'Now, you've got me into a fine scrape', said Peter to the Cat, 'for here's the King coming home with me; but my home, that's not so easy to find, I think.'

'Oh! never mind', said the Cat; 'only do you drive after me as I run before.'

So off they set; first Peter, who drove after his Cat, and then the King and all his court.

But when they had driven a good bit, they came to a great flock of fine sheep, that had wool so long it almost touched the ground.

'If you'll only say', said the Cat to the Shepherd, 'this flock of sheep belongs to Lord Peter, when the King asks you, I'll give you this silver spoon', which she had taken with her from the King's palace.

Yes! he was willing enough to do that. So when the king came up, he said to the lad who watched the sheep,

'Well, I never saw so large and fine a flock of sheep in my life! Whose is it? my little lad.'

'Why', said the lad, 'whose should it be but Lord Peter's.'

A little while after they came to a great, great herd of fine brindled kine, who were all so sleek the sun shone from them.

'If you'll only say', said the Cat to the neat-herd, 'this herd is Lord Peter's, when the King asks you, I'll give you this silver ladle'; and the ladle too she had taken from the King's palace.

'Yes! with all my heart', said the neat-herd.

So when the King came up, he was quite amazed at the fine fat herd, for such a herd he had never seen before, and so he asked the neat- herd who owned those brindled kine.

'Why! who should own them but Lord Peter', said the neat-herd.

So they went on a little further, and came to a great, great drove of horses, the finest you ever saw, six of each colour, bay, and black, and brown, and chesnut.

'If you'll only say this drove of horses is Lord Peter's when the King asks you', said the Cat, 'I'll give you this silver stoop'; and the stoop too she had taken from the palace.

Yes! the lad was willing enough; and so when the King came up, he was quite amazed at the grand drove of horses, for the matches of such horses he had never yet set eyes on, he said.

So he asked the lad who watched them, whose all these blacks, and bays, and browns, and chesnuts were?

'Whose should they be', said the lad, 'but Lord Peter's.'

So when they had gone a good bit farther, they came to a castle; first there was a gate of tin, and next there was a gate of silver, and next a gate of gold. The castle itself was of silver, and so dazzling white, that it quite hurt one's eyes to look at in the sunbeams which fell on it just as they reached it.

So they went into it, and the Cat told Peter to say this was his house. As for the castle inside, it was far finer than it looked outside, for everything was pure gold—chairs, and tables, and benches, and all. And when the King had gone all over it, and seen everything high and low, he got quite shameful and downcast.

'Yes', he said at last; 'Lord Peter has everything far finer than I have, there's no gainsaying that', and so he wanted to be off home again.

But Peter begged him to stay to supper, and the King stayed, but he was sour, and surly the whole time.

So as they sat at supper, back came the Troll who owned the castle, and gave such a great knock at the door.

'WHO'S THIS EATING MY MEAT AND DRINKING MY MEAD LIKE SWINE IN HERE', roared out the Troll.

As soon as the Cat heard that, she ran down to the gate.

'Stop a bit', she said, 'and I'll tell you how the farmer sets to work to get in his winter rye.'

And so she told him such a long story about the winter rye.

'First of all, you see, he ploughs his field, and then he dungs it, and then he ploughs it again, and then he harrows it'; and so she went on till the sun rose.

'Oh, do look behind you, and there you'll see such a lovely lady', said the Cat to the Troll.

So the Troll turned round, and, of course, as soon as he saw the sun he burst.

'Now all this is yours', said the Cat to Lord Peter. 'Now, you must cut off my head; that's all I ask for what I have done for you.'

'Nay, nay', said Lord Peter, 'I'll never do any such thing, that's flat.'

'If you don't', said the Cat,' see if I don't claw your eyes out.'

Well! so Lord Peter had to do it, though it was sore against his will. He cut off the Cat's head, but there and then she became the loveliest Princess you ever set eyes on, and Lord Peter fell in love with her at once.

'Yes! all this greatness was mine first', said the Princess, 'but a Troll bewitched me to be a Cat in your father's and mother's cottage. Now you may do as you please, whether you take me as your queen or not, for you are now king over all this realm.'

Well, well; there was little doubt Lord Peter would be willing enough to have her as his queen, and so there was a wedding that lasted eight whole days, and a feast besides; and after it was over, I stayed no longer with Lord Peter and his lovely queen, and so I can't say anything more about them.



THE SEVEN FOALS

Once on a time there was a poor couple who lived in a wretched hut, far far away in the wood. How they lived I can't tell, but I'm sure it was from hand to mouth, and hard work even then; but they had three sons, and the youngest of them was Boots, of course, for he did little else than lie there and poke about in the ashes.

So one day the eldest lad said he would go out to earn his bread, and he soon got leave, and wandered out into the world. There he walked and walked the whole day, and when evening drew in, he came to a king's palace, and there stood the King out on the steps, and asked whither he was bound.

'Oh, I'm going about, looking after a place', said the lad.

'Will you serve me?' asked the King, 'and watch my seven foals. If you can watch them one whole day, and tell me at night what they eat and what they drink, you shall have the Princess to wife, and half my kingdom; but if you can't, I'll cut three red stripes out of your back. Do you hear?'

Yes! that was an easy task, the lad thought; he'd do that fast enough, never fear.

So next morning, as soon as the first peep of dawn came, the king's coachman let out the seven foals. Away they went, and the lad after them. You may fancy how they tore over hill and dale, through bush and bog. When the lad had run so a long time, he began to get weary, and when he had held on a while longer, he had more than enough of his watching, and just there, he came to a cleft in a rock, where an old hag sat and spun with a distaff. As soon as she saw the lad who was running after the foals till the sweat ran down his brow, this old hag bawled out:

'Come hither, come hither, my pretty son, and let me comb your hair.'

Yes! the lad was willing enough; so he sat down in the cleft of the rock with the old hag, and laid his head on her lap, and she combed his hair all day whilst he lay there, and stretched his lazy bones.

So, when evening drew on, the lad wanted to go away. 'I may just as well toddle straight home now', said he, 'for it's no use my going back to the palace.'

'Stop a bit till it's dark', said the old hag, 'and then the king's foals will pass by here again, and then you can run home with them, and then no one will know that you have lain here all day long, instead of watching the foals.'

So, when they came, she gave the lad a flask of water and a clod of turf. Those he was to show to the King, and say that was what his seven foals ate and drank.

'Have you watched true and well the whole day, now?' asked the King, when the lad came before him in the evening.

'Yes, I should think so', said the lad.

'Then you can tell me what my seven foals eat and drink', said the King.

'Yes!' and so the lad pulled out the flask of water and the clod of turf, which the old hag had given him.

'Here you see their meat, and here you see their drink', said the lad.

But then the King saw plain enough how he had watched, and he got so wroth, he ordered his men to chase him away home on the spot; but first they were to cut three red stripes out of his back, and rub salt into them. So when the lad got home again, you may fancy what a temper he was in. He'd gone out once to get a place, he said, but he'd never do so again.

Next day the second sons aid he would go out into the world to try his luck. His father and mother said 'No', and bade him look at his brother's back; but the lad wouldn't give in; he held to his own, and at last he got leave to go, and set off. So when he had walked the whole day, he, too, came to the king's palace. There stood the King out on the steps, and asked whither he was bound? and when the lad said he was looking about for a place, the King said he might have a place there, and watch his seven foals. But the king laid down the same punishment, and the same reward, as he had settled for his brother. Well, the lad was willing enough; he took the place at once with the King, for he thought he'd soon watch the foals, and tell the King what they ate and drank. So, in the gray of the morning, the coachman let out the seven foals, and off they went again over hill and dale, and the lad after them. But the same thing happened to him as had befallen his brother. When he had run after the foals a long long time, till he was both warm and weary, he passed by the cleft in a rock, where an old hag sat and spun with a distaff, and she bawled out to the lad:

'Come hither, come hither, my pretty son, and let me comb your hair.'

That the lad thought a good offer, so he let the foals run on their way, and sat down in the cleft with the old hag. There he sat, and there he lay, taking his ease, and stretching his lazy bones the whole day.

When the foals came back at nightfall, he too got a flask of water and clod of turf from the old hag to show to the King. But when the King asked the lad:

'Can you tell me now, what my seven foals eat and drink?' and the lad pulled out the flask and the clod, and said:

'Here you see their meat, and here you see their drink.'

Then the King got wroth again, and ordered them to cut three red stripes out of the lad's back, and rub salt in, and chase him home that very minute. And so when the lad got home, he also told how he had fared, and said, he had gone out once to get a place, but he'd never do so any more.

The third day Boots wanted to set out; he had a great mind to try and watch the seven foals, he said. The others laughed at him, and made game of him, saying:

'When we fared so ill, you'll do it better—a fine joke; you look like it—you, who have never done anything but lie there and poke about in the ashes.'

'Yes!' said Boots, 'I don't see why I shouldn't go, for I've got it into my head, and can't get it out again.'

And so, in spite of all the jeers of the others and the prayers of the old people, there was no help for it, and Boots set out.

So after he had walked the whole day, he too came at dusk to the king's palace. There stood the King out on the steps, and asked whither he was bound.

'Oh', said Boots, 'I'm going about seeing if I can hear of a place.'

'Whence do you come then?' said the King, for he wanted to know a little more about them before he took any one into his service.

