Chapter IV: Part 4

Till a late hour there was a great bustle and hurrying in the whole palace; for the giant was on that day to celebrate his marriage with the beautiful princess, and had invited many of his kin to the feast. The princess was clad in the most sumptuous manner, and decorated with a crown and rings of gold, and other costly ornaments, which had been worn by the giant’s mother. The health of the wedded pair was then drunk amid all kinds of rejoicing, and there was no lack of good cheer, both of meat and drink. But the bride wept without intermission, and her tears were so hot that they felt like fire on her cheeks.

When night approached, and the giant was about to conduct his bride to the nuptial chamber, he sent his pages to fetch the young herdsman, who lay in the dungeon. But when they entered the prison, the captive had disappeared, and in his stead there stood a bold warrior, with sword in hand, and completely armed. At this apparition the young men were frightened and fled; but were followed by the herdsman, who thus ascended to the court of the palace, where the guests were assembled to witness his death. When the giant cast his eyes on the doughty warrior, he was exasperated, and exclaimed: “Out upon thee, thou base Troll!” As he spoke his eyes became so piercing that they saw through the young herdsman’s armour; but the fearless youth said: “Here shalt thou strive with me for thy fair bride.” The giant was not inclined to stay, and was about to withdraw; but the herdsman drew his sword, which blazed like a flame of fire. When the giant recognized the sword, under which he was doomed to fall, he was terror-struck and sank on the earth; but the young herdsman advanced boldly, swung round his sword, and struck a blow so powerful that the giant’s head was separated from his carcase. Such was his end.

On witnessing this exploit, the wedding-guests were overcome with fear, and departed, each to his home; but the princess ran forth and thanked the brave herdsman for having saved her. They then proceeded to the water, loosed the giant’s enchanted ship, and rowed away from the island. On their arrival at the king’s court, there was great joy that the king had recovered his daughter, for whom he had mourned so long. There was afterwards a sumptuous wedding, and the young herdsman obtained the king’s fair daughter. They lived happily for very many years, and had many beautiful children.

* * * * *

Moth’s story was liked very much and Titania was so pleased that her two fairies had told such pretty tales that she turned to the king saying,

“My dear Oberon, will not one of your people tell us a story next?”

“Certainly,” replied the king, and he at once called Puck to him and asked him if he did not know an amusing story which he could tell them.

“Your Majesty,” said Puck, in a serious tone, “I can tell you all the stories that have ever been told, or that ever will be told. Which one will you have?”

“Something funny,” said the king.

Puck considered for a moment, then he said, “I can tell you about a very funny thing if you have not heard it before. Ariel has boasted that he could put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes, but I can tell you of a nose which grew and grew and grew until it would have gone right round the earth which would have been a much more wonderful kind of girdle than Ariel could have managed.”

“Tell it us,” answered Oberon, and Puck turning a back somersault landed neatly on the tale-teller’s stool and commenced the story of

The Nose-Tree

Did you ever hear the story of the _three poor soldiers_, who, after having fought hard in the wars, _set out on their road home_, begging their way as they went?

They had journeyed on a long way, sick at heart with their bad luck at thus being turned loose on the world in their old days; when one evening they reached a deep gloomy wood, through which lay their road. Night came fast upon them, and they found that they must, however unwillingly, sleep in this wood; so, to make all as safe as they could, it was agreed that two should lie down and sleep, while a third sat up and watched, lest wild beasts should break in and tear them to pieces. When he was tired he was to wake one of the others, and sleep in his turn; and so on with the third, so as to share the work fairly among them.

The two who were to rest first soon lay down and fell fast asleep; and the other made himself a good fire under the trees, and sat down by its side to keep watch. He had not sat long before, all of a sudden, up came a little dwarf in a red jacket. “Who is there?” said he. “A friend,” said the soldier. “What sort of a friend?” “An old broken soldier,” said the other, “with his two comrades, who have nothing left to live on; come, sit down and warm yourself.” “Well, my worthy fellow,” said the little man, “I will do what I can for you; take this and show it to your comrades in the morning.” So he took out an old cloak and gave it to the soldier: telling him, that whenever he put it over his shoulders anything that he wished for would be done for him. Then the little man made him a bow and walked away.

The second soldier’s turn to watch soon came, and the first laid him down to sleep; but the second man had not sat by himself long before up came the dwarf in the red jacket again. The soldier treated him in as friendly a way as his comrade had done, and the little man gave him a purse, which he told him would be always full of gold, let him draw as much as he would out of it.

Then the third soldier’s turn to watch came; and he also had little Red-jacket for his guest, who gave him a wonderful horn, that drew crowds around it whenever it was played, and made every one forget his business to come and dance to its beautiful music.

