The pot at once began to bubble and boil, and soon it was full and brimming over with sweet porridge. The widow caught up a spoon and dipped some of the porridge out into a bowl, but the more she dipped out the more there was in it. When all the bowls in the house were full, the child said:
and at once the pot stopped boiling.
The widow was overjoyed at the treasure the[149] little girl had brought home. “Come,” cried she, “let us sit down and eat.”
“Yes, dear mother,” said the child, “but first I will carry some of the porridge to the neighbors who were so kind to us when we had nothing.”
She filled a large kettle with porridge and started out with it, but no sooner had she gone than the widow began to wonder whether they had kept enough for themselves. She did not feel satisfied, so she said to the pot:
Immediately the pot began to bubble and boil.  The widow wished to stop it, but she had forgotten what to say. “Enough!” she cried. “Stop! Stop!” but the porridge still boiled up and over the edge of the pot. The widow caught up the spoon and again began dipping out the porridge; she dipped as fast as she could. Soon all the pots and pans in the house were full and still the pot continued to boil out porridge. In despair the widow seized the pot and threw it[150] outside the door, but the porridge flowed out from it in a stream, and ran down the road.
The little girl was coming home when she met the stream of porridge, and at once she guessed what had happened. She ran as fast as she could and when she came to the place where the pot lay she cried:
At once the pot stopped boiling, but already enough porridge had been wasted to have fed the whole countryside.[151]
After that the widow never again dared to tell the pot to boil. When they wished for porridge it was the child who spoke to it. But from then on she and her mother never lacked for anything, for the porridge was so delicious that people came from far and near to buy from them.
One day Chicken-diddle had gone to sleep under a rose-bush, and a cow reached over the fence and bit off the top of the rose-bush.
“Squawk! Squawk!” cried Chicken-diddle, “the sky’s falling down”; and away she ran as fast as her legs would carry her. She ran until she came to the barnyard, and there was Hen-pen rustling in the dust of the barnyard.
“Oh, Hen-pen, don’t rustle—run, run!” cried Chicken-diddle. “The sky’s falling down.”
The hen stopped rustling. “How do you know that Chicken-diddle?” asked Hen-pen.
“I saw it with my eyes, I heard it with my ears, and part of it fell on my tail. Oh, let us run, run, until we get some place.”
“Quawk! Quawk,” cried the hen, and she began to run, and Chicken-diddle ran after her.[153]
They ran till they came to the duck-pond, and there was Duck-luck just going in for a swim.
“Oh, Duck-luck! Duck-luck! don’t try to swim,” cried Hen-pen. “The sky’s falling down.”
“How do you know that, Hen-pen?” asked Duck-luck.
“Chicken-diddle told me.”
“How do you know that, Chicken-diddle?”
“Why shouldn’t I know it? I saw it with my eyes, I heard it with my ears, and part of it fell on my tail. Oh, let us run, run until we get some place.”
“Yes, we had better run,” quacked Duck-luck, and away he waddled with Hen-pen, and Chicken-diddle after him.
They ran and ran till they came to a green meadow, and there was Goose-loose eating the green grass.
“Oh, Goose-loose, Goose-loose, don’t eat; run, run,” cried Duck-luck.
“Why should I run?” asked Goose-loose.
“Because the sky’s falling down.”
“How do you know that, Duck-luck?”
“Hen-pen told me.”[154]
“How do you know that, Hen-pen?”
“Chicken-diddle told me.”
“How do you know that, Chicken-diddle?”
“Because I saw it with my eyes, and heard it with my ears, and part of it fell on my tail. Oh, let us run, run some place.”
“Yes, we’d better run,” cried Goose-loose.
Away they all ran, Goose-loose at the head of them, and they ran and ran until they came to the turkey-yard, and there was Turkey-lurkey strutting and gobbling.
“Oh, Turkey-lurkey! don’t strut! Don’t strut!” cried Goose-loose.
“Why should I not strut?” asked Turkey-lurkey.
 I saw it with my eyes, I heard it with my ears, and a part of it fell[155] on my tail. Oh, let us run, run until we get some place.”
“Yes, we’d better run,” said Turkey-lurkey, so away they all ran, first Turkey-lurkey, and then Goose-loose, and then Duck-luck, and then Hen-pen, and then Chicken-diddle.
They ran and ran until they came to Fox-lox’s house, and there was Fox-lox lying in the doorway and yawning until his tongue curled up in his mouth. When he saw Turkey-lurkey and Goose-loose and Duck-luck and Hen-pen and Chicken-diddle he stopped yawning, and pricked up his ears, and he was very glad to see them.
“Well, well,” said he, “and what brings you all here?”
“Oh, Fox-lox, Fox-lox, don’t yawn,” cried Turkey-lurkey, “the sky’s falling down.”
“How do you know that, Turkey-lurkey?” asked the fox.
“Goose-loose told me.”
“How do you know that, Goose-loose?”
“Duck-luck told me.”
“How do you know that, Duck-luck?”
“Hen-pen told me.”[156]
“How do you know that, Hen-pen?”
“Chicken-diddle told me.”
“How do you know that, Chicken-diddle?”
“I couldn’t help knowing, for I saw it with my eyes, and I heard it with my ears, and part of it fell on my tail. Oh, where shall we run? We ought to go some place.”
“Well,” said the Fox, “you come right in here, and I’ll take such good care of you that even if the sky falls down you won’t know anything about it.”
   In ran Hen-pen, and he put her in the attic, and shut the door. In ran Chicken-diddle, and Fox-lox kept him right there in the room with him. And what happened to them after that I don’t know, but nobody ever saw them again; if the sky really fell, I never heard about it.
 The mulberries must be ripe by now, and we can have a fine feast.”
“That would suit me exactly,” answered the hen. “I am very fond of ripe fruit, and it is a long time since I have tasted any.”
The way was long, and the day was hot, and before[158] the two had reached the top of the hill they were both of them tired and out of breath.
“Oh! oh!” groaned the hen, “how weary I am. How in the world are we to get home again. My legs are so tired, I could not go another step if my life depended on it.”
“My dear,” said the cock, “I too am weary, but I see here a number of fallen twigs. If I could but weave them into a coach we might ride home in comfort.”
“That is a clever thought,” sighed the hen. “Make it by all means. There is nothing I like better than riding in a coach.”
The cock at once set to work, and by weaving sticks and grasses together he made a little coach with body, wheels, and shafts all complete.
The hen was delighted. She at once hopped into the coach, and seated herself. “Now, my dear Cock-a-lorum,” she cried, “nothing more is needed but for you to get between the shafts and[159] step out briskly, and we will be at home in less than no time.”
“What are you talking about?” asked the cock sharply. “I have no idea of pulling the coach myself. My legs ache as well as yours, and if you wait for me to pull you home you may sit there till doomsday.”
“But how then are we to get home?” asked the hen, beginning to weep.
“I do not know,” answered the cock. “But what I do know is that I am not going to pull you.”
“But you must pull me,” wept the hen.

So they scolded and disputed and there is no knowing how it would have ended, but suddenly a duck appeared from behind some bushes.
When the duck saw the hen and the cock it ruffled up its feathers and waddled toward them, quacking fiercely. “What is this! What is this!” cried the duck. “Do you not know that this hill belongs to me? Be off at once or I will give you a sound beating.”
 The cock, however, was a brave little fellow. Instead[160] of running away he met the duck valiantly, and seizing it he pulled out a beakful of feathers. The hen shrieked, but the cock continued to punish the duck until it cried for mercy.
“Very well,” said the cock, settling his feathers. “I will let you go this time, but only if you will promise to draw our coach to the nearest inn, where we can spend the night.”
The duck was afraid to refuse the cock’s demand. He put himself between the shafts, the cock mounted the coach and cracked his whip, and away they all went as fast as the duck could waddle. The coach rocked and bumped over the stones, and suddenly the duck gave a jump that almost upset it. “Ouch! ouch!” it cried.  “I may teach you to look where you are going, and not step on honest travelers who are smaller than you.”
The voice was that of a needle, who, with a pin for a comrade, was journeying along the same road.
 “I am sorry,” said he, “that my duck should be so careless. Will you not get in and ride with us?”[161]
This the pin and the needle were glad to do. The hen was somewhat nervous at first, lest one of them might tread on her foot, but they were so polite, and so careful not to crowd her, that she soon lost her fear of them.
Just before nightfall the coach reached the door of an inn.
The man came running, but when he saw the strange guests that sat in the coach he almost shut the door on them. “We want no ragamuffins here,” he cried.
 “Just see this fine white egg that the hen has laid. And every morning the duck lays an egg also. Both of these shall be yours if you will take us in for the night.”
Well, the landlord was willing to agree to that bargain. He bade the companions enter and make themselves comfortable. This they did, eating and drinking to their hearts’ content. Then the cock and the hen made themselves comfortable in the best bed, and the others tucked themselves away as best they could.[162]
As soon as they were all asleep the landlord said to his wife, “Listen! This is a fine bargain that I have made. Roast duck is very good, and so is chicken pie, and to-morrow our travelers shall furnish us with both of them. As for the needle and pin you can put them away in your work-basket, and they will always be useful.”
After saying this the landlord and his wife also went to sleep, for the landlord intended to be up early in the morning before his guests had wakened.
The cock, however, was not one to let anyone catch him sleeping. While it was still dark the next morning, he awakened the hen. “Come,” said he; “we’d best be up and away. This landlord of ours seems to me a sly and greedy man; he might take a notion to have roast chicken for dinner to-day, so we had better be gone before he is stirring.”
To this the hen agreed, but she and the cock were both hungry, so before starting they shared the egg between them. The shells they threw in among the ashes on the hearth. Then they took the needle and stuck it in the back of the landlord’s[163] chair; the pin they put in the towel that hung behind the door, and this done they took to their wings and away they flew.
The sound of their going awoke the duck. It opened its eyes and looked after them. “Well, well! So they’re off. I think I’d better be moving myself,” and so saying it waddled down to the river, and swam back to the place whence it had come.
It was not long after this the landlord himself awoke. “I’ll just slip down and see to the travelers before breakfast,” said he.
“Do,” answered his wife.
First, however, the landlord stopped to wash in the kitchen. He picked up the towel to dry his face, and the pin that was in it scratched him from ear to ear. He went to the hearth to light his pipe and the egg-shells flew up in his face.  The needle had run into him.
“It is all the fault of those ragamuffins,” cried the landlord in a rage, and he caught up a knife and ran to find them. But search as he might[164] there was not a sign of them anywhere, for they were already safely home again.
So all the landlord had for his trouble after all, was his pains.
There was once a king who had one only daughter, and her he loved as he loved the apple of his eye.
One day the Princess sat beside a fountain in the gardens, and played with a golden ball. She threw it up into the air and caught it again, and the ball shone and glittered in the sunshine so that she laughed aloud with pleasure. But presently as she caught at the ball she missed it, and it rolled across the grass and fell into the fountain. There it sank to the bottom. The Princess tried and tried to reach it, but she could not. Then she[166] began to weep, and her tears dripped down into the fountain.
“Princess, Princess, why are you weeping?” asked a hoarse voice.
The Princess looked about her, and there was a great squat green frog sitting on the edge of the fountain.
“I am weeping, Froggie, because I have dropped my ball into the water and I cannot get it again,” answered the Princess.
“And what will you give me if I get it for you?”
“Anything in the world, dear Frog, except the ball itself.”
“I wish you to give me nothing, Princess,” said the frog.   She was very willing to promise, for she did not believe the frog could ever leave the fountain, or come up the palace steps.
“Very well, then that is a promise,” said the[167] frog, and at once he plunged into the fountain and brought back the ball to the Princess in his arms.
The little girl took the ball and ran away with it without even stopping to thank him.
That evening the child sat at supper with her father, and she ate from her golden plate, and drank from her golden mug, and she did not even give a thought to the frog down in the fountain.
Presently there came a knocking at the door, but it was so soft that no one heard it but the Princess. Then the knocking came again, and a[168] hoarse voice cried, “King’s daughter, King’s daughter, let me in. Have you forgotten the promise you made me by the fountain?”
The Princess was frightened. She slipped down from her chair, and ran to the door, and opened it and looked out. There on the top-most step sat the great green frog.
When the Princess saw him she shut the door quickly, and came back to the table, and she was very pale.
“Who was that at the door?” asked the King.
“It was no one,” answered the Princess.
“But there was surely someone there,” said the King.
“It was only a great green frog from the fountain,” said the Princess. And then she told her father how she had dropped her ball into the fountain, and how the frog had brought it back to her, and of what she had promised him.
“What you have promised that you must perform,” said the King. “Open the door, my daughter, and let him in.”
Very unwillingly the child went back to the door and opened it; the frog hopped into the room.[169] When she returned to the table, the frog hopped along close at her heels.
She sat down and began to eat. “King’s daughter, King’s daughter, set me upon the table that I too may eat from your golden plate,” said the frog.
