Chapter II: Part 2

But Beauty was too gentle to bear them any ill-will. After she was married she often used to go and stand beside the statues and talk to them, and her tears fell upon them so that after awhile their hard hearts grew soft and the stone melted back to flesh again. Then they were all very happy together. The two sisters were married to two noblemen of the court.

As for Beauty and the Prince, nothing could equal their love for each other, and they lived together happy forever after, and no further harm ever came to them.

JACK-THE-GIANT-KILLER

There was once a stout Cornish lad named Jack who had trained himself in every sort of sport. He could wrestle and throw and swim better than any other lad in the country; indeed there were few, even among the men, who could equal him in strength and skill.

At that time there lived, on an island just off the coast of Cornwall, a giant named Cormoran. This giant was the pest of the whole land. He was twenty feet high, and as broad as any three men. People were so afraid of him that when he waded over from his island to the mainland they all ran and hid in their houses, and then he carried off their flocks and herds as he chose, and asked no leave of anyone. Seven sheep he ate at a meal, and three oxen were not too much for him. There was much complaining through the land because of the way he wasted it.

Now Jack was as bold as he was strong, and he made up his mind to free the people from this scourge of a giant. He waited for a dark night when there was no moon, and then he swam from the mainland over to the island. The waves were high and the water cold, but Jack paid no heed to that. He took with him a pick, a shovel, an ax, and a horn.

As soon as he landed on the island he set to work to dig a pit in front of the giant’s cave—a pit both wide and deep. The giant was asleep, for Jack could hear him snoring in his cave, and so he knew nothing of what was being done by the brave lad.

Toward morning the pit was finished. Then Jack covered it over with branches, and scattered earth and stones over it so that no one could have told it was any different from the ground around it. After that he took his horn and blew a blast both loud and long.

The sound awakened the giant from his sleep, and he sprang to his feet and came stumbling out from his cave. He glared about him and presently his eyes fell upon Jack.

“Miserable dwarf!” he cried. “Is it you who has dared to disturb my sleep? Wait but a moment until I have my hands on you, and I will punish you as you deserve!”

Jack laughed aloud. “I fear you not!” he cried. “And as for punishing me, you will find that easier said than done.”

The giant gave a cry of rage and sprang toward Jack, but no sooner did he step upon the branches that covered the pit than they gave way beneath him, and he fell down into the pit and broke his neck. There he lay without sound or motion, and seeing that he was dead Jack left him where he lay and swam back to the mainland.

When the people learned that the giant was dead and would trouble them no more they went wild with joy. Jack was hailed as a hero and a belt was given him on which were letters of gold that read—

“This is the gallant Cornishman
Who killed the giant Cormoran.”

And now the lad was no longer called plain Jack, but Jack-the-Giant-Killer.

Now many miles away in a deep forest there lived still another giant named Blunderbore. This giant was full as strong and great as Cormoran had ever been.

When Blunderbore heard how the Cornish lad had killed Cormoran, and that now he was called “Jack-the-Giant-Killer” he was filled with rage. He swore he would find Jack and destroy him even as Cormoran had been destroyed.

But Jack was no whit afraid. He had made up his mind to altogether free the land from giants; and he wished nothing better than to try his wits with Blunderbore. So one day he took a stout oak in his hand and set out in search of the giant.

He walked along and walked along, and after awhile he came to a forest, and there a cool spring bubbled up in the shade of the trees.

Jack was hungry and thirsty, and tired too, so he sat him down by the spring and ate the bread and cheese he carried, and drank of the fresh water, and then he stretched himself out and went fast asleep.

He had not been long asleep when the giant Blunderbore came by that way. Blunderbore was very much surprised to see a youth lying there and sleeping quietly beside his fountain, for none ever before had dared to venture here into this forest for fear of him.

He saw a glitter of golden letters upon a belt the lad wore, and stooping he read the words—

“This is the gallant Cornishman
Who slew the giant Cormoran.”

At once the giant knew who Jack was, and he was filled with joy at the thought that now he had the lad in his power. He did not wait for Jack to waken, but swung him up on his shoulder, and made off with him through the forest.

Now Blunderbore was so tall that his shoulders were up among the branches as he strode along, and the boughs whipped Jack in the face and woke him from his sleep. He was greatly amazed to find himself journeying along among the leaves on the giant’s shoulder instead of resting quietly beside the fountain. However, he was not afraid. “I can do nothing at present,” thought he to himself, “but after awhile the giant will put me down, and then my wits will soon teach me a way to get the better of him.”

The giant strode along without stop or stay until at last he came to a great gloomy castle and, this was where he lived. He carried Jack in through the door into the castle and up a flight of stone steps to a room that was directly over the outer doorway. Here he came to a halt and threw Jack down upon a heap of straw in the corner.