In the morning each told his story, and showed the gift he had got from the elf: and as they all liked each other very much, and were old friends, they agreed to travel together to see the world, and, for a while, only to make use of the wonderful purse. And thus they spent their time very joyously; till at last they began to be tired of this roving life, and thought they should like to have a home of their own. So the first soldier put his old cloak on, and wished for a fine castle. In a moment it stood before their eyes: fine gardens and green lawns spread round it, and flocks of sheep, and goats, and herds of oxen were grazing about; and out of the gate came a grand coach with three dapple-grey horses, to meet them and bring them home.

All this was very well for a time, but they found it would not do to stay at home always; so they got together all their rich clothes, and jewels, and money, and ordered their coach with three dapple-grey horses, and set out on a journey to see a neighbouring king. Now this king had an only daughter, and as he saw the three soldiers travelling in such grand style, he took them for king’s sons, and so gave them a kind welcome. One day, as the second soldier was walking with the princess, she saw that he had the wonderful purse in his hand. Then she asked him what it was, and he was foolish enough to tell her,--though, indeed, it did not much signify what he said, for she was a fairy, and knew all the wonderful things that the three soldiers brought. Now this princess was very cunning and artful; so she set to work and made a purse, so like the soldier’s that no one would know the one from the other; and then she asked him to come and see her, and made him drink some wine that she had got ready for him, and which soon made him fall fast asleep. Then she felt in his pocket, and took away the wonderful purse, and left the one she had made in its place.

The next morning the soldiers set out home; and soon after they reached their castle, happening to want some money, they went to their purse for it, and found something indeed in it; but to their great sorrow, when they had emptied it, none came in the place of what they took. Then the cheat was soon found out; for the second soldier knew where he had been, and how he had told the story to the princess, and he guessed that she had played him a trick. “Alas!” cried he, “poor wretches that we are, what shall we do?” “Oh!” said the first soldier, “let no grey hairs grow for this mishap: I will soon get the purse back.” So he threw his cloak across his shoulders, and wished himself in the princess’s chamber.

There he found her sitting alone, telling up her gold, that fell around her in a shower from the wonderful purse.

But the soldier stood looking at her too long; for she turned round, and the moment she saw him she started up and cried out with all her force, “Thieves! thieves!” so that the whole court came running in, and tried to seize on him. The poor soldier now began to be dreadfully frightened in his turn, and thought it was high time to make the best of his way off; so, without thinking of the ready way of travelling that his cloak gave him, he ran to the window, opened it, and jumped out; and unluckily, in his haste, his cloak caught and was left hanging, to the great joy of the princess, who knew its worth.

The poor soldier made the best of his way home to his comrades on foot, and in a very downcast mood; but the third soldier told him to keep up his heart, and took his horn and blew a merry tune. At the first blast a countless troop of foot and horse come rushing to their aid, and they set out to make war against their enemy. Then the king’s palace was besieged, and he was told that he must give up the purse and cloak, or that not one stone should be left upon another. And the king went into his daughter’s chamber and talked with her; but she said, “Let me try first if I cannot beat them some way or another.” So she thought of a cunning scheme to overreach them; and dressing herself out as a poor girl, with a basket on her arm, she set out by night with her maid, and went into the enemy’s camp, as if she wanted to sell trinkets.

In the morning she began to ramble about, singing ballads so beautifully that all the tents were left empty, and the soldiers ran round in crowds, and thought of nothing but hearing her sing. Amongst the rest came the soldier to whom the horn belonged, and as soon as she saw him she winked to her maid, who slipped slily through the crowd, and went into his tent where it hung, and stole it away. This done, they both got safely back to the palace, the besieging army went away, the three wonderful gifts were all left in the hands of the princess, and the three soldiers were as penniless and forlorn as when little Red-jacket found them in the wood.

Poor fellows! they began to think what was now to be done. “Comrades,” at last said the second soldier, who had had the purse, “we had better part; we cannot live together, let each seek his bread as well as he can.” So he turned to the right, and the other two went to the left, for they said they would rather travel together. The second soldier strayed on till he came to a wood (now this was the same wood where they had met with so much good luck before), and he walked on a long time till evening began to fall, when he sat down tired beneath a tree, and soon fell asleep.

Morning dawned, and he was greatly delighted, at opening his eyes, to see that the tree was laden with the most beautiful apples. He was hungry enough, so he soon plucked and ate first one, then a second, then a third apple. A strange feeling came over his nose: when he put the apple to his mouth something was in the way. He felt it--it was his nose, that grew and grew till it hung down to his breast. It did not stop there--still it grew and grew. “Heavens!” thought he, “When will it have done growing?” And well might he ask, for by this time it reached the ground as he sat on the grass,--and thus it kept creeping on, till he could not bear its weight or raise himself up; and it seemed as if it would never end, for already it stretched its enormous length all through the wood, over hill and dale.

