A certain man named John had been a faithful soldier, and had served the King all through the war, and had been wounded, too; but when the war came to an end and he was discharged he only received three pieces of silver as payment.

“That is a mean way to treat a fellow,” said John. “But never mind! If I can only get the right sort of friends to help me we will get all the King’s treasure from him before we are done.”

So he shouldered his knapsack and off he set into the world to find the right sort of friends to help him do this.

He walked along and walked along till he came to a wood, and there was a man pulling up trees by the roots as though they were no more than grasses.

“You are the very man for me,” said John. “Come along with me and we will make our fortunes.”

The man was willing. “But wait,” said he, “until I tie these fagots together and take them home to my mother.”

He laid six of the trees together and twisted the seventh around them to hold them. Then he walked off with them on his shoulder as easily as though they were nothing.

When he came back he and the soldier started out in search of their fortunes.

They had not gone far when they came to a hunter who had raised his gun to his shoulder and was taking careful aim. The soldier looked about over the meadows, but could see nothing to shoot.

“What are you aiming at?” asked he.

“Two miles away there is a forest,” said the man. “In the forest is an oak tree. On the top-most leaf of that oak tree there is a fly. I am going to shoot out the left eye of that fly.”

“Come along with me,” said the soldier, “we three will certainly make our fortunes together.”

Very well; the hunter was willing. So he shouldered the gun and off he tramped alongside of the other.

Presently they came to seven mill-wheels, and the sails were turning merrily, and yet there was not a breath of wind stirring. “That is a curious thing!” said the soldier. “Now what is turning those sails I should like to know.”

Two miles farther on they came to a man sitting on top of a hill. He held a finger on one side of his nose and blew through the other.

“What are you doing?” asked the soldier.

“I am blowing to turn the wheels of seven windmills two miles away, so that the miller can grind his corn,” answered the man.

“Come with us,” said the soldier. “We are going out into the world to make our fortunes.”

Very well, the man was willing; the wind was springing up, anyway, so the miller would not need him. So now there were four of them journeying along together.

After awhile they came to a heap of rocks, and there in the shade of it sat a man. He had unfastened one of his legs, and taken it off, and he sat with the other stretched out before him.

“That is a good way to rest,” said the soldier.

“I am not doing this to rest,” said the man. “I am a runner. If I were to put on this other leg and start off I would be out of sight in a twinkling. I have arranged to take off one leg so that I can go more slowly; though ordinary people find it hard to keep up with me even so.”

“Take up your leg and come with us,” said the soldier. “We are going to make our fortunes, and it shall be share and share alike with us if you will come along.”

To this the runner agreed. He took up his one leg and hopped along on the other, and they found it hard work to keep up with him, he went so fast.

They had gone but a mile or so when they met a man who wore a little hat cocked down over one ear.

“Hello!” called the soldier. “Why do you wear your hat in that fashion instead of straight on your head like other people?”

“Oh, every time I set it straight there comes such a heavy frost that the flowers are blighted, and even the birds freeze in the trees.”

“That is a wonderful gift,” said the soldier. “Come along with us, and we will make our fortunes together. And now there are six of us, and that is enough. We will have no more in our company.”

So the six stout comrades journeyed on until they came to the town where the King lived. This King had one daughter, and she could run so fast that it was like a bird skimming along, and the King had said that no one should marry her unless he could run faster than she could; if such a one came along he should have her for a wife. But so far no one had been able to outrun her.

The soldier with his five comrades marched up to the palace and knocked at the door as bold as bold, and asked to see the King.

At first the gatekeeper did not wish to let the six in, for they were worn and dusty, but the soldier looked at him so fiercely that he did not dare to refuse.

The six comrades were brought into the great hall where the King sat with his daughter beside him and all his nobles about him.

Well, and what did the soldier and his fellows want with the King.

Oh, the soldier wanted to try a race with the princess; but he was not much of a runner himself, so he would let his servant run for him.

The King was willing for that, but he warned the soldier that if he failed in the race he and his servant, too, would lose their lives.

The soldier was not afraid to risk that, so the race course was laid out, and the Princess and the runner made ready. They were to run to a fountain miles and miles and miles away, and each was to fill a pitcher with water and bring it back to the palace. Whichever first returned with the water would win the race.

The runner stooped down and buckled on his second leg, and then he was ready, and he and the Princess set out. The Princess flew like a bird, but the runner ran like the wind. He was out of sight in a twinkling, and had filled his pitcher and started home again before the Princess was half-way to the fountain.

The runner sat down to rest a bit. He was very sleepy and he thought he would just take a little nap before going the rest of the way. In order not to be too comfortable and sleep too long he picked up a horse’s skull that lay in a field near by and put it under his head for a pillow.

But the runner slept more soundly than he meant to do.

The Princess also reached the fountain and filled her pitcher and started home again, and then, half-way home, she came across the runner fast asleep with his pitcher of water beside him.

This was the chance for the Princess. Very quietly she poured the water from the runner’s pitcher, and set it down beside him empty. Then she hurried on toward the palace, leaving the runner still asleep.

And now all would have been lost except for the hunter. He had been watching from the palace window and had seen everything that happened. He made haste to load his gun, and took aim and shot the skull from under the sleeper’s head. This awakened the runner. He sat up and looked about him.

There was the Princess almost back at the palace, and his pitcher lay empty beside him.

However, this was nothing to him. He picked up his pitcher and away he went, swifter than the wind. He ran back to the fountain and filled the pitcher, and got back with it to the castle door before the Princess had come in at the outer gate.

And now by rights the Princess belonged to the soldier, but the King could not make up his mind to have her married to a common man like that. As for the Princess she was ready to cry her eyes out at the thought of it. She and the King talked and talked together, and at last they made up a plan between them.

The King had a room made that was all of iron and could be heated until it was hotter than any oven. Then he called the comrades to him and said, “Now you have fairly won the race, and I have ordered food and drink to be set out for you, so that you may make merry over it.”

He then showed the companions into the iron room, and there a grand feast had been made ready. The six sat down at table and began to eat and drink, but the king went on out and locked the doors behind him. Then he ordered a fire to be built under the room, and to be kept up until the room was red hot.

The six companions sat around the table eating and drinking merrily enough, until they began to feel too warm. Then they got up to leave the room, but they found the door was locked and they were fastened in. At once they guessed the trick that had been played upon them, but they were not troubled over that in the least.

“This is something for you to see to,” said the soldier to the man with the hat over one ear.

The man set his hat straight and at once a frost fell upon the room. It grew so cold that the comrades had to turn up their coat collars and walk about to keep warm.

The King waited until he thought the six would certainly be suffocated by the heat, and then he ordered the door to be opened. What was his surprise when all the men walked out just as well and hearty as ever, except that they looked somewhat pinched with the cold.

But the King was as unwilling as ever to give his daughter to the soldier. He called the soldier to him and said, “Listen, if you will give up marrying the Princess I will make you rich for life.”

“Yes, but how much will you give me?” asked the soldier.

“I will give you all the gold you can carry.”

Well, the soldier hardly knew what to say to that. Ever since he had been in the war his back had been weak; but if the King would give him as much as his servant could carry he would give up the Princess and welcome.

The King did not care who carried off the gold. He was quite willing to give as much as the servant could carry.

“Very well,” said the soldier. “In a week’s time I will come back for the gold, and do you gather it together and have it ready for me.”

The next thing the soldier did was to hire all the tailors he could get, and have them make for him an enormous sack, and when it was finished it was as big as a house.

When it was done he and the strong man went back to the palace together, and the week was just up. The strong man carried the sack, rolled up, on his shoulders.

Meanwhile the King had had a ton of gold brought up from his treasure-house, and that, he was sure, was more than the strongest man could carry.

When the soldier and his comrade came where the gold was the strong man opened up the sack, and taking up the ton of gold with one hand he threw it into the sack. “That will do for a beginning,” said he, “but we will have to have more than that.”

The King was frightened. He ordered more gold and more to be brought up from his treasure-house, and still there did not begin to be enough. “I can easily carry twice as much, and more,” cried the strong man.

At last the King’s treasure-house was empty, and he sent out all over the kingdom for more gold, and still there was not enough.

“Oh, well!” cried the strong man at last, “I see you have done your best; we will have to be content with what we have.” Then he swung the sack up over his shoulder and marched off with it, and the soldier and the other comrades went along with him.

But the King was in a terrible state of mind. Here all his treasure had been carried off by a common soldier and his followers. He would almost rather have given up the Princess than that. He stamped and raged, and then he called his horsemen together, and sent out two regiments after the comrades to bring them back again and the treasure with them.

It did not take the horsemen long to catch up to the comrades for they were traveling along quietly enough, and without any haste.

“Stop! stop!” cried the captain of the regiment. “I have come to take you and the treasure back to the King. Will you come along quietly, or will we have to drag you?”

“Wait a bit,” said the blower. “Before we talk further about it suppose you take a dance in the air.” He put one finger to his nostril and blew through the other and away went the captain and his regiment, whirling and dancing through the air like dry leaves when the wind blows them.

After awhile he allowed them to settle down to earth again. “There!” said he. “Have you had enough, or would you like another dance?”

No! the regiment had no wish for another whirl through the air. All they wished for now was to get safely back to the palace again.

“Very well,” said the blower. “Then go back to the King and tell him if he sends his whole army out after us I will treat it in the same way.”

But this the King dared not do. His treasure was gone and he could not risk having his army blown away, into the bargain. The comrades went on their way with no further hindrance, and after awhile they sat down and divided the treasure among them and each one had enough to make him rich and prosperous for life.

There was once a King who had in his gardens an apple-tree that bore golden apples. Every day the King went out to count the apples, and no one was allowed to touch them but himself.

One morning, when the King went out to count them as usual he found that one of them was gone. He was very much vexed, and ordered that at night a guard should be set around the garden, that no one might steal the apples, but the very next morning still another one was missing. So it happened day after day. Every gate to the garden was carefully guarded, and yet every morning another apple was gone from the tree, and they could not tell who had taken it.

Now the King had three sons, and one day the eldest came to his father and said, “Father, to-night I will watch under the apple-tree, and you may be sure that no one will be able to come near it without my seeing him.”

The King was quite willing for his son to keep watch, so that night the Prince took his place under the tree.

For some hours he sat there and watched, and scarcely winked an eyelid; but in the middle of the night a light shone around him and he heard a sound of music. Then, in spite of himself, he fell into a deep sleep, and when he awoke in the morning another apple had been stolen.

That day the second son came to the King and asked that he might be allowed to watch the apple-tree that night.

Again the King consented, and as soon as night came the second son went out and sat under the apple-tree just as his brother had done. Then just the same thing happened as had happened before. Toward midnight a light shone around the tree, and there was a sound of music, and then, do what he would, he could not stay awake. He slept, and while he slept another apple was taken.

The third day it was the turn of the third son to ask to be allowed to watch under the apple-tree. But the King refused. “Do you think that you are cleverer than your brothers?” he asked. “Why should you succeed when they have failed?” But the Prince begged and entreated until at last the King gave him permission to watch under the tree.

Now the third Prince was a wise youth; he had heard what happened to his brothers on the other two nights, so when evening came he stuffed his ears with cotton, and then he went out and took his place under the apple-tree. There he sat, and just before midnight a light shone through the branches, and there was a sound of music. But the young Prince had stuffed his ears with cotton so he could not hear the music, and he did not go to sleep.

After the music came a sound of wings, though this, too, the Prince could not hear, and a golden bird alighted on the apple-tree. The bird was about to pick one of the apples when the Prince raised his crossbow and shot a bolt at it.

The bird escaped, but one of its golden feathers fluttered down and fell at the Prince’s feet. He picked it up, and the next morning he took it to his father and told him what he had seen in the night.

As soon as the King saw the feather he was filled with the greatest desire to have the bird. “Life is worth nothing to me without that bird,” said he. “I would give my kingdom to possess it.”

When the eldest brother heard that, he at once made up his mind to set out in search of the bird, for he thought it would be a fine thing to gain the kingdom for himself. He went by himself, taking no one with him, for he did not wish anyone else to have a hand in the search.

He journeyed on for some distance and then he came to a cross-road, and there at the cross-roads he saw a little red fox sitting. The Prince drew his bow to shoot, but the animal called to him, “Do not shoot me, Prince, and I will give you a piece of good advice that is worth more than my skin.”

“What can a beast tell me that is worth hearing?” asked the Prince.

“Listen!” said the fox. “I know where you are going, that it is in search of the Golden Bird, but unless you do as I say you will never find it. To-night you will reach a village. In this village there are two inns that stand opposite to each other. One is a fine place. It will be lighted up, and there will be music and dancing inside. But do not enter there. The other inn is poor and miserable looking, but that is where you must stay if you hope to find the Golden Bird.”

