Chapter III

"You prattle, children. Fritz, bestir yourself!
The fire needs wood, so hungry is the wind;
And Elsa, bring the platters from the shelf
And lay the table. You, too, Gretchen, mind,
For you of late are carelessly inclined,
And brittle is the _blaue glocken_ ware.
Make haste, else will your father come and find,
For all his day's hard work, but churlish fare.
Full sure I am no man works harder anywhere."