Chapter VII: Part 7

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 the 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 any one 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 hast 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.

* * * * *

Having finished her tale, the second German Fairy was rising to return to her place in the circle, when King Oberon, who saw how pleased the Queen was made her yet better pleased by saying,

“Perhaps we can have another story from the same story-teller.”

“Oh, yes,” said Queen Titania, and the Fairy sat down again, and without any false modesty began the tale of

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 straightened that he could not go a 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 little elf, who stopped him at the same spot in the mountains, saying, as before, “Prince, prince, whither so fast?” “Mind your own affairs, busy-body!” said the prince, scornfully, and rode on.

But the dwarf put the same spell upon him as he had 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 every one 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 went 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 awhile, 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 snapt 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 he 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 huntsman 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, and saved him: for when the time came, I could not shoot 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 these 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 rung,
And all the good people they danced and they sung,
And feasted and frolick’d I can’t tell how long.”

A Dwarf from Sweden was the next to be invited to the stool, and sitting down he began to tell how a troll was enabled to do a kindly service to a poor lad who had saved him from a fierce werewolf.

“My story,” he said, “shall be called

The Troll’s Hammer

There was once a great famine in the country; the poor could not procure the necessaries of life, and even the rich suffered great privation. At that time a poor peasant dwelt out on the heath. One day he said to his son, that he could no longer support him, and that he must go out in the world, and provide for himself. Niels, therefore, left home and wandered forth.

Towards evening he found himself in a large forest, and climbed up into a tree, lest the wild beasts might do him harm during the night. When he had slept about an hour or perhaps more, a little man came running towards the tree. He was hunch-backed, had crooked legs, a long beard, and a red cap on his head. He was pursued by a werewolf, which attacked him just under the tree in which Niels was sitting. The little man began to scream; he bit and scratched, and defended himself as well as he could, but all to no purpose, the werewolf was his master, and would have torn him in pieces, if Niels had not sprung down from the tree, and come to his assistance. As soon as the werewolf saw that he had two to contend with, he was afraid, and fled back into the forest.

The Troll then said to Niels: “Thou hast preserved my life, and done me good service; in return I will also give thee something that will be beneficial to thee. See! here is a hammer, and all the smith’s work which thou doest with it, no one shall be able to equal. Continue thy way, and things will go better than thou thinkest.” When the Troll had spoken these words, he sank into the ground before Niels.

The next day the boy wandered on, until he came to the neighbourhood of the royal palace, and here he engaged himself to a smith.

Now it just happened, that a few days previously a thief had broken into the king’s treasury and stolen a large bag of money. All the smiths in the city were, therefore, sent for to the palace, and the king promised that he who could make the best and securest lock, should be appointed court locksmith, and have a considerable reward into the bargain. But the lock must be finished in eight days, and so constructed that it could not be picked by any one.

When the smith, with whom Niels lived, returned home and related this, the boy thought he should like to try whether his hammer really possessed those qualities which the Troll had said. He therefore begged his master to allow him to make a lock, and promised that it should be finished by the appointed time. Although the smith had no great opinion of the boy’s ability, he, nevertheless, allowed him to make the trial. Niels then requested to have a separate workshop, locked himself in, and then began hammering the iron. One day went, and then another, and the master began to be inquisitive; but Niels let no one come in, and the smith was obliged to remain outside, and peep through the key-hole. The work, however, succeeded far better than the boy himself had expected; and, without his really knowing how it came to pass, the lock was finished on the evening of the third day.

The following morning he went down to his master and asked him for some money. “Yesterday I worked hard,” said he, “and to-day I will make myself merry.” Hereupon he went out of the city, and did not return to the workshop till late in the evening. The next day he did the same, and idled away the rest of the week. His master was, consequently, very angry, and threatened to turn him away, unless he finished his work at the appointed time. But Niels told him to be quite easy, and engaged that his lock should be the best. When the day arrived, Niels brought his work forth, and carried it up to the palace, and it appeared that his lock was so ingenious and delicately made, that it far excelled all the others. The consequence was, that Niels’ master was acknowledged as the most skilful, and received the promised office and reward.