“That is foolish talk, and I would be even more foolish to heed it,” cried the Prince, and again drawing his bow he shot a bolt at the fox. The bolt missed the mark, and the fox ran away unharmed.

The King’s son rode on, and at nightfall he entered a village. There on each side of the street stood an inn, and they were just such inns as the fox had told him of. One was a fine place, well-lighted, and with dancing and music going on inside. The other was dark and poor and miserable-looking.

The Prince never gave another thought to the fox’s advice. He turned in to the fine inn, and there he ate and drank and laughed with those who were there before him, and forgot all about the Golden Bird, and his father and the kingdom, too.

Time passed on, and still the eldest son did not return home, and no one knew what had become of him. Then the second son wished to try his luck at finding the Golden Bird. The King did not wish him to go, but the Prince was so eager that at last the father gave his consent.

The Prince journeyed on until he came to the cross-roads, and there sat the fox, just as it had before. The second son was about to shoot it, but the little animal called to him to spare its life and it would give him a piece of good advice.

The Prince was curious to hear what the fox had to say, but after he had heard of the two inns, and that it was the poor mean-looking one he must choose, he laughed aloud.

“A pretty piece of advice,” he cried, “and I would be a great simpleton to follow it.” Then he shot a bolt at the fox, but he missed his aim, and the little animal ran away unharmed.

Then it happened with the second Prince just as it had with his elder brother. He came to the two inns just at nightfall, and it was at the fine well-lighted inn that he stopped. There he spent the night in feasting and merry-making, and by the next day he had forgotten all about the Golden Bird, and his father, and the kingdom he had hoped to gain.

Now when time passed and the second son did not return either, it was the third Prince who wished to set out upon the search. But, “No, no,” said his father, “that I cannot allow. I have lost two sons already, and am I to lose my third son also?”

But the Prince had set his heart on going.

He begged and entreated until the King could no longer refuse him.

The Prince set out upon his journey, and it was not long before he reached the cross-roads, and found the fox sitting there, just as his brothers had before him. The Prince had his bow slung at his back, but he did not draw it.

“Do not shoot me, Prince,” cried the fox, “and I will give you a piece of good advice.”

“Why should I shoot you?” answered the Prince. “I have no quarrel with you. And as for your advice, who knows but what it may be well worth having?”

“Then listen,” said the fox; and he told the Prince about the two inns, just as he had told the other brothers.

“That may or may not be good advice,” said the Prince, “but at least it will do me no harm to follow it.”

So when he entered the village he did not go to the fine inn as his brothers had done. Instead he turned in at the poor, mean-looking inn, and there he spent the night quietly, and the next day he arose, and went on his way.

Just outside the village he came across the fox sitting in a field and waiting for him.

“Prince,” said the fox, “you did well indeed to follow my advice. Now seat yourself upon my tail and I will carry you on your journey far faster than you can walk.”

The Prince did as the fox bade him. He seated himself upon its tail and then away they went, so fast that the wind whistled past the Prince’s ears. Presently they came within sight of a great castle, and there the fox stopped. “In that castle is the Golden Bird,” said the fox, “but now you must go on alone. Follow this road, and it will lead you to the gate of the castle. All around you will see soldiers lying asleep on the ground, but do not fear them. They will not awake unless you disobey what I am about to tell you.”

The fox then told the Prince in which room of the castle he would find the Golden Bird. “It is in an ugly, mean-looking cage,” said he, “and close by hangs a handsome golden cage that is empty. But do not by any means put the bird in the golden cage. Bring it away in the mean-looking cage, for unless you do this some great misfortune will come upon you.”

The Prince was so happy to think he was soon to find the Golden Bird that he scarcely listened to anything else the fox told him.

He sprang from the fox’s tail and hastened along the road to the castle, and soon he came to the soldiers lying asleep upon the ground. He went past them safely and they did not wake. He entered the castle and it did not take him long to find the Golden Bird. There it was in the very room the fox had told him of. It was in a mean, common-looking cage, and beside it hung a handsome golden cage that was empty.

“It is a foolish thing,” thought the Prince, “to put a golden bird in a cage like that. It would be much better to put it in the cage that suits it.” So thinking, he took the bird from the ugly cage and put it in the handsome one. As soon as he did this the bird began to shriek. This sound awakened the soldiers. They ran in and seized the Prince, and carried him before the King of the country.

When the King heard how the Prince had tried to steal the Golden Bird he was very angry. “You deserve to be put to death,” said he, “but I will spare your life on one condition. If you will bring me the Golden Horse that goes swifter than the wind, you shall be pardoned, and I will give you the Golden Bird into the bargain.”

Well, there was no help for it; the Prince had to set out to find the Golden Horse, but he was very sad, for he did not know where to look for it, and unless he found it he would have to return and lose his life.

He went along the road and he had not gone far when he saw the fox sitting in a field and waiting for him.

“Why did you not follow my advice?” said the fox. “Now you are in a pretty scrape. But mount upon my tail and I will see what I can do to help you.”

The Prince seated himself upon the fox’s tail and away they went, over bush and brake, over rock and brier, so fast the wind whistled by the Prince’s ears.

Presently they came within sight of another castle, and there the fox stopped. “Light down,” said he, “for I can carry you no farther. In the stable of that castle is the Golden Horse you are in search of. Go on boldly and open the stable door. No one will stop you, for the stableman is asleep. Only when you find the Golden Horse do not take the golden saddle that hangs beside the stall. Take the worn old saddle that lies in the corner. Unless you do as I tell you misfortune will surely come upon you.”

The Prince scarcely listened to the fox, he was in such a hurry to find the Golden Horse. He hurried up the road to the stable and opened the stable door, and no one stopped nor stayed him. There in the stall stood the Golden Horse, and it shone so that the light from it filled the whole place. Hanging beside the stall was a golden saddle set with precious stones, and in the corner lay an old worn-out saddle of leather. “This golden saddle is the saddle that belongs with the Golden Horse,” thought the Prince. “It would be a shame to put the other upon its back.”

So he took down the golden saddle and laid it on the horse. As soon as he did so, the horse began to neigh and stamp. The sound awoke the stableman, and he called the guard. The soldiers came running in haste and seized the Prince and carried him before the King and told him the youth had been trying to steal the Golden Horse.

“You deserve to die for this,” said the King, “but I will forgive you on one condition. If you will bring me the Princess of the Golden Castle for a wife then you shall not only receive my pardon, but the Golden Horse into the bargain.”

Well, the Prince did not see how he was to find the Princess of the Golden Castle, but he promised to do his best. He set out and he had not gone far when he found the fox waiting for him.

“You do not deserve my help,” said the fox. “Why did you disobey me and put the golden saddle upon the horse? But mount upon my tail. I suppose I must do the best I can to pull you out of this scrape also.”

The Prince set himself upon the fox’s tail, and away they went again so fast that the wind whistled through his hair.

On and on they went, and after a time they came to another castle, and this castle was all of shining gold. “Now listen,” said the fox. “In this castle lives the beautiful Princess we are in search of. Do you go and hide yourself by the bathhouse down by the lake. Every night, when all in the castle are asleep, the Princess comes down to the lake to bathe. When she comes near the bathhouse you must seize her and kiss her. Then she will willingly follow you wherever you lead. But whatever you do do not allow her to go back to bid farewell to her parents. If you do you may answer for it with your life.”

The Prince promised to do as the fox told him, and then he went away and hid himself behind the bathhouse.

That night, as soon as all in the castle were asleep, the Princess came down to the lake to bathe as usual. As soon as she came near the bathhouse the Prince sprang out from behind it and caught her in his arms and kissed her. Then the Princess loved him, and was quite willing to leave her home and her father and mother and follow him.

“But before I follow you, let me go and say good-by to my parents,” she said, “for they love me dearly, and their hearts will surely break if I leave them without one word.”

It seemed to the Prince that it would be cruel to refuse what she asked. Beside, what harm could it do for her to see her parents once more?

“Very well,” said he. “Go, but return quickly, for we must be off before the day breaks.”

The Princess hurried away to the room where the King, her father, lay asleep, and she stooped and kissed him on the forehead. At once the King awoke and asked her where she was going.

When he heard she was going out into the world to follow an unknown youth, he sent out and had the Prince brought into the palace. There the King said to him, “You have come here to steal the Princess from me, and for this you deserve to die. But I will give you one chance for your life. Outside my windows is a mountain so high and dark that not a ray of sunlight ever comes into the castle. If in three days you can level down this mountain, then I will grant you your life, and give you my daughter for a bride.”

When the Prince heard this he was in despair, for he did not see how he could possibly level down a mountain in three years, let alone three days. However, he took a pick and shovel and set to work. For two days he dug and shoveled, and at the end of that time he had scarcely dug away enough to fill a ditch.

At the end of that time the fox came to him. “Now you see how little you can do,” said he. “You do not deserve that I should help you again, but I have a soft heart. Do you lie down and rest awhile, and I will do the work for you.”

The Prince trusted the fox, and he was very tired. He flung himself down upon the ground, and fell into a deep sleep.

When he awoke the next morning the mountain had disappeared. The place where it had stood was as flat as the palm of the hand.

When the King looked from his windows and found the mountain gone he was filled with joy and wonder. “You have indeed fairly won the Princess,” said he to the Prince, “and I will not say you nay.”

So he gave his daughter to the stranger youth, and much treasure as well. He also gave them each a horse trapped out in gold and precious stones, and then the two set out together, riding side by side.

They had not gone far when they met the little red fox, and he was on the watch for them.

“Now you have indeed won the best of all,” said he. “But it is you and you alone who should have the Princess for a wife. But in order to keep her for yourself you must do exactly as I say. First of all you must go to the King who sent you to the golden castle. When he sees you have brought the Princess to him, he will gladly give you the Golden Horse. Mount upon the horse, and when you say farewell to the King and his court, take the hand of each one in turn. Last of all you must take the hand of the Princess. Grasp it firmly, and draw her up into the saddle in front of you, and then ride away for your life. They may pursue you, but none can overtake you, for the Golden Horse goes faster than the wind.”

The Prince did exactly as the fox bade him. He took the Princess to the palace of the King who had sent him to find her. When the King saw her he gladly gave the Golden Horse to the Prince. The Prince said farewell to all and then at the last he caught the Princess by the hand and drew her up in front of him, and away they went faster than the wind, and none pursed them, for they knew they could never catch them.

After awhile the Prince and Princess came to the fox seated by the road waiting for them.

“That is well,” said the fox. “You have now the beautiful Princess and the Golden Horse, but you must have the Golden Bird also.”

The fox then told the Prince what he must do. He must leave the Princess there to wait for him, and ride on to the palace alone. “When you reach the palace of the King,” said the fox, “he will gladly give you the Golden Bird in exchange for the horse. Take the cage in your hand and then spring upon the horse and ride away with it till you come to where the Princess is. They will not try to overtake you, for they know how fast the horse goes. Then you will have all three, the Princess, the horse, and the bird.”

The Prince did exactly as the little animal bade him. He left the Princess there with the fox, and rode on to the palace, and it was not long before he was back again with the Golden Bird in his hand.

“Now you have all your heart desires,” said the fox, “and it is time I had my reward for serving you.”

“That is true,” said the Prince. “Tell me how to reward you, and if I can do it, I will.”

“Then take your bow,” said the fox, “and shoot me dead, and after that cut off my head and paws.”

The Prince was filled with horror. “No, no,” he cried, “that I can never do.”

“Very well,” said the fox. “If you will not do that, then you can do nothing for me. I must leave you, but before I go there is one more piece of advice that I will give you. Beware of two things. Buy no human flesh and bones, and do not sit on the edge of a well.” Then the fox left him and ran away into the forest near by.

But the Prince and Princess rode on together. “That was a curious piece of advice,” said the Prince. “Why should I want to buy human flesh and bones, and why should I not sit on the edge of a well if it pleases me?”

“Why indeed?” said the Princess.

The two journeyed on until they came to the village where the two inns stood, and there the Prince stopped at the larger inn to water his horse, and who should come out to fetch water for the horse but the Prince’s second brother, and he was all in rags.

“Oh, my dear brother,” cried the Prince, “what has happened to you? Why are you all in rags?”

“It is because I am in debt to the landlord,” answered the second Prince. “I spent all my own money and more beside in feasting and drinking, and now he keeps me as a servant and will not let me go.”

“And our eldest brother — is he here also?”

Yes, he was there also. He too was in debt to the landlord, and was obliged to work about in the kitchen.

When the youngest brother heard this the tears ran down his cheeks. He called the landlord to him and paid him all that the two brothers owed, and bought them free. He also bought for each of them proper clothes and fine horses to ride upon.