“Lie there for awhile, my little giant-killer,” cried he. “I have a brother who is not only bigger and stronger than I am, but has more wits as well. I will go off and fetch him, and after he gets here then we will decide what to do with you.”

So saying the giant left the room, and after locking the door behind him he made off across the hills in search of his brother.

No sooner was Jack left alone than he began to examine the room. He quickly noticed that the door of the castle was directly under his window. In one corner of the room lay a great coil of rope. Jack took up this rope and made a slip noose in one end of it. This noose he hung from the window. The other end he passed over a great beam overhead. Then he sat down and waited for the monster to return.

He did not have long to wait. Soon he heard the giant and his brother talking and grumbling together as they came up the road to the castle. He waited until they had reached the doorway and were directly under the window. Then he dropped the slip noose over both their heads. Quickly snatching up the other end of the rope he pulled with all his might and drew the two giants up into the air, struggling and kicking. He then leaned from the window and with his sword he cut off both their heads.

It did not take him long after that to slide down the rope and get the keys that hung from Blunderbore’s belt. With these in his hand he reëntered the castle and went all through it, unlocking door after door.

He opened the giant’s treasure-chamber and found it full of gold and silver and jewels and all sorts of precious stuffs that had been stolen from the people of the land, for Blunderbore was a great robber.

In the dungeons under the castle were many merchants and noblemen and fair ladies whom the giant had robbed and kept as prisoners.

When these people found that Jack had come to free them, and that he had killed the giant, they were so glad and grateful that there was nothing they would not have done for the lad. Some of them wept for joy.

Jack led them to the treasure-chamber and bade them take all they could carry of the treasures that were there. They would gladly have left it all for him, but the lad would have none of it.

“No, no,” he said. “I have no need of riches, and if I were loaded down with gold and silver I could not travel about so lightly as I do.”

He bade the grateful people good-by and journeyed on his way, leaving them to find their own way home, which, no doubt they all did in good time.

By evening of the next day Jack was well away from Blunderbore’s forest, and just as he was wondering where he should find food and shelter for the night he came to a great house and saw a light shining from the windows.

He knocked, and the door was opened to him by a giant with two heads. This giant was quite as wicked as either Cormoran or Blunderbore, but he was very sly and cunning. Instead of seizing Jack and throwing him into a dungeon he made him welcome. He set a hot supper before him, and talked with him pleasantly, and after awhile he showed the lad to a room where he could sleep.

But smiling and pleasant though the giant was Jack did not trust him. He felt sure the monster was planning some mischief, so instead of going to bed after the giant left him, he stole to the door of the room and listened. He heard the giant striding up and down, and presently he heard him mutter to himself,

“Though here with me you lodge to-night,
You shall not see the morning light,
Because I mean to kill you quite.”

“That you shall not,” thought Jack to himself. “And if you think I am going to get into bed and lie there while you beat me with a cudgel you are mistaken.”

He began to feel about the room, and presently he found a great billet of wood. This he laid in the bed in his place, and drew the coverlet over it, and then he hid in a corner of the room.

Not long afterward the giant opened the door. He crept over to the bed very quietly and felt where the billet of wood was lying under the covers. Then he took his club and beat it until, if Jack had been lying there, he would certainly have been pounded to a jelly. After that the monster went back to his own bed well satisfied, and slept and snored.

But what was his astonishment the next morning when Jack appeared brisk and smiling and without so much as even a bruise upon him.

“Did—did you sleep well last night?” stammered the giant.

“Oh, well enough,” answered Jack, “but a rat must have run over the bed, for I thought I felt him whisk his tail in my face once or twice. I looked for him this morning, but I could not find him, so perhaps I dreamed it.”

When the giant heard this he was frightened. He thought Jack must be a wonderful hero to stand such blows as his and scarcely feel them. However, he said no more, and the two sat down to breakfast together. The giant ate and drank as much as ten men, but Jack had hidden a leather bag under his doublet and he kept slipping the food into this as fast as the giant set it before him. The monster wondered and wondered that such a small man could eat so much.

After breakfast Jack said, “Now I will show you a trick, and if you cannot do the same thing then you will have to own that I am the better fellow of us two.”

To this the giant agreed. Jack then took a knife and ripped open the leather bag that was hidden under his doublet.

“There!” he cried. “Can you do the like?”

The giant was amazed, for he never guessed that it was only a bag that Jack had cut open. However, he was not to be outdone. Catching up a knife he ripped himself open, and that was the end of him.

“The world is well rid of another monster,” said Jack, and leaving the giant where he lay he set out in search of further adventures.

He had not gone far along the road when he met a young prince riding along without any attendants to follow him. This Prince was the son of the great King Arthur of Britain, and he had left his father’s court and ridden out into the world in search of a lovely lady who had been carried off by a magician. This magician held her prisoner by his enchantments and it was to free her that the Prince had ridden forth alone.