So Boots said whence he came, and how he was brother to those two who had watched the king's seven foals, and ended by asking if he might try to watch them next day.

'Oh, stuff!' said the King, for he got quite cross if he even thought of them; 'if you're brother to those two, you're not worth much, I'll be bound. I've had enough of such scamps.'

'Well', said Boots; but since I've come so far, I may just as well get leave to try, I too.'

'Oh, very well; with all my heart', said the King, 'if you will have your back flayed, you're quite welcome.'

'I'd much rather have the Princess', said Boots.

So next morning, at gray of dawn, the coachman let out the seven foals again, and away they went over hill and dale, through bush and bog, and Boots behind them. And so, when he too had run a long while, he came to the cleft in the rock, where the old hag sat, spinning at her distaff. So she bawled out to Boots:

'Come hither, come hither, my pretty son, and let me comb your hair.'

'Don't you wish you may catch me', said Boots. 'Don't you wish you may catch me', as he ran along, leaping and jumping, and holding on by one of the foal's tails. And when he had got well past the cleft in the rock, the youngest foal said:

'Jump up on my back, my lad, for we've a long way before us still.'

So Boots jumped up on his back.

So they went on, and on, a long, long way.

'Do you see anything now', said the Foal.

'No', said Boots.

So they went on a good bit farther.

'Do you see anything now?' asked the Foal.

'Oh no', said the lad.

So when they had gone a great, great way farther—I'm sure I can't tell how far—the Foal asked again:

'Do you see anything now?'

'Yes', said Boots; 'now I see something that looks white—just like a tall, big birch trunk.'

'Yes', said the Foal; 'we're going into that trunk.' So when they got to the trunk, the eldest foal took and pushed it on one side, and then they saw a door where it had stood, and inside the door was a little room, and in the room there was scarce anything but a little fireplace and one or two benches; but behind the door hung a great rusty sword and a little pitcher.

'Can you brandish the sword?' said the Foals; 'try.' So Boots tried, but he couldn't; then they made him take a pull at the pitcher; first once, then twice, and then thrice, and then he could wield it like anything.

'Yes', said the Foals, 'now you may take the sword with you, and with it you must cut off all our seven heads on your wedding-day, and then we'll be princes again as we were before. For we are brothers of that Princess whom you are to have when you can tell the King what we eat and drink; but an ugly Troll has thrown this shape over us. Now mind, when you have hewn off our heads, to take care to lay each head at the tail of the trunk which it belonged to before, and then the spell will have no more power over us.'

Yes! Boots promised all that, and then on they went. And when they had travelled a long long way, the Foal asked:

'Do you see anything?'

'No', said Boots.

So they travelled a good bit still.

'And now?' asked the Foal.

'No, I see nothing', said Boots.

So they travelled many many miles again, over hill and dale.

'Now then', said the Foal, 'do you see anything now?'

'Yes', said Boots, 'now I see something like a blue stripe, far far away.'

'Yes', said the Foal, 'that's a river we've got to cross.' Over the river was a long, grand bridge; and when they had got over to the other side, they travelled on a long, long way. At last the Foal asked again:

'If Boots didn't see anything?'

'Yes, this time he saw something that looked black far far away, just as though it were a church steeple.'

'Yes', said the Foal, 'that's where we're going to turn in.'

So when the foals got into the churchyard, they became men again, and looked like Princes, with such fine clothes that it glistened from them; and so they went into the church, and took the bread and wine from the priest who stood at the altar. And Boots he went in too; but when the priest had laid his hands on the Princes, and given them the blessing, they went out of the church again, and Boots went out too; but he took with him a flask of wine and a wafer. And soon as ever the seven Princes came out into the churchyard, they were turned into foals again, and so Boots got up on the back of the youngest, and so they all went back the same way that they had come; only they went much, much faster. First they crossed the bridge, next they passed the trunk, and then they passed the old hag, who sat at the cleft and span, and they went by her so fast, that Boots couldn't hear what the old hag screeched after him; but he heard so much as to know she was in an awful rage.

It was almost dark when they got back to the palace, and the King himself stood out on the steps and waited for them. 'Have you watched well and true the whole day?' said he to Boots.

'I've done my best', answered Boots.

'Then you can tell me what my seven foals eat and drink', said the King.

Then Boots pulled out the flask of wine and the wafer, and showed them to the King.

'Here you see their meat, and here you see their drink', said he.

'Yes', said the King, 'you have watched true and well, and you shall have the Princess and half the kingdom.'

So they made ready the wedding-feast, and the King said it should be such a grand one, it should be the talk far and near.

But when they sat down to the bridal-feast, the bridegroom got up and went down to the stable, for he said he had forgotten something, and must go to fetch it. And when he got down there, he did as the Foals had said, and hewed their heads off, all seven, the eldest first, and the others after him; and at the same time he took care to lay each head at the tail of the foal to which it belonged; and as he did this, lo! they all became Princes again.

So when he went into the bridal hall with the seven princes, the King was so glad he both kissed Boots and patted him on the back, and his bride was still more glad of him than she had been before.

'Half the kingdom you have got already', said the King, 'and the other half you shall have after my death; for my sons can easily get themselves lands and wealth, now they are princes again.'

And so, like enough, there was mirth and fun at that wedding. I was there too; but there was no one to care for poor me; and so I got nothing but a bit of bread and butter, and I laid it down on the stove, and the bread was burnt and the butter ran, and so I didn't get even the smallest crumb. Wasn't that a great shame?



THE WIDOW'S SON

Once on a time there was a poor, poor widow, who had an only son. She dragged on with the boy till he had been confirmed, and then she said she couldn't feed him any longer, he must just go out and earn his own bread. So the lad wandered out into the world, and when he had walked a day or so, a strange man met him.

'Whither away?' asked the man.

'Oh, I'm going out into the world to try and get a place', said the lad.

'Will you come and serve me?' said the man.

'Oh yes; just as soon you as any one else', said the lad.

'Well, you'll have a good place with me', said the man; 'for you'll only have to keep me company, and do nothing at all else beside.'

So the lad stopped with him, and lived on the fat of the land, both in meat and drink, and had little or nothing to do; but he never saw a living soul in that man's house.

So one day the man said:

'Now, I'm going off for eight days, and that time you'll have to spend here all alone; but you must not go into any one of these four rooms here. If you do, I'll take your life when I come back.'

'No', said the lad, he'd be sure not to do that. But when the man had been gone three or four days, the lad couldn't bear it any longer, but went into the first room, and when he got inside he looked round, but he saw nothing but a shelf over the door where a bramble-bush rod lay.

Well, indeed! thought the lad; a pretty thing to forbid my seeing this.

So when the eight days were out, the man came home, and the first thing he said was:

'You haven't been into any of these rooms, of course.'

'No, no; that I haven't', said the lad.

'I'll soon see that', said the man, and went at once into the room where the lad had been.

'Nay, but you have been in here', said he; 'and now you shall lose your life.'

Then the lad begged and prayed so hard that he got off with his life, but the man gave him a good thrashing. And when it was over, they were as good friends as ever.

Some time after the man set off again, and said he should be away fourteen days; but before he went he forbade the lad to go into any of the rooms he had not been in before; as for that he had been in, he might go into that, and welcome. Well, it was the same story aver again, except that the lad stood out eight days before he went in. In this room, too, he saw nothing but a shelf over the door, and a big stone, and a pitcher of water on it. Well, after all, there's not much to be afraid of my seeing here, thought the lad.

But when the man came back, he asked if he had been into any of the rooms. No, the lad hadn't done anything of the kind.

'Well, well; I'll soon see that,' said the man; and when he saw that the lad had been in them after all, he said, 'Ah! now I'll spare you no longer; now you must lose your life.'

But the lad begged and prayed for himself again, and so this time too he got off with stripes; though he got as many as his skin could carry. But when he got sound and well again, he led just as easy a life as ever, and he and the man were just as good friends.

So a while after the man was to take another journey, and now he said he should be away three weeks, and he forbade the lad anew to go into the third room, for if he went in there he might just make up his mind at once to lose his life. Then after fourteen days the lad couldn't bear it, but crept into the room, but he saw nothing at all in there but a trap door on the floor; and when he lifted it up and looked down, there stood a great copper cauldron which bubbled and boiled away down there; but he saw no fire under it.

'Well, I should just like to know if it's hot,' thought the lad, and stuck his finger down into the broth, and when he pulled it out again, lo! it was gilded all over. So the lad scraped and scrubbed it, but the gilding wouldn't go off, so he bound a piece of rag round it; and when the man came back, and asked what was the matter with his finger, the lad said he'd given it such a bad cut. But the man tore off the rag, and then he soon saw what was the matter with the finger. First he wanted to kill the lad outright, but when he wept, and begged, he only gave him such a thrashing that he had to keep his bed three days. After that the man took down a pot from the wall, and rubbed him over with some stuff out of it, and so the lad was sound and fresh as ever.

So after a while the man started off again, and this time he was to be away a month. But before he went, he said to the lad, if he went into the fourth room he might give up all hope of saving his life.