Meantime his comrades were journeying on, till on a sudden one of them stumbled against something. “What can that be?” said the other. They looked, and could think of nothing that it was like but a nose. “We will follow it and find its owner, however,” said they. So they traced it up, till at last they found their poor comrade, lying stretched along under the apple-tree.

What was to be done? They tried to carry him, but in vain. They caught an ass that was passing, and raised him upon its back; but it was soon tired of carrying such a load. So they sat down in despair, when before long up came their old friend the dwarf with the red jacket. “Why, how now, friend?” said he, laughing: “well, I must find a cure for you, I see.” So he told them to gather a pear from another tree that grew close by, and the nose would come right again. No time was lost; and the nose was soon brought to its proper size to the poor soldier’s joy.

“I will do something more for you yet,” said the dwarf: “take some of those pears and apples with you; whoever eats one of the apples will have his nose grow like yours just now; but if you give him a pear, all will come right again. Go to the princess, and get her to eat some of your apples; her nose will grow twenty times as long as yours did: then look sharp, and you will get what you want from her.”

Then they thanked their old friend very heartily for all his kindness; and it was agreed that the poor soldier, who had already tried the power of the apple, should undertake the task. So he dressed himself up as a gardener’s boy, and went to the king’s palace, and said he had apples to sell, so fine and so beautiful as were never seen there before. Every one that saw them was delighted, and wanted to taste; but he said they were only for the princess; and she soon sent her maid to buy his stock. They were so ripe and rosy that she soon began eating; and had not eaten above a dozen before she too began to wonder what ailed her nose, for it grew and grew down to the ground, out at the window, and over the garden, and away, nobody knows where.

Then the king made known to all his kingdom that whoever would heal her of this dreadful disease should be richly rewarded. Many tried, but the princess got no relief. And now the old soldier dressed himself up very sprucely as a doctor, and said he could cure her. So he chopped up some of the apple, and, to punish her a little more, gave her a dose, saying he would call to-morrow and see her again. The morrow came, and, of course, instead of being better, the nose had been growing on all night as before; and the poor princess was in a dreadful fright. So the doctor then chopped up a very little of the pear and gave her, and said he was sure that would do good, and he would call again the next day. Next day came, and the nose was to be sure a little smaller, but yet it was bigger than when the doctor first began to meddle with it.

Then he thought to himself, “I must frighten this cunning princess a little more before I shall get what I want from her”; so he gave her another dose of the apple, and said he would call on the morrow. The morrow came, and the nose was ten times as bad as before. “My good lady,” said the doctor, “something works against my medicine, and is too strong for it; but I know by the force of my art what it is; you have stolen goods about you, I am sure; and if you do not give them back, I can do nothing for you.” But the princess denied very stoutly that she had anything of the kind. “Very well,” said the doctor, “you may do as you please, but I am sure I am right, and you will die if you do not own it.” Then he went to the king, and told him how the matter stood. “Daughter,” said he, “send back the cloak, the purse, and the horn, that you stole from the right owners.”

Then she ordered her maid to fetch all three, and gave them to the doctor, and begged him to give them back to the soldiers; and the moment he had them safe he gave her a whole pear to eat, and the nose came right. And as for the doctor, he put on the cloak, wished the king and all his court a good day, and was soon with his two brothers; who lived from that time happily at home in their palace, except when they took an airing to see the world, in their coach with the three dapple-grey horses.

* * * * *

Puck’s story made all laugh, and the more so because he artfully contrived a loud sneeze at the finish of it and set everybody thinking of what would have happened had the afflicted soldier or princess been given a pinch of snuff by some mischievous person passing by the ends of their noses. By a quick jerk forward Puck somersaulted on to the steps of Oberon’s throne where he made a low bow to the fairy king and queen and then jumped to a thin branch of a shrub growing near where crossing his legs again in his favourite attitude he swung gently to and fro waiting for the next story-teller. Who was it to be?

“Can we not have a song?” asked Titania.

“My queen speaks to be obeyed,” replied Oberon; “Robin, let us hear that song in which you tell of your doings among the mortals.”

Robin Goodfellow was never far away from the king, and at the royal request he promptly moved to the stool and standing up on it at once began the song that tells of

From Oberon in fairy-land
The king of ghosts and shadows there,
Mad Robin I, at his command
Am sent to view the night sports here;
What revel rout
Is kept about,
In every corner where I go,
I will o’er see,
And merry be,
And make good sport with ho, ho, ho.

More swift than lightning can I fly
About this airy welkin soon,
And, in a minute’s space, descry
Each thing that’s done below the moon:
There’s not a hag
Or ghost shall wag,
Or cry, ware goblins, where I go;
But Robin I
Their feats will spy,
And send them home with ho, ho, ho.

Whene’er such wanderers I meet,
As from their night-sports they trudge home,
With counterfeiting voice I greet
And call them on, with me to roam
Thro’ woods, thro’ lakes,
Thro’ bogs, thro’ brakes;
Or else, unseen, with them I go,
All in the nick
To play some trick
And frolic it with ho, ho, ho.