Then they all started home together. But the elder brothers were not grateful to him. They envied and hated him because he had won the Princess and the Golden Horse and the bird, and because he would have their father’s kingdom, too. So they plotted together as to how they could get rid of him.

They journeyed on for some hours until it was midday and the sun was hot. Then they came to a place where there was a well with trees around it.

“Let us sit here and rest awhile,” said the elder brothers, and the youngest was willing.

They all lighted down from their horses, and then the two elder brothers seized the younger one and threw him into the well.

After that they took the Princess, the horse, and the bird, and rode on with them.

When at last they reached the palace of their father there was the greatest rejoicing. Not only had the princes brought home with them the Golden Bird, but they had brought the Golden Horse, and the beautiful Princess as well, and now the kingdom was to be divided between them. As for the youngest Prince no one knew what had become of him except his brothers and the Princess.

But the Princess took no part in any of the rejoicings. She sat and grieved and grieved. The horse would not eat and the bird would not sing. The King was greatly distressed over all this. He could not guess what ailed them all.

But though the brothers had thrown the youngest brother into a well, that was not the last of him by any means. The well was a dry one, and the Prince fell softly on the moss at the bottom of it, and was not hurt at all except for a few bruises. But the sides of the well were so steep that he could not climb out of it, and there in the well he might have stayed had it not been for the faithful fox. The Prince had not been long in the well when the fox looked down over the edge of it and spoke to him.

“You little deserve that I should help you again,” said the fox. “If you had heeded my warnings all this trouble would not have come upon you. Nevertheless, I cannot leave you here to perish. Catch hold of my tail, and I will pull you out.”

The fox then let its tail hang down in the well, the Prince caught hold of it, and the fox managed to drag him out of the well and up into the sunlight.

The Prince thanked the fox with tears in his eyes, and then he journeyed on toward his father’s palace. On the way he met an old beggar-man, and exchanged clothes with him. He put on the beggar’s rags, and stained his hands and face so that he was as dark as a gypsy, and when he came at last into the palace not even his father knew him. No sooner did he enter the gate of the palace, however, than the bird began to sing, the horse began to eat, and the Princess wiped away her tears, and laughed aloud with joy.

The King was amazed. “How is this?” he asked the Princess. “How is it that you have so suddenly ceased grieving and become cheerful?”

“I know not,” answered the Princess. “Only this morning I was so sad that my heart was like lead, and now suddenly I feel quite happy, just as though my own dear promised husband had come home again.”

The Princess then told the King the whole story, how it was the youngest Prince who had won the bird and the horse, and her also for his bride; how he had bought his brothers’ lives from the landlord at the inn, and how they had afterward thrown him into a dry well and left him there.

“It may be,” said the King, “that my son has in truth come home, and is here in the palace, and that that is why you feel so happy.”

He then gave orders that everyone in the palace was to come before him. This was done, and among all the rest came the young Prince disguised as an old beggar-man.

But though he was disguised the Princess knew him at once. She ran to him and threw her arms about his neck and kissed him. “You are my own dear one,” she cried, “and to you and you only do I belong.”

Then there was great rejoicing all through the palace because the Prince had come home again. But as for the elder brothers they were sent out from before the King’s presence and punished as they deserved.

Now some time after this as the young Prince was hunting in the forest he met the little red fox, and it looked very sad and thin and worn.

“Alas!” said he to the Prince, “now you are happy and have everything your heart can wish, but I am hunted about the world, miserable and forlorn.”

Then the Prince was filled with pity. “Whatever I can do for you I will,” he said, “for everything I have I owe to you.”

Then again the fox begged and implored the Prince to shoot it and cut off its head and its paws. At last the Prince consented.

No sooner had he done as the fox asked him, than instead of the little animal a handsome young man stood before him. This young man was the brother of the Princess Beautiful. He had been enchanted, and obliged to wander about the world in the shape of a fox, but now the young Prince had broken the enchantment.

The two princes embraced each other tenderly, and returned to the palace together, and after that they all lived together in the greatest happiness.

A merchant had been trading in a far city and had made much money, which he was now bringing home with him. He rode in haste, for he knew he would not feel easy until he had locked away the gold in his strong room at home.

Toward the middle of the morning he stopped at an inn to give his horse water. “Sir,” said the ostler who waited on him, “a nail is loose in your horse’s shoe.”

“No matter,” answered the merchant. “I am in haste, and the shoe must go as it is till I get home.”

A little later he stopped at another inn. “Sir,” said the ostler, “your horse’s shoe is loose; shall I not take him to the blacksmith near by and have the shoe fastened on?”

“No,” answered the merchant, “I have not time to wait. I must be home before nightfall.”

The merchant rode still farther, but presently his horse began to limp. It limped more and more, until at last, in the very midst of a deep forest, it stumbled and fell, and could not get up again.

The merchant was in despair. Dusk was coming on, and there seemed nothing for it but to spend the night in the forest. However, he discovered a house near by, and the old woman who was in charge of it promised him food and a lodging for the night.

When the merchant went up to bed he put his bag of gold under his pillow. He meant to watch all night, but he was very tired, and presently, in spite of himself his eyes closed and he fell into a deep sleep.

Now this house belonged to a band of robbers, and the old woman was their housekeeper. Soon after the merchant was asleep the robbers came home. The housekeeper told them of the rich man who had come to the house while they were away, and of how she had given him a bed for the night.

The robbers went up to the merchant’s room and finding him asleep they stole the bag of money from under his pillow, and made off with it.

In the morning, when the merchant awoke, he felt under his pillow for the bag, but it was gone. He called aloud, but no one answered. He searched the house from top to bottom, but could find nobody.

So the merchant lost both his gold and his horse. “And all,” said he, “because I was in such haste that I would not stop for a nail to be put in my horse’s shoe. It is a true saying — ‘the more haste the less speed.’”

LITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD 

There was once a little girl whose father and mother loved her so dearly that they thought nothing too good for her. Her mother made for her the prettiest of little dresses; her stockings were of fine yarn, and there were bright buckles on her shoes. Her mother also made for her a little cloak and hood of red cloth, and the little girl looked so pretty in them that her mother called her Little Red Riding-Hood instead of Mary, as she had been christened.

Little Red Riding-Hood had a grandmother who was so old that sometimes she lay in bed all day and felt too weak to get up.

One day the mother called the little girl to her and said, “My child, I have put a pat of butter and some fresh eggs and a wheat cake in this basket. Take it and carry it to your grandmother. Run along quickly, and do not loiter nor stop to talk to anyone along the way, for I want you to get back before the afternoon is late.”

“Yes, dear mother,” said the little girl, and she took the basket in her hand and set out for her grandmother’s house.

At first she ran along briskly and stopped for nothing, but the fields were full of pretty flowers. “I am sure,” thought Red Riding-Hood “that my grandmother would be glad to have a bunch of daisies and buttercups.” She began to pick one here and another there until she had quite a handful.

Presently she heard feet padding along the path, and the old gray wolf came trotting by.

“Good-day, Red Riding-Hood,” said the wolf.

“Good-day,” answered the child.

“And where are you going this fine bright day with your basket on your arm?”

“Oh, I am going to my grandmother’s house. She is so old that sometimes she lies in bed and cannot get up, and I am taking her some butter and some fresh eggs and a wheaten cake.”

“And where does your grandmother live?”

“She lives over beyond the wood in a little white house with a thatched roof and green blinds, and the path runs straight there.”

The wolf had now learned all he cared to know. He bade Red Riding-Hood good-by and trotted on briskly.

As soon as he came into the wood where Red Riding-Hood could not see him he began to gallop. On and on he galloped as fast as he could, for he was anxious to get to the little white house with the thatched roof and the green blinds before Red Riding-Hood did.

In the depths of the wood a woodcutter was busy at his work. He saw the old wolf go hurrying by, and he wondered what he was after. “He’s up to some mischief or other, and that is sure,” said the woodcutter. And he shouldered his axe and followed on after the wolf to see what he was going to do.

On went Mr. Wolf, and presently he came to the edge of the forest, and there stood the little white house with the thatched roof and green blinds, and the path led straight up to the door, so the wolf knew that must be where the grandmother lived.

He stopped and looked all about him, for he did not want anyone to watch him. He saw no one, however, for the woodchopper had hidden behind some rocks. Then the wolf knocked at the door, rap-tap-tap!

Nobody answered, so he knocked again, rap-tap-tap! Still no one answered, and there was no stir within the house, though the wolf cocked his ear and listened carefully. The wolf pulled the latchstring, the latch flew up, and he pushed the door open, and slipped inside. He looked about, and there was nobody there, for the old grandmother had been feeling stronger that day, so she had dressed and had gone out to see a neighbor.

The old wolf hunted about until he found the grandmother’s bedgown; then he pulled it on over his big hairy body. He tied on a big ruffled cap and put the grandmother’s spectacles on his nose, and after that he crawled into bed and drew the coverlet up under his chin.

The woodcutter, outside, wondered what the wolf was doing in the house, but he did not hear a sound, so he sat down to watch and see what would happen next, and as he was very tired he fell fast asleep.

It was not long before Little Red Riding-Hood came running along, and she was in a great hurry, for she had spent a long time gathering flowers. The woodcutter did not see her, however, for he was asleep. The little girl ran up to the door and knocked upon it, rap-tap-tap!

Then the old wolf made his voice very faint and weak like the grandmother’s. “Who is there?” he asked.

“It is I, grandmother; Little Red Riding-Hood,” answered the child.

“Pull the latchstring, and lift the latch,” said the wolf.

Red Riding-Hood lifted the latch and pushed the door open and went in.

There was not much light in the room, for the wolf had pulled the curtains across the window.

“I am not able to get up, dear child,” said the wolf, still in the same weak voice. “Put your basket on the table and come over here.”

Red Riding-Hood did as she was told. She put the basket on the table and came over to the bedside, but as she came closer she thought her grandmother looked very strange.

“Oh, grandmother, what great big eyes you have,” said she.

“The better to see you, my dear,” answered the wolf.

“But, oh grandmother, what long, long ears you have.”

“The better to hear you, my dear!”

“But, grandmother, what big sharp white teeth you have!”

“The better to eat you!” howled the wolf, and he sprang out of bed and caught Red Riding-Hood by the cloak.

The little girl cried out, but at this moment the woodcutter burst open the door and rushed in. The howl had awakened him from his sleep, and just in time. He struck the wolf such a blow on the head that it fell down dead.

Then he took Red Riding-Hood up in his arms and comforted her, for she was crying bitterly. She was frightened and her pretty red cloak had been torn. He wiped her eyes, and promised to walk home with her, but first, he said, they must wait until the grandmother came home.

When she came at last, and heard the story and saw the wolf lying there on the floor, she could not thank the woodcutter enough. And indeed, if it had not been for him the little girl would certainly have been eaten by the wolf.

But from then on Red Riding-Hood was careful to obey her mother, and not to loiter on the way when she was sent on errands.

In a far city in China there once lived a lad named Aladdin. Aladdin’s mother was a widow, and the boy had never had a father’s care. He did as he pleased, and played in the streets all day, and was so idle that he was of no use to anyone.

One day, as Aladdin was playing with a band of companions, a tall man, richly dressed, stopped to watch them. Suddenly he called to Aladdin, “Come here, boy; I wish to speak to you.”

The lad came, wondering.

“Are you not the son of Mustapha the tailor?” asked the stranger.

Aladdin said that he was.

“I knew it,” cried the stranger. “I knew it from your likeness to your dear father.” He then embraced the boy tenderly. “I, dear lad, am your uncle,” said he. “I have spent many years in strange countries, and have made a fortune. I came back here in search of you, for I heard your father was dead, and I wish to take his place and be a father to you.”

Aladdin was very much surprised. He had never known he had an uncle. And indeed he had not. The stranger was a magician who had need of a stout and active lad to help in a certain adventure. He had noticed Aladdin playing in the streets and had found out the lad’s name and the name of his father, so as to pass himself off as Aladdin’s uncle.

Aladdin was eager to believe the story the stranger told, for he thought it would be a fine thing to have a rich uncle to help him along in the world.

“Lead me to your mother’s house, Aladdin,” said the magician. “I wish to talk with her, and to weep with her over the memory of my dear brother.”

Aladdin took the stranger’s hand and led him away through one street after another, each meaner and dirtier than the other. At last he stopped before a miserable looking hovel.

“This is where I live,” said the boy.

“Here!” cried the magician. “Oh, what a miserable place for my brother’s child to live. But I will soon change all this. You must move into a handsome house, and you must have some better clothes than those you have on. I will make your fortune for you.”