Well, the lad stood out for two or three weeks, but then he couldn't holdout any longer; he must and would go into that room, and so in he stole. There stood a great black horse tied up in a stall by himself, with a manger of red-hot coals at his head, and a truss of hay at his tail. Then the lad thought this all wrong, so he changed them about, and put the hay at his head. Then said the Horse:

'Since you are so good at heart as to let me have some food, I'll set you free, that I will. For if the Troll comes back and finds you here, he'll kill you outright. But now you must go up to the room which lies just over this, and take a coat of mail out of those that hang there; and mind, whatever you do, don't take any of the bright ones, but the most rusty of all you see, that's the one to take; and sword and saddle you must choose for yourself just in the same way.'

So the lad did all that; but it was a heavy load for him to carry them all down at once.

When he came back, the Horse told him to pull off his clothes and get into the cauldron which stood and boiled in the other room, and bathe himself there. 'If I do', thought the lad, 'I shall look an awful fright'; but for all that, he did as he was told. So when he had taken his bath, he became so handsome and sleek, and as red and white as milk and blood, and much stronger than he had been before.

'Do you feel any change?' asked the Horse.

'Yes', said the lad.

'Try to lift me, then', said the Horse.

Oh yes! he could do that, and as for the sword, he brandished it like a feather.

'Now saddle me', said the Horse, 'and put on the coat of mail, and then take the bramble-bush rod, and the stone, and the pitcher of water, and the pot of ointment, and then we'll be off as fast as we can.'

So when the lad had got on the horse, off they went at such a rate, he couldn't at all tell how they went. But when he had ridden awhile, the Horse said,

'I think I hear a noise; look round! can you see anything?'

'Yes; there are ever so many coming after us, at least a score', said the lad.

'Aye, aye, that's the Troll coming', said the Horse; 'now he's after us with his pack.'

So they rode on a while, until those who followed were close behind them.

'Now throw your bramble-bush rod behind you, over your shoulder', said the Horse; 'but mind you throw it a good way off my back.'

So the lad did that, and all at once a close, thick bramble-wood grew up behind them. So the lad rode on a long, long time, while the Troll and his crew had to go home to fetch something to hew their way through the wood. But at last, the Horse said again.

'Look behind you! can you see anything now?'

'Yes, ever so many', said the lad, 'as many as would fill a large church.'

'Aye, aye, that's the Troll and his crew', said the Horse; 'now he's got more to back him; but now throw down the stone, and mind you throw it far behind me.'

And as soon as the lad did what the Horse said, up rose a great black hill of rock behind him. So the Troll had to be off home to fetch something to mine his way through the rock; and while the Troll did that, the lad rode a good bit further on. But still the Horse begged him to look behind him, and then he saw a troop like a whole army behind him, and they glistened in the sunbeams.

'Aye, aye', said the Horse, 'that's the Troll, and now he's got his whole band with him, so throw the pitcher of water behind you, but mind you don't spill any of it upon me.'

So the lad did that; but in spite of all the pains he took, he still spilt one drop on the horse's flank. So it became a great deep lake; and because of that one drop, the horse found himself far out in it, but still he swam safe to land. But when the Trolls came to the lake, they lay down to drink it dry; and so they swilled and swilled till they burst.

'Now we're rid of them', said the Horse.

So when they had gone a long, long while, they came to a green patch in a wood.

'Now, strip off all your arms', said the Horse, 'and only put on your ragged clothes, and take the saddle off me, and let me loose, and hang all my clothing and your arms up inside that great hollow lime- tree yonder. Then make yourself a wig of fir-moss, and go up to the king's palace, which lies close here, and ask for a place. Whenever you need me, only come here and shake the bridle, and I'll come to you.'

Yes! the lad did all his Horse told him, and as soon as ever he put on the wig of moss he became so ugly, and pale, and miserable to look at, no one would have known him again. Then he went up to the king's palace and begged first for leave to be in the kitchen, and bring in wood and water for the cook, but then the kitchen-maid asked him:

'Why do you wear that ugly wig? Off with it. I won't have such a fright in here.'

'No, I can't do that', said the lad; 'for I'm not quite right in my head.'

'Do you think then I'll have you in here about the food', cried the cook. 'Away with you to the coachman; you're best fit to go and clean the stable.'

But when the coachman begged him to take his wig off, he got the same answer, and he wouldn't have him either. 'You'd best go down to the gardener', said he; 'you're best fit to go about and dig in the garden.'

So he got leave to be with the gardener, but none of the other servants would sleep with him, and so he had to sleep by himself under the steps of the summerhouse. It stood upon beams, and had a high staircase. Under that he got some turf for his bed, and there he lay as well as he could.

So, when he had been some time at the palace, it happened one morning, just as the sun rose, that the lad had taken off his wig, and stood and washed himself, and then he was so handsome, it was a joy to look at him.

So the Princess saw from her window the lovely gardener's boy, and thought she had never seen any one so handsome. Then she asked the gardener why he lay out there under the steps.

'Oh', said the gardener, 'none of his fellow-servants will sleep with him; that's why.'

'Let him come up to-night, and lie at the door inside my bedroom, and then they'll not refuse to sleep with him any more', said the Princess.

So the gardener told that to the lad.

'Do you think I'll do any such thing?' said the lad. 'Why they'd say next there was something between me and the Princess.'

'Yes', said the gardener, 'you've good reason to fear any such thing, you who are so handsome.'

'Well, well', said the lad, 'since it's her will, I suppose I must go.'

So, when he was to go up the steps in the evening, he tramped and stamped so on the way, that they had to beg him to tread softly lest the King should come to know it. So he came into the Princess' bedroom, lay down, and began to snore at once. Then the Princess said to her maid:

'Go gently, and just pull his wig off'; and she went up to him.

But just as she was going to whisk it off, he caught hold of it with both hands, and said she should never have it. After that he lay down again, and began to snore. Then the Princess gave her maid a wink, and this time she whisked off the wig; and there lay the lad so lovely, and white and red, just as the Princess had seen him in the morning sun.

After that the lad slept every night in the Princess' bedroom.

But it wasn't long before the King came to hear how the gardener's lad slept every night in the Princess' bedroom; and he got so wroth he almost took the lad's life. He didn't do that, however, but threw him into the prison tower; and as for his daughter, he shut her up in her own room, whence she never got leave to stir day or night. All that she begged, and all that she prayed, for the lad and herself, was no good. The King was only more wroth than ever.

Some time after came a war and uproar in the land, and the king had to take up arms against another king who wished to take the kingdom from him. So when the lad heard that, he begged the gaoler to go to the king and ask for a coat of mail and a sword, and for leave to go to the war. All the rest laughed when the gaoler told his errand, and begged the king to let him have an old worn-out suit, that they might have the fun of seeing such a wretch in battle. So he got that, and an old broken-down hack besides, which went upon three legs and dragged the fourth after it.

Then they went out to meet the foe; but they hadn't got far from the palace before the lad got stuck fast in a bog with his hack. There he sat and dug his spurs in, and cried, 'Gee up, gee up!' to his hack. And all the rest had their fun out of this, and laughed, and made game of the lad as they rode past him. But they were scarcely gone, before he ran to the lime-tree, threw on his coat of mail, and shook the bridle, and there came the horse in a trice, and said 'Do now your best, and I'll do mine.'

But when the lad came up the battle had begun, and the king was in a sad pinch; but no sooner had the lad rushed into the thick of it than the foe was beaten back, and put to flight. The king and his men wondered and wondered who it could be who had come to help them, but none of them got so near him as to be able to talk to him, and as soon as the fight was over he was gone. When they went back, there sat the lad still in the bog, and dug his spurs into his three-legged hack, and they all laughed again.

'No! only just look', they said; 'there the fool sits still.'

The next day when they went out to battle, they saw the lad sitting there still, so they laughed again, and made game of him; but as soon as ever they had ridden by, the lad ran again to the lime-tree, and all happened as on the first day. Every one wondered what strange champion it could be that had helped them, but no one got so near him as to say a word to him; and no one guessed it could be the lad; that's easy to understand.

So when they went home at night, and saw the lad still sitting there on his hack, they burst out laughing at him again, and one of them shot an arrow at him and hit him in the leg. So he began to shriek and to bewail; 'twas enough to break one's heart; and so the king threw his pocket-handkerchief to him to bind his wound.

When they went out to battle the third day, the lad still sat there.

'Gee up! gee up!' he said to his hack.

'Nay, nay', said the king's men; 'if he won't stick there till he's starved to death.'

And then they rode on, and laughed at him till they were fit to fall from their horses. When they were gone, he ran again to the lime, and came up to the battle just in the very nick of time. This day he slew the enemy's king, and then the war was over at once.

When the battle was over, the king caught sight of his handkerchief, which the strange warrior had bound round his leg, and so it wasn't hard to find him out. So they took him with great joy between them to the palace, and the Princess, who saw him from her window, got so glad, no one can believe it.

'Here comes my own true love', she said.

Then he took the pot of ointment and rubbed himself on the leg, and after that he rubbed all the wounded, and so they all got well again in a moment.

So he got the Princess to wife; but when he went down into the stable where his horse was on the day the wedding was to be, there it stood so dull and heavy, and hung its ears down, and wouldn't eat its corn. So when the young king—for he was now a king, and had got half the kingdom—spoke to him, and asked what ailed him, the Horse said:

'Now I have helped you on, and now I won't live any longer. So just take the sword, and cut my head off.'

'No, I'll do nothing of the kind', said the young king; 'but you shall have all you want, and rest all your life.'