Sometimes I meet them like a man,
Sometimes an ox, sometimes a hound;
And to a horse I turn me can,
To trip and trot about them round
But if to ride,
My back they stride,
More swift than wind away I go;
O’er hedge and lands
Thro’ pools and ponds,
I whirry, laughing ho, ho, ho.

When lads and lassies merry be,
With possets and with junkets fine,
Unseen of all the company,
I eat their cakes and sip their wine;
And to make sport,
I sneeze and snort,
And out the candles I do blow;
The maids I kiss;
They shriek--who’s this?
I answer nought but ho, ho, ho.

Yet now and then, the maids to please,
At midnight I card up their wool;
And while they sleep and take their ease,
With wheel to threads their flax I pull.
I grind at mill
Their malt up still;
I dress their hemp, I spin their tow.
If any wake,
And would me take,
I wend me laughing ho, ho, ho!

When house or hearth doth sluttish lie,
I pinch the maidens black and blue;
The bed clothes from the bed pull I,
And lay them naked all to view;
’Twixt sleep and wake
I do them take,
And on the key-cold floor them throw;
If out they cry
Then forth I fly
And loudly laugh I, ho, ho, ho!

When any need to borrow aught
We lend them what they do require,
And for the use demand we naught
Our own is all we do desire.
If to repay
They do delay
Abroad amongst them then I go
And night by night
I them affright
With pinchings, dreams, and ho, ho, ho!

When lazy queans have nought to do,
But study how to cog and lie;
To make debate and mischief too,
’Twixt one another secretly;
I mark their gloze,
And it disclose
To them whom they have wronged so;
When I have done,
I get me gone,
And leave them scolding, ho, ho, ho!

When men do traps and engines set
In loop holes where the vermin creep,
Who from their folds and houses get
Their ducks and geese, and lambs and sheep,
I spy the gin,
And enter in,
And seem a vermin taken so;
But when they there
Approach me near,
I leap out laughing ho, ho, ho!

By wells and rills, in meadows green,
We nightly dance our hey-day guise;
And to our fairy King and Queen
We chant our moonlight minstrelsies.
When larks ’gin sing,
Away we fling,
And babes new born steal as we go,
And elf in bed
We leave instead
And wend us, laughing, ho, ho, ho!

Whereas my fellow-elves and I
In circled ring do trip around;
If that our sports by any eye
Do happen to be seen or found;
If that they
No words do say,
But _mum_ continue as they go,
Each night I do
Put groat in shoe,
And wind out laughing, ho, ho, ho!

From hag-bred Merlin’s time have I
Thus nightly revelled to and fro;
And for my pranks men call me by
The name of Robin Goodfellow.
Fiends, ghosts, and sprites
Who haunt the nights,
The hags and goblins do me know;
And beldames old
My feats have told,
So Vale, Vale, ho, ho, ho!

With the last line of his song Robin Goodfellow disappeared off the stool so quickly that even his fellow-fairies were unable to see where he went, and at one moment heard him singing his farewell “Vale, Vale,” from the furthermost part of the fairy ring, and in the next instant, his laughing “ho, ho, ho!” came from the back of King Oberon’s throne. The whole fairy realm took up this laughing “ho, ho, ho!” and when it quieted down, there on the stool was sitting a Swedish troll who, without any preface, began telling a story of

The Golden Lantern, the Golden Goat, and the Golden Cloak

There was once a poor widow who had three sons. The two elder went out to work for their living and while at home they were of little use, as they seldom did as their mother wished, whatever she might say to them. But the youngest lad always remained at home, and helped the old widow in her daily occupations. Hence he was much beloved by his mother, but disliked by his brothers, who in mockery gave him the nickname of _Pinkel_.

One day the old widow said to her sons: “You must now go abroad in the world, and seek your fortunes while you can. I am no longer able to feed you here at home, now that you are grown up.” The lads answered that they wished for nothing better, since it was contrary to their mother’s will that they should remain at home. They then prepared for their departure, and set out on their journey; but, after wandering about from place to place, were unable to procure any employment.

After journeying thus for a long time, they came, late one evening, to a vast lake. Far out in the water there was an island, on which there appeared a strong light, as of fire. The lads stopped on shore observing the wondrous light, and thence concluded that there must be human beings in the place. As it was now dark, and the brothers knew not where to find a shelter for the night, they resolved on taking a boat that lay among the reeds, and rowing over to the island to beg a lodging. With this view they placed themselves in the boat and rowed across. On approaching the island they perceived a little hut standing at the water’s edge; on reaching which they discovered that the bright light, that shone over the neighbourhood, proceeded from a golden lantern, that stood at the door of the hut. In the yard without, a large goat was wandering about, with golden horns, to which small bells were fastened, that gave forth a pleasing sound whenever the animal moved. The brothers wondered much at all this, but most of all at the old crone, who with her daughter inhabited the hut. The crone was both old and ugly, but was sumptuously clad in a pelisse or cloak, worked so artificially with golden threads that it glittered like burnished gold in every hem. The lads saw now very clearly that they had come to no ordinary human being, but to a Troll.

