Part 5

Her father and her sisters wondered what fine lady it was that was coming to the castle, and when the coach stopped they came out to look. Dear, dear, but the king was glad to see her; as for her two sisters, they grew as green as grass with envy, for when they heard where she dwelt, and what a fine castle it was, all built of pure gold and silver, and what a handsome prince it was that she had for a husband, they were ready to burst with spite, for each felt that she might have had all this for herself if the Raven prince had only chosen her instead of Golden-Hair. So when the princess had told them all about what had happened, they only nodded and winked at one another as though they did not believe a word of it.

“Yes, yes,” said they, “it is all very well to talk about your handsome prince; but why did he not come along with you, we should like to know?”

The princess could not tell them that; but she could bring him quickly enough whenever she chose, for all that she had to do was to spread her napkin and wish and he would be there. She would show them that what she had said was true, had her prince not forbidden her.

But the envious sisters only jeered and laughed as though all that the princess said was the best jest in the world.

Now one can bear anything better than laughter. So the end of the matter was that the princess spread the linen napkin on the floor and wished that the Raven prince might be with them.

No sooner had she wished it than there he stood; but he looked at no one but her. “Did I not tell you that misfortune would come of it if you wished for me?” said he. “Now, I must leave you and go where you are not likely ever to see me again.”

Then the princess would have spoken, but he gave her no time for that. He snatched up the napkin, and, becoming a Raven once more, he flew through the open window and across the tree-tops and was gone. At the same time her golden coach vanished, and, the coachman and footmen became so many birds and flew away, so that not one of her fine things was left.

The poor princess wept and cried for a whole day and a whole night. But at the end of that time she dried her eyes, and, tucking up her skirts, started off into the wide world to find her dear prince again.

Well, she travelled on and on and on for more days than she could count, and till she had been over nearly all of the world, but in all that time she could learn no news of the prince nor of whither he had gone. At last one day, about nightfall, she came to a little hut in a deep forest, and in the hut sat an old woman with hair as white as snow.

“What do you want, child?” said the old woman; “do you not know that this is Death’s house, and that if he returns and finds you here he will kill you? I tell you that he spares neither the young nor the old, the plain nor the handsome. As for me, I am his grandmother.”

But all this was one to the princess, and went in at one ear and out of the other; she could no longer drag one foot after the other, so there she must stay even if Death should find her when he came home.

Then she told Death’s grandmother all that had happened to her, and Death’s grandmother took pity on her because she was so pretty and so tired. She gave the princess something to eat and then hid her in the tall clock that stood in the corner, so that Death might not find her when he came home.

By and by in came Death and hung up his great scythe behind the door. “Hu-u-u-u!” cried he, “I smell Christian blood in the house for sure.”

“Christian blood, indeed!” said his grandmother, “as though a Christian would come to this house if he had anywhere else to go! But now I think of it, a crow flew overhead to-day, and dropped a bone down the chimney. I threw it out as soon as I could, but perhaps that is what you smell.”

So Death said nothing more, but sat down to supper and ate heartily, for he had had a long journey that day.

“See,” said his grandmother, “I had a dream to-day. A princess is out in the world hunting for her Raven sweetheart, and cannot tell where to find him.”

“That is easy enough to tell,” said Death; “he lives in a great castle that stands at the end of the earth on a high hill of smooth glass.”

“That is good,” said Death’s grandmother, “but I dreamed that after she found where he lived, she was too weary to journey thither.”

“That is easy enough, too,” said Death; “out in the forest yonder stands my pale horse tied to an oak-tree. If she could only find the horse and loose the bridle and mount his back he would take her there quickly enough, for he can travel more rapidly than the north wind.”

“Yes, yes, that is all very well,” said Death’s grandmother, “but I had a third dream; I thought that when she came to the smooth hill of glass she did not know how to climb to the top; what is the answer to that?”