'Well', said the Horse, 'If you don't do as I tell you, see if I don't take your life somehow.'

So the king had to do what he asked; but when he swung the sword and was to cut his head off, he was so sorry he turned away his face, for he would not see the stroke fall. But as soon as ever he had cut off the head, there stood the loveliest Prince on the spot where the horse had stood.

'Why, where in all the world did you come from?' asked the king.

'It was I who was a horse', said the Prince; 'for I was king of that land whose king you slew yesterday. He it was who threw this Troll's shape over me, and sold me to the Troll. But now he is slain I get my own again, and you and I will be neighbour kings, but war we will never make on one another.'

And they didn't either; for they were friends as long as they lived, and each paid the other very many visits.



BUSHY BRIDE

Once on a time there was a widower, who had a son and a daughter by his first marriage. Both were good children, and loved each other dearly. Some time after the man married a widow, who had a daughter by her first husband, and she was both ugly and bad, like her mother. So from the day the new wife came into the house there was no peace for her stepchildren in any corner; and at last the lad thought he'd best go out into the world, and try to earn his own bread. And when he had wandered a while he came to a king's palace, and got a place under the coachman, and quick and willing he was, and the horses he looked after were so sleek and clean that their coats shone again.

But the sister who stayed at home was treated worse than badly; both her stepmother and stepsister were always at her, and wherever she went, and whatever she did, they scolded and snarled so, the poor lassie hadn't an hour's peace. All the hard work she was forced to do, and early and late she got nothing but bad words, and little food besides.

So one day they had sent her to the burn to fetch water: and what do you think? up popped an ugly, ugly head out of the pool, and said:

'Wash me, you lassie.'

'Yes, with all my heart I'll wash you', said the lassie. So she began to wash and scrub the ugly head; but truth to say, she thought it nasty work.

Well, as soon as she had done washing it, up popped another head out of the pool, and this was uglier still.

'Brush me, you lassie', said the head.

'Yes, with all my heart I'll brush you.'

And with that she took in hand the matted locks, and you may fancy she hadn't very pleasant work with them. But when she had got over that, if a third head didn't pop up out of the pool, and this was far more ugly and loathsome than both the others put together.

'Kiss me, you lassie!'

'Yes, I'll kiss you', said the lassie, and she did it too, though she thought it the worst work she had ever had to do in her life.

Then the heads began to chatter together, and each asked what they should do for the lassie who was so kind and gentle.

'That she be the prettiest lassie in the world, and as fair as the bright day', said the first head.

'That gold shall drop from her hair, every time she brushes it', said the second head.

'That gold shall fall from her mouth every time she speaks', said the third head.

So when the lassie came home looking so lovely, and beaming as the bright day itself, her stepmother and her stepsister got more and more cross, and they got worse still when she began to talk, and they saw how golden guineas fell from her mouth. As for the stepmother, she got so mad with rage, she chased the lassie into the pigsty. That was the right place for all her gold stuff, but as for coming into the house, she wouldn't hear of it.

Well, it wasn't long before the stepmother wished her own daughter to go to the burn to fetch water. So when she came to the water's edge with her buckets, up popped the first head.

'Wash me, you lassie', it said.

'The Deil wash you', said the stepdaughter.

So the second head popped up.

'Brush me, you lassie', it said.

'The Deil brush you', said the stepdaughter.

So down it went to the bottom, and the third head popped up.

'Kiss me, you lassie', said the head.

'The Deil kiss you, you pig's-snout', said the girl.

Then the heads chattered together again, and asked what they should do to the girl who was so spiteful and cross-grained; and they all agreed she should have a nose four ells long, and a snout three ells long, and a pine bush right in the midst of her forehead, and every time she spoke, ashes were to fall out of her mouth.

So when she got home with her buckets, she bawled out to her mother:

'Open the door.'

'Open it yourself, my darling child', said the mother.

'I can't reach it because of my nose', said the daughter.

So, when the mother came out and saw her, you may fancy what a way she was in, and how she screamed and groaned; but, for all that, there were the nose and the snout and the pine bush, and they got no smaller for all her grief.

Now the brother, who had got the place in the King's stable, had taken a little sketch of his sister, which he carried away with him, and every morning and every evening he knelt down before the picture and prayed to Our Lord for his sister, whom he loved so dearly. The other grooms had heard him praying, so they peeped through the key-hole of his room, and there they saw him on his knees before the picture. So they went about saying how the lad every morning and every evening knelt down and prayed to an idol which he had, and at last they went to the king himself and begged him only to peep through the key-hole, and then His Majesty would see the lad, and what things he did. At first the King wouldn't believe it, but at last they talked him over, and he crept on tiptoe to the door and peeped in. Yes, there was the lad on his knees before the picture, which hung on the wall, praying with clasped hands.

'Open the door!' called out the King; but the lad didn't hear him.

So the King called out in a louder voice, but the lad was so deep in his prayers he couldn't hear him this time either. 'OPEN THE DOOR, I SAY!' roared out the King; 'It's I, the King, who want to come in.'

Well, up jumped the lad and ran to the door, and unlocked it, but in his hurry he forgot to hide the picture. But when the King came in and saw the picture, he stood there as if he were fettered, and couldn't stir from the spot, so lovely he thought the picture.

'So lovely a woman there isn't in all the wide world', said the King.

But the lad told him she was his sister whom he had drawn, and if she wasn't prettier than that, at least she wasn't uglier.

'Well, if she's so lovely', said the King, 'I'll have her for my queen'; and then he ordered the lad to set off home that minute, and not be long on the road either. So the lad promised to make as much haste as he could, and started off from the King's palace.

When the brother came home to fetch his sister, the step-mother and stepsister said they must go too. So they all set out, and the good lassie had a casket in which she kept her gold, and a little dog, whose name was 'Little Flo'; those two things were all her mother left her. And when they had gone a while, they came to a lake which they had to cross; so the brother sat down at the helm, and the stepmother and the two girls sat in the bow foreward, and so they sailed a long, long way.

At last they caught sight of land.

'There', said the brother, 'where you see the white strand yonder, there's where we're to land'; and as he said this he pointed across the water.

'What is it my brother says?' asked the good lassie.

'He says you must throw your casket overboard', said the stepmother.

'Well, when my brother says it, I must do it', said the lassie, and overboard went the casket.

When they had sailed a bit farther, the brother pointed again across the lake.

'There you see the castle we're going to.'

'What is it my brother says?' asked the lassie.

'He says now you must throw your little dog overboard', said the stepmother.

Then the lassie wept and was sore grieved, for Little Flo was the dearest thing she had in the world, but at last she threw him overboard.

'When my brother says it, I must do it, but heaven knows how it hurts me to throw you over, Little Flo', she said.

So they sailed on a good bit still.

'There you see the King coming down to meet us', said the brother, and pointed towards the strand.

'What is it my brother says', asked the lassie.

'Now he says you must make haste and throw yourself overboard', said the stepmother.

Well, the lassie wept and moaned; but when her brother told her to do that, she thought she ought to do it, and so she leapt down into the lake.

But when they came to the palace, and the King saw the loathly bride, with a nose four ells long, and a snout three ells long, and a pine- bush in the midst of her forehead, he was quite scared out of his wits; but the wedding was all ready, both in brewing and baking, and there sat all the wedding guests, waiting for the bride; and so the King couldn't help himself, but was forced to take her for better for worse. But angry he was, that any one can forgive him, and so he had the brother thrown into a pit full of snakes.

Well, the first Thursday evening after the wedding, about midnight, in came a lovely lady into the palace-kitchen, and begged the kitchen-maid, who slept there, so prettily, to lend her a brush. That she got, and then she brushed her hair, and as she brushed, down dropped gold, A little dog was at her heel, and to him she said:

'Run out, Little Flo, and see if it will soon be day.'

This she said three times, and the third time she sent the dog it was just about the time the dawn begins to peep. Then she had to go, but as she went she sung:

Out on you, ugly Bushy Bride, Lying so warm by the King's left side; While I on sand and gravel sleep, And over my brother adders creep, And all without a tear.

'Now I come twice more, and then never again.'

So next morning the kitchen-maid told what she had seen and heard, and the King said he'd watch himself next Thursday night in the kitchen, and see if it were true, and as soon as it got dark, out he went into the kitchen to the kitchen-maid. But all he could do, and however much he rubbed his eyes and tried to keep himself awake, it was no good; for the Bushy Bride chaunted and sang till his eyes closed, and so when the lovely lady came, there he slept and snored. This time, too, as before, she borrowed a brush, and brushed her hair till the gold dropped, and sent her dog out three times, and as soon as it was gray dawn, away she went singing the same words, and adding:

'Now I come once more, and then never again.'

The third Thursday evening the King said he would watch again; and he set two men to hold him, one under each arm, who were to shake and jog him every time he wanted to fall asleep; and two men he set to watch his Bushy Bride. But when the night wore on, the Bushy Bride began to chaunt and sing, so that his eyes began to wink, and his head hung down on his shoulders. Then in came the lovely lady, and got the brush and brushed her hair, till the gold dropped from it; after that she sent Little Flo out again to see if it would soon be day, and this she did three times. The third time it began, to get gray in the east; then she sang,

Out on you, ugly Bushy Bride, Lying so warm by the King's left side; While I on sand and gravel sleep, And over my brother adders creep, And all without a tear.