After some deliberation the brothers entered, and saw the crone standing by the fire-place, and stirring with a ladle in a large pot that was boiling on the hearth. They told their story and prayed to be allowed to pass the night there; but the crone answered _no_, at the same time directing them to a royal palace, which lay on the other side of the lake. While speaking she kept looking intently on the youngest boy, as he was standing and casting his eyes over everything in the hut. The crone said to him: “What is thy name, my boy?” The lad answered smartly: “I am called Pinkel.” The Troll then said: “Thy brothers can go their way, but thou shalt stay here; for thou appearest to me very crafty, and my mind tells me that I have no good to expect from thee, if thou shouldst stay long at the king’s palace.” Pinkel now humbly begged to be allowed to accompany his brothers, and promised never to cause the crone harm or annoyance. At length he also got leave to depart; after which the brothers hastened to the boat, not a little glad that all three had escaped so well in this adventure.

Towards the morning they arrived at a royal palace, larger and more magnificent than anything they had ever seen before. They entered and begged for employment. The eldest two were received as helpers in the royal stables, and the youngest was taken as page to the king’s young son; and, being a sprightly intelligent lad, he soon won the good-will of every one, and rose from day to day in the king’s favour. At this his brothers were sorely nettled, not enduring that he should be preferred to themselves. At length they consulted together how they might compass the fall of their young brother, in the belief that afterwards they should prosper better than before.

They therefore presented themselves one day before the king, and gave him an exaggerated account of the beautiful lantern that shed light over both land and water, adding that it ill beseemed a king to lack so precious a jewel. On hearing this the king’s attention was excited, and he asked: “Where is this lantern to be found, and who can procure it for me?” The brothers answered: “No one can do that unless it be our brother Pinkel. He knows best where the lantern is to be found.” The king was now filled with desire to obtain the golden lantern, about which he had heard tell, and commanded the youth to be called. When Pinkel came, the king said: “If thou canst procure me the golden lantern, that shines over land and water, I will make thee the chief man in my whole court.” The youth promised to do his best to execute his lord’s behest, and the king praised him for his willingness; but the brothers rejoiced at heart; for they well knew it was a perilous undertaking, which could hardly terminate favourably.

Pinkel now prepared a little boat, and, unaccompanied by any one, rowed over to the island inhabited by the Troll crone. When he arrived it was already evening, and the crone was busied in boiling porridge for supper, as was her custom. The youth creeping softly up to the roof, cast from time to time a handful of salt through the chimney, so that it fell down into the pot that was boiling on the hearth. When the porridge was ready, and the crone had begun to eat, she could not conceive what had made it so salt and bitter. She was out of humour, and chided her daughter, thinking that she had put too much salt into the porridge; but let her dilute the porridge as she might, it could not be eaten, so salt and bitter was it. She then ordered her daughter to go to the well, that was just at the foot of the hill, and fetch water, in order to prepare fresh porridge. The maiden answered: “How can I go to the well? It is so dark out of doors, that I cannot find the way over the hill.” “Then take my gold lantern,” said the crone peevishly. The girl took the beautiful gold lantern accordingly, and hastened away to fetch the water. But as she stooped to lift the pail, Pinkel, who was on the watch, seized her by the feet, and cast her headlong into the water. He then took the golden lantern, and betook himself in all haste to his boat.

In the meantime the crone was wondering why her daughter stayed out so long, and, at the same moment, chancing to look through the window she saw the light gleaming far out on the water. At this sight she was sorely vexed, and, hurrying down to the shore, cried aloud: “Is that thou, Pinkel?” The youth answered: “Yes, dear mother, it is I.” The Troll continued: “art thou not a great knave?” The lad answered: “Yes, dear mother, I am so.” The crone now began to lament and complain, saying: “Ah! what a fool was I to let thee go from me; I might have been sure thou wouldst play me some trick. If thou ever comest hither again, thou shalt not escape.” And so the matter rested for that time.

Pinkel now returned to the king’s palace, and became the chief person at court, as the king had promised. But when the brothers were informed what complete success he had had in his adventure, they became yet more envious and embittered than before, and often consulted together how they might accomplish the fall of their young brother, and gain the king’s favour for themselves.

