Part 15

The king was ever so glad to have the fiddler for a son-in-law in the place either of the tinker or the shoemaker, for he was a much better-looking lad. Besides, the others had done nothing but brew trouble and worriment ever since they had come into the house.

After that there was a grand wedding. I too was there at the feasting, but I got nothing but empty sausage and wind pudding, and so I came away again.

And that is the end of this story.

Nine O’clock·

When all are wrapped in _Slumbers_ sweet, [Sidenote: ○] About the _House_, with stealthy _Tread_, With flowered _Gown_, and night-capped _Head_, _Dame Margery_ goes, in _Stocking Feet_.

She stops and listens at the _Doors_; [Sidenote: ☾] She sees that every thing is right, And safe, and quiet for the _Night_, Then goes to _Bed_, and sleeps, and snores.

K.P.

XXI.

There was a princess who was as pretty as a picture, and she was so proud of that that she would not so much as look at a body; all the same, there was no lack of lads who came a-wooing, and who would have liked nothing so much as to have had her for a sweetheart because she was so good-looking. But, no, she would have nothing to do with any of them; this one was too young and that one was too old; this one was too lean and that one was too fat; this one was too little and that one was too big; this one was too dark and that one was too fair. So there was never a white sheep in the whole flock, as one might say.

Now there was one came who was a king in his own country, and a fine one at that. The only blemish about him was a mole on his chin; apart from that he was as fresh as milk and rose leaves.

But when the princess saw him she burst out laughing; “Who would choose a specked apple from the basket?” said she; and that was all the cake the prince bought at that shop, for off he was packed.

But he was not for giving up, not he; he went and dressed himself up in rags and tatters; then back he came again, and not a soul knew him.

Rap! tap! rap!—he knocked at the door, and did they want a stout lad about the place?

Well, yes; they were wanting a gooseherd, and if he liked the place he might have it.

Oh, that fitted his wants like a silk stocking, and the next day he drove the geese up on the hill back of the king’s house, so that they might eat grass where it was fresh and green. By and by he took a golden ball out of his pocket and began tossing it up and catching it, and as he played with it the sun shone on it so that it dazzled one’s eyes to look at it.

The princess sat at her window, and it was not long before she saw it, I can tell you. Dear, dear, but it was a pretty one, the golden ball. The princess would like to have such a plaything, that she would; so she sent one of the maids out to ask whether the gooseherd had a mind to sell it.

Oh, yes, it was for sale, and cheap at that; the princess should have it for the kerchief which she wore about her neck.

Prut! but the lad was a saucy one; that was what the princess said. But, after all, a kerchief was only a kerchief; fetch the gooseherd over and she would give it to him, for she wanted the pretty golden ball for her own, and she would have it if it were to be had.

But, no; the gooseherd would not come at the princess’s bidding. If she wanted to buy the golden ball she must come up on the hill and pay him, for he was not going to leave his flock of geese, and have them waddling into the garden perhaps; that is what the gooseherd said. So the upshot of the matter was that the princess went out with her women, and gave the lad the kerchief up on the hill behind the hedge, and brought back the golden ball with her for her own.

As for the gooseherd he just tied the kerchief around his arm so that everybody might see it; and all the folks said, “Hi! that is the princess’s kerchief.”

The next day, when he drove his flock of geese up on the hill, he took a silver looking-glass and a golden comb out of his pocket and began to comb his hair, and you should have seen how the one and the other glistened in the sun.

It took the princess no longer to see the comb and the looking-glass than it had the golden ball, and then she must and would have them. So she sent one to find whether the lad was of a mind to sell them, for she thought that she had never seen anything so pretty in all of her life before.

“Yes,” said he, “I will sell them, but the princess must come up on the hill back of the hedge and give me the necklace she wears about her neck.”

The princess made a sour enough face at this, but, as the gooseherd would take nothing more nor less than what he had said, she and her maids had to tuck up their dresses and go up on the hill; there she paid him his price, and brought home the silver looking-glass and the golden comb.

The lad clasped the necklace about his throat, and, dear, dear, how all the folks did goggle and stare. “See,” said they, “the princess has been giving the gooseherd the necklace from about her own throat.”

The third day it was a new thing the gooseherd had, for he brought out a musical box with figures on it, dressed up, and looking for all the world like real little men and women. He turned the handle, and when the music played it was sweeter than drops of honey. And all the while the little men and women bowed to one another and went through with a dance, for all the world as though they knew what they were about, and were doing it with their own wits.

Good gracious! how the princess did wonder at the pretty musical box! She must and would have it at any price; but this time it was five-and-twenty kisses that the lad was wanting for his musical box, and he would take nothing more nor less than just that much for it. Moreover, she would have to come up on the hillside and give them to him, for he could not leave his geese even for five-and-twenty kisses.