The smith was delighted, but he took good care not to confess to any one who it was that had made the curious lock. He now received one work after another from the king, and let Niels do them all, and he soon became a wealthy man.

In the meantime, the report spread from place to place of the ingenious lock the king had got for his treasury. Travellers came from a great distance to see it, and it happened that a foreign king came also to the palace. When he had examined the work for a long time, he said, that the man who could make such a lock deserved to be honoured and respected. “But however good a smith he may be,” added the king, “I have got his master at home.” He continued boasting in this manner, till at length the king offered to wager with him which could execute the most skilful piece of workmanship. The smiths were sent for, and the two kings determined that each smith should make a knife. He who won was to have a considerable reward. The smith related to Niels what had passed, and desired him to try whether he could not make as good a knife as he had a lock. Niels promised that he would, although his last work had not benefited him much. The smith was in truth an avaricious man, and treated him so niggardly, that at times he had not enough to eat and drink.

It happened one day, as Niels was gone out to buy steel to make the knife, that he met a man from his own village, and, in the course of conversation, learnt from him that his father went begging from door to door, and was in great want and misery. When Niels heard this he asked his master for some money to help his father; but his master answered, that he should not have a shilling before he had made the knife. Hereupon Niels shut himself up in the workshop, worked a whole day, and, as on the former occasion, the knife was made without his knowing how it happened.

When the day arrived on which the work was to be exhibited, Niels dressed himself in his best clothes, and went with his master up to the palace, where the two kings were expecting them. The strange smith first showed his knife. It was so beautiful, and so curiously wrought, that it was a pleasure to look at it; it was, moreover, so sharp and well tempered, that it could cut through a millstone to the very centre, as if it had been only a cheese, and that without the edge being in the least blunted. Niels’ knife, on the contrary, looked very poor and common. The king already began to think he had lost his wager, and spoke harshly to the master-smith, when his boy begged leave to examine the stranger’s knife a little more closely. After having looked at it for some time, he said: “This is a beautiful piece of workmanship which you have made, and shame on those who would say otherwise; but my master is, nevertheless, your superior, as you shall soon experience.” Saying this, he took the stranger’s knife and split it lengthwise from the point to the handle with his own knife, as easily as one splits a twig of willow. The kings could scarcely believe their eyes; and the consequence was, that the Danish smith was declared the victor, and got a large bag of money to carry home with him.

When Niels asked for payment, his master refused to give him anything, although he well knew that the poor boy only wanted the money to help his father. Upon this Niels grew angry, went up to the king, and related the whole story to him, how it was he who had made both the lock and the knife. The master was now called, but he denied everything, and accused Niels of being an idle boy, whom he had taken into his service out of charity and compassion.

“The truth of this story we shall soon find out,” said the king, who sided with the master. “Since thou sayest it is thou who hast made this wonderful knife, and thy master says it is he who has done it, I will adjudge each of you to make a sword for me within eight days. He who can make the most perfect one shall be my master-smith; but he who loses, shall forfeit his life.”

Niels was well satisfied with this agreement. He went home, packed up all his things, and bade his master farewell. The smith was now in great straits, and would gladly have made all good again; but Niels appeared not to understand him, and went his way, and engaged with another master, where he cheerfully began to work on the sword.

When the appointed day arrived, they both met at the palace, and the master produced a sword of the most elaborate workmanship that any one could wish to see, besides being inlaid with gold, and set with precious stones. The king was greatly delighted with it.

“Now, little Niels,” said he, “what dost thou say to this sword?”

“Certainly,” answered the boy, “it is not so badly made as one might expect from such a bungler.”

“Canst thou show anything like it?” asked the king.

“I believe I can,” answered Niels.

“Well, produce thy sword; where is it?” said the king.