The Princess would have refused, but she dared not because of what her father had said. She lifted the frog to the table, and there he ate from her plate, but she herself could touch nothing.
“I am thirsty,” said the frog. “Tilt your golden mug that I may drink from it.”
The Princess did as he bade her, but as she did so she could not help weeping so that her tears ran down into the milk.
When supper was ended the Princess was about to hurry away to her room, but the frog called to her, “King’s daughter, King’s daughter, take me along.  “Go back to the stones of the fountain, where you belong.”[170]
“What you have said that you must do,” said the King. “Take the frog with you.”
The Princess shuddered, but she dared not refuse.
She took the frog with her up to her room, and put him down in the darkest corner, where she would not see him. Then she undressed and went to bed. But scarcely had her head touched the pillow when she heard the frog calling her.
“King’s daughter, King’s daughter! Is this the way you keep your promise? Lift me up to the bed, for the floor is cold and hard.”
The Princess sprang from the bed and seized the frog in her hands. “Miserable frog,” she cried, “you shall not torment me in this way.” So saying she threw the frog against the wall with all her force.
But no sooner did the frog touch the wall than it turned into a handsome young prince, all dressed in green, with a golden crown upon his head, and a chain of emeralds about his neck.
The Prince came to her, and took her by the hand.
“Dear Princess,” said he, “you have broken[171] the enchantment that held me. A cruel fairy was angry with my father, and so she changed me into a frog, and put me there in the fountain. But now that the enchantment is broken we can really be playmates, and when you are old enough you shall be my wife.”
The Princess did not say no. She was delighted at the thought of having such a handsome playmate. And as for marrying him later on, she was quite willing for that, too.
So the Prince stayed there in the palace, and the King was very glad to think he was to have him for a son-in-law, and when he and the Princess were married, there was great rejoicing and feasting through all the kingdom.
The Prince, however, was not willing to stay away from his own kingdom any longer. He said he must return to see his old father.
One day a handsome golden coach drawn by eight white horses drove up to the door. It had been sent by the Prince’s father to fetch him home again. Upon the box rode the faithful servant who had cared for the Prince when he was a child.
When the Prince had been carried away by the[172] fairy this faithful servant had grieved so bitterly he had feared his heart would break. To keep this from happening he had put three great iron bands around his body.
The Prince and the Princess entered the coach, and away went the horses. They had not driven far, however, when a loud crack was heard.
“What is that?” cried the Princess. “Surely something has broken.”
“Yes, mistress,” answered the faithful servant,
They drove a little farther, and then there came another crack, even louder than the first.
“Surely the coach is breaking down,” cried the Prince.
“Nay, master,” answered the faithful servant,
A little farther on there came a crack that was louder than any.
“Now surely something has broken,” cried the Prince and Princess together.[173]
answered the servant.
After that they drove on quietly until they reached their own country. There the Prince and Princess lived in happiness to the end of their lives, and the faithful servant with them.
There was once a mother goat who had five little kids, and these kids were so dear to her that nothing could have been dearer.
One day the mother goat was going to the forest to gather some wood for her fire. “Now, my little kids,” said she, “you must be very careful while I am away. Bar the door behind me, and open it to nobody until I return. If the wicked wolf should get in he would certainly eat you.”
The little kids promised they would be careful, and then their mother started out, and as soon as she had gone they barred the door behind her.
Now it so happened the old wolf was on the watch that day. He saw the mother goat trotting away toward the forest, and as soon as she was out of sight, he crept down to the house and knocked at the door—rap-tap-tap!
“Who is there?” called the little kids within.
“It is I, your mother, my dears,” answered[175] the wolf in his great rough voice. “Open the door and let me in.”
But the kids were very clever little kids. “No, no,” they cried. “You are not our mother. Our mother has a soft, sweet voice, and your voice is harsh and rough. You must be the wolf.”
When the wolf heard this he was very angry. He battered and battered at the door, but they would not let him in. Then he turned and galloped away as fast as he could until he came to a dairy.
“Woman, woman,” cried the wolf, “give me some butter. If you do not I will come in and upset your churn.”
The woman was frightened. At once she gave him a great deal of butter—all he could eat.
The wolf swallowed it down, and then he ran back to the goat’s house and knocked at the door—rat-tat-rat!
“Who is there?” asked the little goats within.
“Your mother, my dears,” answered the wolf, and now his voice was very soft and smooth because of the butter he had swallowed.[176]
“It is our mother,” cried the little kids, and they were about to open the door, but the littlest kid of all, who was a very wise little kid, stopped them.
“Wait a bit,” said he. “It sounds like our mother’s voice, but before we open the door we had better be very, very sure it is not the wolf.” Then he called through the door, “Put your paws up on the windowsill.”
The wolf suspected nothing. He put his paws up on the windowsill, and as soon as the little kids saw them they knew at once that it was not their mother. “No, no,” they cried, “you are not our mother.  You must be the wolf.”
When the wolf heard this he was angrier than ever. He turned and galloped away again, and as he galloped he growled to himself and gnashed his teeth.
Presently he came to a baker’s shop, and there he stuck his head in at the window.
“Baker, baker, give me some dough,” he cried. “If you do not I will upset your pans and spoil your baking.”[177]
The baker was frightened. At once he gave the wolf all the dough he wanted. The wolf seized it and ran away with it. He ran until he came to the goat’s house.  Then he knocked at the door—rat-tat-tat!
“Who is there?” cried the little goats within.
“Your mother, my dears, come home again,” answered the wolf, in his smooth buttery voice.
“Put your paws up on the windowsill.”
The wolf put his paws up on the windowsill, and they looked quite white because of the dough. Then the little kids felt sure it was their mother, and they gladly opened the door.
“Woof!” In bounded the wicked wolf.
The little goats cried out and away they ran, some in one direction, and some in another. They hid themselves one behind the door, and one in the dough-trough, and one in the wash-tub, and one under the bed, and one (and he was the littlest one of all) hid in the tall clock-case. The wolf stood there glaring about him, and not as much as a tail of one of them could he see.[178]
Then he began to hunt about for them, but he had to be in a hurry, because he was afraid the mother goat would come home again.
He found the kid behind the door, and he was in such a hurry he swallowed it whole without hurting it in the least. He found the one in the wash-tub, and he swallowed it whole, too. He found the one in the dough-trough, and it, too, he swallowed whole. He found the one under the bed and he swallowed it whole. The only one he did not find was the one in the clock-case, and he never thought of looking there. He hunted around and hunted around, and he was afraid to stay any longer for fear their mother would come home.
But now the old wolf felt very heavy and sleepy. He looked around for a place to go in order to lie down and rest.
Not far away were some rocks and trees that made a pleasant shadow. Here the wolf stretched himself out, and presently he was snoring so loudly that the leaves of the trees shook overhead.
Soon after this the mother goat came home. As soon as she saw the door of the house standing[179] open, she knew at once that some misfortune had happened. She went in and looked about her. The furniture was all upset and scattered about the room. “Alas, alas!  “The wicked wolf has certainly been here and eaten them all.”
“He didn’t eat me,” said a little voice in the clock-case.
The mother goat opened the door of the clock-case and the littlest kid of all hopped out.
“But why were you in the clock-case? And what has happened?” asked the mother.
Then the little kid told her all about how the wolf had come there with his buttery voice and his whitened paws, and how they had let him in, and how he had swallowed all four of the other little kids, so that he alone was left.
After the mother goat had heard the story she went to the door and looked about. Then she heard the old wolf snoring where he lay asleep under the nut-trees in the shade of the rocks.
“That must be the old wolf snoring,” said the mother goat, “and he cannot be far away.  She peeped and peered, and there lay the old wolf so fast asleep that nothing less than an earthquake would have wakened him.
“Now, my little kid,” whispered the mother, “run straight home again as fast as you can, and fetch me my shears and a needle and some stout thread.”
This the little kid did, and he ran so softly over the grass that not even a mouse could have heard him.
 Out popped one little kid, and out popped another little kid, and another, and another, and there they all were, just as safe and sound as though they had never been swallowed. And all this while the old wolf never stirred nor stopped snoring.

The old goat put the stones inside the wolf, where the little kids had been, and then she drew the hide together and sewed it up, using the stout, strong thread. After that she and the little kids hid themselves behind the rocks, and watched and waited.
Presently the old wolf yawned and opened his eyes. Then he got up and shook himself, and when he did so the stones inside him rattled together so that the goat and the little kids could hear them, where they hid behind the rocks.
“Oh, dear! Oh, dear me!” groaned the wolf;
Now what with the stones inside of him and the hot sun overhead the wolf grew very thirsty. Near by was a deep well, with water almost up to the brink of it. The old wolf went to drink. He leaned over, and all the stones rolled up to his[182] head and upset him. Plump! he went down into the water, and the stones carried him straight to the bottom. He could not swim at all, and so he was drowned.
But all the little kids ran out from behind the rocks and began to dance around the well.
they sang, and the mother goat came and danced with them, they were all so delighted.
There was once an honest laborer who had three sons. The two eldest were stout clever lads, but as to the youngest one, John, he was little better than a simpleton.
One day their mother wanted some wood from the forest, and it was the eldest lad who was to go and get it for her. It was a long way to the forest, so the mother filled a wallet with food for him. There was a loaf of fine white bread, and a bit of[184] cheese, and a leathern bottle of good red wine as well.
The lad set off and walked along and walked along and after awhile he came to the place where he was going, and there under a tree sat an old, old man. His clothes were gray, and his hair was gray, and his face was gray, so he was gray all over.
“Good-day,” said the man.
“Good-day,” said the lad.
“I am hungry,” said the gray man. “Have you not a bite and sup that you can share with me?”
“Food I have, and drink too,” said the lad, “but it is for myself, and not for you. It would be a simple thing for me to carry it this far just to give it to a beggar”; and he went on his way.
But it was bad luck the lad had that day. Scarcely had he begun chopping wood when the head of the ax flew off, and cut his foot so badly that he was obliged to go limping home, with not even so much as a fagot to carry with him.
The next day it was the second son who said he would go to the forest for wood.
“And see that you are more careful than your[185] brother,” said his mother. Then she gave him a loaf of bread, and a bit of cheese, and a bottle of wine, and off he set.
Presently he came to the forest, and there, sitting in the same place where he had sat before, was the old gray man.
“Good-day,” said the man.
“Good-day,” said the lad.
“I am hungry,” said the gray man. “Have you not a bite or a sup to share with me?”
“Food I have and drink as well, but I am not such a simpleton as to give it away when I need all for myself.”
The lad went on to the place where he was going, and took his ax and began to chop, but scarcely had he begun when the ax slipped and cut his leg so badly that the blood ran, and he could scarcely get home again.
That was a bad business, for now both of the elder brothers were lame.
The next day the simpleton said he would go to the forest for wood.
“You, indeed!” cried his mother. “It is not enough that your two brothers are hurt? Do you[186] think you are smarter than they are? No, no; do you stay quietly here at home. That is the best place for you.”
But the simpleton was determined to go, so his mother gave him an end of dough that was left from the baking and a bottle of sour beer, for that was good enough for him. With these in his wallet John started off, and after awhile he came to the forest, and there was the gray man sitting just as before.
“Good-day,” said the man.
“Good-day,” answered the simpleton.
“I am hungry,” said the gray man. “Have you not a bite or sup that you can share with me?”
Oh yes, the simpleton had both food and drink in his wallet. It was none of the best, but such as it was he was willing to share it.
He reached into his wallet and pulled out the piece of dough, but what was his surprise to find that it was dough no longer, but a fine cake, all made of the whitest flour. The old man snatched the cake from John and ate it all up in a trice. There was not so much as a crumb of it left.
“Poor pickings for me!” said John.[187]
And now the old gray man was thirsty. “What have you in that bottle?” he asked.
“Oh, that was only sour beer.”
The old man took the bottle and opened it. “Sour beer! Why it is wine,” he cried, “and of the very best, too.”
And the simpleton could tell it was by the smell of it. But the smell of it was all he got, for the old man raised the bottle to his lips, and when he put it down there was not a drop left in it.
“And now I may go thirsty as well as hungry,” said John.
“Never mind that,” said the old man. “After this you may eat and drink of the best whenever you will. Go on into the forest and take the first turning to the right. There you will see a hollow oak tree. Cut it down, and whatever you find inside of it you may keep; it belongs to me, and it is I who give it to you.”
Then of a sudden the old man was gone, and where he went the simpleton could have told no one.
The lad went on into the forest, as the gray man had told him, and took the first turn to the left,[188] and there sure enough was a hollow oak tree. The lad could tell it was hollow from the sound it made when his ax struck it.
John set to work, and chopped so hard the splinters flew.
After awhile he cut through it so that the tree fell, and there, sitting in the hollow, was a goose, with eyes like diamonds, and every feather of pure gold.
When John saw the goose he could not wonder enough. He took it up under his arm and off he set for home, for there was no more chopping for him that day.