But you should have seen what a stew the princess was in at this! Five-and-twenty kisses, indeed! And did the fellow think that it was for the likes of her to be kissing a poor gooseherd? He might keep his musical box if that was the price he asked for it; that was what she said.

As for the lad, he just played the music and played the music, and the more the princess heard and saw the more she wanted it. “After all,” said she, at last, “a kiss is only a kiss, and I will be none the poorer for giving one or two of them; I’ll just let him have them, since he will take nothing else.” So off she marched, with all of her maidens, to pay the gooseherd his price, though it was a sour face she made of it, and that is the truth.

Now, somebody had been buzzing in the king’s ear, and had told him that the gooseherd over yonder was wearing the princess’s kerchief and her golden necklace, and folks said she had given them to him of her own free will.

“What!” says the king, “is that so? her kerchief! golden necklace! we will have to look into this business.” So off he marched, with his little dog at his heels, to find out what he could about it. Up the hill he went to where the gooseherd watched his flock; and when he came near the hedge where the kissing was going on, he heard them counting—“Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three—” and he wondered what in the world they were all about. So he just peeped over the bushes, and there he saw the whole business.

Mercy on us! what a rage he was in! So; the princess would turn up her nose at folks as good as herself, would she? And here she was kissing the gooseherd back of the hedge. If he was the kind she liked she should have him for good and all.

So the minister was called in, and the princess and the gooseherd were married then and there, and that was the end of the business. Then off they were packed to shift for themselves in the wide world, for they were not to live at the king’s castle, and that was the long and the short of it.

But the lad did nothing but grumble and growl, and seemed as sore over his bargain as though he had been trying to trick a Jew. What did he want with a lass for a wife who could neither brew nor bake nor boil blue beans? That is what he said. All the same, they were hitched to the same plough, and there was nothing for it but to pull together the best they could. So off they packed, and the poor princess trudged after him and carried his bundle.

So they went on until they came to a poor, mean little hut. There she had to take off her fine clothes and put on rags and tatters; and that was the way she came home.

“Well,” said the gooseherd one day, “it’s not the good end of the bargain that I have had in marrying; all the same, one must make the best one can of a crooked stick when there is none other to be cut in the hedge. It is little or nothing you are fit for; but here is a basket of eggs, and you shall take them to the market and sell them.”

So off the poor princess went to the great town, and stood in the corner of the market with her eggs. By and by there came along a tipsy countryman—tramp! tramp! tramp! As for the basket of eggs, he minded them no more than so many green apples. Smash! and there they lay on the ground, and were fit for nothing but to patch broken promises, as we say in our town.

Then how the poor princess did wring her hands and cry and cry, for she was afraid to go home to her husband, because of the hard words he would be sure to fling at her. All the same, there was no other place for her to go; so back she went.

“There!” said he, “I always knew that you were good for nothing but to look at, and now I am more sure of it than ever. The china pitcher was never fit to send to the well, and it was a rainy day for me when I married such a left-handed wife;” that was what the gooseherd said. All the same, the princess should try again; this time she should take a basket of apples to the market to sell; for whatever happened she could not break them; so off she went again.

Well, by and by came a fellow driving swine, and there sat the princess in the way; that was bad luck for her, for over tumbled the basket, and the apples went rolling all about the street. When the drove had passed there was not a single apple to be seen, for the pigs had eaten every one of them. So there was nothing for the princess but to go home crying, with her apron to her eyes.

“Yes, yes,” said the gooseherd, “it is as plain as reading and writing and the nose on your face that you are just fit for nothing at all! All the same, we’ll make one more try to mend the crack in your luck. The king up in the castle yonder is married and is going to give a grand feast. They are wanting a body in the kitchen to draw the water and chop the wood; and you shall go and try your hand at that; and see, here is a basket; you shall take it along and bring home the kitchen scrapings for supper.”

So off went the princess to the castle kitchen, and there she drew the water and chopped the wood for the cook. After her work was done she begged so prettily for the kitchen scrapings that the cook filled her basket full of the leavings from the pots and the pans, for they were about having a grand dinner up-stairs and the king was going to bring home his wife that day.

By and by it was time for her to be going home, so she picked up her basket and off she went. Just outside stood two tall soldiers. “Halt!” said they. And was she the lass who had been chopping the wood and drawing the water for the cook that day? Yes? Then she must go along with them, for she was wanted up-stairs. No; it did no good for her to beg and to pray and to cry and to wring her hands, and it mattered nothing if her good man was waiting for her at home. She had been sent for, and she must go, willy-nilly. So she had only just time to fling her apron over her basket of kitchen scrapings, and off they marched her.

There sat the king on his golden throne, dressed all in splendid golden robes, and with a golden crown glittering upon his head. But the poor princess was so frightened that she neither looked at anything nor saw anything, but only stood there trembling.