“I have it in my waistcoat pocket,” replied Niels.

Hereupon there was a general laugh, which was increased when they saw the boy take a little packet out of his waistcoat pocket. Niels opened the paper, in which the blade was rolled up like a watch-spring. “Here is my work,” said he, “will you just cut the thread, master?”

The smith did it willingly, and in a moment the blade straightened itself and struck him in the face.

Niels took out of his other pocket a hilt of gold, and screwed it fast to the blade; then presented the sword to the king; and all present were obliged to confess that they never before had seen such matchless workmanship.

Niels was unanimously declared the victor, and the master was obliged to acknowledge that the boy had made both the lock and the knife.

The king in his indignation would have had the master executed, if the boy had not begged for mercy on the culprit. Niels received a handsome reward from the king, and from that day all the work from the palace was intrusted to him. He took his old father to reside with him, and lived in competence and happiness till his death.

* * * * *

When the Swedish Troll had gone back to his place after telling with much self-satisfaction how one of his fellows had befriended the poor apprentice, a Norwegian fairy came forward to tell how three of her companions had similarly served a young princess, and she named her story

The three little Crones, each with Something big

There was once a king’s son and a king’s daughter who dearly loved each other. The young princess was good and fair, and well spoken of by all, but her disposition was more inclined to pleasure and dissipation than to handiworks and domestic occupations. To the old queen this appeared very wrong, and she said she would have no one for a daughter-in-law that was not as skilled in such matters as she herself had been in her youth. She therefore opposed the prince’s marriage in all sorts of ways.

As the queen would not recall her words, the prince went to her and said, it would be well to make a trial whether the princess were not as skilful as the queen herself. This seemed to every one a very rash proposal, seeing that the prince’s mother was a very diligent, laborious person, and span and sewed and wove both night and day, so that no one ever saw her like. The prince, however, carried his point; the fair princess was sent into the maiden’s bower, and the queen sent her a pound of flax to spin. But the flax was to be spun ere dawn of day, otherwise the damsel was never more to think of the prince for a husband.

When left alone the princess found herself very ill at ease; for she well knew that she could not spin the queen’s flax, and yet trembled at the thought of losing the prince, who was so dear to her. She therefore wandered about the apartment and wept, incessantly wept. At this moment the door was opened very softly, and there stepped in a little, little woman of singular appearance and yet more singular manners. The little woman had enormously large feet, at which every one who saw her must be wonderstruck. She greeted the princess with: “Peace be with you!” “And peace with you!” answered the princess. The old woman then asked: “Why is the fair damsel so sorrowful to-night?” The princess answered: “I may well be sorrowful. The queen has commanded me to spin a pound of flax: if I have not completed it before dawn, I lose the young prince whom I love so dearly.” The old woman then said: “Be of good cheer, fair maiden; if there is nothing else, I can help you; but then you must grant me a request which I will name.” At these words the princess was overjoyed, and asked what it was the old woman desired. “I am called,” she said, “Mother Bigfoot; and I require for my aid no other reward than to be present at your wedding. I have not been at a wedding since the queen your mother-in-law stood as bride.” The princess readily granted her desire, and they parted. The princess then lay down to sleep, but could not close her eyes the whole livelong night.

Early in the morning, before dawn, the door was opened, and the little woman again entered. She approached the king’s daughter and handed to her a bundle of yarn, as white as snow and as fine as a cobweb, saying, “See! such beautiful yarn I have not spun since I span for the queen, when she was about to be married; but that was long, long ago.” Having so spoken the little woman disappeared, and the princess fell into a refreshing slumber, but she had not slept long when she was awakened by the old queen, who was standing by her bed, and who asked her whether the flax were all spun. The princess said that it was, and handed the yarn to her. The queen must needs appear content, but the princess could not refrain from observing that her apparent satisfaction did not proceed from good-will.