'Now I come back never more', she said, and went towards the door. But the two men who held the King under the arms, clenched his hands together, and put a knife into his grasp; and so, somehow or other, they got him to cut her in her little finger, and drew blood. Then the true bride was freed, and the King woke up, and she told him now the whole story, and how her stepmother and sister had deceived her. So the King sent at once and took her brother out of the pit of snakes, and the adders hadn't done him the least harm, but the stepmother and her daughter were thrown into it in his stead.

And now no one can tell how glad the King was to be rid of that ugly Bushy Bride, and to get a Queen who was as lovely and bright as the day itself. So the true wedding was held, and every one talked of it over seven kingdoms; and then the King and Queen drove to church in their coach, and Little Flo went inside with them too, and when the blessing was given they drove back again, and after that I saw nothing more of them.



BOOTS AND HIS BROTHERS

Once on a time there was a man who had three sons, Peter, Paul, and John. John was Boots, of course, because he was the youngest. I can't say the man had anything more than these three sons, for he hadn't one penny to rub against another; and so he told his sons over and over again they must go out into the world and try to earn their bread, for there at home there was nothing to be looked for but starving to death.

Now, a bit off the man's cottage was the king's palace, and you must know, just against the king's windows a great oak had sprung up, which was so stout and big that it took away all the light from the king's palace. The King had said he would give many, many dollars to the man who could fell the oak, but no one was man enough for that, for as soon as ever one chip of the oak's trunk flew off, two grew in its stead. A well, too, the King had dug, which was to hold water for the whole year; for all his neighbours had wells, but he hadn't any, and that he thought a shame. So the King said he would give any one who could dig him such a well as would hold water for a whole year round, both money and goods; but no one could do it, for the King's palace lay high, high up on a hill, and they hadn't dug a few inches before they came upon the living rock.

But as the King had set his heart on having these two things done, he had it given out far and wide, in all the churches of his kingdom, that he who could fell the big oak in the king's court-yard, and get him a well that would hold water the whole year round, should have the Princess and half the kingdom. Well! you may easily know there was many a man who came to try his luck; but for all their hacking and hewing, and all their digging and delving, it was no good. The oak got bigger and stouter at every stroke, and the rock didn't get softer either. So one day those three brothers thought they'd set off and try too, and their father hadn't a word against it; for even if they didn't get the Princess and half the kingdom, it might happen they might get a place somewhere with a good master; and that was all he wanted. So when the brothers said they thought of going to the palace, their father said 'yes' at once. So Peter, Paul, and Jack went off from their home.

Well! they hadn't gone far before they came to a fir wood, and up along one side of it rose a steep hill-side, and as they went, they heard something hewing and hacking away up on-the hill among the trees.

'I wonder now what it is that is hewing away up yonder?' said Jack.

'You're always so clever with your wonderings', said Peter and Paul both at once. 'What wonder is it, pray, that a woodcutter should stand and hack up on a hill-side?'

'Still, I'd like to see what it is, after all', said Jack; and up he went.

'Oh, if you're such a child, 'twill do you good to go and take a lesson', bawled out his brothers after him.

But Jack didn't care for what they said; he climbed the steep hill- side towards where the noise came, and when he reached the place, what do you think he saw? why, an axe that stood there hacking and hewing, all of itself, at the trunk of a fir.

'Good day!' said Jack. 'So you stand here all alone and hew, do you?'

'Yes; here I've stood and hewed and hacked a long long time, waiting for you', said the Axe.

'Well, here I am at last', said Jack, as he took the axe, pulled it off its haft, and stuffed both head and haft into his wallet.

So when he got down again to his brothers, they began to jeer and laugh at him.

'And now, what funny thing was it you saw up yonder on the hill- side?' they said.

'Oh, it was only an axe we heard', said Jack.

So when they had gone a bit farther, they came under a steep spur of rock, and up there they heard something digging and shovelling.

'I wonder now,' said Jack, 'what it is digging and shovelling up yonder at the top of the rock.'

'Ah, you're always so clever with your wonderings', said Peter and Paul again, 'as if you'd never heard a woodpecker hacking and pecking at a hollow tree.'

'Well, well', said Jack, 'I think it would be a piece of fun just to see what it really is.'

And so off he set to climb the rock, while the others laughed and made game of him. But he didn't care a bit for that; up he clomb, and when he got near the top, what do you think he saw? Why, a spade that stood there digging and delving.

'Good day!' said Jack. 'So you stand here all alone, and dig and delve!'

'Yes, that's what I do', said the Spade, 'and that's what I've done this many a long day, waiting for you.'

'Well, here I am', said Jack again, as he took the spade and knocked it off its handle, and put it into his wallet, and then down again to his brothers.

'Well, what was it, so rare and strange', said Peter and Paul, 'that you saw up there at the top of the rock?'

'Oh,', said Jack, 'nothing more than a spade; that was what we heard.'

So they went on again a good bit, till they came to a brook. They were thirsty, all three, after their long walk, and so they lay down beside the brook to have a drink.

'I wonder now', said Jack, 'where all this water comes from.'

'I wonder if you're right in your head', said Peter and Paul, in one breath. 'If you're not mad already, you'll go mad very soon, with your wonderings. Where the brook comes from, indeed! Have you never heard how water rises from a spring in the earth?'

'Yes! but still I've a great fancy to see where this brook comes from', said Jack.

So up alongside the brook he went, in spite of all that his brothers bawled after him. Nothing could stop him. On he went. So, as he went up and up, the brook got smaller and smaller, and at last, a little way farther on, what do you think he saw? Why, a great walnut, and out of that the water trickled.

'Good-day!' said Jack again. 'So you lie here, and trickle and run down all alone?'

'Yes, I do,' said the Walnut; 'and here have I trickled and run this many a long day, waiting for you.'

'Well, here I am', said Jack, as he took up a lump of moss and plugged up the hole, that the water mightn't run out. Then he put the walnut into his wallet, and ran down to his brothers.

'Well now', said Peter and Paul, 'have you found out where the water comes from? A rare sight it must have been!'

'Oh, after all, it was only a hole it ran out of', said Jack; and so the others laughed and made game of him again, but Jack didn't mind that a bit.

'After all, I had the fun of seeing it', said he. So when they had gone a bit farther, they came to the king's palace; but as every one in the kingdom had heard how they might win the Princess and half the realm, if they could only fell the big oak and dig the king's well, so many had come to try their luck that the oak was now twice as stout and big as it had been at first, for two chips grew for every one they hewed out with their axes, as I daresay you all bear in mind. So the King had now laid it down as a punishment, that if any one tried and couldn't fell the oak, he should be put on a barren island, and both his ears were to be clipped off. But the two brothers didn't let themselves be scared by that; they were quite sure they could fell the oak, and Peter, as he was eldest, was to try his hand first; but it went with him as with all the rest who had hewn at the oak; for every chip he cut out, two grew in its place. So the king's men seized him, and clipped off both his ears, and put him out on the island.

Now Paul, he was to try his luck, but he fared just the same; when he had hewn two or three strokes, they began to see the oak grow, and so the king's men seized him too, and clipped his ears, and put him out on the island; and his ears they clipped closer, because they said he ought to have taken a lesson from his brother.

So now Jack was to try.

'If you will look like a marked sheep, we're quite ready to clip your ears at once, and then you'll save yourself some bother', said the King; for he was angry with him for his brothers' sake.

'Well, I'd like just to try first', said Jack, and so he got leave. Then he took his axe out of his wallet and fitted it to its haft.

'Hew away!' said he to his axe; and away it hewed, making the chips fly again, so that it wasn't long before down came the oak.

When that was done, Jack pulled out his spade, and fitted it to its handle.

'Dig away!' said he to the spade; and so the spade began to dig and delve till the earth and rock flew out in splinters, and so he had the well soon dug out, you may think.

And when he had got it as big and deep as he chose, Jack took out his walnut and laid it in one corner of the well, and pulled the plug of moss out.

'Trickle and run', said Jack; and so the nut trickled and ran, till the water gushed out of the hole in a stream, and in a short time the well was brimfull.

Then Jack had felled the oak which shaded the king's palace, and dug a well in the palace-yard, and so he got the Princess and half the kingdom, as the King had said; but it was lucky for Peter and Paul that they had lost their ears, else they had heard each hour and day, how every one said, 'Well, after all, Jack wasn't so much out of his mind when he took to wondering.'



BIG PETER AND LITTLE PETER

Once on a time there were two brothers, both named Peter, and so the elder was called Big Peter, and the younger Little Peter. When his father was dead, Big Peter took him a wife with lots of money, but Little Peter was at home with his mother, and lived on her means till he grew up. So when he was of age he came into his heritage, and then Big Peter said he mustn't stay any longer in the old house, and eat up his mother's substance; 'twere better he should go out into the world and do something for himself.

Yes; Little Peter thought that no bad plan; so he bought himself a fine horse and a load of butter and cheese, and set off to the town; and with the money he got for his goods he bought brandy, and wine, and beer, and as soon as ever he got home again it was one round of holiday-keeping and merry-making; he treated all his old friends and neighbours, and they treated him again; and so he lived in fun and frolic so long as his money lasted. But when his last shilling was spent, and Little Peter hadn't a penny in his purse, he went back home again to his old mother, and brought nothing with him but a calf. When the spring came he turned out the calf and let it graze on Big Peter's meadow. Then Big Peter got cross and killed the calf at one blow; but Little Peter, he flayed the calf, and hung the skin up in the bath-room till it was thoroughly dry; then he rolled it up, stuffed it into a sack, and went about the country trying to sell it; but wherever he came, they only laughed at him, and said they had no need of smoked calfskin. So when he had walked on a long way, he came to a farm, and there he turned in and asked for a night's lodging.