“What have you under your apron?” said the king. But to this the princess could not answer a single word. Then somebody who stood near snatched away her apron, and there was the basket full of kitchen scrapings, and all the time the princess stood so heart-struck with shame that she saw nothing but the cracks in the floor.

But the king stepped down from his golden throne, dressed all in his golden robes, just as he was, and took the princess by the hand. “And do you not know me?” said he; “look! I am the gooseherd.”

And so he was! She could see it easily enough now, but that made her more ashamed than ever.

And listen: the king had more to tell her yet. He was the tipsy countryman and had knocked over her basket of eggs himself, and more than that he was the swineherd who had driven his pigs over her basket of apples so that they were spilled on the ground. But the princess only bowed her head lower and lower, for her pride was broken.

“Come,” says the king, “you are my own sweetheart now;” and he kissed her on the cheek and seated her beside himself, and if the princess cried any more the king wiped away her tears with his own pocket-handkerchief. As for the poor and rough clothes in which she was dressed, he thought nothing of them, for they were nothing to him.

That is the end of this story, for everything ends aright in a story worth the telling.

But if the princess was proud and haughty before, she never was again; and that is the plain truth, fresh from the churn and no hairs in it, and a lump of it is worth spreading your bread with, I can tell you.

Ten O’clock·

Out of the _Cupboard_ [Sidenote: ○] The _Kobold_ takes Some bits of the _Morning Griddle-Cakes_.

The _Windows_ rattle, [Sidenote: _Cold and windy._] [Sidenote: ☾] The _North Wind_ blows, But the _Ashes_ are warm Between his _Toes_. [Sidenote: K.P.]

The little grey _Mouse_ [Sidenote: ●] Looks out of the _Wall_, And wishes he had The _Crumbs_ that fall.

XXII.

This was the way of it.

Uncle Bear had a pot of honey and a big cheese, but the Great Red Fox had nothing but his wits.

The fox was for going into partnership, for he says, says he, “a head full of wits is worth more than a pot of honey and a big cheese,” which was as true as gospel, only that wits cannot be shared in partnership among folks, like red herring and blue beans, or a pot of honey and a big cheese.

All the same, Uncle Bear was well enough satisfied, and so they went into partnership together, just as the Great Red Fox had said. As for the pot of honey and the big cheese, why, they were put away for a rainy day, and the wits were all that were to be used just now.

“Very well,” says the fox, “we’ll rattle them up a bit;” and so he did, and this was how.

He was hungry for the honey, was the Great Red Fox. “See, now,” said he, “I am sick to-day, and I will just go and see the Master Doctor over yonder.”

But it was not the doctor he went to; no, off he marched to the storehouse, and there he ate part of the honey. After that he laid out in the sun and toasted his skin, for that is pleasant after a great dinner.

By and by he went home again.

“Well,” says Uncle Bear, “and how do you feel now?”

“Oh, well enough,” says the Great Red Fox.

“And was the medicine bitter?” says Uncle Bear.

“Oh, no, it was good enough,” says the Great Red Fox.

“And how much did the doctor give you?” says Uncle Bear.

“Oh, about one part of a pot full,” says the Red Fox.

Dear, dear! thinks Uncle Bear, that is a great deal of medicine to take, for sure and certain.

Well, things went on as smoothly as though the wheels were greased, until by and by the fox grew hungry for a taste of honey again; and this time he had to go over yonder and see his aunt. Off he went to the storehouse, and there he ate all the honey he wanted, and then, after he had slept a bit in the sun, he went back home again.

“Well,” says Uncle Bear, “and did you see your aunt?”

“Oh, yes,” says the Great Red Fox, “I saw her.”

“And did she give you anything?” says Uncle Bear.

“Oh, yes, she gave me a trifle,” says the Great Red Fox.

“And what was it she gave you?” says Uncle Bear.

“Why, she gave me another part of a pot full, that was all,” says the Great Red Fox.

“Dear, dear! but that is a queer thing to give,” says Uncle Bear.

By and by the Great Red Fox was thinking of honey again, and now it was a christening he had to go to. Off he went to the pot of honey, and this time he finished it all and licked the pot into the bargain.

And had everything gone smoothly at the christening? That was what Uncle Bear wanted to know.

“Oh, smoothly enough,” says the Great Red Fox.

“And did they have a christening feast?” says Uncle Bear.

“Oh, yes, they had that,” says the Great Red Fox.

“And what did they have?” says Uncle Bear.

“Oh, everything that was in the pot,” says the Great Red Fox.

“Dear, dear,” says Uncle Bear, “but they must have been a hungry set at that christening.”

Well, one day Uncle Bear says, “We’ll have a feast and eat up the pot of honey and the big cheese, and we’ll ask Father Goat over to help us.”

That suited the Great Red Fox well enough, so off he went to the storehouse to fetch the pot of honey and the cheese; as for Uncle Bear he went to ask Father Goat to come and help them eat up the good things.