“Prut!” said Death, “that is easy to tell. Over by the glass hill are seven birds fighting in the tree-top for an old hat. If she will throw a stone in the midst of them they will drop the hat and fly away. It is Wish’s own hat, and if she will put it on her head and wish herself at the top of the hill, she will be there quickly enough, I can tell you.”

After that Death put on his cloak and took up his scythe and was off like a whirlwind, for he has little time to spare for talking, folks say. Then Death’s grandmother opened the clock, and the princess came out and thanked her and went her way.

She hunted here and there through the forest until, sure enough, she found Death’s great pale horse tied to an oak-tree. She loosened the bridle and mounted upon his back, and away they went till the chips and the stones flew behind them. So they soon came to the high hill of smooth glass that stood at the end of the earth, and there, on top of it, was the castle of the prince.

The princess dismounted from the pale horse, and away he galloped home again.

Then the princess hunted for the birds that Death said fought for Wish’s hat, and presently she heard them making a great hubbub, and, looking up, saw them in the tree-top above her, fighting for the old hat, just as Death said they would be doing. She picked up a stone and threw it in the midst of them, and they dropped the hat and flew away screaming. Then she put on the hat and wished herself at the top of the hill, and there she was as quick as a wink.

Now, her shoes were worn into holes by long journeying, and her clothes were torn to threads and tatters by the brambles through which she had passed, and hung fluttering all about her, and she looked for all the world like nothing else than a common beggar-maid, except for her golden hair. So it was that when she knocked at the door of the prince’s castle, and the porter came and opened it and heard that she wanted to see the prince, he snapped his fingers and laughed. All the same he told her that the cook wanted a serving wench in the kitchen, and that she might have the place if she liked; if that did not suit her she might be jogging the way that she had come.

Well, there was nothing for it but for the princess to serve in the kitchen or to go away again. So she bound up her hair in a tattered kerchief so that the beautiful golden tresses might not be seen, and down she went to serve the cook.

The prince’s dinner was cooking at the fire, and the princess was to watch it so that it might not be burned. So she watched it, and as she watched it she wept.

“Why do you weep, hussy?” said the cook.

“Ah me!” said the princess, “once I ate with my love and drank with my love and lived by his side. If he did but know to what I have come how his heart would ache!”

After that the dinner was served, but, while nobody was looking, the princess plucked a strand of her golden hair and laid it upon a white napkin and the napkin upon an empty plate. Over all she placed a silver cover, and when the Raven prince lifted it there lay the strand of golden hair. “Where did this come from?” said he. But nobody could tell him that.

The next day the same thing happened; the princess watched the dinner, and as she watched she wept.

“Why do you weep, hussy?” said the cook. And thereto the princess answered as she had done before: “Ah me! once I ate with my love and drank with my love and lived by his side. If he did but know to what I have come, how his heart would ache!”

Then, while nobody was looking, she plucked another strand of golden hair and the prince found it as he had done the other, and no one could tell him whence it came.

The third day the same thing happened as had happened twice before: the princess watched and wept, and when nobody was looking plucked a third strand of golden hair and sent it to the prince as she had the others.

Then the prince sent for the cook. “Who has been serving this and that with my dinner?” said he.

The cook shook his head, for he knew nothing, but perhaps the new serving wench could tell, for she wept and said things that none of them understood. When the prince heard this he sent for her, and the princess came and stood before him. He looked at her and knew her, for her golden hair shone through a hole in the ugly head-dress that she wore. Then he reached out his hand and snatched it off of her head, and her golden hair fell down all about her shoulders until it reached the floor. Then he took her in his arms and kissed her, and that was the end of all of her troubles.

After that they had a grand time at the castle; every one who came had all that he could eat, and wine and beer flowed like water. I, too, was there, but I brought nothing away with me in my pockets.

Seven O’clock·

Around about, [Sidenote: ☉☌⊕E3°26′.] Around about, The _Kobold_ played and in and out; He peeped in every _Pot_ and _Pail_, And grinned, and pulled the _Pussy’s_ tail.