When Jack learned who the Prince was, and the adventure he was bent on, he begged to be allowed to go along as an attendant.

“That is all very well,” said the Prince, “but if you travel with me you will fare hard indeed. I have given away all my money, and I do not know where to find food or even a place to sleep.”

“Do not let that trouble you,” said Jack. “Not far from here lives a three-headed giant. He has a fine castle and a well-stocked larder. Only leave the matter to me and I will arrange it so that you can spend the night there and have a fine feast beside.”

At first the Prince was very unwilling to agree to this. The adventure seemed to him a very dangerous one, but in the end Jack persuaded him to agree to it, and mounting on the Prince’s horse he set out for the castle, leaving the Prince to await him by the wayside.

Jack rode briskly along and it did not take him long to reach the castle. He knocked boldly at the door.

“Who is there?” called the giant from within.

“It is your Cousin Jack, and I bring you news,” answered Jack.

The giant opened the door and looked out. “Well, Cousin Jack, and what is the news you bring?”

Why, the news was that a Prince and his company intended to spend the night in the giant’s castle, and were even then almost at the door. If the giant were wise he would flee away and leave the castle to the Prince. Then after the Prince and his company had gone the giant might safely return again.

But no, the monster was not so easily to be scared out of his castle. “I can drive back five hundred men,” cried he, “so why should I be afraid?”

“Yes, but can you drive back two thousand?” asked Jack.

“Two thousand! Two thousand, did you say?” Why that was a different matter, and if the Prince were coming with two thousand men at his back, then it was indeed time for the giant to hide away. He then told Jack where there was a secret chamber all made of iron. There he would hide, and he begged the lad to lock him in, and not, for any cause to unlock the door until the Prince had gone.

This Jack promised. He locked the giant in the secret chamber, and then he rode back to fetch his master.

That night Jack and the Prince feasted right merrily on the good things from the monster’s larder, and the next morning the Prince rode on his way and Jack unlocked the chamber door and let the giant out.

“What a blockhead I am!” cried the monster as soon as he was free. “Yonder in the corner lie the cap of darkness, the cloak of wisdom, and the sword of sharpness. If I had only thought of putting on the cap no one could have seen me, and I would not have had to hide in the secret chamber.”

“That is true,” answered Jack. “But thanks to me you are safe at any rate, and I think I should be rewarded.”

He then asked the giant to give him the cap, the cloak, and the sword, and out of gratitude the giant agreed right gladly. “They will be of more use to you than to me at any rate,” said the giant, “for when I need them most is the time when I forget all about them.”

Jack took the cap, the cloak, and the sword and thanked the giant for the gifts, and at once set out after the Prince, whom he found waiting for him not far away.

They now journeyed on until they came to another castle where they hoped to spend the night. Here they were made welcome, and bidden to feast with the noble lady who was the mistress there. This lady was, indeed, the very one of whom the Prince was in search, but he did not know her, and she did not know him because of the spell of enchantment that was upon her.

After the lady, the Prince, and Jack had feasted together the lady drew out a precious handkerchief and passed it over her lips. “To-morrow,” said she, “you shall tell me to whom I have given this handkerchief in the night. If you cannot tell me this, you shall never leave this castle alive.”

The Prince was greatly troubled when he heard these words, but Jack bade him have no fear. He waited until the lady left them, and then he put the cap of darkness on his head and followed her, and she could not see him because of the cap. She did not know that anyone followed her, and she went out from the castle and along a path to the edge of a wood. There she was met by a tall dark man, and because of the cloak of wisdom which he wore, Jack knew this man at once as a magician.

The lady gave him the handkerchief. “That is well,” said the magician. “To-morrow I will change this bold Prince into another marble statue to adorn my hall. As to his servant I will change him into a dog, a fox, or a deer as the fancy strikes me.”

“That you shall not!” cried Jack, and drawing the sword of sharpness he struck the magician’s head from his shoulders with one blow.

At once the lady was freed from the enchantment, and she looked about her like one wakening from a dream. She did not know where she was nor how she came there.

Jack led her back to the castle and no sooner did the Prince and she meet than they knew each other. They were filled with joy, and the Prince made ready to take her back with him to his father’s court. He wished Jack to come with him, and promised that if he would he should be made a great nobleman, but to this the giant-killer would not consent. He still had work to do in his own country, and he would never leave Wales until it was freed entirely from the pest of giants.

So the Prince and his lady bade Jack farewell, and rode away together, while Jack set out in search of further adventures.

He had traveled a long distance, and night was falling when he heard doleful cries sounding from a wood near by. A moment later a giant came breaking out from the wood dragging a knight and a lady with him. He had captured them and was taking them with him to his cave.