But if the goose shone like gold it weighed like lead. The farther John went the wearier he grew. After awhile he came to an inn, just outside of the city where the King lived. There the simpleton sat him down to rest. He pulled a feather from the golden goose, and gave it to the landlord and bade him bring him food and drink, and with such payment as that it was the very best that the landlord sat before him you may be sure.
While the simpleton ate and drank the landlord’s[189] wife and daughter watched him from a window.
“Oh, if we only had a second feather,” sighed the daughter.
“Oh, if we only had!” sighed the mother.
Then the two agreed between them that when the simpleton had finished eating and drinking, the daughter should creep up behind him and pluck another feather from the bird.
Presently John could eat and drink no more. He rose up and tucked the golden goose under his arm, and off he set.
The landlord’s daughter was watching, and she stole up behind him and caught hold of a feather in the goose’s tail. No sooner had she touched it, however, than her fingers stuck, and she could not let go. Off marched John with the goose under his arm, and the girl tagging along after him.
The mother saw her following John down the road, and first she called, and then she shouted, and then she ran after her and caught hold of her to bring her home. But no sooner had she laid hands on the girl than she, too, stuck, and was obliged to follow John and the golden goose.[190]
The landlord was looking from the window. “Wife, wife,” he cried, “where are you going?” And he hurried after her and caught her by the sleeve. Then he could not let go any more than the others.
The simpleton marched along with the three tagging at his heels, and he never so much as turned his head to look over his shoulder at them.
The road ran past a church, and there was the clergyman just coming out of the door. “Stop, stop!” he cried to the landlord.  And he ran after the landlord and caught hold of him, and then he too stuck.
The sexton saw his master following the landlord, and he ran and caught hold of his coat, and he too had to follow. So it went. Everyone who touched those who followed the golden goose could not let go, and were obliged to tag along at John’s heels.
Now the King of that country had a daughter who was so sad and doleful that she was never known to smile. For this reason a gloom hung[191] over the whole country, and the King had promised that any one who could make the Princess laugh should have her as a wife and a half of the kingdom as well.
It so chanced the simpleton’s way led him through the city and by the time he came in front of the King’s palace the whole street was in an uproar, and John had a long train of people tagging along after him.
The Princess heard the noise in the room where she sat sighing and wiping her eyes, and as she was very curious she went to the window and looked out to see what all the uproar was about.
When she saw the simpleton marching along with a goose under his arm and a whole string of people after him, all crying and bawling and calling for help, it seemed to her the funniest thing she had ever seen. She began to laugh, and she laughed and laughed. She laughed until the tears ran down her cheeks and she had to hold her sides for laughing.
But it was no laughing matter for the King, as you may believe. Here was a poor common lad, and a simpleton at that, who had made the Princess[192] laugh; so now, by all rights, he might claim her for a wife, and the half of the kingdom, too.
The King frowned and bit his nails, and then he sent for John to be brought before him, and the lad came in alone, for he had set the people free at the gates.
“Listen, now,” said the King to John. “It is true I promised that anyone who made the Princess laugh should have her for a wife, but there is more to the matter than that. Before I hand over part of the kingdom to anyone, I must know what sort of friends he has, and whether they are good fellows. If you can bring here a man who can drink a whole cellar full of wine at one sitting then you shall have the Princess and part of the kingdom, just as promised; but if you cannot you shall be sent home with a good drubbing to keep you quiet.”
When John heard that he made a wry face. He did not know where he could find a man who could drink a whole cellar full of wine at one sitting.
He went out from the castle, and suddenly he remembered the old gray man who had given him the golden goose. If the old man had helped him once perhaps he might again.[193]
He set out for the forest, and it was not long before he came to it. There, sitting where the old gray man had sat before, was a man with a sad and rueful face. He looked as though he had never smiled in all his life. He was talking to himself, and when the simpleton drew near he found the man was saying over and over, “How dry I am! How dry I am! Not even the dust of a summer’s day is as dry as I.”
“If you are so thirsty, friend,” said John, “rise up and follow me. Do you think you could drink a whole cellar full of wine at one sitting?”
Yes, the man could do that, and glad to get it, too.
“Then, come along,” said John.
He took the man back to the castle and down into the cellar where all the casks of wine were stored. When the man saw all that wine his eyes sparkled with joy. He sat him down to drink, and one after another he drained the casks until the very last one of them was empty. Then he stretched himself and sighed. “Now I am content,” said he.[194]
As for the King his eyes bulged with wonder that any one man could drink so much at one sitting.
“Yes, that is all very well,” said he to the simpleton. “I see you have a friend who can drink. Have you also a friend who can eat a whole mountain of bread without stopping? If you have, you may claim the Princess for your wife, but if you have not, then you shall be sent home with a good drubbing.”
Well, that was not in the bargain, but perhaps the simpleton might be able to find such a man.
He set off for the forest once more, and when he came near the place where the thirsty man had sat he saw there another man, and he was enough like the thirsty man to be his brother.
As John came near to where he sat he heard him talking to himself, and what he was saying over-and-over was, “How hungry I am.  If you are I may satisfy you.”
Yes, a whole mountain of bread would be none too much for the hungry man.[195]
So John bade the stranger follow him and then he led the way back to the castle.
There all the flour in the kingdom had been gathered together into one great enormous mountain of dough. When John saw how big it was his heart failed him.
“Can you eat that much?” he asked of the hungry man.
“Oh, yes, I can eat that much, and more, too, if need be,” said the man.
Then he sat down before the mountain of bread and began to eat. He ate and he ate, and he ate, and when he finished not so much as a crumb of bread was left.
As for the King he was a sad and sorry man. Not only was his daughter and part of the kingdom promised to a simpleton, but he had not even a cupful of flour left in the palace for his breakfast.
And still the King was not ready to keep the promises he had made. There was one thing more required of the simpleton before he could have the Princess and part of the kingdom for himself. Let him bring to the King a ship that[196] would sail both on land and water, and he should at once marry the Princess, and no more words about it.
Well, John did not know about that, but he would do the best he could. He took the road that led back to the forest, and when he reached the place where the old man had sat, there was the old man sitting again just as though he had never moved from that one spot.
“Well,” said the old man, “and has the golden goose made your fortune?”
“That,” answered John, “is as it may be. It may be I am to have the half of a kingdom and a princess for a wife, and it may be that I am only to get a good drubbing. Before I win the Princess I must find a ship that will sail on land as well as on water, and if there is such a thing as that in the world I have never heard of it.”
“Well, there might be harder things than that to find,” said the old man. It might be he could help John out of that ditch, and what was more he would, too, and all that because John had once been kind to him. The old man then reached in under his coat and brought out the prettiest little[197] model of a ship that ever was seen. Its sails were of silk, its hull of silver, and its masts of beaten gold.
The old man set the ship on the ground, and at once it began to grow. It grew and grew and grew, until it was so large that it could have carried a score of men if need be.
“Look,” said the old man. “This I give to you because you were kind to me and willing to share the best you had. Moreover it was I who drank the wine and ate the mountain of bread for you. Enter into the ship and it will carry you over land and water, and back to the King’s castle. And when he sees this ship he will no longer dare to refuse you the Princess for your wife.”
And so it was. John stepped into the ship and sailed away until he came to the King’s palace, and when the King saw the ship he was so delighted with it that he was quite willing to give the Princess to the simpleton for a bride.
The marriage was held with much feasting and rejoicing, and John’s father and mother and his two brothers were invited to the feast. But they[198] no longer called him the simpleton; instead he was His Majesty, the wise King John.
As for the old gray man he was never seen again, and as the golden goose had disappeared also, perhaps he flew away on it.
 She would not bake, she would not brew, she would not spin, she would not sew. One morning her mother lost patience with her entirely, and gave her a good beating. The girl cried out until she could be heard even into the street.
Now it so chanced the queen of the country was driving by at that time, and she heard the cries. She wished to find out what the trouble was, so she stopped her coach and entered the house. She went through one room after another, and presently she came to where the girl and her mother were.
“What is all this noise?” she asked. “Why is your daughter crying out?”
  This morning she asked me for more, but I have no money left to buy it. It was because of that she began to cry, as you heard.”
The Queen was very much surprised. “This girl of yours must be a very fine spinner,” she said. “You must bring her to the palace, for there is nothing I love better than spinning. Bring her to-morrow, and if she is as wonderful a spinner as I suspect, she shall be to me as my own daughter, and shall have my eldest son as a husband.”
When the girl heard she was to go to the palace and spin she was terrified. She had never spun a thread in her life, and she feared that when the Queen found this out she would be angry and would have her punished. However, she dared say nothing.
The next day she and her mother went to the palace, and the Queen received them kindly. The mother was sent home again, but the daughter was taken to a tower where there were three great rooms all filled with flax.[201]
“See,” said the Queen. “Here is enough flax to satisfy you for awhile at least. When you have spun this you shall marry my son, and after that you shall have all the flax you want. Now you may begin, and to-morrow I will come to see how much you have done.”
So saying the Queen went away, closing the door behind her.
No sooner was the girl alone than she burst into tears. Not if she lived a hundred years could she spin all that flax. She sat and cried and cried and cried.
The next morning the Queen came back to see how much she had done. She was very much surprised to find the flax untouched, and the girl sitting there with idle hands. “How is this?” she asked. “Why are you not at your spinning?”
The girl began to make excuses. “I was so sad at being parted from my mother that I could do nothing but sit and weep.”
“I see you have a tender heart,” said the Queen. “But to-morrow you must begin to work. When I come again I shall expect to see a whole roomful done.”[202]
After she had gone the girl began to weep again. She did not know what was to become of her.
Suddenly the door opened, and three ugly old women slipped into the room. The first had a splayfoot. The second had a lip that hung down on her chin. The third had a hideous broad thumb.
The girl looked at them with fear and wonder. “Who are you?” she asked.
The one with the splayfoot answered. “We are three spinners. We know why you are weeping, and we have come to help you, but before we help you, you must promise us one thing: that is that when you are married to the Prince, we may come to your wedding feast, that you will let us sit at your table, and that you will call us your aunts.”
“Yes, yes; I will, I will,” cried the girl. She was ready to promise anything if they would only help her.
At once the splayfoot sat down at the wheel, and began to spin and tread. She with the hanging lip moistened the thread, and the woman with the broad thumb pressed and twisted it. They worked so fast that the thread flowed on like a swift stream.[203] Before the next evening they had finished the whole roomful of flax.
When the Queen came again she was delighted to find so much done. “To-morrow,” said she, “you shall begin in the second room.”
The next day the girl was taken into the second room, and it was larger than the first and was also full of flax.
Scarcely had the Queen left her when the door was pushed open, and the three old women came into the room.
“Remember your promise,” said they.
“I remember,” answered the girl.
The old women then took their places and began to spin. Before the next evening they had finished all the flax that was in the room.
When the Queen came to look at what had been done, she was filled with wonder. Not only had all the flax in the room been spun, but she had never seen such smooth and even threads.
“To-morrow,” said she, “you shall spin the flax that is in the third room, and the day after you shall be married to my son.”
The third day all happened just as it had before.[204] The girl was taken to the third room and it was even larger than the others. Scarcely had she been left alone when the three old women opened the door and came in.
“Remember your promise,” said they.
“I will remember,” answered the girl.
The old women took their places, and before night all the flax was spun. Then they rose. “To-morrow will be your wedding day, and we will be at the feast. If you keep your word to us, all will go well with you, but if you forget it, misfortune will surely come upon you.” Then they disappeared through the door as they had come, the eldest first.
When the Queen came that evening she was even more delighted than before. Never had she seen such thread, so smooth it was and even.
The girl was led down from the tower and dressed in silks and velvets and jewels, and when thus dressed she was so beautiful that the Prince was filled with love and joy at the sight of her. The next day they were married, and a grand feast was spread. To this feast all the noblest in the land were invited.[205]
The bride sat beside her husband, and he could look at no one else, she was so beautiful.
Just as the feast was about to begin the door opened and the three old women who had spun the flax came in.
The Prince looked at them wonderingly.  “Who are these?” he asked of the girl.
“These,” said she, “are my three old aunts, and I have promised they shall sit at the table with us, for they have been so kind to me that no one could be kinder.”
The girl then rose, and went to meet the old women. “Welcome, my aunts,” she said, and led them to the table. The Prince loved the girl so dearly that all she did seemed right to him. He commanded that places should be put for the old women, and they sat at the table with him and his bride.
They were so hideous, however, that the Prince could not keep his eyes off them. At length he said to the eldest, “Forgive me, good mother, but why is your foot so broad?”
“From treading the thread, my son, from treading the thread,” she answered.[206]
The Prince wondered; he turned to the second old woman. “And you, good mother,” he said, “why does your lip hang down?”
“From wetting the thread,” she answered. “From wetting the thread.”
The Prince was frightened. He spoke to the third old woman. “And you, why is your thumb so broad, if I may ask it?”
“From pressing and twisting,” she answered. “From pressing and twisting.”