Before the day was over, the queen said she would put the princess to yet another proof. For this purpose she sent the yarn to the maiden-bower together with a yarn-roll and other implements, and ordered the princess to weave it into a web; but which must be ready before sunrise; if not, the damsel must never more think of the young prince.

When the princess was alone, she again felt sad at heart; for she knew that she could not weave the queen’s yarn, and yet less reconcile herself to the thought of losing the prince to whom she was so dear. She therefore wandered about the apartment and wept bitterly. At that moment the door was opened softly, softly, and in stepped a very little woman, of singular figure and still more singular manners. The little woman had an enormously large back, so that every one who saw her must be struck with astonishment. She, too, greeted the princess with: “Peace be with you!” and received for answer: “Peace with you!” The old woman said: “Why is the fair damsel so sad and sorrowful?” “I may well be sorrowful,” answered the princess. “The queen has commanded me to weave all this yarn into a web; and if I have not completed it by the morning before sunrise, I shall lose the prince, who loves me so dearly.” The woman then said: “Be comforted, fair damsel; if it is nothing more, I will help you. But then you must consent to one condition, which I will name to you.” At these words the princess was highly delighted, and asked what the condition might be. “I am called Mother Bigback, and I desire no other reward than to be at your wedding. I have not been to any wedding since the queen your mother-in-law stood as bride.” The king’s daughter readily granted this request, and the little woman departed. The princess then lay down to sleep, but was unable to close her eyes the whole night.

In the morning, before daybreak, the door was opened and the little woman entered. She approached the princess, and handed to her a web white as snow and close as a skin, so that its like was never seen. The old woman said: “See! such even threads I have never woven since I wove for the queen, when she was about to be married; but that was long, long ago.” The woman then disappeared, and the princess fell into a short slumber, but from which she was roused by the old queen, who stood by her bed, and inquired whether the web were ready. The princess told her that it was, and handed to her the beautiful piece of weaving. The queen must now appear content for the second time; but the princess could easily see that she was not so from good-will.

The king’s daughter now flattered herself that she should be put to no further trial; but the queen was of a different opinion; for she shortly after sent the web down to the maiden-bower with the message, that the princess should make it into shirts for the prince. The shirts were to be ready before sunrise, otherwise the damsel must never hope to have the young prince for a husband.

When the princess was alone, she felt sad at heart; for she knew that she could not sew the queen’s web, and yet could not think of losing the king’s son, to whom she was so dear. She therefore wandered about the chamber, and shed a flood of tears. At this moment, the door was softly, softly opened, and in stepped a very little woman of most extraordinary appearance and still more extraordinary manners. The little woman had an enormously large thumb, so that every one who saw it must be wonderstruck. She also greeted the princess with: “Peace be with you,” and likewise received for answer: “Peace with you.” She then asked the young damsel why she was so sad and lonely. “I may well be sad,” answered the princess. “The queen has commanded me to make this web into shirts for the king’s son; and if I have not finished them to-morrow before sunrise, I shall lose my beloved prince, who holds me so dear.” The woman then said: “Be of good cheer, fair maiden; if it is nothing more, I can help you. But then you must agree to a condition, which I will mention.” At these words the princess was overjoyed, and asked the little woman what it was she wished. “I am,” answered she, “called Mother Bigthumb, and I desire no other reward than that I may be present at your wedding. I have not been at a wedding since the queen your mother-in-law stood as bride.” The princess willingly assented to this condition, and the little woman departed. But the princess lay down to sleep, and slept so soundly that she did not dream even once of her dear prince.

Early in the morning, before the sun had risen, the door was opened, and the little woman entered. She approached the bed, awakened the princess, and gave her some shirts that were sewed and stitched so curiously that their like was never seen. The old woman said: “See! so beautifully as this I have not sewn since I sewed for the queen, when she was about to stand as bride. But that was long, long ago.” With these words the little woman disappeared; for the queen was then at the door, being just come to inquire whether the shirts were ready. The king’s daughter said that they were, and handed her the beautiful work. At the sight of them the queen was so enraged that her eyes flashed with fury. She said: “Well! take him then. I could never have imagined that thou wast so clever as thou art.” She then went her way, slamming the door after her.