“See, now,” says the Great Red Fox to himself, “the pot of honey and the big cheese belong together, and it is a pity to part them.” So down he sat without more ado, and when he got up again the cheese was all inside of him.

When he came home again there was Father Goat toasting his toes at the fire and waiting for supper; and there was Uncle Bear on the back door-step sharpening the bread-knife.

“Hi!” says the Great Red Fox, “and what are you doing here, Father Goat?”

“I am just waiting for supper, and that is all,” says Father Goat.

“And where is Uncle Bear?” says the Great Red Fox.

“He is sharpening the bread-knife,” says Father Goat.

“Yes,” says the Great Red Fox, “and when he is through with that he is going to cut your tail off.”

Dear, dear! but Father Goat was in a great fright; that house was no place for him, and he could see that with one eye shut; off he marched, as though the ground was hot under him. As for the Great Red Fox, he went out to Uncle Bear; “That was a pretty body you asked to take supper with us,” says he; “here he has marched off with the pot of honey and the big cheese, and we may sit down and whistle over an empty table between us.”

When Uncle Bear heard this he did not tarry, I can tell you; up he got and off he went after Father Goat. “Stop! stop!” he bawled, “let me have a little at least.”

But Father Goat thought that Uncle Bear was speaking of his tail, for he knew nothing of the pot of honey and the big cheese; so he just knuckled down to it, and away he scampered till the gravel flew behind him.

And this was what came of that partnership; nothing was left but the wits that the Great Red Fox had brought into the business; for nobody could blame Father Goat for carrying the wits off with him, and one might guess that without the telling.

Now, as the pot of honey and big cheese were gone, something else must be looked up, for one cannot live on thin air, and that is the truth.

“See, now,” says the Great Red Fox, “Farmer John over yonder has a storehouse full of sausages and chitterlings and puddings, and all sort of good things. As nothing else is left of the partnership we’ll just churn our wits a bit, and see if we can make butter with them, as the saying goes;” that was what the Great Red Fox said, and it suited Uncle Bear as well as anything he ever heard; so off they marched arm in arm.

By and by they came to Farmer John’s house, and nobody was about, which was just what the two rogues wanted; and, yes, there was the storehouse as plain as the nose on your face, only the door was locked. Above was a little window just big enough for the Great Red Fox to creep into, though it was up ever so high. “Just give me a lift up through the window yonder,” says he to Uncle Bear, “and I will drop the good things out for you to catch.”

So Uncle Bear gave the Great Red Fox a leg up, and—pop!—and there he was in the storehouse like a mouse in the cheese-box.

As soon as he was safe among the good things he bawled out to Uncle Bear, “What shall it be first, sausages or puddings?”

“Hush! hush!” said Uncle Bear.

“Yes, yes,” bawled the Red Fox louder than ever, “only tell me which I shall take first, sausages or puddings?”

“Sh-h-h-h!” said Uncle Bear, “if you are making such a noise as that you will have them about our ears; take the first that comes and be quick about it.”

“Yes, yes,” bawled the fox as loud as he was able; “but one is just as handy as another, and you must tell me which I shall take first.”

But Uncle Bear got neither pudding nor sausage, for the Great Red Fox had made such a hubbub that Farmer John and his men came running, and three great dogs with them.

“Hi!” said they, “there is Uncle Bear after the sausages and puddings;” and there was nothing for him to do but to lay foot to the ground as fast as he could. All the same, they caught him over the hill, and gave him such a drubbing that his bones ached for many a long day.

But the Great Red Fox only waited until all the others were well away on their own business, and then he filled a bag with the best he could lay his hands on, opened the door from the inside, and walked out as though it were from his own barn; for there was nobody to say “No” to him. He hid the good things away in a place of his own, and it was little of them that Uncle Bear smelt. After he had gathered all this, Master Fox came home, groaning as though he had had an awful drubbing; it would have moved a heart of stone to hear him.

“Dear, oh dear! what a drubbing I have had,” said he.

“And so have I,” said Uncle Bear, grinning over his sore bones as though cold weather were blowing snow in his teeth.

“See, now,” said the Great Red Fox, “this is what comes of going into partnership, and sharing one’s wits with another. If you had made your choice when I asked you, your butter would never have been spoiled in the churning.”

That was all the comfort Uncle Bear had, and cold enough it was too. All the same, he is not the first in the world who has lost his dinner, and had both the drubbing and the blame into the bargain.

But things do not last forever, and so by and by the good things from Farmer John’s storehouse gave out, and the Great Red Fox had nothing in the larder.

“Listen,” says he to Uncle Bear, “I saw them shaking the apple-trees at Farmer John’s to-day, and if you have a mind to try the wits that belong to us, we’ll go and bring a bagful apiece from the storehouse over yonder at the farm.”