Aladdin was more delighted than ever when he heard this. He made haste to open the door and lead the magician to his mother, and to repeat to her the story he had been told.

The widow was even more surprised than her son over the magician’s story, but she was quite as eager to believe it as he. It would indeed be a fine thing if the stranger would lift them out of their poverty. She begged him to sit down and share their evening meal, but this he would not do. He said he had business with some merchants, and went away, after promising to come back the next day.

On the morrow, as he had promised, the magician returned, and he took Aladdin out with him, and bought him fine clothes, and sweetmeats to eat, and he talked so much of all he meant to do for his dear nephew that the boy’s head was quite turned.

The following morning he came again, and asked Aladdin whether he would not like to take a walk in the country, as it was such a fine day.

Aladdin gladly agreed to this plan. It was pleasant to be with his new uncle, and to hear him talk of all the grand things he intended to do.

The magician led the boy out of the city, talking pleasantly all the while, and on and on into the country, so far that at last the lad began to grow weary and to wonder when they would turn back.

In time they came to a lonely valley shut in by high hills, and here the stranger stopped. “My dear nephew, I wish to show you something here that is very curious,” said the false uncle. “But first gather together a few dry sticks and build a little fire.”

This Aladdin did.

When the fire was burning brightly the magician drew from under his robe a small box. He opened it, and taking from it a pinch of powder he threw it into the fire, at the same time saying some magic words.

Immediately there was a loud noise like a clap of thunder, and the ground opened before them, showing a great stone in which was a brass ring.

Aladdin was so frightened by these happenings that he would have run away, but the stranger caught him roughly by the arm.

“Stay where you are,” he cried. “I have brought you here to do a special thing for me, and if you refuse you shall not escape alive. If, however, you are obedient I will make you rich for life.”

“What do you wish of me?” asked Aladdin in a trembling voice.

“First lift this stone for me.”

Aladdin caught hold of the brass ring and tried to lift the stone, but it was too heavy for him, and the magician was obliged to help him. Together they dragged away the stone and showed an opening and a flight of stairs leading down into the earth.

“Now,” said the pretended uncle, “you must go down these steps and they will bring you into a palace divided into three halls. You will see in these halls great chests filled with gold and silver, but for your life do not touch them; do not even brush against the walls or touch them either, for if you do you will surely perish. Go straight through the halls and you will come to a garden; it is full of fruit-trees, and if you should wish to gather some of the fruit you may safely do so; no harm will come to you from so doing. At the farthest side of the garden is a wall; in this wall is a niche; in this niche is a small bronze lamp. Take it and empty out the oil and bring it to me.”

Aladdin had no wish to descend the stairs into the earth, but the stranger frightened him, and he dared not refuse. He started down, but the magician called him back. “Here! take this,” he said, and slipping a ring from his finger he placed it on Aladdin’s hand. “It will protect you from any dangers you may meet with.”

Aladdin now went on down the stairs, and at the foot of them he found the palace halls the stranger had told him of. Everywhere he saw chests of silver and gold, but he was careful to touch none of them. He walked on very warily and out into the garden. He found the lamp without any trouble, emptied out the oil, and thrust it into the sash that was twisted about his waist.

All about him were fruit-trees loaded with the most beautiful fruits he had ever seen. They were of all colors, and shone as though polished. Aladdin picked some of them, but instead of being juicy and delicious as he had expected, they were so hard he could neither bite nor break them. They seemed indeed to be made of glass, only much harder and brighter; they were so pretty the boy gathered a great quantity of them; he filled his pockets and sleeves and shirt with the fruit and then hurried back through the hall and up the steps. He saw his pretended uncle stooping over and watching for him impatiently.

“Did you get the lamp?” cried the magician eagerly.

“Yes, I have it here.”

The magician’s eyes sparkled with triumph. He reached down his hand. “Give it to me, quick, quick!” he cried.

“In a moment,” said Aladdin; “but my hands are full of fruit and it is in my waistband. First help me out, and then I will give it to you.”

“No, no! Give it to me now,” cried the magician sharply. He did not, indeed, intend to let Aladdin ever come out alive. He meant as soon as he had the lamp to push the stone back into place and fasten the lad in.

Aladdin did not guess this, but for some reason he felt suddenly afraid.

“I cannot give you the lamp,” he cried, “until you let me out.”

“Give it to me I tell you.”

“Not until you let me out.”

Suddenly the magician flew into a black rage. “Then stay where you are,” he cried fiercely.

He threw another pinch of powder into the fire which was still burning, and muttered a magic charm. At once the stone rose and dropped back into its place, and Aladdin found himself shut in, in darkness.

Filled with terror, he beat upon the stone, and called to the magician to let him out. But there was no answer. He put his shoulders under the stone and tried to lift it, but it would not stir. Aladdin sat down and wept bitter tears. He felt he was a prisoner forever. Suddenly he remembered the garden. Perhaps he could find some way out through it.

He made his way slowly down the steps, feeling his way through the darkness. As he did this he happened to rub the magician’s ring against the wall.

At once a horrible genie appeared before him, as black as pitch, but with eyes that shone like a red fire, and lightened up the darkness.

“What wouldst thou have?” asked this terrible being. “I and the other slaves of the ring upon thy finger stand ready to serve thee.”

Aladdin was astonished beyond measure, but he made shift to say, “If you are able, take me away from here and back to my mother’s house.”

“To hear is to obey,” answered the genie.

At once Aladdin felt himself caught up and carried through the air swifter than the wind, and almost before he could draw breath he was back in his mother’s house, and the genie had disappeared.

His mother could hardly believe her eyes when Aladdin appeared so suddenly before her.

“My dear son, where did you come from, and where is your uncle?” she asked.

As soon as Aladdin could get his breath he told her the whole story. His mother listened and wondered. “Without doubt,” said she, “this man is not your uncle at all, but a magician who wished to use you for some wicked purpose.”

To this Aladdin agreed, but he was so hungry that he begged his mother to get him something to eat before they talked further.

His mother began to weep. “Alas!” said she, “I have not a morsel of food in the house, and no money with which to buy any.”

Aladdin remembered the lamp which was still in his waist-band. He drew it out. “Look!” said he. “This lamp must be worth something since the magician was so anxious to have it. Take it to some shop, or to one of the neighbors, and perhaps they will pay you enough for it for us to buy some rice.”

This seemed to the mother a wise plan. “I will do as you say,” said she, “but first I will brighten the lamp, for it is very black and dirty.”

She took some sand and water to polish it, but scarcely had she begun to rub it when a genie, even more terrible looking than the genie of the ring, appeared before them.

“What dost thou wish?” he asked in a voice of thunder. “I and the other slaves of the lamp stand ready to serve thee in all things.”

The widow was so terrified at the sight of the genie, and at the sound of his voice, that she fell down on her face and lay there. But Aladdin caught the lamp from her hand.

“If you would serve me bring us something to eat,” he cried.

“To hear is to obey,” answered the genie. At once he disappeared, but scarcely was he gone before he appeared again with a great silver tray and a number of silver dishes and cups full of all sorts of delicious things to eat and drink. The genie set it upon a table. “Hast thou any further commands?” he asked in a voice of thunder.

“Not at present,” answered Aladdin.

At once the genie disappeared.

Aladdin called to his mother, and when she looked up and saw the genie had gone she was able to raise herself from the floor, though she still shook and trembled. She and her son sat down and ate and drank to their hearts’ content, and there was enough food left over to serve them another day. Aladdin then took the silver tray and the dishes out to a merchant he knew and sold them for a good price; so in this way he had money to spend.

After this Aladdin and his mother lived very comfortably. Whenever they were hungry Aladdin had only to rub the lamp and command the genie to bring them food, and it was served to them immediately. It was always brought to them in silver dishes and upon a silver tray, and as Aladdin could sell these for a good price he and his mother lacked for nothing.

Aladdin now began to go about among the merchants of the city and talk with them, and before long he learned to his surprise that the fruits he had brought with him from the garden were not glass at all, but jewels, and jewels so rare and magnificent that they were not to be equaled anywhere.

Now the Sultan of that country had one daughter, the Princess Buddir al Baddoor, and she was the most beautiful princess in the world.

No man was ever allowed to see her face. When she rode through the city to the public baths the Sultan commanded that all the houses should be closed and that the people should stay indoors and not look out, upon pain of death.

Now Aladdin was very curious, as well as bold. One day when the Princess was to pass through the city he hid himself near the door of the baths without anyone knowing it.

The Princess came riding down the street with all her guards and ladies-in-waiting about her, and just as she reached the door near which Aladdin was hiding she dropped her veil, and he saw her face. At once he was filled with a violent love for her. It seemed to him he could not live unless he could have the Princess for a wife.

When he returned home his mother noticed that he was very thoughtful. She did not know what had happened to him. At last she asked, “My son, what ails you? Why are you so thoughtful and silent.”

“My mother,” answered Aladdin, “I have seen the Princess Buddir al Baddoor, and unless I can marry her I no longer wish to live.”

When the widow heard these words she thought her son must be crazy.

“How can you think of such a thing?” she cried. “Have you forgotten that your father was nothing but a tailor? How can a tailor’s son hope to marry a princess?”

“Nevertheless that is what I intend to do,” said Aladdin. He then urged and entreated his mother to go to the palace and ask the Sultan to give the Princess to him. The widow was very loth to do this, but she loved her son so tenderly that at last she consented.

“But have you forgotten,” said she, “that no one can come before the Sultan without bringing him a present?”

“I have not forgotten,” said Aladdin, “and I mean to send the Sultan such a gift as he has never seen before.”

He then fetched from the cupboard a porcelain dish, and he also brought out the fruits he had brought from the garden. He arranged the fruits in the dish in a pyramid according to their colors, and when he had done this his mother was amazed at their beauty. They shone so brightly that it dazzled the eyes to look at them. “Now I will tell you,” said Aladdin, “that these fruits are jewels so rare and magnificent that not the greatest ruler on earth has any that can equal them.”

The widow was amazed when she heard this. She could hardly believe it, and it was with fear and trembling that she set out at length for the Sultan’s palace. She carried the dish of jewels with her, covered over with a fine napkin.

When she reached the palace she went into the audience chamber with the rest of the crowd who had come to bring their cases before the Sultan. She sat down near the wall and stayed there all day, but she found no chance to speak to the Sultan or to offer her gift. And so it was day after day. Every morning she came to the audience chamber with the jewels, and every evening she returned home without having spoken to him.

But it so chanced the Sultan noticed how she came day after day with the covered dish in her hands, and he grew curious as to who she was and what she wanted. At last he spoke to his Grand Vizier about her, and commanded that she should be brought before him.

This was done, but the poor woman was so frightened by the honor done her that she stood there trembling and unable to say a word.

The Sultan saw her terror and spoke to her gently. “My good woman,” said he, “do not be afraid. Tell me why you have come here day after day. Is there something you wish to ask of me?”

“There is indeed something that I wish to ask, and yet I dare not,” said the widow.

The Sultan, however, encouraged her. “Speak,” said he. “Do not be afraid. Tell me what you wish.”

“My son,” said the widow, “wishes to marry the Princess Buddir al Baddoor, and I have come here to ask you to give her to him as a wife; and my son also sends this small present, which he begs you to accept.”

When this widow, so poor and meanly dressed, said that her son wished to marry the Princess the Sultan could hardly keep from laughing; but when she uncovered the dish of jewels he was amazed. He took up one after another and examined it with admiration. He turned to the Vizier, who stood beside him: “Never in all my life before,” said he, “have I seen such beautiful jewels. Truly a man who can send me such a gift as this is worthy to have a princess for a wife. Do you not agree with me?”

When the Grand Vizier heard this he was troubled. He had indeed hoped that his own son might marry the Princess. Now he said, “Your Majesty, these jewels are indeed very wonderful; but we know nothing of the man who sent them. He may be only some beggarly rogue who has stolen them.”

“That is true,” said the Sultan. He thought for a moment, still turning the jewels with his fingers. Then he said to the woman, “I am indeed very much pleased with the gift your son has sent me. Go back and tell him I am inclined to give him the Princess for a wife, but first he must send me forty basins of massy gold filled with the same sort of jewels as these. If he can do this I will gladly have him for a son-in-law.”

The widow returned home and told her son what the Sultan had said. Aladdin was overjoyed when he heard the message. He now felt sure that before long he would be married to the Princess. He took the lamp and rubbed it, and at once the genie appeared.

“What dost thou wish?” asked the genie. “I and the other slaves of the lamp are ready to serve thee in all things.”

“I wish,” said Aladdin, “for forty basins of massy gold, filled with jewels such as I gathered in the garden. I also wish for forty black slaves, magnificently dressed, to carry the basins, and forty white slaves, also magnificently dressed and mounted on fine horses, to ride before them and behind.”