The Prince turned pale. “If this is what comes of spinning,” said he, “never shall my bride touch the flax again.”
And so it was. Never was the girl allowed even to look at a spinning wheel again; and that did not trouble her, as you may guess.
As for the old women, they disappeared as soon as the feast was over, and no one saw them again, but the bride lived happy forever after.
There was once a little girl whose hair was so bright and yellow that it glittered in the sun like spun-gold. For this reason she was called Goldilocks.
One day Goldilocks went out into the meadows to gather flowers. She wandered on and on, and after a while she came to a forest, where she had never been before. She went on into the forest, and it was very cool and shady.
Presently she came to a little house, standing all alone in the forest, and as she was tired and thirsty she knocked at the door. She hoped the good people inside would give her a drink, and let her rest a little while.
Now, though Goldilocks did not know it, this house belonged to three bears.  But the three[208] bears had gone out to take a walk in the forest while their supper was cooling, so when Goldilocks knocked at the door no one answered her.
She waited awhile and then she knocked again, and as still nobody answered her she pushed the door open and stepped inside. There in a row stood three chairs. One was a GREAT BIG CHAIR, and it belonged to the father bear. And one was a middling-sized chair, and it belonged to the mother bear, and one was a dear little chair, and it belonged to the baby bear. And on the table stood three bowls of smoking hot porridge. “And so,” thought Goldilocks, “the people must be coming back soon to eat it.”
She thought she would sit down and rest until they came, so first she sat down in the GREAT BIG CHAIR, but the cushion was too soft. It seemed as though it would swallow her up. Then she sat down in the middle-sized chair, and the cushion was too hard, and it was not comfortable. Then she sat down in the dear little chair, and it was just right, and fitted her as though it had been made for her. So there she sat, and she rocked and she rocked, and she sat and[209] she sat, until with her rocking and her sitting she sat the bottom right out of it.
And still nobody had come, and there stood the bowls of porridge on the table.  And she went over to the table just to see whether the bowls were full.
The first bowl was a GREAT BIG BOWL with a GREAT BIG WOODEN SPOON in it, and that was the father bear’s bowl. The second bowl was a middle-sized bowl, with a middle-sized wooden spoon in it, and that was the mother bear’s bowl. And the third bowl was a dear little bowl, with a dear little silver spoon in it, and that was the baby bear’s bowl.
The porridge that was in the bowls smelled so very good that Goldilocks thought she would just taste it.
She took up the GREAT BIG SPOON, and tasted the porridge in the GREAT BIG BOWL, but it was too hot. Then she took up the middle-sized spoon and tasted the porridge in the middle-sized bowl, and it was too cold.
After that she felt very sleepy, so she went upstairs and looked about her, and there were three beds all in a row. The first bed was the GREAT BIG BED that belonged to the father bear. And the second bed was a middling-sized bed that belonged to the mother bear, and the third bed was a dear little bed that belonged to the dear little baby bear.
Goldilocks lay down on the GREAT BIG BED to try it, but the pillow was too high, and she wasn’t comfortable at all.
Then she lay down on the middle-sized bed, and the pillow was too low, and that wasn’t comfortable either.
Then she lay down on the little baby bear’s bed and it was exactly right, and so very comfortable that she lay there and lay there until she went fast asleep.
Now while Goldilocks was still asleep in the[211] little bed the three bears came home again, and as soon as they stepped inside the door and looked about them they knew that somebody had been there.

Then the three bears went over to the table to get their porridge.
 And when he said so the baby bear looked as if he were about to cry.
“If somebody’s been here they must be here still,” said the mother bear; so the three bears went upstairs to look.
First the father bear looked at his bed.
Then the mother bear looked at her bed. “Somebody’s been lying on my bed and pulled the pillow off,” said she in her middle-sized voice.
Then the baby bear looked at his bed, and there lay little Goldilocks with her cheeks as pink as roses, and her golden hair all spread over the pillow.
“Somebody’s been lying in my bed,” squeaked the baby bear joyfully, “and here she is still!”
Now when Goldilocks in her dreams heard the great big father bear’s voice she dreamed it was the thunder rolling through the heavens.[213]
And when she heard the mother bear’s middle-sized voice she dreamed it was the wind blowing through the trees.
But when she heard the baby bear’s voice it was so shrill and sharp that it woke her right up. She sat up in bed and there were the three bears standing around and looking at her.
“Oh, my goodness me!” cried Goldilocks. She tumbled out of bed and ran to the window. It was open, and out she jumped before the bears could stop her. Then home she ran as fast as she could, and she never went near the forest again. But the little baby bear cried and cried because he had wanted the pretty little girl to play with.
 You will each want to build a little house to live in, but do not build them of straw or leaves; straws are brittle and leaves are frail. Build your houses of bricks, for then you will always have a safe place to live in; you can go in and lock the door, and nothing can harm you.” She then bade the little pigs farewell, and away they ran out into the world to make their fortunes.
 The straw looked so warm, and smelled so good that the little pig quite forgot what his mother had told him.
“Please, Mr. Man,” said the little pig, “give[218] me enough straw to build a house to keep me warm through the long winter.”
The man did not say no.
The little pig built himself a house of straw, and it was so warm and cosy that he was quite delighted with it. “How much better,” said he “than a house of cold hard bricks.”
So he lay there snug and warm, and presently the old wolf knocked at the door.
“Piggy-wig, piggy-wig, let me in!” he cried.
“I won’t, by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin,” answered the pig.

The little pig laughed aloud, for he felt very safe in his snug straw house.
“Well, then huff, and then puff, and then blow my house in!” he cried.
Well, the old wolf did huff and puff, and he did blow the house in, for it was only made of straw, and then he ate up the pig.
The second little pig when he left the forest ran[219] along and ran along and presently he met a man with a great load of leaves.
“Oh, kind Mr. Man, please give me some leaves to build me a little house for the winter time,” cried the piggy.
The man was willing to do this. He gave the pig all the leaves he wanted, and then he went on his way.
The pig built himself a house of leaves and it was even snugger and warmer than the straw house had been.  What could be warmer and cosier and safer than this.” And he snuggled down among the leaves and was very happy.
Presently along came the great wolf, and he stopped and knocked at the door.
“Piggy-wig, piggy-wig, let me in!” he cried.

The little pig laughed when he heard that, for the walls were thick, and he felt secure.[220]
“Well, then huff, and then puff, and then blow my house in.”

 After he left the forest he met a man driving a wagon-load of straw, but he did not ask for any of it. He met the man with the load of leaves, but he did not ask for any of it.
The pig took the bricks and built himself a little red house with them, and it was not an easy task either. When it was done it was not so soft as the little straw house, and it was not so warm as the little leaf house, but it was a very safe little house.
Presently the old wolf came along and knocked at the door—rat-tat-tat!
“Piggy-wig, piggy-wig, let me in,” he called.

So the old wolf huffed and he puffed, and he puffed and he huffed, and he HUFFED AND HE PUFFED till he almost split his sides, and he just couldn’t blow the house in, and the little pig laughed to himself as he sat safe and comfortable inside there.
The old wolf saw there was nothing to be done by blowing, so he sat down and thought and thought. Then he said, “Piggy-wig, I know where there is a field of fine turnips.”
“Where?” asked the little pig.
“Open the door and I will tell you.”
No, the little pig could hear quite well with the door closed.
“It is just up the road three fields away,” said the wolf, “and if you would like to have some I will come for you at six o’clock to-morrow morning, and we will go and dig them up together.”
“At six o’clock!” said the little pig. “Very well.”

But the next morning the little pig was up and astir by five o’clock. Off he trotted to the turnip field and gathered a whole bagful of turnips and was home again before the old wolf thought of coming.
At six o’clock the old wolf knocked at the door.
“Are you ready to go for the turnips, Piggy?” he cried.
“Ready!” answered the pig. “Why I was up and off to the field an hour ago and I have all the turnips I want, and I’m boiling them for breakfast.”
“That’s what you did!” said the wolf. And then he thought a bit. “Piggy, do you like fine ripe apples?” he asked.
Yes, the pig was very fond of apples.
“Then I can tell you where to find some.”
“Where is that?”
“Over beyond the hill in the squire’s orchard, and if you will play me no tricks I will come for you at five o’clock to-morrow, and we will go together, and gather some.”
Very well; the pig would be ready.[223]

 But the way was long, and the tree was hard to climb, and while he was still up among the branches gathering apples the old wolf came trotting into the orchard. The little pig was very much frightened, but he kept very still and hoped, up among the leaves, the wolf would not see him.
The wolf peered about, first up one tree and then up another, and finally he spied the piggy up among the branches.
“Why did you not wait for me?”
“Oh, I knew you would be along presently.”
“How soon are you coming down?”
“When I have picked a few more apples.”
The old wolf sat down at the foot of the tree, and the pig sat up among the branches crunching apples and smacking his lips.
“Are they good?” asked the wolf looking up; and his mouth watered.[224]
Yes, they were very good.
“Could you not throw one down to me?”
Yes, the little pig could do that.
He picked the biggest, reddest apple he could, and then he threw it, but he threw it far off, and in such a way that it went bounding and rolling down the hill slope. The wolf bounded down the hill after it, and while he was catching it, the little pig climbed down the tree and ran safely home with his basketful of apples.
When the old wolf found the pig had tricked him again he was very angry. He was more determined than ever that he would catch the little pig. He trotted off to the little red house and knocked at the door.
“Did you get all the apples you wanted?” asked the wolf.
Yes, the little pig had all he wanted, and he was very much obliged to the wolf for telling him about the orchard.
“Listen, Piggy, there’s to be a fine fair over in the town to-morrow,” said the wolf. “Wouldn’t you like to go?”
Very well,” said the wolf. “Then I will come for you at half-past three to-morrow, and we will go together.”
“Very well,” said the little pig. But long before half-past three the next day, piggy was off to the fair, and he took four bright silver pieces with him, for he wanted to buy himself a butter-churn. It did not take him long to buy the churn, and then he started home again, carrying it on his back.
But the wolf had learned a thing or two about the little pig’s tricks. He, too, started off to the fair long before half-past three, and so it was that the little pig was scarcely half-way home, and had just reached the top of a high hill, when he saw the wolf come trotting up the hill directly toward him.  He looked all around but he could not see any place to hide. He decided the best thing he could do was to get inside the churn. So he put it down and crept inside it. But the hill was very steep, and no sooner was the piggy inside the churn than it began to roll down the hill slope bumpety-bumpety-bump, over rocks and stones, leaping and bounding like a live thing. The little pig did not know what was[226] happening to him. He began to squeal at the top of his voice.
The old wolf was half-way up the hill when he heard the noise. He looked up, and there was a great round thing coming bounding over the rocks straight at him, and squeaking and squeaking as it came. He gave one look and his hair bristled with fear, and with a howl he turned tail and ran home as fast as he could. He never stopped till he was safe inside his house, and had shut and locked the door behind him. There he crouched, trembling and wondering what would happen. But nothing happened, and all was quiet, so after awhile the wolf ventured out and ran over to the pig’s house.
“Piggy, Piggy! Are you in there?”

“Then, listen while I tell you what happened to me on the way to the fair.” Then the wolf put his nose close to the crack of the door, and told the little pig all about the great round squealing thing that had chased him down the hill.
 “And[227] I can tell you exactly what the great squealing thing was; it was a churn I had bought at the fair, and I was inside it.”
When the old wolf heard this he was so furious that he determined to have the little pig whether or no, even if he had to climb up on the roof and down the chimney to get him. He stuck his sharp nails in between the bricks of the house and climbed right up the side of it and onto the roof. Then he climbed up on the chimney and slid down it into the fire-place.
But the little pig had heard what he was doing,[228] and was ready for him. He had a great pot of boiling water on the fire, and when he heard the wolf slipping and scrabbling down the chimney he took the lid off the kettle, and plump! the old wolf fell right into the boiling water. Then the little pig clapped the lid tight down over him, and that was the end of the wolf.
But the little pig lived on in peace and plenty forever after, and if any other wolf ever came along to bother him I never heard of it.
It was winter, and a little lad had gone out into the forest to gather wood to keep the fire going at home. As there was snow upon the ground he took his little sledge with him, for he could carry home a larger load on the sledge than on his back.
He gathered together a heap of fallen branches, and then piled them neatly on the sledge, putting the larger pieces at the bottom. Before he had finished the task his fingers were almost frozen, for he had no mittens. “Before I start to drag my[230] sled home,” said he to himself, “I will build a fire and warm my hands a bit.”
He took a stick, and cleared away some of the snow, so as to have a place to build the fire. When he had done this he saw a little golden key lying there on the ground. The little lad picked it up, wondering. “Wherever there is a key, there must be a lock,” he said.
He began to scrape away the earth, and presently he found a curious looking chest made of iron inlaid with silver. There were words written on the lid of the chest, but the little boy could not read them.