The king’s son and the king’s daughter were now to be united, as the queen had promised, and great preparations were made for the wedding. But the joy of the princess was not without alloy, when she thought of the singular guests that were to be present. When some time had elapsed, and the wedding was being celebrated in the good old fashion, yet not one of the little old women appeared; although the bride looked about in every direction. At length, when it was growing late, and the guests were going to table, the princess discerned the three little women, as they sat in a corner of the dining hall, at a table by themselves. At the same moment the king stepped up to them, and inquired who they were, as he had never seen them before. The eldest of the three answered: “I am called Mother Bigfoot, and have such large feet because I have been obliged to sit spinning so much in my time.” “Oho!” said the king, “if such be the consequence, my son’s wife shall never spin another thread.” Then turning to the second little woman, he inquired the cause of her uncommon appearance. The old woman answered: “I am called Mother Bigback, and am so broad behind because I have been obliged to sit weaving so much in my time.” “Oho!” said the king, “then my son’s wife shall weave no more.” Lastly, turning to the third old woman, he asked her name; when Mother Bigthumb, rising from her seat, told him that she had got so large a thumb because she had sewed so much in her time. “Oho!” said the king, “then my son’s wife shall never sew another stitch.” Thus the fair princess obtained the king’s son, and also escaped from spinning, and weaving, and sewing for all the rest of her life.

When the wedding was over, the three little women went their way, and no one knew whither they went, nor whence they came. The prince lived happy and content with his consort, and all passed on smoothly and peaceably; only the princess was not so industrious as her strict mother-in-law.

* * * * *

The fairies are always glad when people do not find out who it is that has benefited them,--for of course Mother Bigfoot, Mother Bigback, and Mother Bigthumb were really fairies in disguise,--and were therefore pleased at the end of the Norwegian fairy’s tale.

“Now,” said Titania, and of course her word was law, “I think I should like a song. Nymphidia, sing to us.” Nymphidia at once stood up on the stool and all the Queen’s maids of honour stood around it as they sang

The Queen’s Song

Round about, round about, in a fine ring-a:
Thus we dance, thus we dance, and thus we sing-a:
Trip and go, to and fro, over this green-a,
All about, in and out, for our brave queen-a.

Round about, round about, in a fine ring-a:
Thus we dance, thus we dance, and thus we sing-a:
Trip and go, to and fro, over this green-a,
All about, in and out, for our brave queen-a.

We have danc’d round about in a fine ring-a:
We have danced lustily, and thus we sing-a,
All about, in and out, over this green-a,
To and fro, trip and go, to our brave queen-a.

* * * * *

Nymphidia and all the maids of honour having sung this little song to their queen, Oberon thought it was time that Bottom should be made to tell a tale, and he, you may be sure, made a clumsy enough figure as he took his seat on the tale-teller’s stool, scratched his head and said, “he didn’t know any fairy tales.” He tried to get away but could not rise until the King would let him; then when he did not begin quickly enough, Titania whispered to her maids of honour, and Hop, Mop and Drop, Pip, Drip and Skip, Tub, Tib and Tick, Pink, Pin and Quick, Gill, Om and Tit, Wap, Win and Mit all danced about poor Bottom, pinching and pulling and teasing him until he roared again and the whole fairy kingdom rang with peals of laughter. “Tell ’em about Billy MacDaniel,” called out Flute, and without any preface Bottom at once began telling the story of

The Three Sneezes

Billy MacDaniel was once as likely a young man as ever shook his brogue at a patron, emptied a quart, or handled a shillelagh; fearing for nothing but the want of drink; caring for nothing but who should pay for it; and thinking of nothing but how to make fun over it: drunk or sober, a word or a blow was ever the way with Billy MacDaniel; and a mighty easy way it is of either getting into or of ending a dispute. More is the pity that, through the means of his thinking, and fearing, and caring for nothing, this same Billy MacDaniel fell into bad company; for surely the good people are the worst of all company any one could come across.