“To hear is to obey,” answered the genie.

At once he disappeared, but almost in a moment of time a long procession of slaves appeared in the street where Aladdin lived and gathered before his house. There were forty black slaves, magnificently dressed, and each bearing on his head a golden basin filled with jewels even more magnificent than those Aladdin had gathered for himself, and there were also forty white slaves, mounted on horses, to ride before them and behind.

When Aladdin saw these slaves and the jewels they bore his eyes sparkled with joy. He at once commanded them to march to the palace and present the jewels to the Sultan, and the widow herself hastened away, so as to reach the palace at the same time that they did.

The slaves set out through the city; a great crowd followed them, shouting and rejoicing, for never had such a sight been seen there before.

The Sultan heard the sound of huzzahing and wondered what was the reason for it. But when the slaves entered the palace bearing their basins of jewels he himself was filled with wonder and admiration. He turned to his Vizier. “Surely,” said he, “anyone who can send me such a gift as this is worthy of the Princess Buddir al Baddoor;” and though the Vizier could hardly hide his envy he was obliged to agree with his master.

When Aladdin heard that the Sultan had consented to his marriage with the Princess he could hardly contain his joy. He at once rubbed the lamp, and when the genie appeared he commanded him to bring him the most magnificent clothes, such as were suitable for a Sultan’s son to wear, also a handsome horse for him to ride upon, and a troop of horsemen, handsomely dressed to ride with him.

All this the genie did, and after Aladdin had bathed in a scented bath, and had dressed himself in his magnificent garments he was so handsome and noble-looking that his old friends would not have known him.

He rode away to the palace, and there the Sultan received him with the greatest respect and honor. He would have married Aladdin to his daughter at once, but this Aladdin did not wish.

“Your Majesty,” said he, “greatly as I long to see the Princess Buddir al Baddoor I wish first to provide a palace for us to live in when we are married. For this purpose I beg of your Majesty to give me a plot of ground where I can build it.”

The Sultan was surprised and disappointed when he heard this. He thought it would take years to build a palace, and he could not understand how Aladdin could want to wait that long before marrying the Princess. However, he gave him the ground he asked for.

Aladdin then returned home and rubbed the lamp. At once the genie appeared before him, and asked him what were his commands.

“I command you,” said Aladdin, “to build me immediately a castle twice as handsome as that of the Sultan. I wish it to be furnished throughout in the most magnificent manner, and I also wish for a proper number of servants and guards to take charge of it. There must also be gardens around it with fountains and trees and flowers, and stables full of handsome horses, and above all there must be a treasure-house filled with gold and silver and precious stones.”

“To hear is to obey,” answered the genie; and at once he disappeared.

The next morning, when the Sultan awoke and looked from the window, he could hardly believe his eyes. He stared, and rubbed his eyes, and looked again. There, upon the bare piece of ground he had given to Aladdin, stood a great palace glittering with gold and silver and precious stones. It was far more magnificent than his own, and it had been built in one single night.

The Sultan at once sent for Aladdin, and when he came the Sultan made the tailor’s son sit beside him, and talked with him as an equal. “My dear Aladdin,” said he, “you are indeed a very wonderful man, and it is only fitting that the most beautiful princess in the world should be your wife, and you shall be as dear to me as though you were my own son.”

That very day Aladdin and the Princess were married, and went to live in the magic palace, and as they loved each other dearly nothing could equal their happiness. Aladdin felt so secure in his good fortune that he never even thought of the magician or wondered whether he might some day come to claim the lamp.

The magician had indeed left China soon after his adventure with Aladdin. He journeyed back and forth over the earth in many places, and at last in his wanderings he came again to the city where he had met Aladdin. There he heard much talk of how a poor lad had married the daughter of the Sultan, and of the magnificent palace he had built. The magician never thought that Aladdin might be that poor lad, for he supposed he had perished in the hidden garden.

At last the magician became curious to see the palace that everyone was talking about, and he hired a horse and rode out to where it stood. As soon as he saw it he knew at once that it had been built by the genie of the lamp. He hastened home and got out his magic books, and from them learned that Aladdin was still alive, and that it was he who owned the palace and had become the Sultan’s son-in-law.

When the magician learned this he was filled with rage and at once began to plot and plan as to how he could get the lamp for himself, and destroy Aladdin.

In order to carry out this purpose he bought a number of fine new lamps and disguised himself in poor, mean clothing. He waited until one time when Aladdin had gone hunting with the Sultan, and then he started out through the city with his tray of lamps, calling, “New lamps for old! New lamps for old!”

Many people heard his cry and came hurrying out of their houses with old broken lamps, and offered them to the magician to exchange. He took them willingly, and for all of these old lamps he gave in return fine new ones. The people thought he must be crazy. A great crowd followed him, shouting and laughing.

At last the magician arrived in front of Aladdin’s castle. The Princess was sitting in an upper room with her attendants and yawning and feeling quite dull, because Aladdin was away. When she heard the noise and hubbub in the street she became curious. She sent one of her women to find out what the noise was about. She hoped it might be something amusing.

Presently the woman came back laughing. “Fancy!” cried she. “It is an old man with a tray of the most beautiful new lamps, and he is trading them for old ones.”

The Princess was much amused at this idea. “Where is that old blackened lamp that I have seen your master have?” asked she. “Look about and see if you can find it?”

Her woman began to search the palace, and at last they found the magic lamp hidden away in a corner of the treasure-room. They brought it to the Princess, and she at once caused the magician to be brought before her. “Here, old man,” said she, laughing. “Here is an old lamp. Will you give me a new one for it?”

When the magician saw the lamp he could hardly hide his joy. “Gladly, madam,” he answered. “Choose whichever of the lamps you will, and it shall be yours.”

The Princess chose one that pleased her well, and the magician took the old lamp and hurried away with it.

No sooner had he reached home than he shut himself up alone in his room and rubbed the lamp. At once the genie appeared.

“What do you wish?” cried he. “I and the other slaves of the lamp stand ready to serve you.”

“I wish,” cried the magician in a terrible voice, “that the palace of Aladdin and all that are in it shall be carried away to Africa.”

“To hear is to obey,” answered the genie, and immediately disappeared.

That evening the Sultan and Aladdin came home from their hunt. They rode along together, talking pleasantly, until they came within sight of the Sultan’s palace. Suddenly the Sultan drew rein and stared with blank surprise. The castle that Aladdin had built in a single night was gone. Not a sign of it was left.

“Your palace!” cried the Sultan. “Where is your palace?”

Aladdin, too, stared thunderstruck. “I — I do not know!” he faltered.

“You do not know?” cried the Sultan. “And my daughter! Where is she?”

“I do not know,” answered Aladdin again.

The Sultan was filled with rage. “You do not know!” he thundered. “Miserable wretch! was your castle only the work of enchantment? Have you carried off my daughter by your magic? Now unless you bring her back at once you shall surely die.”

Aladdin was in despair. He begged the Sultan to allow him forty days in which to search for the Princess, and to this the Sultan at last consented.

Aladdin at once set out on the search, but he did not know in which direction to go. He wandered about from one place to another, without learning anything about the fate of the Princess or his palace.

At last one day he found himself in a rocky spot beside the sea. In descending the rocks he slipped and caught his hand on a sharp point, and in so doing he rubbed the magician’s ring which he still wore, but which he had forgotten.

At once the genie of the ring appeared before him. “Master,” said he, “what wouldst thou have? I and the other slaves of the ring stand ready to serve thee.”

Aladdin was overjoyed to find that the ring still kept its magic powers. “I wish,” said he, “that you would bring back my palace and the Princess, or else take me where they are.”

“I cannot bring them back,” answered the slave of the ring, “for they have been carried away by the genie of the lamp, who is mightier than I, but I can take you where they are.”

The slave of the ring then caught up Aladdin, and in less time than it takes to tell he had carried him to Africa and had set him down in the apartment in the palace where the Princess was.

When the Princess saw Aladdin thus suddenly appear before her she gave a cry of joy and threw herself into his arms.

“The lamp!” cried Aladdin. “Where is the lamp?” for he wished to protect himself against the power of the magician.

“Alas,” cried the Princess, “I do not know where it is. Already I feared that all our misfortunes had come from my trading off that lamp to a beggar.” She then told Aladdin the whole story of how one had come offering new lamps for old, and of how her women had hunted up the old blackened lamp, and she had given it away for a new one.

Aladdin at once guessed that the beggar must have been the magician in disguise. “We will never be safe,” said he, “until we have that lamp in our possession again. Does the magician ever come here?”

“Oh, yes,” said the Princess; “he comes here every day and wearies me with his pretty speeches. He wishes me to marry him, but that I will never do.”

“Now, listen,” said Aladdin. “The next time the magician comes greet him pleasantly. Talk to him for awhile, and then offer him a glass of sherbet. In this sherbet you must first put a powder that I will give you. It is a sleeping-powder. After the magician drinks it he will fall into a deep sleep. You must then at once call me. Together we will search his clothing, for I feel sure he is afraid to leave the lamp anywhere, and carries it always about him. If we can once get hold of the lamp all of our troubles are at an end.”

The Princess promised to do exactly as Aladdin bade her, and then he gave her the powder, and hid himself in a room near by.

Not long after this the magician came, as usual, to sit and talk with the Princess. She met him with smiling looks, and was so pleasant and friendly that the magician was delighted. He hoped the Princess was beginning to love him and that before long she would consent to be his wife.

Presently the Princess took up a glass of sherbet in which she had already dissolved the powder. “I thought you might be thirsty,” said she, “and I prepared this sherbet for you; will you not drink it?”

The magician thanked her, and taking the goblet he drank the sherbet at one draught. Almost at once his head dropped back on the cushions and he sank in a deep sleep.

The Princess did not delay a moment in calling Aladdin. He came in haste, and together they searched the garments of the magician. It did not take them long to find the lamp, which was hidden in his vest.

Aladdin rubbed it, and the genie of the lamp appeared before him.

“What dost thou wish?” he cried. “I and all the other slaves of the lamp stand ready to obey thee.”

“First,” said Aladdin, “I wish this magician carried away to the uttermost parts of the earth, and I wish him never to be allowed to come within a hundred miles of the lamp again. Secondly, I wish my palace to be returned to the place from which it was taken.”

“To hear is to obey,” answered the genie.

He disappeared with the magician, and as the magician never was seen again he probably never escaped from the ends of the earth.

As for the palace it and all that was in it were returned to the place where it first stood, and the Sultan was so delighted to see his daughter again that he gladly forgave Aladdin. The tailor’s son was raised to the greatest honors in the kingdom, and upon the Sultan’s death he became Sultan, and lived happy forever after with his beautiful wife, Buddir al Baddoor.

There was once a cobbler who worked hard at his trade, and yet never seemed to get on in the world.

One evening he took his last piece of leather and cut out a pair of shoes and laid the pieces neatly on his bench, expecting to finish them in the morning.

“There,” said he to his wife; “that is my last piece of leather, and I will have no money to buy more until those shoes are made and sold.”

The next morning he went to his shop early to begin work. What was his surprise to find that in the night the pieces had been made up into a fine pair of shoes. He took them up and examined them, and there was not a fault to be found with them. It was indeed much better work than the cobbler could have done. Not even the king’s shoemaker could have done better.

The cobbler set the shoes out where they could be seen, and he soon had a customer for them. This customer was a very rich man. “This is a very fine pair of shoes,” said the rich man after he had examined them. “I will take them, and you may make me two more pairs.” He then paid the cobbler well, and went away, carrying the shoes with him.

The cobbler was ready to dance with joy. He hurried out and bought more leather, and by evening he had cut out two more pairs of shoes. He left the pieces lying on the bench as before.

When he came to the shop the next morning, he found both pairs finished and standing side by side on the bench, and they were just as well made as the other pair had been. The rich man was delighted with them, and he brought a friend to the shop with him, who also ordered two pairs of shoes.

So it went on. Soon the cobbler had all the customers he could attend to, and they paid high prices for his shoes, for they were better than could be bought anywhere else.

But the cobbler puzzled and puzzled about who was helping him. No matter how late he sat up, nor how early he rose in the morning, he never saw anyone, and he never heard a sound.

At last he determined he would watch all night and find out who was doing the work. So when his wife went off to bed he hid himself behind some clothes that were hanging in the corner, and stayed there as still as a mouse. No one would have known there was anybody in the room. The moon shone in at the window and all the house was still.

Suddenly he saw two little brown fairy-men there in the room, but where they came from he could not tell. It was cold winter weather, but neither of them had on coats or shoes or trousers. They picked up the pieces of leather and looked at them, and then they sat down cross-legged and began to work. They fitted and sewed and hammered, so fast that in a short time all the shoes were done. The two little men set them in a row on the bench, and nodded to each other as though they were well pleased, and then they went as they came, without a sound, and the cobbler could not tell what had become of them.