He lifted the chest out from the earth, and it seemed to him that something was stirring inside of it. Then a little thin voice, as thin as a thread, cried to him. “Let me out! Let me out, and I will make your fortune.”
The little boy was very much surprised. The chest seemed too small for any living being to be in it.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Open the chest and see. If you will only let me out you will never be sorry.”
The little boy put the golden key in the lock and[231] it fitted exactly. He turned it round and the lock flew back. But as to what was in the chest you will have to wait until he lifts the lid before you can see.
There was once a widow who had two daughters; the elder of the girls was cross and ugly, but the mother loved her dearly because she was exactly like herself, and also because she was her own daughter. The younger girl was only her stepdaughter, and because of this, and also because the girl was good and pretty the mother hated her, and did all she could to make her miserable.
One day the good daughter sat by the well spinning, and as she spun she wept because she was so unhappy. The tears blinded her eyes, and presently she pricked her finger, and a drop of blood fell on the flax. The girl was frightened, for she feared her stepmother would scold her when she saw the flax, so she stooped over the edge of the well to try to wash the blood off it. But the spindle slipped from her hand and sank down and down through the water until it was lost to sight.
That was worse than ever; the girl did not know what her stepmother would do to her when she heard the spindle had been lost down the well. Still she was obliged to confess.
The widow was indeed very angry.
“You good-for-nothing!” she cried.  Out of my sight, and do not dare to return until you can bring the spindle with you,” and she gave the girl a push so that she almost fell over.
The girl was so frightened and unhappy that she ran out of the door; without stopping to think, she jumped into the well. Down, down she sank, through the waters, just as the spindle had done, and when she reached the bottom she found herself in a broad green meadow with a road leading across it.
The girl followed the road, and presently she came to a baker’s oven that stood beside the way, and it was full of bread. The girl was about to pass by, but the loaves inside called to her, “Take us out! Take us out! If we are left in the oven any longer we will burn.”
She was surprised to hear the bread speak to[234] her, but she opened the door and drew the loaves out, and set them neatly on end to cool. Then she went on.
A little farther, she came to an apple-tree. It was so loaded down with fruit that the branches bent with the weight of it.
“Shake me! Shake me!” cried the apple-tree. “My apples are ripe and my boughs are like to break with the weight of them.”
The girl shook the apple-tree till the apples fell about her in a shower. She piled the apples neatly about the tree and went on her way.
After awhile she came to a little house, and an ugly old woman with long yellow teeth was looking out of the window. The girl was frightened at the old woman’s looks, and was about to turn away, but the woman called to her, “Do not be afraid. I will not hurt you. I need a serving-maid. Come in, and if you serve me faithfully I will reward you well.”
The girl did not feel afraid any longer. She opened the door and went in.
The old woman took her upstairs and showed her a great feather bed. “I am Mother Hulda,”[235] said she.  Every day you must give my bed a good beating. Then, when the feathers fly, it snows upon the earth.”
The girl stayed with Mother Hulda many months. Every day she gave the bed such a good beating that the feathers flew, and there was much snow that year. Mother Hulda was very much pleased with her. She was kind to her, and the girl had all she wanted to eat, and that of the best, and a comfortable bed to sleep in; but all the same, by the time the winter was over she began to feel sad and dull. She longed to see her home and her mother and sister, too, even though they were unkind to her.
“Now I see it is time for you to go back to the earth again,” said Mother Hulda. “You have served me well and faithfully, and you shall be rewarded as I promised you.”
She then opened a closet door and brought out the girl’s spindle and gave it to her. After that she took the girl by the hand and led her out of the house and along a road to a great gate that stood open.
“There lies your way,” said Mother Hulda.[236]
The girl passed out through the gate, and as she did so a shower of gold fell all about her like rain, and stuck to her so that she glittered from head to foot with gold; even her shoes and her clothes were golden.
“That is my reward to you because you have been a good servant,” cried Mother Hulda. Then the gate closed, and the girl ran along the road and quickly came to the house of her stepmother.
 Our golden girl’s come home again.”
She entered the house, and now her mother and sister were glad to see her because she was covered with gold. They asked her where she had been and who had given her all that treasure.
The girl told them. Then they were filled with envy.
“Here! Take your spindle,” cried the widow to her own daughter. “Throw it in the well and jump down after it. If Mother Hulda has rewarded your sister in this way what will she not do for you? No doubt you will come home all covered with diamonds and rubies.”[237]
The ugly girl took her spindle and threw it down the well, as her mother bade her, and jumped in after it. Down, down she went, just as her sister had done, and there was the green meadow with the road leading across it.
The girl hurried along the road, for she was in haste to reach Mother Hulda’s house and get a reward, and presently she came to the oven.
“Take us out! Take us out!” cried the loaves inside. “We will burn if we are left in here any longer.”
“Why should I blacken my hands for you?” cried the girl. “Stay where you are, and if you burn no one will be the worse for it but yourselves.” And so saying she went on her way.
A little farther she came to the apple-tree, and its boughs were bent with the weight of the fruit it bore.
“Shake me! Shake me!” cried the apple-tree. “My fruit is ripe, and my boughs are like to break with the weight of it.”
“Not I!” cried the girl. “I will not shake you. Suppose one of the apples should fall upon my head. Your boughs may break for all of me!”[238] And so she went on her way, munching an apple that she had picked up from off the ground.
It was not long before she came to Mother Hulda’s house, and there was Mother Hulda herself looking out of the window. The ugly girl was not afraid of her and her long teeth, for the good sister had already told her about them. She marched up to the door and opened it as bold as bold.
“I have come to take service with you,” she said, “and to get the reward.”
“Very well,” answered Mother Hulda. “If you serve me well and faithfully the reward shall not be lacking.”
She then took the ugly girl upstairs and showed her the bed, and told her how she was to shake and beat it. Then she left her there.
The ugly girl began to beat the bed, but she soon tired of it and came downstairs and asked if supper were ready. Mother Hulda frowned, but she said nothing, and she gave the girl a good supper of bread and meat.
The next day the ugly girl hardly beat the bed at all, and the next day it was still worse. At the[239] end of the week hardly a flake of snow had floated out over the world.
“You will never do for me,” said Mother Hulda. “You will have to go.”
“Very well,” answered the girl.
She opened the closet and took out the spindle and gave it to her, and led her along the road to the open gate. The girl was very much pleased. “Now in a moment,” thought she, “I will be all covered with gold the way my sister was, unless I am covered with diamonds and rubies.”
“There lies your way,” cried Mother Hulda.
The girl ran through the gate, but instead of gold or precious stones, a shower of soot fell over her so that she was black from head to foot.
“That is the reward of your services,” cried Mother Hulda to the girl, and then she banged the gate and locked it so that the girl could not come back.
 Our sooty girl’s come home again.”
And try as she might the ugly girl could never get the soot entirely off her. But as to the good sister she was married to a great nobleman, and lived happy ever after.
A certain man named John had been a faithful soldier, and had served the King all through the war, and had been wounded, too; but when the war came to an end and he was discharged he only received three pieces of silver as payment.
“That is a mean way to treat a fellow,” said John. “But never mind! If I can only get the right sort of friends to help me we will get all the King’s treasure from him before we are done.”
So he shouldered his knapsack and off he set into the world to find the right sort of friends to help him do this.
He walked along and walked along till he came to a wood, and there was a man pulling up trees by the roots as though they were no more than grasses.
“You are the very man for me,” said John. “Come along with me and we will make our fortunes.”
The man was willing. “But wait,” said he,[244] “until I tie these fagots together and take them home to my mother.”
He laid six of the trees together and twisted the seventh around them to hold them. Then he walked off with them on his shoulder as easily as though they were nothing.
When he came back he and the soldier started out in search of their fortunes.
They had not gone far when they came to a hunter who had raised his gun to his shoulder and was taking careful aim. The soldier looked about over the meadows, but could see nothing to shoot.
“What are you aiming at?” asked he.
“Two miles away there is a forest,” said the man. “In the forest is an oak tree. On the top-most leaf of that oak tree there is a fly. I am going to shoot out the left eye of that fly.”
“Come along with me,” said the soldier, “we three will certainly make our fortunes together.”
Very well; the hunter was willing. So he shouldered the gun and off he tramped alongside of the other.
Presently they came to seven mill-wheels, and the sails were turning merrily, and yet there was[245] not a breath of wind stirring. “That is a curious thing!” said the soldier. “Now what is turning those sails I should like to know.”
Two miles farther on they came to a man sitting on top of a hill. He held a finger on one side of his nose and blew through the other.
“What are you doing?” asked the soldier.
“I am blowing to turn the wheels of seven windmills two miles away, so that the miller can grind his corn,” answered the man.
“Come with us,” said the soldier. “We are going out into the world to make our fortunes.”
Very well, the man was willing; the wind was springing up, anyway, so the miller would not need him. So now there were four of them journeying along together.
After awhile they came to a heap of rocks, and there in the shade of it sat a man. He had unfastened one of his legs, and taken it off, and he sat with the other stretched out before him.
“That is a good way to rest,” said the soldier.
“I am not doing this to rest,” said the man. “I am a runner. If I were to put on this other leg and start off I would be out of sight in a twinkling.[246] I have arranged to take off one leg so that I can go more slowly; though ordinary people find it hard to keep up with me even so.”
“Take up your leg and come with us,” said the soldier. “We are going to make our fortunes, and it shall be share and share alike with us if you will come along.”
To this the runner agreed. He took up his one leg and hopped along on the other, and they found it hard work to keep up with him, he went so fast.
They had gone but a mile or so when they met a man who wore a little hat cocked down over one ear.
“Hello!” called the soldier. “Why do you wear your hat in that fashion instead of straight on your head like other people?”
“Oh, every time I set it straight there comes such a heavy frost that the flowers are blighted, and even the birds freeze in the trees.”
“That is a wonderful gift,” said the soldier. “Come along with us, and we will make our fortunes together. And now there are six of us, and that is enough. We will have no more in our company.”[247]
So the six stout comrades journeyed on until they came to the town where the King lived. This King had one daughter, and she could run so fast that it was like a bird skimming along, and the King had said that no one should marry her unless he could run faster than she could; if such a one came along he should have her for a wife. But so far no one had been able to outrun her.
The soldier with his five comrades marched up to the palace and knocked at the door as bold as bold, and asked to see the King.
At first the gatekeeper did not wish to let the six in, for they were worn and dusty, but the soldier looked at him so fiercely that he did not dare to refuse.
The six comrades were brought into the great hall where the King sat with his daughter beside him and all his nobles about him.
Well, and what did the soldier and his fellows want with the King.
Oh, the soldier wanted to try a race with the princess; but he was not much of a runner himself, so he would let his servant run for him.
The King was willing for that, but he warned the[248] soldier that if he failed in the race he and his servant, too, would lose their lives.
The soldier was not afraid to risk that, so the race course was laid out, and the Princess and the runner made ready. They were to run to a fountain miles and miles and miles away, and each was to fill a pitcher with water and bring it back to the palace. Whichever first returned with the water would win the race.
The runner stooped down and buckled on his second leg, and then he was ready, and he and the Princess set out. The Princess flew like a bird, but the runner ran like the wind. He was out of sight in a twinkling, and had filled his pitcher and started home again before the Princess was half-way to the fountain.
The runner sat down to rest a bit. He was very sleepy and he thought he would just take a little nap before going the rest of the way. In order not to be too comfortable and sleep too long he picked up a horse’s skull that lay in a field near by and put it under his head for a pillow.
But the runner slept more soundly than he meant to do.[249]
The Princess also reached the fountain and filled her pitcher and started home again, and then, half-way home, she came across the runner fast asleep with his pitcher of water beside him.
This was the chance for the Princess. Very quietly she poured the water from the runner’s pitcher, and set it down beside him empty. Then she hurried on toward the palace, leaving the runner still asleep.
And now all would have been lost except for the hunter. He had been watching from the palace window and had seen everything that happened. He made haste to load his gun, and took aim and shot the skull from under the sleeper’s head. This awakened the runner. He sat up and looked about him.
There was the Princess almost back at the palace, and his pitcher lay empty beside him.
However, this was nothing to him. He picked up his pitcher and away he went, swifter than the wind. He ran back to the fountain and filled the pitcher, and got back with it to the castle door before the Princess had come in at the outer gate.
And now by rights the Princess belonged to the[250] soldier, but the King could not make up his mind to have her married to a common man like that. As for the Princess she was ready to cry her eyes out at the thought of it. She and the King talked and talked together, and at last they made up a plan between them.
The King had a room made that was all of iron and could be heated until it was hotter than any oven. Then he called the comrades to him and said, “Now you have fairly won the race, and I have ordered food and drink to be set out for you, so that you may make merry over it.”
He then showed the companions into the iron room, and there a grand feast had been made ready. The six sat down at table and began to eat and drink, but the king went on out and locked the doors behind him. Then he ordered a fire to be built under the room, and to be kept up until the room was red hot.