Big clumsy _Gretchen_, washing up [Sidenote: _Clear, pleasant._] The _Breakfast-dishes_, dropped a _Cup_; It fell upon the _Kobold’s Toe_, And made him hop it hurt him so.

K.P. del.

VII.

In those days the Great Red Fox and Cousin Greylegs, the wolf, were great cronies, and whenever you would see one you might be sure the other was not far away. The Great Red Fox was a master-hand at roguery, and Cousin Greylegs, the wolf, came close behind him. That was how they made their living.

By and by they fell out, so that they were never good friends again, and this was how it happened.

There was to be a great fair, and the world and his wife and the little dog behind the stove were to be there.

“We will go too,” says the pair of scamps; so off they went.

By and by they came to an inn where the windows were red with the good things cooking in the kitchen—green geese and ducks and chickens, and sausages, and cabbage, and onions, and all the nice things you can think of. But the two rogues had no money, and one cannot buy something with nothing out in the wide world. But they found a ladder against the side of the wall, and climbed up into the loft above and lay in the hay.

Dear, dear, how nice the good things did smell down in the kitchen! “My goodness!” says Cousin Greylegs, “but I would like to have a taste of them.”

As for the Great Red Fox, he had been nursing his wits all the time, and now he had a trick hatched. So down he climbed from the loft the same way he had climbed up; and nobody saw him, for he took good care of that. Over he went to the stables where the horses stood munching away at the corn in the mangers. He loosened a bridle here and a bridle there until not one of the nags was fastened where he belonged; then he slipped back into the loft once more. By and by began the kicking and the squealing over at the stable; out ran the landlord and all the other folks with him, and not a soul was left in the kitchen. Then brother Greylegs and the Great Red Fox came down and helped themselves, and while they were about it the Great Red Fox stuffed a fistful of hazel-nuts into his pocket.

After a while the landlord and the rest of them came from the stable; but nothing was left for them of the good things but the leavings.

As for Cousin Greylegs and the Great Red Fox, why, they lay up in the loft among the straw, and ate and ate until they could eat no more.

By and by there came along somebody else on his way to the fair, and it was a rich corn-factor who made his money by buying corn cheap, and selling it dear to poor folks, so that he was as great a rogue as the two scamps up yonder in the loft. With him he brought a whole bag of money; but it bought him no supper that night, for all the good things had been stolen, and the corn-factor had to be contented with what pickings he could get. As for the bag of money, he put that in a great chest in the corner, and there he left it for safe-keeping.

Now up in the loft where the two rogues lay was a cowhide, which the landlord used for making straps and thongs and such like things. What does the Great Red Fox do but whip out his needle and thread and sew the cowhide fast to Cousin Greylegs’ Jacket, though Cousin Greylegs knew no more of that than a mouse in a barrel. Then by and by the Great Red Fox was up to another of his tricks. “See,” says he, “here I have a pocketful of hazel-nuts, and I am for cracking one.”

“Tut, tut, brother,” says Cousin Greylegs, “you must crack no nuts here.”

“But I must crack a nut,” says the Great Red Fox.

“But you must not,” says Cousin Greylegs.

“But I must,” says the Great Red Fox, and so he did.

“Hark!” says the landlord; “yonder is somebody up in the loft cracking the nuts that we were to have had for supper; it is a good beating he shall have for the trick he has been playing upon us.”

When Cousin Greylegs heard this he did not stop to tarry or to think; down he jumped from the loft, and away he scampered as fast as he could lay foot to the ground; but with him went the cowhide which the Great Red Fox had sewed fast to his jacket.

“Hi!” bawled the landlord, “there is the thief who stole our supper, and he is taking my cowhide into the bargain.”

Off they all scampered after Cousin Greylegs and the cowhide. The corn-factor first of all.