It so happened that Billy was going home one clear frosty night not long after Christmas; the moon was round and bright; but although it was as fine a night as heart could wish for, he felt pinched with the cold. “By my word,” chattered Billy, “a drop of good liquor would be no bad thing to keep a man’s soul from freezing in him; and I wish I had a full measure of the best.”

“Never wish it twice, Billy,” said a little man in a three-cornered hat, bound all about with gold lace and with great silver buckles in his shoes, so big that it was a wonder how he could carry them, and he held out a glass as big as himself, filled with as good liquor as ever eye looked on or lip tasted.

“Success, my little fellow,” said Billy MacDaniel, nothing daunted, though well he knew the little man to belong to the good people; “here’s your health, any way, and thank you kindly; no matter who pays for the drink”; and he took the glass and drained it to the very bottom without ever taking a second breath to it.

“Success,” said the little man; “and you’re heartily welcome, Billy; but don’t think to cheat me as you have done others,--out with your purse and pay me like a gentleman.”

“Is it I pay you?” said Billy; “could I not just take you up and put you in my pocket as easily as a blackberry.”

“Billy MacDaniel,” said the little man, getting very angry, “you shall be my servant for seven years and a day, and that is the way I will be paid; so make ready to follow me.”

When Billy heard this he began to be very sorry for having used such bold words towards the little man; and he felt himself, yet could not tell how, obliged to follow the little man the livelong night about the country, up and down, and over hedge and ditch, and through bog and brake without any rest.

When morning began to dawn, the little man turned round to him and said, “You may now go home, Billy, but on your peril don’t fail to meet me in the Fort-field to-night; or if you do it may be the worse for you in the long-run. If I find you a good servant you will find me an indulgent master.”

Home went Billy MacDaniel; and though he was tired and weary enough, never a wink of sleep could he get for thinking of the little man; but he was afraid not to do his bidding, so up he got in the evening, and away he went to the Fort-field. He was not long there before the little man came towards him and said, “Billy, I want to go a long journey to-night; so saddle one of my horses, and you may saddle another for yourself, as you are to go along with me, and may be tired after your walk last night.”

Billy thought this very considerate of his master, and thanked him accordingly: “But,” said he, “if I may be so bold, sir, I would ask which is the way to your stable, for never a thing do I see but the fort here, and the old thorn tree in the corner of the field, and the stream running at the bottom of the hill, with the bit of bog over against us.”

“Ask no questions, Billy,” said the little man, “but go over to that bit of bog, and bring me two of the strongest rushes you can find.”

Billy did accordingly, wondering what the little man would be at; and he picked out two or three of the stoutest rushes he could find, with a little bunch of brown blossom stuck at the side of each, and brought them back to his master.

“Get up, Billy,” said the little man, taking one of the rushes from him and striding across it.

“Where shall I get up, please your honour?” said Billy.

“Why, upon horseback, like me, to be sure,” said the little man.

“Is it after making a fool of me you’d be,” said Billy, “bidding me get a horseback upon that bit of a rush? Maybe you want to persuade me that the rush I pulled but while ago out of the bog over there is a horse?”

“Up! Up! and no words,” said the little man, looking very angry; “the best horse you ever rode was but a fool to it.” So Billy, thinking all this was in joke, and fearing to vex his master, straddled across the rush. “Borram! Borram! Borram!” cried the little man three times (which, in English, means to become great), and Billy did the same after him: presently the rushes swelled up into fine horses, and away they went full speed; but Billy, who had put the rush between his legs, without much minding how he did it, found himself sitting on horseback the wrong way, which was rather awkward, with his face to the horse’s tail; and so quickly had his steed started off with him that he had no power to turn round, and there was therefore nothing for it but to hold on by the tail.