Without a moment’s pause, Jack put on his cap of darkness, and running up close to the giant he cut him down with one single blow of his sword. The lady and the knight were amazed. They had seen no one, and yet the giant had suddenly fallen dead, cleft through with a sword. They were still more amazed when Jack lifted the cap from his head and appeared before them. He then explained to them who he was, and how he had been able to kill the giant so strangely.

“This is a wonderful story,” said the knight, “and you have saved us from worse than death.” He and his lady then begged Jack to come back with them to their castle, and to this he agreed, for he was weary with all his adventures.

When they reached the castle, a great feast was made ready, and Jack was treated with the greatest honor. He sat at the knight’s right hand, and all the best in the castle was none too good for him.

But while they were still in the midst of their feasting, a messenger arrived in great haste. His face was pale, and his teeth chattered with fear.

“What is it?” cried the knight. “What is the news you bring?”

“The giant! The great giant Thundel!” cried the messenger. “He has heard that Jack-the-Giant-Killer is here, and he is coming to destroy this castle and all who are in it.”

Even the knight turned pale at this news, but Jack bade him have no fear. “I had intended to set out in search of this giant,” said he, “but now he has saved me the trouble.” He then asked the knight to send for a dozen stout workmen. This was done and Jack at once led the workmen out to the bridge that crossed the moat, and bade them cut the timbers almost through so that they would only bear the weight of one man, or of two at most. This bridge was the only way of entrance, and unless the giant crossed it he could not get to the castle.

While the workmen were still busy over their task, the giant appeared, striding along toward the castle. At once Jack slipped on his cap of darkness and hurried out to meet him.

The giant could not see Jack because of his cap of darkness, but his sense of smell was very keen. He stopped short, and began to snuff about him like a hound.

“Fee, fi, fo, fum!
I smell the blood of an Englishman;
Be he alive or be he dead,
I’ll grind his bones to make my bread!”

cried the giant.

“That is all very well,” said Jack, “but first you will have to catch him.” He then jumped about from one side of the giant to the other. “Here! Here I am!” he cried. “Here to the right of you! No, to the left. Quick, quick, if you would catch me.”

The giant turned first one way and then the other, clutching at the empty air, for Jack was invisible and so was easily able to keep out of his reach.

At last the lad tired of the game. He looked behind him and saw that the workmen had finished their task and had retreated to the castle. He then caught the cap of darkness from his head and ran across the bridge. “Now, you miller-giant, who would grind my bones, catch me if you can,” he cried.

The giant gave a bellow of rage and ran after Jack, who had already reached the other side. The timbers held till the giant was in the middle of the bridge; then, with a great crash, they gave way beneath him, and down he fell into the moat and was drowned. So Jack saved the lives of the knight and his lady for the second time, and freed the land of still another giant.

But now came the most dangerous of all of Jack’s adventures.

Gargantua was the greatest and most powerful of all the giants, and he was a magician as well. He lived on the top of a high mountain, and from there he would come down to rob and steal and carry off prisoners. These prisoners he changed into various sorts of wild animals, and he kept them in the gardens that surrounded his palace. He had carried off a duke’s only daughter in this way, and had changed her into a doe.

The duke had been in despair over the loss of his daughter for she was his only child and he loved her dearly. He promised that anyone who brought her back to him should have her for his bride, and because she was very beautiful many princes and brave heroes had gone in search of her, but of them all none had ever returned.

It was this dangerous giant that Jack determined to seek out and destroy.

He girded the sword of sharpness at his side and took his cap of darkness and his cloak of wisdom and set out.

He journeyed on and journeyed on, and after awhile he came to a high and rocky mountain, and at the very top of it he could see a great castle with gardens around it and high walls.

Jack climbed up and up over rock and brier, stump and stone, until he came to the gate of the garden. There he stopped to put the cap of darkness on his head; then he ventured in.

The gardens were very fine, as he saw at once, and many animals were grazing on the grass, or resting in the shadows. One of them, a beautiful doe, raised its head and looked toward him, then at once came over to him and rested its head on his arm, and looked up at him with its great dark eyes.

Jack was very much troubled at this. He feared there was some enchantment about the place that made him visible in spite of his cap of darkness. However, none of the other animals paid any attention to him, so he hoped it was only the doe that could see him.

He went on through the gardens until he came to the door of the castle, and there hanging beside it was a golden horn, and on the horn were these words:

“Whoever doth this trumpet blow
Shall soon the giant overthrow,
And break the black enchantment straight,
So all shall be in happy state.”

Jack raised the horn to his lips and blew a blast so loud and clear that the castle echoed with it.

At once a wonderful change came over the garden. The doe beside him changed into a maiden more beautiful than any Jack had ever dreamed of. The wild animals became princes and heroes and noble ladies.