The six companions sat around the table eating and drinking merrily enough, until they began to feel too warm. Then they got up to leave the room, but they found the door was locked and they were fastened in. At once they guessed the trick that[251] had been played upon them, but they were not troubled over that in the least.
“This is something for you to see to,” said the soldier to the man with the hat over one ear.
The man set his hat straight and at once a frost fell upon the room. It grew so cold that the comrades had to turn up their coat collars and walk about to keep warm.
The King waited until he thought the six would certainly be suffocated by the heat, and then he ordered the door to be opened. What was his surprise when all the men walked out just as well and hearty as ever, except that they looked somewhat pinched with the cold.
But the King was as unwilling as ever to give his daughter to the soldier. He called the soldier to him and said, “Listen, if you will give up marrying the Princess I will make you rich for life.”
“Yes, but how much will you give me?” asked the soldier.
“I will give you all the gold you can carry.”
Well, the soldier hardly knew what to say to that. Ever since he had been in the war his back had been weak; but if the King would give him as[252] much as his servant could carry he would give up the Princess and welcome.
The King did not care who carried off the gold. He was quite willing to give as much as the servant could carry.
“Very well,” said the soldier. “In a week’s time I will come back for the gold, and do you gather it together and have it ready for me.”
The next thing the soldier did was to hire all the tailors he could get, and have them make for him an enormous sack, and when it was finished it was as big as a house.
When it was done he and the strong man went back to the palace together, and the week was just up. The strong man carried the sack, rolled up, on his shoulders.
Meanwhile the King had had a ton of gold brought up from his treasure-house, and that, he was sure, was more than the strongest man could carry.
When the soldier and his comrade came where the gold was the strong man opened up the sack, and taking up the ton of gold with one hand he threw it into the sack. “That will do for a beginning,”[253] said he, “but we will have to have more than that.”
The King was frightened. He ordered more gold and more to be brought up from his treasure-house, and still there did not begin to be enough. “I can easily carry twice as much, and more,” cried the strong man.
At last the King’s treasure-house was empty, and he sent out all over the kingdom for more gold, and still there was not enough.
“Oh, well!” cried the strong man at last, “I see you have done your best; we will have to be content with what we have.” Then he swung the sack up over his shoulder and marched off with it, and the soldier and the other comrades went along with him.
But the King was in a terrible state of mind. Here all his treasure had been carried off by a common soldier and his followers. He would almost rather have given up the Princess than that. He stamped and raged, and then he called his horsemen together, and sent out two regiments after the comrades to bring them back again and the treasure with them.[254]
It did not take the horsemen long to catch up to the comrades for they were traveling along quietly enough, and without any haste.
“Stop! stop!” cried the captain of the regiment. “I have come to take you and the treasure back to the King. Will you come along quietly, or will we have to drag you?”
“Wait a bit,” said the blower. “Before we talk further about it suppose you take a dance in the air.” He put one finger to his nostril and blew through the other and away went the captain and his regiment, whirling and dancing through the air like dry leaves when the wind blows them.
After awhile he allowed them to settle down to earth again. “There!” said he. “Have you had enough, or would you like another dance?”
No! the regiment had no wish for another whirl through the air. All they wished for now was to get safely back to the palace again.
“Very well,” said the blower. “Then go back to the King and tell him if he sends his whole army out after us I will treat it in the same way.”
But this the King dared not do. His treasure was gone and he could not risk having his army[255] blown away, into the bargain. The comrades went on their way with no further hindrance, and after awhile they sat down and divided the treasure among them and each one had enough to make him rich and prosperous for life.
There was once a King who had in his gardens an apple-tree that bore golden apples. Every day the King went out to count the apples, and no one was allowed to touch them but himself.
One morning, when the King went out to count them as usual he found that one of them was gone. He was very much vexed, and ordered that at night a guard should be set around the garden, that no one might steal the apples, but the very next morning still another one was missing. So it happened day after day. Every gate to the garden was carefully guarded, and yet every morning another apple was gone from the tree, and they could not tell who had taken it.[257]
Now the King had three sons, and one day the eldest came to his father and said, “Father, to-night I will watch under the apple-tree, and you may be sure that no one will be able to come near it without my seeing him.”
The King was quite willing for his son to keep watch, so that night the Prince took his place under the tree.
For some hours he sat there and watched, and scarcely winked an eyelid; but in the middle of the night a light shone around him and he heard a sound of music. Then, in spite of himself, he fell into a deep sleep, and when he awoke in the morning another apple had been stolen.
That day the second son came to the King and asked that he might be allowed to watch the apple-tree that night.
Again the King consented, and as soon as night came the second son went out and sat under the apple-tree just as his brother had done. Then just the same thing happened as had happened before. Toward midnight a light shone around the tree, and there was a sound of music, and then, do what he would, he could not stay awake. He[258] slept, and while he slept another apple was taken.
The third day it was the turn of the third son to ask to be allowed to watch under the apple-tree. But the King refused. “Do you think that you are cleverer than your brothers?” he asked. “Why should you succeed when they have failed?” But the Prince begged and entreated until at last the King gave him permission to watch under the tree.
Now the third Prince was a wise youth; he had heard what happened to his brothers on the other two nights, so when evening came he stuffed his ears with cotton, and then he went out and took his place under the apple-tree. There he sat, and just before midnight a light shone through the branches, and there was a sound of music. But the young Prince had stuffed his ears with cotton so he could not hear the music, and he did not go to sleep.
After the music came a sound of wings, though this, too, the Prince could not hear, and a golden bird alighted on the apple-tree. The bird was about to pick one of the apples when the Prince raised his crossbow and shot a bolt at it.[259]
The bird escaped, but one of its golden feathers fluttered down and fell at the Prince’s feet. He picked it up, and the next morning he took it to his father and told him what he had seen in the night.
As soon as the King saw the feather he was filled with the greatest desire to have the bird. “Life is worth nothing to me without that bird,” said he. “I would give my kingdom to possess it.”
When the eldest brother heard that, he at once made up his mind to set out in search of the bird, for he thought it would be a fine thing to gain the kingdom for himself. He went by himself, taking no one with him, for he did not wish anyone else to have a hand in the search.
He journeyed on for some distance and then he came to a cross-road, and there at the cross-roads he saw a little red fox sitting. The Prince drew his bow to shoot, but the animal called to him, “Do not shoot me, Prince, and I will give you a piece of good advice that is worth more than my skin.”
“What can a beast tell me that is worth hearing?” asked the Prince.
“Listen!” said the fox. “I know where you[260] are going, that it is in search of the Golden Bird, but unless you do as I say you will never find it. To-night you will reach a village. In this village there are two inns that stand opposite to each other. One is a fine place. It will be lighted up, and there will be music and dancing inside. But do not enter there. The other inn is poor and miserable looking, but that is where you must stay if you hope to find the Golden Bird.”
“That is foolish talk, and I would be even more foolish to heed it,” cried the Prince, and again drawing his bow he shot a bolt at the fox. The bolt missed the mark, and the fox ran away unharmed.
The King’s son rode on, and at nightfall he entered a village. There on each side of the street stood an inn, and they were just such inns as the fox had told him of. One was a fine place, well-lighted, and with dancing and music going on inside. The other was dark and poor and miserable-looking.
The Prince never gave another thought to the fox’s advice. He turned in to the fine inn, and there he ate and drank and laughed with those[261] who were there before him, and forgot all about the Golden Bird, and his father and the kingdom, too.
Time passed on, and still the eldest son did not return home, and no one knew what had become of him. Then the second son wished to try his luck at finding the Golden Bird. The King did not wish him to go, but the Prince was so eager that at last the father gave his consent.
The Prince journeyed on until he came to the cross-roads, and there sat the fox, just as it had before.
The Prince was curious to hear what the fox had to say, but after he had heard of the two inns, and that it was the poor mean-looking one he must choose, he laughed aloud.
“A pretty piece of advice,” he cried, “and I would be a great simpleton to follow it.” Then he shot a bolt at the fox, but he missed his aim, and the little animal ran away unharmed.
Then it happened with the second Prince just as it had with his elder brother. He came to the two[262] inns just at nightfall, and it was at the fine well-lighted inn that he stopped. There he spent the night in feasting and merry-making, and by the next day he had forgotten all about the Golden Bird, and his father, and the kingdom he had hoped to gain.
Now when time passed and the second son did not return either, it was the third Prince who wished to set out upon the search. But, “No, no,” said his father, “that I cannot allow. I have lost two sons already, and am I to lose my third son also?”
But the Prince had set his heart on going.
He begged and entreated until the King could no longer refuse him.
The Prince set out upon his journey, and it was not long before he reached the cross-roads, and found the fox sitting there, just as his brothers had before him. The Prince had his bow slung at his back, but he did not draw it.
 “I have no quarrel with you. And as for your[263] advice, who knows but what it may be well worth having?”
“Then listen,” said the fox; and he told the Prince about the two inns, just as he had told the other brothers.
“That may or may not be good advice,” said the Prince, “but at least it will do me no harm to follow it.”
So when he entered the village he did not go to the fine inn as his brothers had done. Instead he turned in at the poor, mean-looking inn, and there he spent the night quietly, and the next day he arose, and went on his way.
Just outside the village he came across the fox sitting in a field and waiting for him.
“Prince,” said the fox, “you did well indeed to follow my advice. Now seat yourself upon my tail and I will carry you on your journey far faster than you can walk.”
The Prince did as the fox bade him. He seated himself upon its tail and then away they went, so fast that the wind whistled past the Prince’s ears. Presently they came within sight of a great castle, and there the fox stopped. “In that castle is the[264] Golden Bird,” said the fox, “but now you must go on alone. Follow this road, and it will lead you to the gate of the castle. All around you will see soldiers lying asleep on the ground, but do not fear them. They will not awake unless you disobey what I am about to tell you.”
The fox then told the Prince in which room of the castle he would find the Golden Bird. “It is in an ugly, mean-looking cage,” said he, “and close by hangs a handsome golden cage that is empty. But do not by any means put the bird in the golden cage. Bring it away in the mean-looking cage, for unless you do this some great misfortune will come upon you.”
The Prince was so happy to think he was soon to find the Golden Bird that he scarcely listened to anything else the fox told him.
He sprang from the fox’s tail and hastened along the road to the castle, and soon he came to the soldiers lying asleep upon the ground. He went past them safely and they did not wake. He entered the castle and it did not take him long to find the Golden Bird. There it was in the very room the fox had told him of. It was in a mean, common-looking[265] cage, and beside it hung a handsome golden cage that was empty.
 It would be much better to put it in the cage that suits it.”   This sound awakened the soldiers. They ran in and seized the Prince, and carried him before the King of the country.
When the King heard how the Prince had tried to steal the Golden Bird he was very angry. “You deserve to be put to death,” said he, “but I will spare your life on one condition. If you will bring me the Golden Horse that goes swifter than the wind, you shall be pardoned, and I will give you the Golden Bird into the bargain.”
Well, there was no help for it; the Prince had to set out to find the Golden Horse, but he was very sad, for he did not know where to look for it, and unless he found it he would have to return and lose his life.
He went along the road and he had not gone far[266] when he saw the fox sitting in a field and waiting for him.
“Why did you not follow my advice?” said the fox. “Now you are in a pretty scrape. But mount upon my tail and I will see what I can do to help you.”
The Prince seated himself upon the fox’s tail and away they went, over bush and brake, over rock and brier, so fast the wind whistled by the Prince’s ears.
Presently they came within sight of another castle, and there the fox stopped. “Light down,” said he, “for I can carry you no farther. In the stable of that castle is the Golden Horse you are in search of. Go on boldly and open the stable door. No one will stop you, for the stableman is asleep. Only when you find the Golden Horse do not take the golden saddle that hangs beside the stall. Take the worn old saddle that lies in the corner. Unless you do as I tell you misfortune will surely come upon you.”
The Prince scarcely listened to the fox, he was in such a hurry to find the Golden Horse. He hurried up the road to the stable and opened the stable[267] door, and no one stopped nor stayed him. There in the stall stood the Golden Horse, and it shone so that the light from it filled the whole place. Hanging beside the stall was a golden saddle set with precious stones, and in the corner lay an old worn-out saddle of leather. “This golden saddle is the saddle that belongs with the Golden Horse,” thought the Prince. “It would be a shame to put the other upon its back.”
So he took down the golden saddle and laid it on the horse. As soon as he did so, the horse began to neigh and stamp. The sound awoke the stableman, and he called the guard. The soldiers came running in haste and seized the Prince and carried him before the King and told him the youth had been trying to steal the Golden Horse.
“You deserve to die for this,” said the King, “but I will forgive you on one condition. If you will bring me the Princess of the Golden Castle for a wife then you shall not only receive my pardon, but the Golden Horse into the bargain.”
Well, the Prince did not see how he was to find the Princess of the Golden Castle, but he promised[268] to do his best. He set out and he had not gone far when he found the fox waiting for him.