'Nay, nay', said the Goody, 'I can't give you lodging, for my husband is up at the shieling on the hill, and I'm alone in the house. You must just try to get shelter at our next neighbour's; but still if they won't take you in, you may come back, for you must have a house over your head, come what may.'

So as little Peter passed by the parlour window, he saw that there was a priest in there, with whom the Goody was making merry, and she was serving him up ale and brandy, and a great bowl of custard. But just as the priest had sat down to eat and drink, back came the husband, and as soon as ever the Goody heard him in the passage, she was not slow; she took the bowl of custard, and put it under the kitchen grate, and the ale and brandy into the cellar, and as for the priest, she locked him up in a great chest which stood there. All this Little Peter stood outside and saw, and as soon as the husband was well inside Little Peter went up to the door and asked if he might have a night's lodging.

'Yes, to be sure', said the man, 'we'll take you in'; and so he begged Little Peter to sit down at the table and eat. Yes, Little Peter sat down, and took his calfskin with him, and laid it down at his feet.

So, when they had sat a while, Little Peter began to mutter to his skin:

'What are you saying now? can't you hold your tongue', said Little Peter.

'Who is it you're talking with?' asked the man.

'Oh!' answered Little Peter, 'it's only a spae-maiden whom I've got in my calfskin.'

'And pray what does she spae?' asked the man again.

'Why, she says that no one can say there isn't a bowl of custard standing under the grate', said Little Peter.

'She may spae as much as she pleases', answered the man, 'but we haven't had custards in this house for a year and a day.'

But Peter begged him only to look, and he did so; and he found the custard-bowl. So they began to make merry with it, but just as they sat and took their ease, Peter muttered something again to the calfskin.

'Hush!' he said, 'can't you hold your jaw?'

'And pray what does the spae-maiden say now?' asked the man.

'Oh! she says no one can say there isn't brandy and ale standing just under the trap-door which goes down into the cellar', answered Peter.

'Well! if she never spaed wrong in her life, she spaes wrong now', said the man. 'Brandy and ale! why, I can't call to mind the day when we had such things in the house!'

'Just look', said Peter; and the man did so, and there, sure enough, he found the drink, and you may fancy how merry and jolly he was.

'What did you give for that spae-maiden?' said the man, 'for I must have her, whatever you ask for her.'

'She was left me by my father', said Peter, 'and so she didn't cost me much. To tell you the truth, I've no great mind to part with her, but, all the same, you may have her, if you'll let me have, instead of her, that old chest that stands in the parlour yonder.'

'The chest's locked and the key lost', screamed the old dame.

'Then I'll take it without the key, that I will', said Peter. And so he and the man soon struck the bargain. Peter got a rope instead of the key, and the man helped him to get the chest up on his back, and then off he stumped with it. So when he had walked a bit he came on to a bridge, and under the bridge ran a river in such a headlong stream; it leapt, and foamed, and made such a roar, that the bridge shook again.

'Ah!' said Peter, 'that brandy-that brandy! Now I can feel I've had a drop too much. What's the good of my dragging this chest about? If I hadn't been drunk and mad, I shouldn't have gone and swopped away my spae-maiden for it. But now this chest shall go out into the river this very minute.'

And with that he began to untie the rope.

'Au! Au! do for God's sake set me free. The priest's life is at stake; he it is whom you have got in the chest', screamed out some one inside.

'This must be the Deil himself', said Peter, 'who wants to make me believe he has turned priest; but whether he makes himself priest or clerk, out he goes into the river.' 'Oh no! oh no! 'roared out the priest. 'The parish priest is at stake. He was on a visit to the Goody for her soul's health, but her husband is rough and wild, and so she had to hide me in the chest. Here I have a gold watch and a silver watch in my fob; you shall have them both, and eight hundred dollars beside, if you will only let me out.'

'Nay, nay', said Peter; 'is it really your reverence after all'; and with that he took up a stone, and knocked the lid of the chest to pieces. Then the priest got out, and off he set home to his parsonage both fast and light, for he no longer had his watches and money to weigh him down.

As for Little Peter, he went home again, and said to Big Peter, 'There was a good sale to-day for calfskins at the market.'

'Why, what did you get for your tattered one, now?' asked Big Peter.

'Quite as much as it was worth. I got eight hundred dollars for it, but bigger and stouter calves-skins fetched twice as much', said Little Peter, and showed his dollars.

''Twas well you told me this', answered Big Peter, who went and slaughtered all his kine and calves, and set off on the road to town with their skins and hides. So when he got to the market, and the tanners asked what he wanted for his hides, Big Peter said he must have eight hundred dollars for the small ones, and so on, more and more for the big ones. But all the folk only laughed and made game of him, and said he oughtn't to come there; he'd better turn into the madhouse for a better bargain, and so he soon found out how things had gone, and that Little Peter had played him a trick. But when he got home again, he was not very soft-spoken, and he swore and cursed; so help him, if he wouldn't strike Little Peter dead that very night. All this Little Peter stood and listened to; and so, when he had gone to bed with his mother, and the night had worn on a little, he begged her to change sides with him, for he was well-nigh frozen, he said, and might be 'twas warmer next the wall. Yes, she did that, and in a little while came Big Peter with an axe in his hand, and crept up to the bedside, and at one blow chopped off his mother's head.

Next morning, in went Little Peter into Big Peter's sitting-room.

'Heaven better and help you', he said; 'you who have chopped our mother's head off. The Sheriff will not be over-pleased to hear that you pay mother's dower in this way.'

Then Big Peter got so afraid, he begged Little Peter, for God's sake, to say nothing about what he knew. If he would only do that, he should have eight hundred dollars.

Well, Little Peter swept up the money; set his mother's head on her body again; put her on a hand-sledge, and so drew her to market. There he set her up with an apple-basket on each arm, and an apple in each hand. By and by came a skipper walking along; he thought she was an apple-woman, and asked if she had apples to sell, and how many he might have for a penny. But the old woman made no answer. So the skipper asked again. No! she hadn't a word to say for herself.

'How many may I have for a penny', he bawled the third time, but the old dame sat bolt upright, as though she neither saw him, nor heard what he said. Then the skipper flew into such a rage that he gave her one under the ear, and so away rolled her head across the market- place. At that moment, up came Little Peter with a bound; he fell a- weeping and bewailing, and threatened to make the skipper smart for it, for having dealt his old mother her death blow.

'Dear friend, only hold your tongue about what you know', said the skipper, 'and you shall have eight hundred dollars.'

And so they made it up.

When Little Peter got home again, he said to Big Peter:

'Old women fetch a fine price at market to-day. I got eight hundred dollars for mother; just look', and so he showed him the money.

''Twas well I came to know this', said Big Peter.

Now, you must know he had an old stepmother, so he took and killed her out of hand, and strode off to sell her. But when they heard how he went about trying to sell dead bodies, the neighbours were all for handing him over to the Sheriff, and it was as much as he could do to get out of the scrape.

When Big Peter got home again, he was so wroth and mad against Little Peter, he threatened to strike him dead there and then; he needn't hope for mercy, die he must.

'Well! well!' said Little Peter, 'that's the way we must all trudge, and betwixt to-day and to-morrow, there's only a night to come. But if I must set off now, I've only one thing to ask; stuff me into that sack that hangs yonder, and take and toss me into the river.'

Well! Big Peter had nothing to say against that, he stuffed him into the sack and set off. But he hadn't gone far on his way, before it came into his mind that he had forgotten something which he must go back to fetch; meanwhile, he set the sack down by the road side. Just then came a man driving a fine fat flock of sheep.

To Kingdom-come, to Paradise. To Kingdom-come, to Paradise.

roared out Little Peter, who lay inside the sack, and that he kept bawling and bellowing out.

'Mayn't I get leave to go with you', asked the man who drove the sheep.

'Of course you may', said Little Peter. 'If you'll only untie the sack, and creep into it in my stead, you'll soon get there. As for me, I don't mind biding here till next time, that I don't. But you must keep on calling out the words I bawled out, else you'll not go to the right place.'

Then the man untied the sack, and got into it in Little Peter's place: Peter tied the sack up again and the man began to bawl out:

To Kingdom-come, to Paradise. To Kingdom-come, to Paradise.

and to that text he stuck.

When Peter had got him well into the sack, he wasn't slow; off he went with the flock of sheep, and soon put a good bit of the road behind him. Meantime, back came Big Peter, took the sack on his shoulders, and bore it across the country to the river, and all the while he went, the drover sat inside bawling out:

To Kingdom-come, to Paradise. To Kingdom-come, to Paradise.

'Aye, aye', said Big Peter; 'try now to find the way for yourself'; and with that, he tossed him out into the stream.

So when Big Peter had done that, and was going back home, whom should he overtake but his brother, who went along driving the flock of sheep before him. Big Peter could scarce believe his eyes, and asked how Little Peter had got out of the river, and whence the fine flock of sheep came.