As for the castle itself, it fell into ruins; a great chasm yawned under it, and into this chasm it crumbled with a dreadful noise, carrying the giant with it. Then the ground closed over the ruins and not a single stone was left to mark the place where the castle had stood.

So ended the last of Jack’s adventures, and so perished the last and most wicked of all his giant foes. From then on the land was at peace.

Jack was married to the beautiful maiden who had followed him as a doe, and as she was the duke’s daughter the poor lad became very rich and powerful. He and the duke’s daughter loved each other dearly, and so they lived in great happiness all their lives, honored by everyone about them.

THE THREE WISHES

Once upon a time a poor man took his ax and went out into the forest to cut wood. He was a lazy fellow, so as soon as he was in the forest he began to look about to see which tree would be the easiest to cut down. At last he found one that was hollow inside, as he could tell by knocking upon it with his ax. “It ought not to take long to cut this down,” said he to himself. He raised his ax and struck the tree such a blow that the splinters flew.

At once the bark opened and a little old fairy with a long beard came running out of the tree.

“What do you mean by chopping into my house?” he cried; and his eyes shone like red hot sparks, he was so angry.

“I did not know it was your house,” said the man.

“Well, it is my house, and I’ll thank you to let it alone,” cried the fairy.

“Very well,” said the man. “I’d just as lieve cut down some other tree. I’ll chop down the one over yonder.”

“That is well,” said the fairy. “I see that you are an obliging fellow, after all. I have it in my mind to reward you for sparing my house, so the next three wishes you and your wife make shall come true, whatever they are; and that is your reward.”

Then the fairy went back into the tree again and pulled the bark together behind him.

The man stood looking at the tree and scratching his head. “Now that is a curious thing,” said he. Then he sat down and began to wonder what he should wish for. He thought and he thought, but he could decide on nothing. “I’ll just go home and talk it over with my wife,” said he; so he shouldered his ax, and set off for home. As soon as he came in at the door he began to bawl for his wife, and she came in a hurry, for she did not know what had happened to him.

He told his story and his wife listened. “This is a fine thing to have happen to us,” said she. “Now we must be very careful what we wish for.”

They sat down one on each side of the fire to talk it over. They thought of ever so many things they would like to have—a bag of gold, and a coach and four, and a fine house to live in, and fine clothes to wear, but nothing seemed just the right thing to choose.

They talked so long that they grew hungry. “Well, here we sit,” said the man, “and not a thing cooked for dinner. I wish we had one of those fine black puddings you used to make.”

No sooner had he spoken than there was a great thumping and bumping in the chimney and a great black pudding fell down on the hearth before him.

“What is this?” cried the man staring.

“Oh, you oaf! you stupid!” shrieked his wife. “It’s the pudding you wished for. There’s one of our wishes wasted. I wish the pudding were stuck on the end of your nose! It would serve you right!”

The moment she said this the pudding flew up and stuck to the man’s nose, and there it was and he couldn’t get it off; the man pulled and tugged, and his wife pulled and tugged, but it was all of no use.

“Well, there’s no help for it,” said the husband; “we’ll have to wish it off again.”

His wife begun to cry and bawl. “No, no,” she cried. “We only have one wish left, and we can’t waste it that way. Let’s wish ourselves the richest people in the world.”

But to this the man would not agree. He wanted the pudding off his nose whatever it cost. So at last the wife was obliged to let him have his own way. “I wish the pudding was off my nose again,” said the man, and that was the third of their wishes. So all the good they had of the fairy’s gift was a black pudding for dinner; but then it was the best black pudding they had ever eaten. “And after all,” said the man, “there’s nothing much better in the world to wish for than a full stomach.”

THE GOOSE GIRL

There was once a beautiful young Princess who had been promised in marriage to the Prince of a far country.

When the time for the marriage came she made ready to journey to his country, for it was there that the wedding was to be celebrated, and not in her own land.

Her mother furnished her with all sorts of grand jewels and beautiful clothes to carry with her, and furniture and linens, and she also made her a present of a wonderful horse named Falada, that could talk.

Just before the Princess was ready to set out, her mother called her to her, and made a little cut in her finger, and allowed three drops of blood to fall upon a handkerchief.

“Here, my child, take this with you,” said the Queen; “put it in the bosom of your dress, and guard it carefully. It is a charm, and as long as you have it no evil of any kind can have power over you.”

The Princess thanked her mother, and put the handkerchief in the bosom of her dress as she was told. Then she kissed the Queen tenderly, and bade her farewell, and set out upon the journey with her waiting-maid riding beside her.

Now this waiting-maid, who rode with the Princess, had a very bad heart. She was both sly and deceitful. She pretended to the Queen that she loved the Princess dearly, but all the while she hated and envied her, and would have been glad enough to do her an ill turn.