The next day the cobbler told his wife all that he had seen the night before. The two talked it over for a long time.

“We ought to do something to show our gratitude to the little men,” said his wife. “How would it be if I made a little shirt and a suit for each of them, and you can make them each a pair of shoes.”

To this the cobbler agreed. He went out and bought some fine cloth and cambric, and buttons and also some soft thin leather.

Then his wife set to work and made two little shirts and two little suits all complete, even to the pockets and buttonholes, and the cobbler made two tiny pairs of shoes. When all was finished, they laid the clothes out on the bench, and that night they left a light burning and hid themselves in the corner behind the clothes, to see what would happen. The clock ticked on, and suddenly they saw the two little brown men there in the room, moving quietly about, though how they had come there neither the cobbler nor his wife knew.

The little men went to the bench where the leather was generally laid out, and there, instead of leather pieces were the two little suits of clothes and the two little pairs of shoes. The brownies took up the clothes piece by piece and examined them; they held them up and turned them this way and that. Last of all they put the clothes on, and they fitted exactly. Then they began to dance with glee, and to sing:

“How fine we be, how fine we be!

Now we never will work again!”

So singing they danced about over tables and chairs and benches and so on out the door into the night, and they never were seen again.

But the cobbler prospered, and in time became a very rich man.

There was once a girl named Ella who was so gentle and beautiful that everyone who knew her loved her, except those who should have loved her best, and those were her stepmother and her stepsisters.

Her own mother had died while she was quite young, and then her father had married again. This new wife had two daughters of her own, and she wished them to have everything and Ella to have nothing. The stepmother dressed her own children in fine clothes, and they sat about and did nothing all day, but Cinderella worked in the kitchen and had nothing but rags to wear, and because she often sat close to the ashes to warm herself her sisters called her Cinderella.

Now the King and Queen of that country had only one son, and they were very anxious for him to marry, but he had never seen anyone whom he wished to have for a bride. At last they determined to give a great ball, and to ask to it all the fairest ladies in the land. They hoped that among them all the Prince might see someone whom he would choose. All the grand people of the city were invited, and Cinderella’s stepmother and her stepsisters were asked with all the rest.

The stepsisters were very much excited over it. They were both so handsome that they hoped one of them might be chosen by the Prince. They had often watched from the windows to see him riding by, and he was so gay and gallant that anyone might have been glad to marry him.

All sorts of fine things were bought for the sisters to wear, satins and velvets and laces and jewels, feathers for their hair, and glittering fans for them to carry, and the stepmother’s dress was no less fine than theirs.

Cinderella sighed and sighed. “I wish I might go to the ball, too, and see that handsome Prince and all the lovely ladies,” she said.

“You!” cried the sisters, laughing. “A pretty sight you would be at the ball; you with your rags and your sooty hands.”

“Go scour your pots and pans,” cried the stepmother. “That is all you are fit for, you cinder-wench.”

So Cinderella went back to her work, but as she scrubbed and rubbed the tears ran down her cheeks so fast she could hardly see.

The night of the ball the sisters dressed themselves in all their finery and came into the kitchen to show themselves to Cinderella; they hoped to make her envious. They swept up and down the room and spread their gowns and smiled and ogled while Cinderella admired them. After they tired of her admiration they and the stepmother stepped into a fine coach and rolled gayly away to the ball.

But Cinderella sat in a corner by the fire and wept and wept.

Suddenly, as she wept, a little old woman in a high-pointed hat and buckled shoes appeared in the kitchen, and where she came from no one could have told. Her eyes shone and twinkled like two stars, and she carried a wand in her hand.

“Why are you so sad, my child,” she asked; “and why do you weep so bitterly?”

Cinderella looked at her with wonder. “I am weeping,” she said, “because my sisters have gone to the ball without me, and because I wished to go too.”

“Then dry your tears,” said the little old woman, “I am your fairy godmother, and if you are a good girl and do exactly as I say, there is nothing you can wish for that you shall not have. Run to the garden and fetch me a pumpkin; and let me see the mousetrap; if there are six fine fat mice in it they will be of use.”

Cinderella got out the mousetrap as she was told, and there were exactly six mice in it. She also hurried out to the garden and fetched the biggest, roundest pumpkin she could find.

“That is well,” said the godmother. “And now the rattrap.”

Cinderella brought the trap and there was a rat in it.

“And now,” said the godmother, “we are ready to begin.”

She touched the pumpkin with her wand, and at once it turned into a magnificent golden coach, lined throughout with pale yellow satin; she touched the mice and they became six handsome sleek gray horses to draw the coach. She touched the rat with her wand and he was turned into a coachman in a livery of scarlet and gold lace. He mounted to the box of the coach, and gathered up the reins, and sat there, whip in hand, waiting.

“Footmen! Footmen!” cried the godmother impatiently. “Where shall we get them!” Her sharp eyes glanced this way and that, and presently, in the crack of the wall, she espied two lizards. “The very thing,” said she. A touch of her wand and they were changed to footmen with powdered wigs and cocked hats. They sprang up and took their places behind the coach. “And now,” said the fairy, “all is ready, and no one has a finer coach in which to go to the ball. Do you not agree with me?”

“But, Godmother, my rags! I could not go to the ball in rags, no matter how fine my coach,” cried Cinderella.

“Wait a bit! I have not done yet.” The godmother touched Cinderella’s rags with her wand, and at once they were changed to a gown of white satin embroidered with pearls. There were diamonds in her hair, and her clumsy shoes were changed to glass slippers that exactly fitted her little feet.

Cinderella wondered, and her heart was filled with joy. The satin gleamed about her like moonshine, and the diamonds shone as bright as the tears she had shed.

“Now, my child, you can go to the ball,” said the godmother. “But remember this: My fairy charm can only last till twelve o’clock. At the last stroke of twelve these fine clothes will change into rags; the coach will again become a pumpkin, the horses mice, and the coachman and footman a rat and lizards as they were before; so by twelve you must be home again.”

Cinderella promised to obey, and then she stepped into the coach and rolled away to the ball.

When she reached the palace the music was sounding and the Prince was about to choose a partner for the dance. All the ladies waited anxiously, each hoping she would be the one to be chosen. Many beauties were there, and it was hard to say which was the loveliest. But when Cinderella entered the room no one had eyes for anyone but her. She was far fairer than the fairest, as the crescent moon is lovelier than the stars.

The Prince came to her and took her by the hand. “You shall be my partner in the dance,” said he, “for never have I seen anyone as fair as you.”

From then on the Prince would dance with no one but Cinderella, and none could wonder nor blame him, for she was so beautiful that the heart melted at sight of her.

The Prince begged her to tell him her name and whence she came, but she would not, and when the castle clock struck the quarter before twelve she managed to slip away from him, and run out to her coach. She sprang into it, the rat coachman cracked his whip, and away they went, and the Prince did not know what had become of her.

When the stepsisters came home, Cinderella was
again sitting in the corner beside the fire, dressed in her rags.

“Was it a beautiful ball?” she asked.

“Yes, it was a fine ball indeed,” said the sisters, and they began to tell her about it.

“And whom did the Prince dance with?” asked Cinderella.

“Oh, he danced with a strange princess who came in just after the ball began. The Prince had bowed to us and smiled, and he might have chosen one of us as his partner, but after she came he had eyes for no one else. She must be a very great princess indeed, but no one could find out who she was, not even the Prince himself, though he begged and entreated her to tell him. She slipped away before the ball was over, and no one knew where she went. The Prince was like one distracted. To-morrow night another ball is to be given, for the Prince hopes the Princess may come again and that he may find out who she is.”

Cinderella sighed. “Oh, my dear sisters, let me go with you to-morrow, I beg of you. One of your old dresses would do for me to wear.”

But the sisters laughed and jeered. “You the cinder-wench!” they cried. “No, no, the kitchen is the place for you. We would die of shame if any of those fine folk saw you.” Then they bade her unfasten their dresses and help them to bed. They must get to sleep and be fresh and handsome for the second ball.

The next night the stepsisters dressed again, and drove away to the ball, and more than ever did Cinderella long to go with them.

Scarcely had they gone, however, when the fairy godmother appeared in the kitchen.

“Well,” said she, “I suppose you would like to go to this ball, too.”

“Oh, dear Godmother, if I only could!” cried Cinderella.

The godmother bade Cinderella bring her the pumpkin, the mice, the rat, and the lizards. Again she changed them into the grand coach, the horses, driver, and footmen, all complete. She then touched Cinderella’s rags with her wand, and they were changed into a dress even more beautiful than the one she had worn the night before. She stepped into the coach and rolled away to the ball.

The Prince had been watching for her impatiently, and the moment she entered the room he hurried forward and took her by the hand.

“Why did you leave me so suddenly?” he asked her. “I sought you everywhere and could not sleep all night for thinking of you.”

He then again led her to a place in the dance, and he would dance with no one else.

As it drew on toward midnight Cinderella became very uneasy. She tried to slip away without being seen, but the Prince followed her everywhere she went. At last she made some excuse and sent him away for a moment. Then she drew her cloak around her and sped down the stairs and out to where her coach was waiting. She sprang into it and rolled away. But half-way home she heard the castle clock begin to strike the hour. As the last stroke sounded the coach melted away from around her, and a yellow pumpkin lay at her feet; the horses changed into mice and ran away, squealing; the coachman became a rat, and the lizards made haste to hide in the crack of a wall. Cinderella, in her rags, had barely time to run back to the kitchen and take her place beside the fire before the door opened and her stepsisters swept into the room.

“This ball was even more beautiful than the other,” they cried. “And the Princess was there again, and so lovely that it dazzled the eyes to look at her. The Prince thought of no one but her.”

“Ah, if I could only see her!” sighed Cinderella.

“You the cinder-wench!” scoffed the sisters. “Why she would not even allow you in her kitchen. But come! Unfasten our dresses. To-morrow there is to be another ball, and we must get to bed and rest, so as to look our best.”

So Cinderella helped her sisters to undress, and all the while she did so they could talk of nothing but the unknown princess, of how beautiful she was, and of how much the Prince had admired her.

The next night Cinderella helped to dress her sisters and make them ready for the ball. They rolled away in their coach, and then Cinderella waited impatiently for her godmother to come. It was not long before the old fairy appeared.

“Well,” said she, “and do you wish to go to this ball also?”

“Oh, dear Godmother!” cried Cinderella. “I wish to go as I never wished for anything in all my life before.”

“Very well, then you shall go,” said the godmother. “But do not forget, you must leave before the clock strikes twelve, or your fine clothes will turn to rags before them all, and your sisters will know you as the cinder-wench.”

Cinderella promised, and the godmother then touched her with her wand, and the rags were turned into a dress even more magnificent than before. If before Cinderella had appeared like the crescent moon, now she shone like the moon in its full glory. When she entered the ballroom she appeared so beautiful that it dazzled the eyes to look at her. The Prince followed her everywhere and begged and entreated her to tell him who she was, but she would not. Again and again they danced together, and Cinderella was so happy she quite forgot to notice how fast the time was going.

Suddenly the castle clock began to strike. Cinderella gave a cry of terror. She snatched her hand from the Prince and fled away so fast that for a moment he lost sight of her. Such was her haste that as she ran down the stairs she lost one of her little glass shoes, but she dared not wait to pick it up.

Just as she reached the door the last stroke of twelve sounded. Immediately her beautiful clothes fell into rags; her jewels melted away, and the guard who was on watch saw no one but a little kitchen-wench who ran past him, weeping bitterly, and wringing her hands.

Cinderella ran all the way home, and she scarcely had time to take her place beside the fire before her sisters swept into the room.

“What! crying?” they said. “Why are you not content? You have a warm corner to sit in, and no need to bother your head about anything. But you should have seen the ball to-night. It was more wonderful than either of the others; and as for the Princess, she was so beautiful that there never was anything like it. The Prince never looked at anyone else. But she went away as before, and no one knows where she went. However, the Prince picked up one of her slippers on the stairs, and he may find her by that.”

The next day the Prince sent out a proclamation far and wide that he had found a glass slipper and whoever could wear that slipper should be his bride. He hoped in this way to find the lovely Princess who had three times escaped him.

The slipper was sent around from one house to another, and every lady was eager to try it on. All hoped to be able to wear it, but it fitted none of them. Some feet were too long, and some too broad, some too fat, and some too thin.