“You do not deserve my help,” said the fox. “Why did you disobey me and put the golden saddle upon the horse? But mount upon my tail. I suppose I must do the best I can to pull you out of this scrape also.”
The Prince set himself upon the fox’s tail, and away they went again so fast that the wind whistled through his hair.
On and on they went, and after a time they came to another castle, and this castle was all of shining gold. “Now listen,” said the fox. “In this castle lives the beautiful Princess we are in search of.  Every night, when all in the castle are asleep, the Princess comes down to the lake to bathe. When she comes near the bathhouse you must seize her and kiss her. Then she will willingly follow you wherever you lead. But whatever you do do not allow her to go back to bid farewell to her parents. If you do you may answer for it with your life.”
The Prince promised to do as the fox told him,[269] and then he went away and hid himself behind the bathhouse.
That night, as soon as all in the castle were asleep, the Princess came down to the lake to bathe as usual. As soon as she came near the bathhouse the Prince sprang out from behind it and caught her in his arms and kissed her. Then the Princess loved him, and was quite willing to leave her home and her father and mother and follow him.
“But before I follow you, let me go and say good-by to my parents,” she said, “for they love me dearly, and their hearts will surely break if I leave them without one word.”
It seemed to the Prince that it would be cruel to refuse what she asked. Beside, what harm could it do for her to see her parents once more?
“Very well,” said he. “Go, but return quickly, for we must be off before the day breaks.”
The Princess hurried away to the room where the King, her father, lay asleep, and she stooped and kissed him on the forehead. At once the King awoke and asked her where she was going.
When he heard she was going out into the world[270] to follow an unknown youth, he sent out and had the Prince brought into the palace. There the King said to him, “You have come here to steal the Princess from me, and for this you deserve to die. But I will give you one chance for your life. Outside my windows is a mountain so high and dark that not a ray of sunlight ever comes into the castle. If in three days you can level down this mountain, then I will grant you your life, and give you my daughter for a bride.”
When the Prince heard this he was in despair, for he did not see how he could possibly level down a mountain in three years, let alone three days. However, he took a pick and shovel and set to work. For two days he dug and shoveled, and at the end of that time he had scarcely dug away enough to fill a ditch.
At the end of that time the fox came to him.  “You do not deserve that I should help you again, but I have a soft heart.
The Prince trusted the fox, and he was very[271] tired. He flung himself down upon the ground, and fell into a deep sleep.
When he awoke the next morning the mountain had disappeared. The place where it had stood was as flat as the palm of the hand.
When the King looked from his windows and found the mountain gone he was filled with joy and wonder. “You have indeed fairly won the Princess,” said he to the Prince, “and I will not say you nay.”
So he gave his daughter to the stranger youth, and much treasure as well. He also gave them each a horse trapped out in gold and precious stones, and then the two set out together, riding side by side.
They had not gone far when they met the little red fox, and he was on the watch for them.
“Now you have indeed won the best of all,” said he. “But it is you and you alone who should have the Princess for a wife. But in order to keep her for yourself you must do exactly as I say. First of all you must go to the King who sent you to the golden castle. When he sees you have brought the Princess to him, he will gladly give you the[272] Golden Horse. Mount upon the horse, and when you say farewell to the King and his court, take the hand of each one in turn. Last of all you must take the hand of the Princess.  They may pursue you, but none can overtake you, for the Golden Horse goes faster than the wind.”
The Prince did exactly as the fox bade him. He took the Princess to the palace of the King who had sent him to find her. When the King saw her he gladly gave the Golden Horse to the Prince. The Prince said farewell to all and then at the last he caught the Princess by the hand and drew her up in front of him, and away they went faster than the wind, and none pursed them, for they knew they could never catch them.
After awhile the Prince and Princess came to the fox seated by the road waiting for them.
“That is well,” said the fox. “You have now the beautiful Princess and the Golden Horse, but you must have the Golden Bird also.”
The fox then told the Prince what he must do. He must leave the Princess there to wait for him,[273] and ride on to the palace alone. “When you reach the palace of the King,” said the fox, “he will gladly give you the Golden Bird in exchange for the horse. Take the cage in your hand and then spring upon the horse and ride away with it till you come to where the Princess is. They will not try to overtake you, for they know how fast the horse goes. Then you will have all three, the Princess, the horse, and the bird.”
The Prince did exactly as the little animal bade him. He left the Princess there with the fox, and rode on to the palace, and it was not long before he was back again with the Golden Bird in his hand.
“Now you have all your heart desires,” said the fox, “and it is time I had my reward for serving you.”
“That is true,” said the Prince. “Tell me how to reward you, and if I can do it, I will.”
“Then take your bow,” said the fox, “and shoot me dead, and after that cut off my head and paws.”
The Prince was filled with horror. “No, no,” he cried, “that I can never do.”
“Very well,” said the fox. “If you will not do that, then you can do nothing for me. I must leave[274] you, but before I go there is one more piece of advice that I will give you. Beware of two things. Buy no human flesh and bones, and do not sit on the edge of a well.” Then the fox left him and ran away into the forest near by.
But the Prince and Princess rode on together. “That was a curious piece of advice,” said the Prince. “Why should I want to buy human flesh and bones, and why should I not sit on the edge of a well if it pleases me?”
“Why indeed?” said the Princess.
The two journeyed on until they came to the village where the two inns stood, and there the Prince stopped at the larger inn to water his horse, and who should come out to fetch water for the horse but the Prince’s second brother, and he was all in rags.
“Oh, my dear brother,” cried the Prince, “what has happened to you? Why are you all in rags?”
“It is because I am in debt to the landlord,” answered the second Prince. “I spent all my own money and more beside in feasting and drinking, and now he keeps me as a servant and will not let me go.”[275]
“And our eldest brother—is he here also?”
Yes, he was there also. He too was in debt to the landlord, and was obliged to work about in the kitchen.
When the youngest brother heard this the tears ran down his cheeks. He called the landlord to him and paid him all that the two brothers owed, and bought them free. He also bought for each of them proper clothes and fine horses to ride upon.
Then they all started home together. But the elder brothers were not grateful to him. They envied and hated him because he had won the Princess and the Golden Horse and the bird, and because he would have their father’s kingdom, too. So they plotted together as to how they could get rid of him.
They journeyed on for some hours until it was midday and the sun was hot. Then they came to a place where there was a well with trees around it.
“Let us sit here and rest awhile,” said the elder brothers, and the youngest was willing.
They all lighted down from their horses, and then the two elder brothers seized the younger one and threw him into the well.[276]
After that they took the Princess, the horse, and the bird, and rode on with them.
When at last they reached the palace of their father there was the greatest rejoicing. Not only had the princes brought home with them the Golden Bird, but they had brought the Golden Horse, and the beautiful Princess as well, and now the kingdom was to be divided between them. As for the youngest Prince no one knew what had become of him except his brothers and the Princess.
But the Princess took no part in any of the rejoicings. She sat and grieved and grieved. The horse would not eat and the bird would not sing. The King was greatly distressed over all this. He could not guess what ailed them all.
But though the brothers had thrown the youngest brother into a well, that was not the last of him by any means. The well was a dry one, and the Prince fell softly on the moss at the bottom of it, and was not hurt at all except for a few bruises. But the sides of the well were so steep that he could not climb out of it, and there in the well he might have stayed had it not been for the faithful fox. The Prince had not been long in the well when the[277] fox looked down over the edge of it and spoke to him.
“You little deserve that I should help you again,” said the fox. “If you had heeded my warnings all this trouble would not have come upon you. Nevertheless, I cannot leave you here to perish. Catch hold of my tail, and I will pull you out.”
The fox then let its tail hang down in the well, the Prince caught hold of it, and the fox managed to drag him out of the well and up into the sunlight.
The Prince thanked the fox with tears in his eyes, and then he journeyed on toward his father’s palace. On the way he met an old beggar-man, and exchanged clothes with him. He put on the beggar’s rags, and stained his hands and face so that he was as dark as a gypsy, and when he came at last into the palace not even his father knew him. No sooner did he enter the gate of the palace, however, than the bird began to sing, the horse began to eat, and the Princess wiped away her tears, and laughed aloud with joy.
The King was amazed. “How is this?” he asked the Princess. “How is it that you have so suddenly ceased grieving and become cheerful?”[278]
“I know not,” answered the Princess. “Only this morning I was so sad that my heart was like lead, and now suddenly I feel quite happy, just as though my own dear promised husband had come home again.”
The Princess then told the King the whole story, how it was the youngest Prince who had won the bird and the horse, and her also for his bride; how he had bought his brothers’ lives from the landlord at the inn, and how they had afterward thrown him into a dry well and left him there.
“It may be,” said the King, “that my son has in truth come home, and is here in the palace, and that that is why you feel so happy.”
He then gave orders that everyone in the palace was to come before him. This was done, and among all the rest came the young Prince disguised as an old beggar-man.
But though he was disguised the Princess knew him at once. She ran to him and threw her arms about his neck and kissed him. “You are my own dear one,” she cried, “and to you and you only do I belong.”
Then there was great rejoicing all through the[279] palace because the Prince had come home again. But as for the elder brothers they were sent out from before the King’s presence and punished as they deserved.
Now some time after this as the young Prince was hunting in the forest he met the little red fox, and it looked very sad and thin and worn.
“Alas!” said he to the Prince, “now you are happy and have everything your heart can wish, but I am hunted about the world, miserable and forlorn.”
Then the Prince was filled with pity. “Whatever I can do for you I will,” he said, “for everything I have I owe to you.”
Then again the fox begged and implored the Prince to shoot it and cut off its head and its paws. At last the Prince consented.
No sooner had he done as the fox asked him, than instead of the little animal a handsome young man stood before him. This young man was the brother of the Princess Beautiful. He had been enchanted, and obliged to wander about the world in the shape of a fox, but now the young Prince had broken the enchantment.[280]
The two princes embraced each other tenderly, and returned to the palace together, and after that they all lived together in the greatest happiness.
A merchant had been trading in a far city and had made much money, which he was now bringing home with him. He rode in haste, for he knew he would not feel easy until he had locked away the gold in his strong room at home.
Toward the middle of the morning he stopped at an inn to give his horse water. “Sir,” said the ostler who waited on him, “a nail is loose in your horse’s shoe.”
“No matter,” answered the merchant. “I am in haste, and the shoe must go as it is till I get home.”
A little later he stopped at another inn. “Sir,” said the ostler, “your horse’s shoe is loose; shall I not take him to the blacksmith near by and have the shoe fastened on?”
“No,” answered the merchant, “I have not time to wait. I must be home before nightfall.”
The merchant rode still farther, but presently[282] his horse began to limp. It limped more and more, until at last, in the very midst of a deep forest, it stumbled and fell, and could not get up again.
The merchant was in despair. Dusk was coming on, and there seemed nothing for it but to spend the night in the forest. However, he discovered a house near by, and the old woman who was in charge of it promised him food and a lodging for the night.
When the merchant went up to bed he put his bag of gold under his pillow. He meant to watch all night, but he was very tired, and presently, in spite of himself his eyes closed and he fell into a deep sleep.
Now this house belonged to a band of robbers, and the old woman was their housekeeper. Soon after the merchant was asleep the robbers came home. The housekeeper told them of the rich man who had come to the house while they were away, and of how she had given him a bed for the night.
The robbers went up to the merchant’s room and finding him asleep they stole the bag of money from under his pillow, and made off with it.
In the morning, when the merchant awoke, he felt under his pillow for the bag, but it was gone.[283] He called aloud, but no one answered. He searched the house from top to bottom, but could find nobody.
So the merchant lost both his gold and his horse. “And all,” said he, “because I was in such haste that I would not stop for a nail to be put in my horse’s shoe. It is a true saying—‘the more haste the less speed.’”
 Her mother made for her the prettiest of little dresses; her stockings were of fine yarn, and there were bright buckles on her shoes. Her mother also made for her a little cloak and hood of red cloth, and the little girl looked so pretty in them that her mother called her Little Red Riding-Hood instead of Mary, as she had been christened.
Little Red Riding-Hood had a grandmother who was so old that sometimes she lay in bed all day and felt too weak to get up.
One day the mother called the little girl to her and said, “My child, I have put a pat of butter and some fresh eggs and a wheatcake in this basket. Take it and carry it to your grandmother. Run along quickly, and do not loiter nor stop to talk to anyone along the way, for I want you to get back before the afternoon is late.”
“Yes, dear mother,” said the little girl, and she took the basket in her hand and set out for her grandmother’s house.
At first she ran along briskly and stopped for nothing, but the fields were full of pretty flowers. “I am sure,” thought Red Riding-Hood “that my grandmother would be glad to have a bunch of daisies and buttercups.” She began to pick one here and another there until she had quite a handful.
Presently she heard feet padding along the path, and the old gray wolf came trotting by.
“Good-day, Red Riding-Hood,” said the wolf.
“Good-day,” answered the child.
“And where are you going this fine bright day with your basket on your arm?”
