Part 26
When the Princess had lain a while, she began to toss about, and at last she started up with her
“Ah! ah!”
“What’s the matter now?” said the Dragon.
“Oh! I can’t get any rest at all, and I’ve had such a strange dream”, said the Princess.
“Why, you seem full of dreams to-night”, said the Dragon what was your dream now?”
“I thought a king came here, and asked you what had become of his daughter who had been lost many years since”, said the Princess.
“Why, you are she”, said the Dragon; “but he’ll never set eyes on you again. But now, do pray be still, and let me get some rest, and don’t let’s have any more dreams, else I’ll break your ribs.”
Well, the Princess hadn’t lain much longer before she began to toss about again. At last she started up with her
“Ah! ah!”
“What! Are you at it again?” said the Dragon. “What’s the matter now?” for he was wild and sleep-surly, so that he was ready to fly to pieces.
“Oh, don’t be angry”, said the Princess; “but I’ve had such a strange dream.”
“The deuce take your dreams”, roared the Dragon; “what did you dream this time?”
“I thought a queen came here, who asked you to tell her where she would find her gold keys, which she has lost.”
“Oh”, said the Dragon, “she’ll find them soon enough if she looks among the bushes where she lay that time she wots of. But do now let me have no more dreams, but sleep in peace.”
So they slept a while; but then the Princess was just as restless as ever, and at last she screamed out:
“Ah! ah!”
“You’ll never behave till I break your neck”, said the Dragon, who was now so wroth that sparks of fire flew out of his eyes. “What’s the matter now?”
“Oh, don’t be so angry”, said the Princess; “I can’t bear that; but I’ve had such a strange dream.”
“Bless me!” said the Dragon, “if I ever heard the like of these dreams—there’s no end to them. And pray, what did you dream now?”
“I thought the ferryman down at the ferry came and asked how long he was to stop there and carry folk over”, said the Princess.
“The dull fool!” said the Dragon; “he’d soon be free, if he chose. When any one comes who wants to go across, he has only to take and throw him into the river, and say, ‘Now, carry folk over yourself till someone sets you free.’ But now, pray let’s have an end of these dreams, else I’ll lead you a pretty dance.”
So the Princess let him sleep on. But as soon as all was still, and the miller’s lad heard that the Dragon snored, he crept out. Before it was light the Dragon rose; but he had scarce set both his feet on the floor before the lad cut off his head, and plucked three feathers out of his tail. Then came great joy, and both the lad and the Princess took as much gold, and silver, and money, and precious things as they could carry; and when they came down to the ford, they so puzzled the ferryman with all they had to tell, that he quite forgot to ask what the Dragon had said about him till they had got across.
“Halloa, you sir”, he said, as they were going off, “did you ask the Dragon what I begged you to ask?”
“Yes I did”, said the lad, “and he said, ‘When any one comes and wants to go over, you must throw him into the midst of the river, and say, “Now, carry folk over yourself till some one comes to set you free,”’ and then you’ll be free.”
“Ah, bad luck to you”, said the ferryman; “had you told me that before, you might have set me free yourself.”
So, when they got to the first palace, the Queen asked if he had spoken to the Dragon about her gold keys? “Yes”, said the lad, and whispered in the Queen’s ear, “he said you must look among the bushes where you lay the day you wot of.”
“Hush! hush! Don’t say a word”, said the Queen, and gave the lad a hundred dollars.
When they came to the second palace, the King asked if he had spoken to the Dragon of what he begged him?
“Yes”, said the lad, “I did; and see, here is your daughter.”
At that the King was so glad, he would gladly have given the Princess to the miller’s lad to wife, and half the kingdom beside; but as he was married already, he gave him two hundred dollars, and coaches and horses, and as much gold and silver as he could carry away.
When he came to the third King’s palace, out came the King and asked if he had asked the Dragon of what he begged him?
“Yes”, said the lad, “and he said you must dig out the well, and take out the rotten old stump which lies at the bottom, and then you’ll get plenty of clear water.”
Then the King gave him three hundred dollars, and he set out home; but he was so loaded with gold and silver, and so grandly clothed, that it gleamed and glistened from him, and he was now far richer than Peter the Pedlar.
When Peter got the feathers he hadn’t a word more to say against the wedding; but when he saw all that wealth, he asked if there was much still left at the Dragon’s castle.
“Yes, I should think so”, said the lad; “there was much more than I could carry with me—so much, that you might load many horses with it; and if you choose to go, you may be sure there’ll be enough for you.”
So his son-in-law told him the way so clearly, that he hadn’t to ask it of any one.
“But the horses”, said the lad “you’d best leave this side the river; for the old ferryman, he’ll carry you over safe enough.”
So Peter set off, and took with him great store of food and many horses; but these he left behind him on the river’s brink, as the lad had said. And the old ferryman took him upon his back; but when they had come a bit out into the stream, he cast him into the midst of the river, and said,
“Now you may go backwards and forwards here, and carry folk over till you are set free.”
And unless some one has set him free, there goes Rich Peter the Pedlar backwards and forwards, and carries folk across this very day.