'Ah!' said Little Peter, 'that just was a good brotherly turn you did me, when you threw me into the river. I sank right down to the bottom like a stone, and there I just did see flocks of sheep; you'd scarce believe now, that they go about down there by thousands, one flock bigger than the other. And just look here! here are fleeces for you!'

'Well', said Big Peter, 'I'm very glad you told me.'

So off he ran home to his old dame; made her come with him to the river; crept into a sack, and bade her make haste to tie it up, and toss him over the bridge.

'I'm going after a flock of sheep', he said, 'but if I stay too long, and you think I can't get along with the flock by myself, just jump over and help me; do you hear?'

'Well, don't stay too long', said his wife, 'for my heart is set on seeing those sheep.'

There she stood and waited a while, but then she thought, perhaps her husband couldn't keep the flock well together, and so down she jumped after him.

And so Little Peter was rid of them all, and the farm and fields came to him as heir, and horses and cattle too; and, besides, he had money in his pocket to buy milch kine to tether in his byre.



TATTERHOOD

Once on a time there was a king and a queen who had no children, and that gave the queen much grief; she scarce had one happy hour. She was always bewailing and bemoaning herself, and saying how dull and lonesome it was in the palace.

'If we had children there'd be life enough', she said.

Wherever she went in all her realm she found God's blessing in children, even in the vilest hut; and wherever she came she heard the Goodies scolding the bairns, and saying how they had done that and that wrong. All this the queen heard, and thought it would be so nice to do as other women did. At last the king and queen took into their palace a stranger lassie to rear up, that they might have her always with them, to love her if she did well, and scold her if she did wrong, like their own child.

So one day the little lassie whom they had taken as their own, ran down into the palace yard, and was playing with a gold apple. Just then an old beggar wife came by, who had a little girl with her, and it wasn't long before the little lassie and the beggar's bairn were great friends, and began to play together, and to toss the gold apple about between them. When the Queen saw this, as she sat at a window in the palace, she tapped on the pane for her foster-daughter to come up. She went at once, but the beggar-girl went up too; and as they went into the Queen's bower, each held the other by the hand. Then the Queen began to scold the little lady, and to say:

'You ought to be above running about and playing with a tattered beggar's brat.'

And so she wanted to drive the lassie downstairs.

'If the Queen only knew my mother's power, she'd not drive me out', said the little lassie; and when the Queen asked what she meant more plainly, she told her how her mother could get her children if she chose. The Queen wouldn't believe it, but the lassie held her own, and said every word of it was true, and bade the Queen only to try and make her mother do it. So the Queen sent the lassie down to fetch up her mother.

'Do you know what your daughter says?' asked the Queen of the old woman, as soon as ever she came into the room.

No; the beggar wife knew nothing about it.

'Well, she says you can get me children if you will', answered the Queen.

'Queens shouldn't listen to beggar lassies' silly stories', said the old wife, and strode out of the room.

Then the Queen got angry, and wanted again to drive out the little lassie; but she declared it was true every word that she had said.

'Let the Queen only give my mother a drop to drink,' said the lassie; 'when she gets merry she'll soon find out a way to help you.'

The Queen was ready to try this; so the beggar wife was fetched up again once more, and treated both with wine and mead as much as she chose; and so it was not long before her tongue began to wag. Then the Queen came out again with the same question she had asked before.

'One way to help you perhaps I know', said the beggar wife. 'Your Majesty must make them bring in two pails of water some evening before you go to bed. In each of them you must wash yourself, and afterwards throw away the water under the bed. When you look under the bed next morning, two flowers will have sprung up, one fair and one ugly. The fair one you must eat, the ugly one you must let stand; but mind you don't forget the last.'

That was what the beggar wife said.

Yes; the Queen did what the beggar wife advised her to do; she had the water brought up in two pails, washed herself in them, and emptied them under the bed; and lo! when she looked under the bed next morning, there stood two flowers; one was ugly and foul, and had black leaves; but the other was so bright, and fair, and lovely, she had never seen its like; so she ate it up at once. But the pretty flower tasted so sweet, that she couldn't help herself. She ate the other up too, for, she thought, 'it can't hurt or help one much either way, I'll be bound'.

Well, sure enough, after a while the Queen was brought to bed. First of all, she had a girl who had a wooden spoon in her hand, and rode upon a goat; loathly and ugly she was, and the very moment she came into the world, she bawled out 'Mamma'.

'If I'm your mamma', said the Queen, 'God give me grace to mend my ways.'

'Oh, don't be sorry', said the girl, who rode on the goat, 'for one will soon come after me who is better looking.'

So, after a while, the Queen had another girl, who was so fair and sweet, no one had ever set eyes on such a lovely child, and with her you may fancy the Queen was very well pleased. The elder twin they called 'Tatterhood', because she was always so ugly and ragged, and because she had a hood which hung about her ears in tatters. The Queen could scarce bear to look at her, and the nurses tried to shut her up in a room by herself, but it was all no good; where the younger twin was, there she must also be, and no one could ever keep them apart.

Well, one Christmas eve, when they were half grown up, there rose such a frightful noise and clatter in the gallery outside the Queen's bower. So Tatterhood asked what it was that dashed and crashed so out in the passage.

'Oh!' said the Queen, 'it isn't worth asking about.'

But Tatterhood wouldn't give over till she found out all about it and so the Queen told her it was a pack of Trolls and witches who had come there to keep Christmas. So Tatterhood said she'd just go out and drive them away; and in spite of all they could say, and however much they begged and prayed her to let the Trolls alone, she must and would go out to drive the witches off; but she begged the Queen to mind and keep all the doors close shut, so that not one of them came so much as the least bit ajar. Having said this, off she went with her wooden spoon, and began to hunt and sweep away the hags; and all this while there was such a pother out in the gallery, the like of it was never heard. The whole Palace creaked and groaned as if every joint and beam were going to be torn out of its place. Now, how it was, I'm sure I can't tell; but somehow or other one door did get the least bit ajar, then her twin sister just peeped out to see how things were going with Tatterhood, and put her head a tiny bit through the opening. But, POP! up came an old witch, and whipped off her head, and stuck a calf's head on her shoulders instead; and so the Princess ran back into the room on all-fours, and began to 'moo' like a calf. When Tatterhood came back and saw her sister, she scolded them all round, and was very angry because they hadn't kept better watch, and asked them what they thought of their heedlessness now, when her sister was turned into a calf.

'But still I'll see if I can't set her free', she said.

Then she asked the King for a ship in full trim, and well fitted with stores; but captain and sailors she wouldn't have. No; she would sail away with her sister all alone; and as there was no holding her back, at last they let her have her own way.

Then Tatterhood sailed off, and steered her ship right under the land where the witches dwelt, and when she came to the landing-place, she told her sister to stay quite still on board the ship; but she herself rode on her goat up to the witches' castle. When she got there, one of the windows in the gallery was open, and there she saw her sister's head hung up on the window frame; so she leapt her goat through the window into the gallery, snapped up the head, and set off with it. After her came the witches to try to get the head again, and they flocked about her as thick as a swarm of bees or a nest of ants; but the goat snorted, and puffed, and butted with his horns, and Tatterhood beat and banged them about with her wooden spoon; and so the pack of witches had to give it up. So Tatterhood got back to her ship, took the calf's head off her sister, and put her own on again, and then she became a girl as she had been before. After that she sailed a long, long way, to a strange king's realm.

Now the king of that land was a widower, and had an only son. So when he saw the strange sail, he sent messengers down to the strand to find out whence it came, and who owned it; but when the king's men came down there, they saw never a living soul on board but Tatterhood, and there she was, riding round and round the deck on her goat at full speed, till her elf locks streamed again in the wind. The folk from the palace were all amazed at this sight, and asked, were there not more on board? Yes, there were; she had a sister with her, said Tatterhood. Her, too, they wanted to see, but Tatterhood said 'No':

'No one shall see her, unless the king comes himself', she said; and so she began to gallop about on her goat till the deck thundered again.

So when the servants got back to the palace, and told what they had seen and heard down at the ship, the king was for setting out at once, that he might see the lassie that rode on the goat. When he got down, Tatterhood led out her sister, and she was so fair and gentle, the king fell over head and ears in love with her as he stood. He brought them both back with him to the Palace, and wanted to have the sister for his queen; but Tatterhood said 'No'; the king couldn't have her in any way, unless the king's son chose to have Tatterhood. That you may fancy the prince was very loath to do, such an ugly hussy as Tatterhood was; but at last the king and all the others in the palace talked him over, and he yielded, giving his word to take her for his queen; but it went sore against the grain, and he was a doleful man.

Now they set about the wedding, both with brewing and baking; and when all was ready, they were to go to church; but the prince thought it the weariest churching he had ever had in all his life. First, the king drove off with his bride, and she was so lovely and so grand, all the people stopped to look after her all along the road, and they stared at her till she was out of sight. After them came the prince on horseback by the side of Tatterhood, who trotted along on her goat with her wooden spoon in her fist, and to look at him, it was more like going to a burial than a wedding, and that his own; so sorrowful he seemed, and with never a word to say.

'Why don't you talk?' asked Tatterhood, when they had ridden a bit.

'Why, what should I talk about?' answered the prince.

'Well, you might at least ask me why I ride upon this ugly goat', said Tatterhood.