Both brothers went, therefore, a second time before the king, and began relating at full length about the beautiful goat that had horns of the purest gold, from which little gold bells were suspended, which gave forth a pleasing sound, whenever the animal moved. They added, that it ill became so rich a king to lack so costly a treasure. On hearing their story, the king was greatly excited, and said: “Where is this goat to be found, and who can procure it for me?” The brothers answered: “That no one can do, unless it be our brother Pinkel; for he knows best where the goat is to be found.” The king then felt a strong desire to possess the goat with the golden horns, and therefore commanded the youth to appear before him. When Pinkel came, the king said: “Thy brothers have been telling me of a beautiful goat with horns of the purest gold, and little bells fastened to the horns, which ring whenever the animal moves. Now it is my will that thou go and procure for me this goat. If thou art successful I will make thee lord over a third part of my kingdom.” The youth having listened to this speech, promised to execute his lord’s commission, if only fortune would befriend him. The king then praised his readiness, and the brothers were glad at heart, believing that Pinkel would not escape this time so well as the first.

Pinkel now made the necessary preparations and rowed to the island where the Troll-wife dwelt. When he reached it, evening was already advanced, and it was dark, so that no one could be aware of his coming, the golden lantern being no longer there, but shedding its light in the royal palace. The youth now deliberated with himself how to get the golden goat; but the task was no easy one; for the animal lay every night in the crone’s hut. At length it occurred to his mind that there was one method which might probably prove successful, though, nevertheless, sufficiently difficult to carry into effect.

At night, when it was time for the crone and her daughter to go to bed, the girl went as usual to bolt the door. But Pinkel was just outside on the watch, and had placed a piece of wood behind the door, so that it would not shut close. The girl stood for a long time trying to lock it but to no purpose. On perceiving this the crone thought there was something out of order, and called out, that the door might very well remain unlocked for the night; as soon as it was daylight they could ascertain what was wanting. The girl then left the door ajar and laid herself down to sleep. When the night was a little more advanced, and the crone and her daughter were snug in deep repose, the youth stole softly into the hut, and approached the goat where he lay stretched out on the hearth. Pinkel now stuffed wool into all the golden bells, lest their sound might betray him; then seizing the goat, he bore it off to his boat. When he had reached the middle of the lake, he took the wool out of the goat’s ears, and the animal moved so that the bells rang aloud. At the sound the crone awoke, ran down to the water, and cried in an angry tone: “Is that thou, Pinkel?” The youth answered: “Yes, dear mother, it is.” The crone said: “Hast thou stolen my gold goat?” The youth answered: “Yes, dear mother, I have.” The Troll continued: “Art thou not a big knave?” Pinkel returned for answer: “Yes, I am so, dear mother.” Now the beldam began to whine and complain saying: “Ah! what a simpleton was I for letting thee slip away from me. I well knew thou wouldst play me some trick. But if thou comest hither ever again, thou shalt never go hence.”

Pinkel now returned to the king’s court and obtained the government of a third part of the kingdom, as the king had promised. But when the brothers heard how the enterprise had succeeded, and also saw the beautiful lantern and the goat with golden horns, which were regarded by every one as great wonders, they became still more hostile and embittered than ever. They could think of nothing but how they might accomplish his destruction.

They went, therefore, one day again before the king, to whom they gave a most elaborate description of the Troll-crone’s fur cloak, that shone like the brightest gold, and was worked with golden threads in every seam. The brothers said, it was more befitting a queen than a Troll to possess such a treasure, and added that that alone was wanting to the king’s good fortune. When the king heard all this he became very thoughtful, and said: “Where is this cloak to be found, and who can procure it for me?” The brothers answered: “No one can do that except our brother Pinkel; for he knows best where the gold cloak is to be found.” The king was thereupon seized with an ardent longing to possess the gold cloak, and commanded the youth to be called before him. When Pinkel came, the king said: “I have long been aware that thou hast an affection for my young daughter; and thy brothers have been telling me of a beautiful fur cloak, which shines with the reddest gold in every seam. It is, therefore, my will that thou go and procure for me this cloak. If thou art successful, thou shalt be my son-in-law, and after me shalt inherit the kingdom.” When the youth heard this he was glad beyond measure, and promised either to win the young maiden, or perish in the attempt. The king thereupon praised his readiness; but the brothers were delighted in their false hearts, and trusted that that enterprise would prove their brother’s destruction.

Pinkel then betook himself to his boat and crossed over to the island inhabited by the Troll-crone. On the way he anxiously deliberated with himself how he might get possession of the crone’s gold cloak; but it appeared to him not very likely that his undertaking would prove successful, seeing that the Troll always wore the cloak upon her. So after having concerted divers plans, one more hazardous than another, it occurred to him, that he would try one method, which might perhaps succeed, although it was bold and rash.