She and the Princess journeyed on together for some time, and the sun shone bright and hot and the road was dusty, so the Princess became very thirsty. Presently they came to a stream, and there the Princess drew rein, and said to the waiting-maid, “Light down, I pray of you, and fill my little golden cup that I may drink, for I am thirsty.”

But the waiting-maid scowled and answered rudely, “Light down yourself, and drink from the stream, if you are thirsty. I am tired of serving you.”

The Princess was very much surprised at being answered in such a manner. However, she was young and timid, and without more words she slipped from her horse, and as she was afraid to ask for the cup, which the waiting-maid carried, she stooped over and drank from the brook as it rippled over its stones.

As she did so the drops of blood upon the handkerchief said to her:—

“If thy mother knew thy fate
Then her heart would surely break.”

The Princess made no answer, but having quenched her thirst she mounted her horse again and rode forward, and presently forgot her maid’s rudeness.

After awhile they reached another stream, and as the Princess was again thirsty, she said to the waiting-maid, “Light down, I pray you, and fill my cup with water, that I may drink.”

But the waiting-maid answered even more rudely than before, “No, I will not; get down and get the water for yourself, for I will serve you no more.”

The Princess slipped from her horse, sighing deeply, and as she bent over the stream the three drops of blood said to her:

“If thy mother knew thy fate,
Then her heart would surely break.”

The Princess made no answer, but as she stooped still lower to drink the handkerchief slipped from her bosom and floated away on the stream, but the Princess did not notice this because her eyes were full of tears. The waiting-maid noticed it, however, and her heart was filled with joy, because now the Princess had nothing to protect her, and the wicked servant could do with her as she chose.

When the Princess arose and was about to mount Falada the waiting-maid said to her, “Wait a bit! I am tired of acting as your servant. Now, we will try it the other way around. Give me your fine clothes, and you can dress yourself in these common things I am wearing.”

The Princess was afraid to refuse; she gave the waiting-maid her beautiful dress and her jewels, and dressed herself in the common clothes.

Again she was about to mount Falada, but again the waiting-maid bade her stay; “You shall ride my horse,” said she, “and I will ride Falada.” As she said so it was done. The waiting-maid also made the Princess swear that she would tell no living soul who she was. The Princess dared not refuse for fear of her life. But Falada made no such promise, and he had seen and heard all that had happened.

When they rode on again the waiting-maid was in front, dressed in the fine clothes and mounted on Falada, and the Princess came behind on the waiting-maid’s horse, and she was dressed in the common clothes, but even so she was far more beautiful than the servant.

They reached the palace, and the Prince came out to meet his bride. He lifted down the waiting-maid from Falada, for he thought she was the Princess, and he led her up the grand stairway and into the room where the King sat, but the Princess was left below in the courtyard, and no one paid any attention to her.

The King was surprised when he saw the waiting-maid, for he supposed her to be the Princess, and he had expected her to be much more beautiful. However, he said nothing about it to anyone, but made her welcome. Presently he happened to look out of the window, and there he saw the true Princess down below. “Who is that standing in the courtyard?” he asked, for he saw at once that she was very beautiful, and he was curious about it.

“Oh, that is only my waiting-maid,” answered the false bride carelessly. “I wish you would give her some work to do so that she may not be spoiled by idleness.”

“I do not know what she can do except take care of the geese,” answered the King. “Conrad, who is the goose-herd, is only a boy, and he would be glad of help in caring for them.”

“Very well; then let her be a goose-herd,” answered the false bride.

So the Princess went out in the field to help tend the geese, and the waiting-maid lived in the palace, and was treated to all that was best there. But the Prince was not happy, for his bride was rude and ill-tempered, and he could not love her.

One day the false bride said to the Prince, “I wish you would have Falada’s head cut off. I am weary of him, and besides he stumbles when I ride him.” But really she feared Falada might speak and tell all he had seen.

The Prince was shocked. “Why should you kill a horse that is so beautiful and gentle?” he asked.

“Because, as I tell you, I do not like him,” answered the waiting-maid. “Besides the horse is mine, and I can do as I like with him. If you refuse to have this done I shall know very well that it is because you do not love me.”

The Prince dared refuse no longer. He sent for a man and had Falada’s head cut off.

When the true Princess heard this she wept bitterly. She sent for the man and offered him a piece of gold if he would bring Falada’s head and nail it up over the gateway through which she passed every morning.

The man was anxious to have the gold. He took the money and nailed Falada’s head up over the gateway where the Princess wished it put.

The next morning as the Princess and Conrad drove the geese out to pasture she looked up at Falada and said:

“Ah, Falada, that thou shouldst hang there!”

And Falada answered:

“Ah, Princess, that thou shouldst pass here!
If thy mother knew thy fate,
Then her heart would surely break!”