“Oh, I am going to my grandmother’s house. She is so old that sometimes she lies in bed and cannot get up, and I am taking her some butter and some fresh eggs and a wheaten cake.”
“And where does your grandmother live?”
“She lives over beyond the wood in a little white house with a thatched roof and green blinds, and the path runs straight there.”[286]
The wolf had now learned all he cared to know. He bade Red Riding-Hood good-by and trotted on briskly.
As soon as he came into the wood where Red Riding-Hood could not see him he began to gallop. On and on he galloped as fast as he could, for he was anxious to get to the little white house with the thatched roof and the green blinds before Red Riding-Hood did.
In the depths of the wood a woodcutter was busy at his work. He saw the old wolf go hurrying by, and he wondered what he was after. “He’s up to some mischief or other, and that is sure,” said the woodcutter. And he shouldered his axe and followed on after the wolf to see what he was going to do.
On went Mr. Wolf, and presently he came to the edge of the forest, and there stood the little white house with the thatched roof and green blinds, and the path led straight up to the door, so the wolf knew that must be where the grandmother lived.
He stopped and looked all about him, for he did not want anyone to watch him. He saw no one, however, for the woodchopper had hidden behind[287] some rocks. Then the wolf knocked at the door, rap-tap-tap!
Nobody answered, so he knocked again, rap-tap-tap! Still no one answered, and there was no stir within the house, though the wolf cocked his ear and listened carefully. The wolf pulled the latchstring, the latch flew up, and he pushed the door open, and slipped inside. He looked about, and there was nobody there, for the old grandmother had been feeling stronger that day, so she had dressed and had gone out to see a neighbor.
The old wolf hunted about until he found the grandmother’s bedgown; then he pulled it on over his big hairy body. He tied on a big ruffled cap and put the grandmother’s spectacles on his nose, and after that he crawled into bed and drew the coverlet up under his chin.
The woodcutter, outside, wondered what the wolf was doing in the house, but he did not hear a sound, so he sat down to watch and see what would happen next, and as he was very tired he fell fast asleep.
It was not long before Little Red Riding-Hood came running along, and she was in a great hurry,[288] for she had spent a long time gathering flowers. The woodcutter did not see her, however, for he was asleep. The little girl ran up to the door and knocked upon it, rap-tap-tap!
Then the old wolf made his voice very faint and weak like the grandmother’s. “Who is there?” he asked.
“It is I, grandmother; Little Red Riding-Hood,” answered the child.
“Pull the latchstring, and lift the latch,” said the wolf.
Red Riding-Hood lifted the latch and pushed the door open and went in.
There was not much light in the room, for the wolf had pulled the curtains across the window.
“I am not able to get up, dear child,” said the wolf, still in the same weak voice. “Put your basket on the table and come over here.”
Red Riding-Hood did as she was told. She put the basket on the table and came over to the bedside, but as she came closer she thought her grandmother looked very strange.
“Oh, grandmother, what great big eyes you have,” said she.[289]
“The better to see you, my dear,” answered the wolf.

The little girl cried out, but at this moment the woodcutter burst open the door and rushed in. The howl had awakened him from his sleep, and just in time.
Then he took Red Riding-Hood up in his arms and comforted her, for she was crying bitterly. She was frightened and her pretty red cloak had been torn. He wiped her eyes, and promised to walk home with her, but first, he said, they must wait until the grandmother came home.
When she came at last, and heard the story and saw the wolf lying there on the floor, she could not thank the woodcutter enough. And indeed, if it[290] had not been for him the little girl would certainly have been eaten by the wolf.
But from then on Red Riding-Hood was careful to obey her mother, and not to loiter on the way when she was sent on errands.
In a far city in China there once lived a lad named Aladdin.  He did as he pleased, and played in the streets all day, and was so idle that he was of no use to anyone.
One day, as Aladdin was playing with a band of companions, a tall man, richly dressed, stopped to watch them. Suddenly he called to Aladdin, “Come here, boy; I wish to speak to you.”
The lad came, wondering.
“Are you not the son of Mustapha the tailor?” asked the stranger.
Aladdin said that he was.
“I knew it,” cried the stranger. “I knew it from your likeness to your dear father.” He then embraced the boy tenderly. “I, dear lad, am your uncle,” said he. “I have spent many years in strange countries, and have made a fortune. I came back here in search of you, for I heard your[294] father was dead, and I wish to take his place and be a father to you.”
Aladdin was very much surprised. He had never known he had an uncle. And indeed he had not. The stranger was a magician who had need of a stout and active lad to help in a certain adventure. He had noticed Aladdin playing in the streets and had found out the lad’s name and the name of his father, so as to pass himself off as Aladdin’s uncle.
Aladdin was eager to believe the story the stranger told, for he thought it would be a fine thing to have a rich uncle to help him along in the world.
“Lead me to your mother’s house, Aladdin,” said the magician. “I wish to talk with her, and to weep with her over the memory of my dear brother.”
Aladdin took the stranger’s hand and led him away through one street after another, each meaner and dirtier than the other. At last he stopped before a miserable looking hovel.
“This is where I live,” said the boy.
“Here!” cried the magician.  But I will soon change all this. You must move into a[295] handsome house, and you must have some better clothes than those you have on. I will make your fortune for you.”
Aladdin was more delighted than ever when he heard this. He made haste to open the door and lead the magician to his mother, and to repeat to her the story he had been told.
The widow was even more surprised than her son over the magician’s story, but she was quite as eager to believe it as he. It would indeed be a fine thing if the stranger would lift them out of their poverty. She begged him to sit down and share their evening meal, but this he would not do. He said he had business with some merchants, and went away, after promising to come back the next day.
On the morrow, as he had promised, the magician returned, and he took Aladdin out with him, and bought him fine clothes, and sweetmeats to eat, and he talked so much of all he meant to do for his dear nephew that the boy’s head was quite turned.
The following morning he came again, and asked Aladdin whether he would not like to take a walk in the country, as it was such a fine day.[296]
Aladdin gladly agreed to this plan. It was pleasant to be with his new uncle, and to hear him talk of all the grand things he intended to do.
The magician led the boy out of the city, talking pleasantly all the while, and on and on into the country, so far that at last the lad began to grow weary and to wonder when they would turn back.
In time they came to a lonely valley shut in by high hills, and here the stranger stopped. “My dear nephew, I wish to show you something here that is very curious,” said the false uncle. “But first gather together a few dry sticks and build a little fire.”
This Aladdin did.
When the fire was burning brightly the magician drew from under his robe a small box. He opened it, and taking from it a pinch of powder he threw it into the fire, at the same time saying some magic words.
Immediately there was a loud noise like a clap of thunder, and the ground opened before them, showing a great stone in which was a brass ring.
Aladdin was so frightened by these happenings[297] that he would have run away, but the stranger caught him roughly by the arm.
“Stay where you are,” he cried. “I have brought you here to do a special thing for me, and if you refuse you shall not escape alive. If, however, you are obedient I will make you rich for life.”
“What do you wish of me?” asked Aladdin in a trembling voice.
“First lift this stone for me.”
Aladdin caught hold of the brass ring and tried to lift the stone, but it was too heavy for him, and the magician was obliged to help him. Together they dragged away the stone and showed an opening and a flight of stairs leading down into the earth.
“Now,” said the pretended uncle, “you must go down these steps and they will bring you into a palace divided into three halls. You will see in these halls great chests filled with gold and silver, but for your life do not touch them; do not even brush against the walls or touch them either, for if you do you will surely perish. Go straight through the halls and you will come to a garden; it is full of fruit-trees, and if you should wish to gather some of the fruit you may safely do so; no[298] harm will come to you from so doing.  Take it and empty out the oil and bring it to me.”
Aladdin had no wish to descend the stairs into the earth, but the stranger frightened him, and he dared not refuse. He started down, but the magician called him back. “Here! take this,” he said, and slipping a ring from his finger he placed it on Aladdin’s hand. “It will protect you from any dangers you may meet with.”
Aladdin now went on down the stairs, and at the foot of them he found the palace halls the stranger had told him of. Everywhere he saw chests of silver and gold, but he was careful to touch none of them. He walked on very warily and out into the garden. He found the lamp without any trouble, emptied out the oil, and thrust it into the sash that was twisted about his waist.
All about him were fruit-trees loaded with the most beautiful fruits he had ever seen. They were of all colors, and shone as though polished. Aladdin picked some of them, but instead of being juicy and delicious as he had expected, they were so[299] hard he could neither bite nor break them. They seemed indeed to be made of glass, only much harder and brighter; they were so pretty the boy gathered a great quantity of them; he filled his pockets and sleeves and shirt with the fruit and then hurried back through the hall and up the steps. He saw his pretended uncle stooping over and watching for him impatiently.
“Did you get the lamp?” cried the magician eagerly.
“Yes, I have it here.”
The magician’s eyes sparkled with triumph. He reached down his hand. “Give it to me, quick, quick!” he cried.
 First help me out, and then I will give it to you.”
“No, no! Give it to me now,” cried the magician sharply. He did not, indeed, intend to let Aladdin ever come out alive. He meant as soon as he had the lamp to push the stone back into place and fasten the lad in.
Aladdin did not guess this, but for some reason he felt suddenly afraid.[300]
“I cannot give you the lamp,” he cried, “until you let me out.”
“Give it to me I tell you.”
“Not until you let me out.”
Suddenly the magician flew into a black rage. “Then stay where you are,” he cried fiercely.
He threw another pinch of powder into the fire which was still burning, and muttered a magic charm. At once the stone rose and dropped back into its place, and Aladdin found himself shut in, in darkness.
Filled with terror, he beat upon the stone, and called to the magician to let him out. But there was no answer. He put his shoulders under the stone and tried to lift it, but it would not stir. Aladdin sat down and wept bitter tears. He felt he was a prisoner forever. Suddenly he remembered the garden. Perhaps he could find some way out through it.
He made his way slowly down the steps, feeling his way through the darkness. As he did this he happened to rub the magician’s ring against the wall.

“What wouldst thou have?” asked this terrible being. “I and the other slaves of the ring upon thy finger stand ready to serve thee.”
Aladdin was astonished beyond measure, but he made shift to say, “If you are able, take me away from here and back to my mother’s house.”
“To hear is to obey,” answered the genie.
At once Aladdin felt himself caught up and carried through the air swifter than the wind, and almost before he could draw breath he was back in his mother’s house, and the genie had disappeared.
His mother could hardly believe her eyes when Aladdin appeared so suddenly before her.
“My dear son, where did you come from, and where is your uncle?” she asked.
As soon as Aladdin could get his breath he told her the whole story. His mother listened and wondered.
To this Aladdin agreed, but he was so hungry[302] that he begged his mother to get him something to eat before they talked further.
His mother began to weep. “Alas!” said she, “I have not a morsel of food in the house, and no money with which to buy any.”
Aladdin remembered the lamp which was still in his waist-band. He drew it out. “Look!” said he. “This lamp must be worth something since the magician was so anxious to have it. Take it to some shop, or to one of the neighbors, and perhaps they will pay you enough for it for us to buy some rice.”
This seemed to the mother a wise plan. “I will do as you say,” said she, “but first I will brighten the lamp, for it is very black and dirty.”
She took some sand and water to polish it, but scarcely had she begun to rub it when a genie, even more terrible looking than the genie of the ring, appeared before them.
“What dost thou wish?” he asked in a voice of thunder. “I and the other slaves of the lamp stand ready to serve thee in all things.”
The widow was so terrified at the sight of the genie, and at the sound of his voice, that she fell[303] down on her face and lay there. But Aladdin caught the lamp from her hand.
“If you would serve me bring us something to eat,” he cried.
“To hear is to obey,” answered the genie. At once he disappeared, but scarcely was he gone before he appeared again with a great silver tray and a number of silver dishes and cups full of all sorts of delicious things to eat and drink. The genie set it upon a table. “Hast thou any further commands?” he asked in a voice of thunder.
“Not at present,” answered Aladdin.
At once the genie disappeared.
Aladdin called to his mother, and when she looked up and saw the genie had gone she was able to raise herself from the floor, though she still shook and trembled. She and her son sat down and ate and drank to their hearts’ content, and there was enough food left over to serve them another day. Aladdin then took the silver tray and the dishes out to a merchant he knew and sold them for a good price; so in this way he had money to spend.
After this Aladdin and his mother lived very[304] comfortably. Whenever they were hungry Aladdin had only to rub the lamp and command the genie to bring them food, and it was served to them immediately. It was always brought to them in silver dishes and upon a silver tray, and as Aladdin could sell these for a good price he and his mother lacked for nothing.
Aladdin now began to go about among the merchants of the city and talk with them, and before long he learned to his surprise that the fruits he had brought with him from the garden were not glass at all, but jewels, and jewels so rare and magnificent that they were not to be equaled anywhere.
Now the Sultan of that country had one daughter, the Princess Buddir al Baddoor, and she was the most beautiful princess in the world.