In pursuance of his scheme he bound a bag under his clothes, and walked with trembling step and humble demeanour into the beldam’s hut. On perceiving him, the Troll cast on him a savage glance, and said: “Pinkel, is that thou?” The youth answered: “Yes, dear mother, it is.” The crone was overjoyed, and said: “Although thou art come voluntarily into my power, thou canst not surely hope to escape again from hence, after having played me so many tricks.” She then took a large knife and prepared to make an end of poor Pinkel; but the youth, seeing her design, appeared sorely terrified, and said: “If I must needs die, I think I might be allowed to choose the manner of my death. I would rather eat myself to death with milk-porridge, than be killed with a knife.” The crone thought to herself that the youth had made a bad choice, and therefore promised to comply with his wish. She then set a huge pot on the fire, in which she put a large quantity of porridge. When the mess was ready, she placed it before Pinkel that he might eat, who for every spoonful of porridge that he put into his mouth, poured two into the bag that was tied under his clothes. At length the crone began to wonder how Pinkel could contrive to swallow such a quantity; but just at the same moment the youth, making a show of being sick to death, sank down from his seat as if he were dead, and unobserved cut a hole in the bag, so that the porridge ran over the floor.

The crone, thinking that Pinkel had burst with the quantity of porridge he had eaten, was not a little glad, clapped her hands together, and ran off to look for her daughter, who was gone to the well. But as the weather was wet and stormy, she first took off her beautiful fur cloak and laid it aside in the hut. Before she could have proceeded far, the youth came to life again, and springing up like lightning, seized on the golden cloak, and ran off at the top of his speed.

Shortly after, the crone perceived Pinkel as he was rowing in his little boat. On seeing him alive again, and observing the gold cloak glittering on the surface of the water, she was angry beyond all conception, and ran far out on the strand, crying: “Is that thou, Pinkel?” The youth answered: “Yes, it is I, dear mother.” The crone said: “Hast thou taken my beautiful gold cloak?” Pinkel responded: “Yes, dear mother, I have.” The Troll continued: “Art thou not a great knave?” The youth replied: “Yes, I am so, dear mother.” The old witch was now almost beside herself, and began to whine and lament, and said: “Ah! how silly was it of me to let thee slip away. I was well assured thou wouldst play me many wicked tricks.” They then parted from each other.

The Troll-wife now returned to her hut, and Pinkel crossed the water, and arrived safely at the king’s palace; there he delivered the gold cloak, of which every one said that a more sumptuous garment was never seen nor heard of. The king honourably kept his word with the youth, and gave him his young daughter to wife. Pinkel afterwards lived happy and content to the end of his days; but his brothers were and continued to be helpers in the stable as long as they lived.

* * * * *

When the Swedish Troll had finished the story of Pinkel’s adventures a German Fairy took up her position on the stool and said that she would be very glad to tell a tale only there were so many in the country from which she had come that she really didn’t know which one they would like best.

“Can we not have a story about children?” asked Queen Titania.

The German Fairy considered for a moment and then said that she did know a pretty story about children, a story which many children liked to hear and one which they called the Sweety-House, because it told how a little boy and girl when lost in the woods found a house built of nothing but sweets and cakes, and of the adventures which befel them afterwards when pursued by a bad wicked fairy who was a disgrace to the name.

“The Sweety-House, the Sweety-House,” exclaimed Titania clapping her hands delightedly.

“The _proper_ name of the story,” said the German Fairy, “is

Hansel and Grethel

There was once a poor man, who was a woodman, and went every day to cut wood in the forest. Once as he went along, he heard a cry like a little child’s: so he followed the sound, till at last he looked up a high tree, and on one of the branches sat a very little child. Now its mother had fallen asleep, and a vulture had taken it out of her lap and flown away with it, and left it on the tree. Then the woodcutter climbed up, took the little child down, and found it was a pretty little girl; and he said to himself, “I will take this poor child home, and bring her up with my own son Hansel.” So he brought her to his cottage, and both grew up together: he called the little girl Grethel, and the two children were so very fond of each other that they were never happy but when they were together.

But the woodcutter became very poor, and had nothing in the world he could call his own; and indeed he had scarcely bread enough for his wife and the two children to eat. At last the time came when even that was all gone, and he knew not where to seek for help in his need. Then at night, as he lay on his bed, and turned himself here and there, restless and full of care, his wife said to him, “Husband, listen to me, and take the two children out early to-morrow morning; give each of them a piece of bread, and then lead them into the midst of the wood, where it is thickest, make a fire for them, and go away and leave them alone to shift for themselves, for we can no longer keep them here.” “No, wife,” said the husband, “I cannot find it in my heart to leave the children to the wild beasts of the forest; they would soon tear them to pieces.” “Well, if you will not do as I say,” answered the wife, “we must all starve together.” And she would not let him have any peace until he came into her hard-hearted plan.

Meantime the poor children too were lying awake restless, and weak from hunger, so that they heard all that Hansel’s mother said to her husband. “Now,” thought Grethel to herself, “it is all up with us”: and she began to weep. But Hansel crept to her bedside, and said, “Do not be afraid, Grethel, I will find out some help for us.” Then he got up, put on his jacket, and opened the door and went out.