At last the messenger came to the house where Cinderella and her stepsisters lived. The stepsisters could hardly wait to try the slipper on. Each was sure she could wear it, and they began to quarrel as to which should try it first. At last it was given to the eldest sister. She sat down and tried to put her foot into it, but she could not. The toes went in easily enough, but her heel would not go down into it. Then the second sister tried it, but that was even worse, for she could not even get her toes into it. The stepmother stood by, begging and urging them to try again.

But the messenger shook his head. “No, no,” he said. “Neither of those two is the right one. But is there no one else in the house who could try it on?”

No, there was no one except the little kitchen-maid, and it was not worth while for her to try it. If the sisters could not wear it she certainly could not. Nevertheless, the messenger said he must see her. His orders were that everyone in the city should try it on.

Very reluctantly the stepmother sent for Cinderella. She came at once, and so modest and lovely were her looks that the messenger wondered that she should be a kitchen-wench.

She sat down and took the slipper from the messenger, and put it on, and it fitted exactly. Then she drew the other slipper out from beneath her rags and put it upon her other foot, and at once the messenger knew she must be the one the Prince had been seeking.

He kneeled before her and said, “You are my mistress, for you are the one the Prince has chosen for his bride.”

The stepmother and the stepsisters were ready to burst with rage and envy. They could not believe their eyes, and would have sent Cinderella back to the kitchen with harsh words and blows; but this the messenger would not allow.

Cinderella was taken away to the palace and dressed as a princess should be, and when the Prince saw her again in all her beauty he was filled with love and joy.

Soon after they were married, and though the stepsisters were invited to the wedding they were ashamed to come because their faces were so swollen with weeping. As for the stepmother she was quite ill with rage and spite, but the Prince and Cinderella lived happy together forever after.

Jack had served his master well for seven long years without having been paid a penny. At the end of that time Jack went to him and said, “Master, I have been with you seven years, and now it is time for me to go home to see my mother. But oughtn’t I to be paid something first?”

“Yes,” said his master, “you have served me well, and you shall be well paid in return.”

He then brought out a lump of gold as big as Jack’s head and gave it to the lad.

Jack thanked him and wrapped the gold up in a handkerchief and tied the corners together, so he could carry it. Then he said good-by to his master, and off he set, whistling merrily. But the way was long and the sun was hot. The further Jack went the wearier he grew, and the gold weighed as heavy as lead. He shifted it from hand to hand, but every moment it became a heavier burden.

After awhile Jack met a man riding merrily along on a fine horse.

“That is a fine nag you are riding,” said Jack.

“Yes, it is,” answered the man.

“Well, you are a lucky fellow,” said Jack. “There you ride along as light as a bird, and I have to trudge in the dust and carry a lump of gold that weighs like lead.”

“Is that gold you have tied up there?” asked the man.

“Yes, it is.”

“I would like to see a lump of gold as big as that.”

Jack untied the handkerchief and showed the gold to the man. When the man saw it his eyes glittered and his mouth worked.

“Listen,” said he to Jack, “I am a good-natured sort of a fellow. I am almost home and you have still a long way to go. Give me the gold and you shall have my horse in exchange, and then you can ride along as proud as a king, and I will do the trudging.”

That seemed to Jack a fine bargain. He thanked the man and gave him the gold, and then he mounted the horse. The man put a switch in his hand and said, “If he does not go along fast enough just touch him with this and he will go faster.” Then he tied up the gold in a great hurry, and made off with it.

As for Jack he rode along holding his head high and glancing about him. “How proud mother will be to see me come riding up to the door like a nobleman,” thought he. “How much better to ride with my head in the air than to trudge along in the dust.”

After awhile Jack thought he would like to go faster, and he gave the horse a cut with the switch. But the nag was a lively one. When it felt the switch it kicked up its heels, and away it went, jolting and bumping. Jack held on as long as he could, and then he fell off into a ditch full of stinging nettles. Luckily a man passing by stopped the horse and brought it back to him. The man was leading a cow by a rope.

“That was a nasty fall you had,” said he.

“Yes,” answered Jack. “Now I see that a horse is a tricky animal. A man gave him to me for a lump of gold I was carrying, and he seemed quiet enough then.”

“A lump of gold?” asked the man.

“Yes, a lump of gold. How lucky you are to have a nice quiet animal like the cow to give you good milk and butter and cheese, instead of a horse that runs away and throws you off.”

“Yes, I am lucky,” said the man. Then he thought a bit. “Listen,” said he. “I have had so much butter and cheese and cream that I am tired of them. If you like you shall have my cow and I will take your horse, and you will have the best of the bargain.”

“That I will,” cried Jack joyfully, “and I thank you kindly for speaking of it.” He then gave the horse to the man, and the man gave him the cow. Then the man sprang upon the horse and away he rode in haste without once turning to look behind him.

Jack led the cow along by the rope, and his heart was light if his heels were not. “Now I can live like a king,” said he. “When I am thirsty all I have to do is to milk the cow and have a drink of fine fresh milk; and when I have a piece of bread — it is easy enough to get a piece of bread — I can always have some butter with it, or a tasty bit of cheese.”

The sun was high in the sky by now, and it shone so hot that Jack’s mouth grew as dry as a nutmeg grater. “Now is the time for a glass of milk,” said he. He tied the cow to a post, and then he sat down and tried to milk her; but he had never learned how to milk, and not a drop could he get. Moreover he was so awkward about it that at last the cow gave him a kick that sent him head over heels across the road. Jack got up and rubbed his head. “That is a very dangerous animal,” said he, “or else she does not like me.”

Just then a butcher came by, wheeling a fine little pig in a barrow, and he stopped to speak with Jack. “What ails you,” said he, “that you look so sad and down in the mouth?”

“Oh,” said Jack, “my cow has kicked me and will not give me a drop of milk,” and he told the butcher the whole story, how he had exchanged the gold for a horse, and the horse for a cow.

“You made a bad bargain,” said the butcher. “That cow is old and will never give milk. There is nothing to do with her but to knock her on the head and use her for beef.”

“How could I do that?” asked Jack. “And besides I do not like beef. If she were only a fine little pig, now! There is nothing I love better than a tender juicy bit of pork.”

“Well, there now!” said the butcher. “I am too kind-hearted for my own good, but if you like I will take the cow and you shall have my pig in exchange.”

Jack was delighted. He thanked the butcher and took the pig in exchange for his cow, and off he set, wheeling the pig before him, and he was as happy as a lark.

After awhile he met a young man who carried a fine fat white goose under his arm. Jack had known the youth before, and they stopped to talk. Jack told him all about his adventures, and what fine bargains he had made.

“Yes, that is well,” said the youth. Then he showed Jack his goose, and made him weigh it by the wings and feel how fat it was, and how soft were its feathers.

“It is a fine fowl,” said Jack. “But after all it is not as fine a creature as my fat pig, and it will not taste as good when it is eaten, either.”

The youth looked the pig all over, and scratched his head. “I do not know about that pig,” said he. “A man just over there beyond the hill had his pig stolen two days ago. I misdoubt me but what this may be the very one. I only hope you may not get taken up and put in prison for having it.”

“In prison,” cried Jack in alarm. “But I cannot go to prison. My mother is looking for me home, and it would break her heart if I did not come.”

“I will tell you,” said the youth; “I know the ways about here better than you do. If you like I will take the pig and give you my goose in exchange. I may suffer for it, but if anyone is taken to prison at least it will not be you.”

Jack thanked him with tears in his eyes. He gave him the pig and took the goose and went on his way rejoicing. “After all,” thought he, “I would rather have a goose than a pig. Not only is it good to eat, but it may lay me a fine big egg, and its feathers will do to make a soft pillow for mother to lay her head on.”

So thinking he trudged along with the goose under his arm, and after awhile he came to a village, and there was a knife-grinder turning his wheel and sharpening knives and scissors for people.

He worked so quickly and sang so merrily as he worked that Jack stopped to watch him.

“That is a fine trade of yours — that of a knife-grinder,” said Jack.

“Yes, it is,” answered the man. “People are glad to see me come, and they save their knives and scissors for me to sharpen. I always can earn a bit of money, and when I am tired of one place I take my wheel and go on to the next. But that is a fine goose you have. Where did you buy it?”

“I did not buy it, I got it in exchange for a pig.”

“And where did you get the pig?”

“Oh, I took it in exchange for a cow.”

“Where did you get the cow?”

“I got it in exchange for a horse.”

“Where did you get the horse?”

“I bought it for a lump of gold as big as my head.”

“Where did you get the gold?”

“My master gave it to me in payment for seven years’ service, but the gold was too heavy, and the horse ran away, and the cow would give no milk, and the pig had been stolen, but this is a very fine goose, so you see I have been lucky in the end.”

“That you have,” said the knife-grinder. “But after all I would rather own this grindstone of mine than the very finest, fattest goose. The goose is eaten and that is the end of it, but this grindstone always earns me a bit of money to jingle in my pocket.”

“Yes, that is true,” said Jack. “I wish I had a grindstone.”

The knife-grinder looked thoughtful. “It might be managed,” said he. “I have another grindstone that is a bit damaged, but works all right. If you like you can have it in exchange for your goose, and once you have a grindstone the rest of the business is easy enough.”

“I am in luck indeed,” said Jack. “I have only to wish for a thing and I get it. Here, take the goose, and give me the grindstone.”

The man gave Jack an old cracked grindstone. Then he picked up a heavy stone that lay by the roadside. “Take this with you, too,” he said. “It will be useful to you if you ever have a crooked nail to straighten. Then you will only have to lay it on the grindstone and beat it with this rock, and you can straighten it out in no time.”

“Yes, that will be a fine thing,” said Jack, and he took the grindstone and the rock and thanked the man and went on his way.

But the road was rough and the sun was hot, and before long Jack was so weary with the weight he carried that he could hardly drag one foot after another, and the sweat poured down from his forehead.

After awhile he came to a place where a well of water bubbled up clear and fresh and cool. Jack put his stones down on the edge of it and stooped over to drink, but as he rose up again he happened to give the stones a push, and plunk! they both fell into the well and sank to the bottom.

“Now thanks be to heaven!” cried Jack. “If I had had to carry those stones much farther my back would surely have broken. Oh, what a lucky fellow I am! Everything I touch turns to luck.”

Then he started off with a light heart and light heels, and it did not take him long to reach his mother’s house.

A miller died, leaving three sons to divide his fortune among them. The eldest took the mill and the land around it; the second took the flocks and herds, and then there was nothing left for the third son, Jack, but three bits of silver money, and a little cat that lived in the mill.

“This is all very well,” said Jack, “and the cat is a fine little cat and can feed on the mice it catches, but I do not see how I am to live on three pieces of money.”

“Oh,” answered his brothers, “you will have to start out in the world and do the best you can for yourself.”

Jack took the little cat and started out.

“Do not be uneasy, master,” said the little cat. “You have three silver pieces. Take them and buy me a little pair of boots and a bag, and I will make your fortune for you.”

Jack did not like to spend his money on a pair of boots for a cat, but he knew he was a wise little animal, so he did as he said. He went to a tailor, and for the three pieces of silver the tailor made him the prettiest pair of little boots that ever were seen, and when Puss drew them on they fitted exactly. The tailor also gave Jack an old bag that lay in the corner, and for which he had no use.

Puss led Jack off into the country, and then he bade him sit down by the roadside and wait for his return. The little cat ran off into a wood near by, where there were a great many rabbit-holes, and there he managed to catch two fine fat rabbits. He put the rabbits in the bag and trotted away in his neat little boots until he came to the King’s palace. There he asked to see the King, and a cat in boots was such a strange sight that he was at once brought before his majesty.

The courtiers nudged each other and laughed when the cat came into court, but Puss marched up to the King and bowed low before him.

“Your Majesty, my master, the Marquis of Carrabas, has sent you a present of these two fine fat rabbits for your supper,” said he, and he took out the rabbits and presented them to the King.

The King was very much pleased. He ordered a piece of money to be given to Puss, and bade the little animal thank his master for the fine present he had sent.

Puss ran back to where Jack was waiting, and gave him the piece of money. “There,” he said. “That is enough to pay for a bed and a supper at the inn.”

The next day Puss set off for the forest again, and this time it was a pair of fine fat partridges that he caught and carried to the King. “They are sent by my master, the Marquis of Carrabas,” said Puss.

Again the King sent his thanks to the Marquis, and gave Puss a piece of money, which the little cat carried back to his master, and it was enough to buy Jack food and lodging.

So it went on day after day. Every day Puss caught some fine game in the forest and took it to the King with the compliments of the Marquis of Carrabas, and every day the King thanked the cat and gave him a piece of money. The King began to wonder who the Marquis of Carrabas was and where he lived. He began to think the Marquis was a very generous fellow.

One day the King went out for a pleasure ride with his daughter, and many of his court rode with him.