As for Cousin Greylegs, why, he laid down to the running as though he had never been born for anything else. But it is hard work running with a cowhide flapping about one’s legs, so they caught him just over the hill, and then, dear, dear, what a drubbing they gave him.

But as soon as everybody was safe away after Cousin Greylegs and the cowhide, the Great Red Fox came down from the loft, and marched off with the corn-factor’s money without anybody being about to say “No” to him.

Off he went as happy as a cricket, until he came to the cross-roads over the hill and back of the woods, and who should he see sitting there but Cousin Greylegs rubbing the places that smarted the most.

“Hi!” says the Great Red Fox, “and is that you, Cousin Greylegs? Why, I have been looking up and down, over hill and over hollow for you. Here is a whole bag of money that I found at the inn over yonder, and if it wasn’t for the trick that I played you, there was never a penny of it that would have come into our pockets.”

“So!” says Cousin Greylegs. “Well, that was a different matter;” and he swallowed the drubbing he had had, for it was to be share and share alike with the money, and that was a salve for sore bones. So off they went together arm in arm.

By and by they came to another inn. “We’ll stop here,” says Cousin Greylegs, “and have another bite to eat before we go any farther.” And that suited the Great Red Fox well enough, so in they went, and gave the bag of money into the landlord’s keeping, and Cousin Greylegs ordered a supper fit for a lord.

But the Great Red Fox had his wits about him all this time, for he was not one to be caught napping when the sun was up. “Yes, yes,” says he to himself, “Cousin Greylegs is up to some of his tricks, sure enough; we’ll put a stopper in the bottle before the luck has dribbled out.” So while Cousin Greylegs was pottering about in the kitchen down-stairs, seeing that the cooking was done to his mind, the Great Red Fox took a bag like the one they brought with them, and filled it full of old rusty nails and bits of iron. Off he marched with it to the landlord. “See,” says he, “Cousin Greylegs will come asking for a bag by and by; here it is, give it to him and he will be satisfied.”

Sure enough, when the supper was over and the Great Red Fox was snoring in front of the fire, for all the world as though he were sound asleep, off packed Cousin Greylegs to the landlord. “Look,” says he, “that bag that the Great Red Fox left here, just hand it over to me, will you? for I must be jogging. As for the Great Red Fox, you may let him have his sleep out.”

Yes, that was all right, and the landlord knew nothing about the tricks of the two rogues, so he handed over the bag of rusty nails and bits of iron. And Cousin Greylegs never once thought of looking to see, for the bits of iron jingled, and the sound was enough for him, for that is the way with folks out in the world.

As for the Great Red Fox, he waited until Cousin Greylegs was well away on his own business, then off he stepped along the road that led the other way, and it was the bag of gold and silver money he carried with him.

But that is not all of the story; for listen: There was a poor old blind mole who lived in the ground because he had nowhere else to go, and that was his home. But the Great Red Fox thought nothing of him. On he came—tramp! tramp! tramp!—and would have trodden right on the roof of the mole’s house. “Brother Fox,” cried Grandfather Mole, “look where you are treading, or you will have the roof down about my ears.”

“Pooh!” says the Great Red Fox, “when one has been sharp enough to trick such a keen blade as Cousin Greylegs, one is not going to step out of one’s way for a little gray mole as blind as charity:” and so he was for going straight ahead.

But up jumped Grandfather Mole and caught hold of him, and then he felt the bag of gold and silver money the Great Red Fox carried. “Hi!” says he, “and here is a new card in the game.” So he held on to the Great Red Fox and began to bawl with all his might and main, “Help, good folks! help! here is the Great Red Fox stealing my bag of gold and silver money!”

“Hush! hush!” said the Great Red Fox, for he was for having as little said about the bag of money as need be, “let me go and I will promise to tread on nobody’s house.” But no, it was easier to get into that hole than it was to get out again, for Grandfather Mole held on and bawled for help louder than ever. “Help! help! here is one robbing a poor blind mole of all he has in the world!” That was the way he kept up the song, and he made such a hubbub that the folks came running and hauled them both up before the Master Judge to see what he had to say about the business.