The moon shone bright upon the little court before the cottage, and the white pebbles glittered like daisies on the green meadows. So he stooped down, and put as many as he could into his pocket, and then went back to the house. “Now, Grethel,” said he, “rest in peace!” and he went to bed and fell fast asleep.

Early in the morning, before the sun had risen, the woodman’s wife came and awoke them. “Get up, children,” said she, “we are going into the wood; there is a piece of bread for each of you, but take care of it, and keep some for the afternoon.” Grethel took the bread, and carried it in her apron, because Hansel had his pocket full of stones; and they made their way into the wood.

After they had walked on for a time, Hansel stood still and looked towards home; and after a while he turned again, and so on several times. Then his father said, “Hansel, why do you keep turning and lagging about so? Move on a little faster.” “Ah, father,” answered Hansel, “I am stopping to look at my white cat, that sits on the roof, and wants to say good-bye to me.” “You little fool!” said his mother, “that is not your cat; it is the morning sun shining on the chimney-top.” Now Hansel had not been looking at the cat, but had all the while been lingering behind, to drop from his pocket one white pebble after another along the road.

When they came into the midst of the wood the woodman said, “Run about, children, and pick up some wood, and I will make a fire to keep us all warm.” So they piled up a little heap of brushwood, and set it on fire; and as the flames burnt bright, the mother said, “Now set yourselves by the fire, and go to sleep, while we go and cut wood in the forest; be sure you wait till we come again and fetch you.” Hansel and Grethel sat by the fireside till the afternoon, and then each of them ate their piece of bread. They fancied the woodman was still in the wood, because they thought they heard the blows of his axe; but it was a bough, which he had cunningly hung upon a tree, in such a way that the wind blew it backwards and forwards against the other boughs: and so it sounded as the axe does in cutting. Thus they waited till evening: but the woodman and his wife kept away, and no one came to fetch them.

When it was quite dark Grethel began to cry; but then Hansel said, “Wait awhile till the moon rises.” And when the moon rose he took her by the hand, and there lay the pebbles along the ground, glittering like new pieces of money, and marking out the way. Towards morning they came again to the woodman’s house, and he was glad in his heart when he saw the children again, for he had grieved at leaving them alone. His wife also seemed to be glad; but in her heart she was angry at it.

Not long afterwards there was again no bread in the house, and Hansel and Grethel heard the wife say to her husband, “The children found their way back once, and I took it in good part; but now there is only half a loaf of bread left for them in the house; to-morrow you must take them deeper into the wood, that they may not find their way out, or we shall all be starved.” It grieved the husband in his heart to do as his selfish wife wished, and he thought it would be better to share their last morsel with the children; but as he had done as she said once, he did not dare now to say no. When the children heard all their plan, Hansel got up, and wanted to pick up pebbles as before; but when he came to the door, he found his mother had locked it. Still he comforted Grethel, and said, “Sleep in peace, dear Grethel! God is very kind, and will help us.”

Early in the morning, a piece of bread was given to each of them, but still smaller than the one they had before. Upon the road Hansel crumbled his in his pocket and often stood still, and threw a crumb upon the ground. “Why do you lag so behind, Hansel?” said the woodman; “go your ways on before.” “I am looking at my little dove that is sitting upon the roof, and wants to say good-bye to me.” “You silly boy!” said the wife, “that is not your little dove; it is the morning sun, that shines on the chimney-top.” But Hansel still went on crumbling his bread, and throwing it on the ground. And thus they went on still further into the wood, where they had never been before in all their life.

There they were again told to sit down by a large fire, and go to sleep; and the woodman and his wife said they would come in the evening and fetch them away. In the afternoon Hansel shared Grethel’s bread, because he had strewed all his upon the road; but the day passed away, and evening passed away too, and no one came to the poor children. Still Hansel comforted Grethel, and said, “Wait till the moon rises; and then I shall be able to see the crumbs of bread which I have strewed, and they will show us the way home.”

The moon rose; but when Hansel looked for the crumbs they were gone, for hundreds of little birds in the wood had found them and picked them up. Hansel, however, set out to try and find his way home; but they soon lost themselves in the wilderness, and went on through the night and all the next day, till at last they laid down and fell asleep for weariness. Another day they went on as before, but still did not come to the end of the wood; and they were as hungry as could be, for they had had nothing to eat.

In the afternoon of the third day they came to a strange little hut, made of bread, with a roof of cake, and windows of barley-sugar. “Now we will sit down and eat till we have had enough,” said Hansel; “I will eat off the roof for my share; do you eat the windows, Grethel, they will be nice and sweet for you.” Whilst Grethel, however, was picking at the barley-sugar, a pretty voice called softly from within,

“Tip, tap! who goes there?”

But the children answered,

“The wind, the wind,
That blows through the air!”