The little goose-herd stared and wondered to hear this talk between the goose-girl and the horse’s head, but he said nothing. He and the Princess went on out to the meadows driving the geese before them, and when they were far off in the meadows where no one could see, the Princess sat down and unbound her golden hair, so that it fell all about her in a shower, and began to comb it.

Conrad had never seen anything so beautiful in all his life before, for her hair shone and glittered in the sunshine until it was enough to dazzle one. He longed to have just one thread of it to keep, so he crept up behind the Princess, meaning to steal one. But the Princess knew what he was about. Just as he reached out his hand she sang:

“Blow, wind, blow!
Blow Conrad’s hat away.
It is rolling! Do not stay
Till I have combed my hair
And tied it up again.”

At once the wind caught Conrad’s hat from his head and sent it flying and rolling across the meadows, and Conrad was obliged to run after it or he would have lost it.

By the time he came back again with the hat the Princess had combed her hair and fastened it up under her cap so that not a thread of it could be seen.

Conrad was very cross when he went home with the Princess that evening. He would not speak a word to her.

The next morning when they started out with the geese they passed under the gateway as usual, and the Princess looked up and said:

“Ah, Falada, that thou shouldst hang there!”

And the head answered:

“Ah, Princess, that thou shouldst pass here!
If thy mother knew thy fate,
Then her heart would surely break.”

Conrad listened and wondered, but said nothing.

When they reached the meadow the Princess let down her hair as before and began to comb it. It looked so beautiful and glittering and bright that Conrad felt he must have a hair of it. He crept up behind her and then, just as he was about to seize it, the Princess sang:

“Blow, wind, blow!
Blow Conrad’s hat away.
It is rolling! Do not stay
Till I have combed my hair
And tied it up again.”

At once the wind whirled Conrad’s hat away across the meadows, and he had to run after it to catch it.

When he came back he was so sulky that he would not even look at the Princess, but already she had her hair combed and fastened up under her cap.

That evening the goose-herd went to the King and said, “I do not wish that girl to go out to the meadows with me any more. I would rather take care of the geese by myself.”

“Why?” asked the King. “What is the matter with her?”

“Oh, she vexes me, and she has strange ways that I cannot understand.”

“What ways?” asked the King.

Then Conrad told him how every day as he and the girl passed through the gateway she would look up at the horse’s head and say:

“Ah, Falada, that thou shouldst hang there!”

And how the head would answer:

“Ah, Princess that thou shouldst pass here!
If thy mother knew thy fate,
Then her heart would surely break.”

“I do not like such strange ways,” said Conrad.

The King looked thoughtful and stroked his beard. Then he told Conrad not to say anything about this matter to anyone. “I myself,” said he, “will watch by the gateway to-morrow morning, for I wish to hear for myself exactly what passes between the girl and Falada.”

So the next morning very early the King hid himself in the shadow beside the gateway, and presently the Princess and Conrad came along driving the geese before them.

As they reached the gateway the Princess looked up and sighed:

“Ah, Falada, that thou shouldst hang there!”

And the head answered:

“Ah, Princess, that thou shouldst pass here!
If thy mother knew thy fate,
Then her heart would surely break.”

After they had spoken thus the King stepped out from the shadow and called to the Princess. “What is the meaning of these words?” asked he. “Who are you, and what is your story?”

The Princess began to weep. “Alas, I cannot answer,” said she, “for I have sworn that I would not tell a single living soul.”

“Very well,” said the King, “if you have sworn, then you must keep your oath; but to-night, after all the servants have left the bakehouse go and tell your story to the great oven that is there.”

This the Princess promised she would do. So that night, when she came home, she went into the bakehouse and looked about her. She saw no one, and she thought she was alone there, but the King had hidden himself inside the oven, though she did not know it.

Then the Princess began to tell her story to the oven. She told how she had left home with her false-hearted waiting-maid. She told of how she had lost the kerchief with the drops of blood upon it, and how the waiting-maid had made her exchange clothing with her and dress herself as a servant; and she told how she had been forced to swear that she would not tell all this to a living soul. All, the whole story, she told to the bake-oven, and the King sat inside of it and listened and understood.

When she had made an end of speaking the King came out and took her by the hand. “You have been very cruelly treated,” said he, “but now your sorrows are over.”

He then led the Princess into the palace, and she was dressed in the richest clothes that were there, and when this was done she was as beautiful as the moon when the clouds drift over it.

The King sent for the Prince, and when he saw the Princess he was filled with joy and love, and he knew at once that this must be his true bride.

He and the King planned together as to how the false bride should be punished. And this is what was done:

A grand feast and entertainment were arranged. The Prince sat upon a high seat with the false bride upon one hand and the true bride upon the other. But the false bride was so dazzled by all the splendor, and by her own pride that she did not even see the Princess.