“The bag of money is mine,” said the Great Red Fox.

“Yes, good! but where did you get it?” says the judge, and that was a question easier asked than answered.

“See now,” says Grandfather Mole, “it is easy enough to talk, for breath is cheap in this town, but the thing is to put it to trial and find out who is telling the truth. We’ll build a fire and try who can stand it the longest, and that will show the right in this matter as clear as a morning in hay-season.”

Well, that suited the fox well enough, “for,” says he to himself, “it is a pretty business if I can’t stand a scorching as long as an old blind mole;” and so that business was settled.

Out they all went, and it was Grandfather Mole who was to try the burning first of all. So they fetched sticks and twigs and covered him all over with them, and then set fire to them.

Dear, dear, but it was a fine blaze that went up, but the mole had his wits about him; for as soon as he felt the heat of the fire he began digging down into the ground with all his might and main, so that not a spark touched him.

“Do you burn, Grandfather Mole?” says the Great Red Fox.

“No!” bawled Grandfather Mole. So they just threw on another armful of twigs.

By and by the Great Red Fox says again: “Do you burn, Grandfather Mole?” for he thought by this time that the mole must be as scorched as an old shoe under the stove.

But Grandfather Mole was ready for him. “_No!!_” he bawled, louder than ever.

Dear, dear, but here was a strange happening; all the same, the Great Red Fox threw on wood and threw on wood, until the blaze went up like a chimney afire. “And _now_ do you burn, Grandfather Mole?” says he.

“NO!!!” bawled Grandfather Mole until you might have thought his throat would have split with the noise he made.

So they let the fire go out, and up came Grandfather Mole out of the ground looking as fresh and as sharp as a green gooseberry.

And now it was the Great Red Fox’s turn; and they heaped the sticks and twigs over him as they had done over Grandfather Mole, and then set fire to them.

“Do you burn?” says Grandfather Mole after a bit.

“NO!!!” bawled the Great Red Fox, as though his throat was made of leather.

So they threw on more sticks and twigs, but the Great Red Fox just shut his teeth and grinned, for he was bound that he would stand as much of a burning as an old blind mole.

“Do you burn now?” says Grandfather Mole.

“No,” says the Great Red Fox, but his voice was as small as peas in March. So they threw on another armful of wood, and the fire grew hotter and hotter.

“And do you burn now?” says Grandfather Mole.

“_Thunder and lightning, yes!_” bawled the Great Red Fox, and out he jumped and away he scampered, smoking like a charcoal kiln.

So all he gained by his roguery was a burnt skin and nothing to show for it; and that has happened more than once to rogues whose wits are so sharp that they cut their own fingers with them.

Now in our town we do not make puddings without plums, or tell a story without rhyme or reason, but if you wish to find any meaning in these words, you must put on your spectacles and look for it for yourself, even though the tale stands all legs and no head, as the man in the moon said about his grandmother’s tongs.

Eight O’clock·

The _Sun_ in the _Sky_ [Sidenote: _Grows warmer_] Is not yet high, And the _Grasses_ are wet by the _Pool_. With hop and jump, By _Hedge_ and _Stump_, [Sidenote: ♈︎] The _Children_ are going to _School_.

K. P.

VIII.

Once upon a time there was a lad who was a fisherman, and every morning he shouldered his net, and went down to the river to catch fish to sell in the town.

One morning as he walked beside the edge of the water, he came upon a great tall stork caught in a trap that had been set for the water-rats.

It was a tender heart that the young fisherman had under his jacket, so when he saw Father Longlegs in such a pickle he waded out into the water, among the reeds and arrowheads to where the other was, and loosened the noose from about his leg.

The storks bring good-luck to folks some people say, and that was what happened to the young fisherman.