Puss came in haste to his master. “Come quick!” he cried. “We have done well enough so far, but the time has now come when I will make your fortune.”

The cat then led Jack to a river, where he knew the King would pass before long. He then bade Jack take off his clothes and hide them under a rock, and then stand in the river up to his neck.

Jack did this, though the water was so cold it made him shudder, and he did not know how Puss was to make his fortune in this way.

Puss waited until he saw his master well in the river, and then he ran to the road along which the King was coming.

“Help! help!” he cried. “Oh, help! My master — the noble Marquis of Carrabas! He will surely drown.”

“What is the matter?” asked the King, stopping his coach, and the Princess and all the courtiers listened.

“Oh, your Majesty!” cried the cat. “My noble master! He was attacked by robbers and they robbed him of everything and threw him in the river, and unless he receives help he will surely drown.”

The King was very much concerned. He at once sent courtiers to draw Jack out from the river and dress him in robes of velvet and satin and gold lace.

Jack had never been so magnificently dressed before, and he looked a fine fellow indeed when he was brought to the King. His majesty was so pleased with Jack’s looks that he made him get into the coach and sit beside him, and the Princess was even better pleased with him than her father.

Meanwhile the little cat had hurried on far ahead of the coaches.

Presently Puss came to a field where the harvesters were harvesting the grain. Puss marched up to them scowling fiercely and bristling out his whiskers until he looked twice as big again. The harvesters were frightened.

“Listen, men,” cried Puss. “The King will soon come by this way with my master, the Marquis of Carrabas riding beside him. If he should ask you to whom this grain belongs, answer that it belongs to the noble Marquis of Carrabas. If you do not do this you shall be torn into pieces, and the shreds thrown into the river.”

The harvesters were more frightened than ever. They promised to do exactly as the cat bade them.

Then Puss ran on until he met a drover driving a great herd of cattle. Him, too, he frightened so that he promised if the King asked him to whom the herd belonged, he would say to the noble Marquis of Carrabas.

A little farther on the cat met a shepherd with his sheep, and he also promised to say his flocks belonged to the Marquis of Carrabas.

So it went on; it seemed as though everything was to be claimed by the Marquis of Carrabas.

Now all these things really belonged to an ogre who was very rich and fierce and strong and terrible, and after awhile Puss came to the castle where the ogre lived. The little cat was not afraid of ogres, however. He made his way into the castle and ran along into one room after another until he came to where the ogre was sitting.

When the ogre saw the little cat in his fine shiny, creaking boots he was so amused that he laughed aloud. He had never seen such a sight before.

“And where did you come from, my fine little cat?” he asked.

“Oh, from over the hills and far away.”

“And what do you want here?”

“I only wanted to see you because everyone says you are the strongest and most wonderful ogre in all the world.”

When the ogre heard that he was much pleased, for he was very vain.

“Well, and now you have seen me, what do you think of me?” he asked.

Oh, Puss thought he was a very wonderful ogre indeed. And was it true that he had magic powers, too?

Yes, the ogre had magic powers.

“Can you change yourself into animals if you choose? A lion or an elephant for instance?” asked Puss.

Oh, yes, that was easy enough.

“I should like to see you do that,” said the cat.

Well, the ogre was willing to oblige him. At
once he turned himself into a lion, for he really had that power, and he was a very terrible looking lion indeed. He roared and lashed his tail and his mane bristled.

Puss was so terrified that he sprang through the window and scrambled up the roof, though he almost slipped and fell on account of the boots. There he sat spitting and trembling.

Then the ogre turned himself back into his own shape, and he laughed and laughed. “Come back, Puss,” he called, “I will not hurt you; but now you see that everything they told you was true.”

Puss came scrambling back into the room, and he looked very meek and timid.

“Yes, I see it was all true,” he said. “But, Mr. Ogre, could you turn yourself into a small animal as well? That must be a great deal harder. Could you turn yourself into a mouse?”

Yes, the ogre could do that, too, and at once he turned himself into a mouse, and ran, scampering gayly about the room. But he did not scamper long. “Ps-s-s-t!” with a bound Puss caught him and swallowed him down in a moment before he could even squeak, and that was the end of the ogre.

Meanwhile the King and the Princess and Jack were rolling along together in the fine coach and talking pleasantly together. The King was so pleased with Jack’s talk that he told the coachman to drive slowly, so they could have the more time together.

Presently they came to the field of grain where the harvesters were at work

“That is a fine field of grain,” said the King; and he leaned from the coach and called to the harvesters to know to whom the grain belonged.

“To the noble Marquis of Carrabas!” answered the harvesters.

The King turned to Jack. “My dear Marquis, why did you not tell me it belonged to you?”

“I had forgotten,” answered Jack.

Soon after they came to the drover. The King admired the herd of cattle and asked the drover to whom they belonged.

“To the noble Marquis of Carrabas,” answered the drover.

The King turned to Jack, and complimented him upon his herds. He began to think the Marquis must be very rich.

Then they came to the shepherd, and it was the same thing; his flocks belonged to the Marquis of Carrabas. In the forest the woodsmen said the wood belonged to the Marquis. It seemed as though the Marquis were richer than the King himself.

At last they came to the ogre’s grand castle, and the King asked Jack to whom it belonged. Before Jack could answer the doors were thrown open, and the little cat ran out into the road. “Welcome, welcome, your majesty,” he cried. “Welcome to the castle of the Marquis of Carrabas.”

“So this is where you live,” said the King.

“Yes, this is where I live,” answered Jack.

The cat invited them to alight and led the way into a long dining-hall. There the servants had prepared a magnificent feast, for now they, as well as the castle and everything in it, belonged to Jack.

The King and the Princess took their places at the table, and Jack sat between them. They ate and drank and feasted to their hearts’ content, and the King had never tasted more delicious food, and it was all served on golden plates far finer than those he ate from in his own castle.

At the end of the feast the King turned to Jack and said, “My dear Marquis, you must be a very rich man.”

“I am so rich,” answered Jack, “that I really do not know how much I have.”

“It seems to me,” said the King, “that you ought to marry a princess, for no everyday girl would do for you.”

Yes, Jack would like to marry a princess, but it would have to be the right princess.

“Then how would my daughter do?” asked the King.

At that Jack was ready to jump out of his skin with joy, for the Princess was so sweet and pretty that he loved her already. “Yes, she would do better than anyone else in the world.” And the Princess did not say nay.

So Jack went back with the King and the Princess to his own palace, and then the Princess and Jack were married, and lived happily ever after.

The little cat lived in the palace with them, and always the softest cushion, and the warmest corner by the fire were left for him.

As for Jack’s brothers, when they heard of the good fortune that had come to Jack, and how he had won a princess for a wife, they wished they had kept Puss and given him the mill and the flocks and herds.

A donkey had grown so old and feeble that he was of no more use to his master.

One night he heard his master and mistress talking together. “I wonder you still keep that donkey,” said the woman; “he is of no use to you, and you only waste your money buying food for him.”

“That is true,” answered the man. “I would do well to get rid of him. I might sell his hide to the tanner.”

When the donkey heard this he knew it was time for him to be going, if he wished to keep his skin for his own use. He pushed the stable-door open with his nose, and made off down the road without saying good-by to anyone. “I may be too weak to work,” said he, “but my voice is still strong. I will go to the big city and become a musician.”

He had not gone far when he saw an old hound lying beside the road and whining. “Well, old Bellmouth,” said the donkey, “what ails you? You seem to be in trouble.”

“Trouble indeed,” answered the hound. “I have grown so old and stiff that I am no longer able to run with the pack, so my master had no more use for me. He drove me away and threw stones after me. What is to become of me now I do not know. If my master would not keep me I am sure no one else will.”

“Do not trouble yourself over that,” said the donkey. “I am going to the city to be a musician, and if you like you shall come along and sing with me. I know you have a fine voice, and we two together may make our fortunes.”

The hound was pleased with this idea. He got to his feet, and he and the donkey went on together in company.

A little while after they came to where a cat sat in the grass by the roadside, looking as sad and doleful as a rainy day in fall.

“What is the matter with you, Whiskers?” asked the donkey. “You look as though all the cream were sour and all the rats were dead.”

“There is no cream for me nowadays,” said the cat, “and though there are plenty of rats I am too old to catch them. I am no longer quick and active, and I would rather sit by the fire and purr. For this reason my mistress has driven me out of the house with a broom, and I have no place to go. What would you advise me to do in such a case?”

“Come with us,” said the donkey. “Brother Bellmouth and I are going to the city to be musicians, and if you choose to come along and join your voice with ours we shall be glad to have you.”

The cat was delighted, and leaping out into the road it trotted along beside the others.

Presently they came to a farmyard, and a cock had flown up on the gate post. It stretched its neck and crowed, and crowed again.

“Enough! Enough!” cried the donkey. “Do you want to split our ears with your crowing?”

“I must crow while I can,” said the cock, “for that is my business. Every morning I crow to wake the men, and I also crow to tell what weather we will have. But I heard the mistress say that company was coming to-morrow and that she must make me into soup, so my crowing days are almost over.”

“That is a bad business,” said the donkey. “You had better come with us. We are going to the city to become musicians, and such a voice as yours would be a great help.”

The cock did not wait to be asked twice. He flew down from the gatepost and flapped along beside them, but this was tiresome, so the donkey bade the cock fly up on to his back, and after that Master Red-head rode along in comfort.

Presently it began to grow dark, and still the musicians had not come within sight of the big city. Instead they came to a deep wood, and after wandering about in it for some time they grew so weary that they decided to go no farther that night. The donkey and the hound lay down under a large tree, the cat climbed up to a crotch of the branches, while the cock was not content to roost anywhere but at the top of the tree.

He had not been sitting there long when he said, “Brothers, I see a light not far off. There must be a house there.”

“That is good news,” said the donkey. “I for one have no liking for sleeping on the bare ground. Perhaps if we go there and sing they may give us a night’s lodging.”

This plan suited the others. The cat and the cock came down from the tree, and the four musicians set out together in the direction of the light.

It was not long before they came to a house and the light the cock had seen shone through a lower window. The donkey, being the largest, was chosen to look in through the window and tell the others what he saw.

The donkey looked so long and so silently that the others grew impatient. “Well, Brother Greycoat, what do you see?” asked the hound.

“Brothers,” said the donkey in a low voice, “I can easily see that this house belongs to a band of robbers. They have a quantity of treasure piled up in one corner of the room, and they are sitting around the table eating and drinking.”

“Oh, if we could only scare them away and take the treasure for ourselves! Robbers are always cowards,” said the dog.

The four companions consulted together and laid out a plan for frightening the robbers away. The donkey put his front feet up on the windowsill, the dog mounted on his back, the cat mounted on the dog’s back, and the cock flew up on to the cat. Then at a certain signal they all began to sing together. The donkey brayed, the dog howled, the cat miaued, and the cock crowed. The noise they made was terrible. The robbers jumped up in a fright, and as soon as the animals saw they were frightened they smashed the glass and sprang into the room.

The robbers fled out of the door pell-mell and into the woods without stopping to look behind them.

“That was easily done,” said the donkey. The animals then sat down at the table and ate and drank to their hearts’ content. After that they put out the lights, and then they settled down for the night, each one in the most comfortable place it could find. The donkey lay down on a heap of straw outside, the dog curled up behind the door, the cat settled down on the warm ashes, and the cock flew up and perched on the rafters. Then they all went to sleep.

Out in the forest the robbers wandered about for awhile, and then they all got together and talked things over.

“We were very foolish to be so easily frightened,” said the captain. “I have been listening and watching, and everything is quiet around the house and the lights are out. Let us go back there and see if anyone is there.”

To this the others agreed. They crept back to the house, and the captain sent one of the men inside to see what was doing.

The man went in and looked about, and saw the cat’s eyes shining in the dark. He thought they were live coals, and as he needed a light he went up and stuck a stick toward them, meaning to light it.

At once the cat sprang up with a yowl and scratched his face. The man was terrified. He ran to the door and the dog sprang out and bit him. He tumbled out into the courtyard and the donkey kicked him. The noise wakened the cock and it stretched its neck and crowed “Cock-a-doodle-doo!”

The robber ran back to his captain trembling. “Let us get away!” he cried. “A horrible witch sits by the hearth, and she flew at me screaming, and bit and scratched me. A man back of the door stuck a knife in my leg. Outside a hideous black thing hit me with a club, and on the roof sits a judge who cried, ‘Bring the rascal here!’”

The robbers waited to hear no more; they took to their heels and ran away, and if they have not stopped they must be running still.

But the four comrades found it so comfortable in the robbers’ house that they stayed there and enjoyed the robbers’ treasure, and never went to the big city to become musicians after all.