s daughter’s golden apple.’ ‘It is as safe as if you had it
already,’ said Iron Hans. ‘You shall likewise have a suit of red armour for
the occasion, and ride on a spirited chestnut-horse.’ When the day came, the
youth galloped to the spot, took his place amongst the knights, and was
recognized by no one. The king’s daughter came forward, and threw a
golden apple to the knights, but none of them caught it but he, only as soon
as he had it he galloped away.
On the second day Iron Hans equipped him as a white knight, and gave
him a white horse. Again he was the only one who caught the apple, and he
did not linger an instant, but galloped off with it. The king grew angry, and
said: ‘That is not allowed; he must appear before me and tell his name.’ He
gave the order that if the knight who caught the apple, should go away
again they should pursue him, and if he would not come back willingly,
they were to cut him down and stab him.
On the third day, he received from Iron Hans a suit of black armour and a
black horse, and again he caught the apple. But when he was riding off with
it, the king’s attendants pursued him, and one of them got so near him that
he wounded the youth’s leg with the point of his sword. The youth
nevertheless escaped from them, but his horse leapt so violently that the
helmet fell from the youth’s head, and they could see that he had golden
hair. They rode back and announced this to the king.
The following day the king’s daughter asked the gardener about his boy.
‘He is at work in the garden; the queer creature has been at the festival too,
and only came home yesterday evening; he has likewise shown my children
three golden apples which he has won.’
The king had him summoned into his presence, and he came and again
had his little cap on his head. But the king’s daughter went up to him and
took it off, and then his golden hair fell down over his shoulders, and he
was so handsome that all were amazed. ‘Are you the knight who came
every day to the festival, always in different colours, and who caught the
three golden apples?’ asked the king. ‘Yes,’ answered he, ‘and here the
apples are,’ and he took them out of his pocket, and returned them to the