'Why do you ride on that ugly goat?' asked the prince.

'Is it an ugly goat? why, it's the grandest horse bride ever rode on', answered Tatterhood; and in a trice the goat became a horse, and that the finest the prince had ever set eyes on.

Then they rode on again a bit, but the prince was just as woeful as before, and couldn't get a word out. So Tatterhood asked him again why he didn't talk, and when the Prince answered he didn't know what to talk about, she said:

'You can at least ask me why I ride with this ugly spoon in my fist.'

'Why do you ride with that ugly spoon? 'asked the prince.

'Is it an ugly spoon? why, it's the loveliest silver wand bride ever bore', said Tatterhood; and in a trice it became a silver wand, so dazzling bright, the sunbeams glistened from it.

So they rode on another bit, but the Prince was just as sorrowful, and said never a word. In a little while, Tatterhood asked him again why he didn't talk, and bade him ask why she wore that ugly grey hood on her head.

'Why do you wear that ugly grey hood on your head?' asked the Prince.

'Is it an ugly hood? why, it's the brightest golden crown bride ever wore', answered Tatterhood, and it became a crown on the spot.

Now, they rode on a long while again, and the Prince was so woeful, that he sat without sound or speech just as before. So his bride asked him again why he didn't talk, and bade him ask now, why her face was so ugly and ashen-grey?

'Ah!' asked the Prince, 'why is your face so ugly and ashen-grey?'

'I ugly', said the bride; 'you think my sister pretty, but I am ten times prettier'; and lo! when the Prince looked at her, she was so lovely, he thought there never was so lovely a woman in all the world. After that, I shouldn't wonder if the Prince found his tongue, and no longer rode along hanging down his head.

So they drank the bridal cup both deep and long, and, after that, both Prince and King set out with their brides to the Princess's father's palace, and there they had another bridal feast, and drank anew, both deep and long. There was no end to the fun; and, if you make haste and run to the King's palace, I dare say you'll find there's still a drop of the bridal ale left for you.



THE COCK AND HEN THAT WENT TO THE DOVREFELL

Once on a time there was a Hen that had flown up, and perched on an oak-tree for the night. When the night came, she dreamed that unless she got to the Dovrefell, the world would come to an end. So that very minute she jumped down, and set out on her way. When she had walked a bit she met a Cock.

'Good day, Cocky-Locky', said the Hen.

'Good day, Henny-Penny', said the Cock, 'whither away so early.'

'Oh, I'm going to the Dovrefell, that the world mayn't come to an end', said the Hen.

'Who told you that, Henny-Penny', said the Cock.

'I sat in the oak and dreamt it last night', said the Hen.

'I'll go with you', said the Cock.

Well! they walked on a good bit, and then they met a Duck.

'Good day, Ducky-Lucky', said the Cock.

'Good day, Cocky-Locky', said the Duck, 'whither away so early?'

'Oh, I'm going to the Dovrefell, that the world mayn't come to an end', said the Cock.

'Who told you that, Cocky-Locky?'

'Henny-Penny', said the Cock.

'Who told you that, Henny-Penny?' said the Duck.

'I sat in the oak and dreamt it last night', said the Hen.

'I'll go with you', said the Duck.

So they went off together, and after a bit they met a Goose.

'Good day, Goosey-Poosey', said the Duck.

'Good day, Ducky-Lucky', said the Goose, 'whither away so early?'

'I'm going to the Dovrefell, that the world mayn't come to an end', said the Duck.

'Who told you that, Ducky-Lucky?' asked the Goose.

'Cocky-Locky.'

'Who told you that, Cocky-Locky?'

'Henny-Penny.'

'How you do know that, Henny-Penny?' said the Goose.

'I sat in the oak and dreamt it last night, Goosey-Poosey', said the Hen.

'I'll go with you', said the Goose.

Now when they had all walked along for a bit, a Fox met them.

'Good day, Foxsy-Cocksy', said the Goose.

'Good day, Goosey-Poosey.'

'Whither away, Foxy-Cocksy?'

'Whither away yourself, Goosey-Poosey?'

'I'm going to the Dovrefell that the world mayn't come to an end', said the Goose.

'Who told you that, Goosey-Poosey?' asked the Fox.

'Ducky-Lucky.'

'Who told you that, Ducky-Lucky?'

'Cocky-Locky.'

'Who told you that, Cocky-Locky?'

'Henny-Penny.'

'How do you know that, Henny-Penny?'

'I sat in the oak and dreamt last night, that if we don't get to the Dovrefell, the world will come to an end', said the Hen.

'Stuff and nonsense', said the Fox; 'the world won't come to an end if you don't get thither. No! come home with me to my earth. That's far better, for it's warm and jolly there.'

Well, they went home with the Fox to his earth, and when they got in, the Fox laid on lots of fuel, so that they all got very sleepy.

The Duck and the Goose, they settled themselves down in a corner, but the Cock and Hen flew up on a post. So when the Goose and Duck were well asleep, the Fox, took the Goose and laid him on the embers, and roasted him. The Hen smelt the strong roast meat, and sprang up to a higher peg, and said, half asleep:

Faugh, what a nasty smell! What a nasty smell!

'Oh, stuff', said the Fox; 'it's only the smoke driven down the chimney; go to sleep again, and hold your tongue.' So the Hen went off to sleep again.

Now the Fox had hardly got the Goose well down his throat, before he did the very same with the Duck. He took and laid him on the embers, and roasted him for a dainty bit. Then the hen woke up again, and sprung up to a higher peg still.

Faugh, what a nasty smell! What a nasty smell!

She said again, and then she got her eyes open, and came to see how the Fox had eaten both the twain, goose and duck; so she flew up to the highest peg of all, and perched there, and peeped up through the chimney.

'Nay, nay; just see what a lovely lot of geese flying yonder', she said to the Fox.

Out ran Reynard to fetch a fat roast. But while he was gone, the Hen woke up the Cock, and told him how it had gone with Goosey-Poosey and Ducky-Lucky; and so Cocky-Lucky and Henny-Penny flew out through the chimney, and if they hadn't got to the Dovrefell, it surely would have been all over with the world.



KATIE WOODENCLOAK

Once on a time there was a King who had become a widower. By his Queen he had one daughter, who was so clever and lovely, there wasn't a cleverer or lovelier Princess in all the world. So the King went on a long time sorrowing for the Queen, whom he had loved so much, but at last he got weary of living alone, and married another Queen, who was a widow, and had, too, an only daughter; but this daughter was just as bad and ugly as the other was kind, and clever, and lovely, The stepmother and her daughter were jealous of the Princess, because she was so lovely; but so long as the King was at home, they daredn't do her any harm, he was so fond of her.

Well, after a time, he fell into war with another King, and went out to battle with his host, and then the stepmother thought she might do as she pleased; and so she both starved and beat the Princess, and was after her in every hole and corner of the house. At last she thought everything too good for her, and turned her out to herd cattle. So there she went about with the cattle, and herded them in the woods and on the fells. As for food, she got little or none, and she grew thin and wan, and was always sobbing and sorrowful. Now in the herd there was a great dun bull, which always kept himself so neat and sleek, and often and often he came up to the Princess, and let her pat him. So one day when she sat there, sad, and sobbing, and sorrowful, he came up to her and asked her outright why she was always in such grief. She answered nothing, but went on weeping.

'Ah!' said the Bull, 'I know all about it quite well, though you won't tell me; you weep because the Queen is bad to you, and because she is ready to starve you to death. But food you've no need to fret about, for in my left ear lies a cloth, and when you take and spread it out, you may have as many dishes as you please.'

So she did that, took the cloth and spread it out on the grass, and lo! it served up the nicest dishes one could wish to have; there was wine too, and mead, and sweet cake. Well, she soon got up her flesh again, and grew so plump, and rosy, and white, that the Queen and her scrawny chip of a daughter turned blue and yellow for spite. The Queen couldn't at all make out how her stepdaughter got to look so well on such bad fare, so she told one of her maids to go after her in the wood, and watch and see how it all was, for she thought some of the servants in the house must give her food. So the maid went after her, and watched in the wood, and then she saw how the stepdaughter took the cloth out of the Bull's ear, and spread it out, and how it served up the nicest dishes, which the stepdaughter ate and made good cheer over. All this the maid told the Queen when she went home.

And now the King came home from war, and had won the fight against the other king with whom he went out to battle. So there was great joy throughout the palace, and no one was gladder than the King's daughter. But the Queen shammed sick, and took to her bed, and paid the doctor a great fee to get him to say she could never be well again unless she had some of the Dun Bull's flesh to eat. Both the king's daughter and the folk in the palace asked the doctor if nothing else would help her, and prayed hard for the Bull, for every one was fond of him, and they all said there wasn't that Bull's match in all the land. But, no; he must and should be slaughtered, nothing else would do. When the king's daughter heard that, she got very sorrowful, and went down into the byre to the Bull. There, too, he stood and hung down his head, and looked so downcast that she began to weep over him.

'What are you weeping for?' asked the Bull.

So she told him how the King had come home again, and how the Queen had shammed sick and got the doctor to say she could never be well and sound again unless she got some of the Dun Bull's flesh to eat, and so now he was to be slaughtered.

'If they get me killed first', said the Bull, 'they'll soon take your life too. Now, if you're of my mind, we'll just start off, and go away to-night.'