Everyone ate and drank to his heart’s content, and then the King began asking riddles. After the riddles he said he would tell the guests a story, and the story he told was that of the Princess and the waiting-maid, and still the false bride was too dazzled by her own splendor to understand the story.

When he had finished the story the King asked, “What should be the punishment of such a false servant as that?”

Then the false bride cried boldly, “She should be taken to a high cliff and thrown over into the sea.”

“So shall it be,” cried the King sternly, “for you yourself are that false servant, and here sits the true bride whom you have wronged.”

Then the waiting-maid understood what she had done, and she was filled with terror. But the Princess had pity on her, and begged for mercy for her. So the waiting-maid was not thrown into the sea, but her fine clothes were stripped from her, and she was driven out to beg her way through the world.

Then the Prince and Princess were married and lived happily ever after, and Falada’s head was taken down and placed upon his body and he came to life again and lived for many years in the castle stable, and the Princess loved him dearly.

THE LITTLE OLD WOMAN AND HER PIG

One time a little old woman was sweeping her room, and she found in the corner a bright silver shilling. “There!” said the old woman, “Now I can buy that little pig I have been wanting for such a long time.”

She finished her sweeping in a hurry and put on her bonnet and her shawl and started off to market to buy her pig, and she carried a tin pail with her so she could gather blackberries along the way.

The bushes were fairly loaded down with berries, so it did not take her long to fill her pail, and after that she got to market in no time.

At first she could not find just the pig she wanted. Some were too little and some were too big; some were too fat and some were too thin. But at last she found just exactly the right pig; it was round and pink and it had one black ear, and the curliest tail there was in the market. She paid just exactly a shilling for it, and then she tied a rope around its hind leg and started home with it, driving it before her, and carrying the pail of blackberries on her arm.

At first all went well. The little pig trotted quietly along, and the sun shone, and the birds sang, and the little white clouds floated across the sky. But presently they came to a stile, and the pig did not want to go over it. Now, there was no way to go round, and no way to get home except over this stile.

“Go on, piggy,” said the old woman, shaking the rope. But piggy wouldn’t go on. The old woman tried to drive him, and he wouldn’t go, and then she tried to lead him, and then she coaxed him and talked to him, but he just _wouldn’t_ go over the stile.

At last the old woman quite lost patience with him. She saw a dog trotting along the road, and she called to him. “Here! here, good dog; come and bite piggy, for I can’t make pig go over the stile, and at this rate I won’t get home till midnight with my pail of fine ripe blackberries.”

The dog stopped and looked at her and looked at the pig, but he would not bite it.

Close by a stick lay in the road, and the woman called to it (and she was quite cross by this time). “Stick, stick, beat dog; dog won’t bite pig, pig won’t go over the stile, and at this rate I shan’t get home till midnight with my pail of fine ripe blackberries.”

But the stick wouldn’t. It lay there quietly in the road just as though she hadn’t spoken to it.

Over in the field a fire was burning, and the old woman called to it, “Fire, fire, burn stick; stick won’t beat dog, dog won’t bite pig, pig won’t go over the stile, and at this rate I won’t get home till midnight with my pail of fine ripe blackberries.”

But the fire wouldn’t.

Then the old woman called to a brook near by, “Water, water, quench fire; fire won’t burn stick, stick won’t beat dog, dog won’t bite pig, pig won’t go over the stile, and I shan’t get home till midnight with my pail of fine ripe blackberries.”

But the brook wouldn’t.

She saw an ox over in the field. “Ox, ox,” she cried, “drink water; water won’t quench fire, fire won’t burn stick, stick won’t beat dog, dog won’t bite pig, pig won’t go over the stile, and I shan’t get home till midnight with my pail of fine ripe blackberries.”

But the ox wouldn’t.

She saw a butcher riding along the road, and she called to him “Butcher, butcher, kill ox; ox won’t drink water, water won’t quench fire, fire won’t burn stick, stick won’t beat dog, dog won’t bite pig, pig won’t go over the stile, and I won’t get home till midnight with my pail of fine ripe blackberries.”

But the butcher wouldn’t.

There was a piece of rope twisted about the fence. “Rope, rope,” she cried, “hang butcher; butcher won’t kill ox, ox won’t drink water, water won’t quench fire, fire won’t burn stick, stick won’t beat dog, dog won’t bite pig, pig won’t go over the stile, and I shan’t get home till midnight with my pail of fine ripe blackberries.”

But the rope wouldn’t.

Then she called to a rat that lived in a hole under the stile, “Rat, rat, gnaw rope; rope won’t hang butcher, butcher won’t kill ox, ox won’t drink water, water won’t quench fire, fire won’t burn stick, stick won’t beat dog, dog won’t bite pig, pig won’t go over the stile, and I shan’t get home till midnight with my pail of fine ripe blackberries.”

But the rat wouldn’t.