GERTRUDE’S BIRD
In those days when our Lord and St Peter wandered upon earth, they came once to an old wife’s house, who sat baking. Her name was Gertrude, and she had a red mutch on her head. They had walked a long way, and were both hungry, and our Lord begged hard for a bannock to stay their hunger. Yes, they should have it. So she took a little tiny piece of dough and rolled it out, but as she rolled it, it grew and grew till it covered the whole griddle.
Nay, that was too big; they couldn’t have that. So she took a tinier bit still; but when that was rolled out, it covered the whole griddle just the same, and that bannock was too big, she said; they couldn’t have that either.
The third time she took a still tinier bit—so tiny you could scarce see it; but it was the same story over again—the bannock was too big.
“Well”, said Gertrude, “I can’t give you anything; you must just go without, for all these bannocks are too big.”
Then our Lord waxed wroth, and said:
“Since you loved me so little as to grudge me a morsel of food, you shall have this punishment: you shall become a bird, and seek your food between bark and bole; and never get a drop to drink save when it rains.”
He had scarce said the last word before she was turned into a great black woodpecker, or Gertrude’s bird, and flew from her kneading-trough right up the chimney; and till this very day you may see her flying about, with her red mutch on her head, and her body all black, because of the soot in the chimney; and so she hacks and taps away at the trees for her food, and whistles when rain is coming, for she is ever athirst, and then she looks for a drop to cool her tongue.
BOOTS AND THE TROLL
Once on a time there was a poor man who had three sons. When he died, the two elder set off into the world to try their luck, but the youngest they wouldn’t have with them at any price.
“As for you”, they said, “you’re fit for nothing but to sit and poke about in the ashes.”
So the two went off and got places at a palace—the one under the coachman, and the other under the gardener. But Boots, he set off too, and took with him a great kneading-trough, which was the only thing his parents left behind them, but which the other two would not bother themselves with. It was heavy to carry, but he did not like to leave it behind, and so, after he had trudged a bit, he too came to the palace, and asked for a place. So they told him they did not want him, but he begged so prettily that at last he got leave to be in the kitchen, and carry in wood and water for the kitchen maid. He was quick and ready, and in a little while every one liked him; but the two others were dull, and so they got more kicks than halfpence, and grew quite envious of Boots, when they saw how much better he got on.
Just opposite the palace, across a lake, lived a Troll, who had seven silver ducks which swam on the lake, so that they could be seen from the palace. These the king had often longed for; and so the two elder brothers told the coachman:
“If our brother only chose, he has said he could easily get the king those seven silver ducks.”
You may fancy it wasn’t long before the coachman told this to the king; and the king called Boots before him, and said:
“Your brothers say you can get me the silver ducks; so now go and fetch them.”
“I’m sure I never thought or said anything of the kind,” said the lad.
“You did say so, and you shall fetch them”, said the king, who would hold his own.
“Well! well!” said the lad; “needs must, I suppose; but give me a bushel of rye, and a bushel of wheat, and I’ll try what I can do.”
So he got the rye and the wheat, and put them into the kneading-trough he had brought with him from home, got in, and rowed across the lake. When he reached the other side he began to walk along the shore, and to sprinkle and strew the grain, and at last he coaxed the ducks into his kneading-trough, and rowed back as fast as ever he could.
When he got half over, the Troll came out of his house, and set eyes on him.
“HALLOA!” roared out the Troll; “is it you that has gone off with my seven silver ducks.”
“AYE! AYE!” said the lad.
“Shall you be back soon?” asked the Troll.
“Very likely”, said the lad.
So when he got back to the king, with the seven silver ducks, he was more liked than ever, and even the king was pleased to say, “Well done!” But at this his brothers grew more and more spiteful and envious; and so they went and told the coachman that their brother had said, if he chose, he was man enough to get the king the Troll’s bed-quilt, which had a gold patch and a silver patch, and a silver patch and a gold patch; and this time, too, the coachman was not slow in telling all this to the king. So the king said to the lad, how his brothers had said he was good to steal the Troll’s bed-quilt, with gold and silver patches; so now he must go and do it, or lose his life.
Boots answered, he had never thought or said any such thing; but when he found there was no help for it, he begged for three days to think over the matter.
So when the three days were gone, he rowed over in his kneading-trough, and went spying about. At last he saw those in the Troll’s cave come out and hang the quilt out to air, and as soon as ever they had gone back into the face of the rock, Boots pulled the quilt down, and rowed away with it as fast as he could.
And when he was half across, out came the Troll and set eyes on him, and roared out:
“HALLOA! Is it you who took my seven silver ducks?”
“AYE! AYE!” said the lad.
“And now, have you taken my bed-quilt, with silver patches and gold patches, and gold patches and silver patches?”
“Aye! aye!” said the lad.
“Shall you come back again?”
“Very likely”, said the lad.
But when he got back with the gold and silver patchwork quilt, every one was fonder of him than ever, and he was made the king’s body-servant.
At this, the other two were still more vexed, and, to be revenged, they went and told the coachman:
“Now, our brother has said, he is man enough to get the king the gold harp which the Troll has, and that harp is of such a kind, that all who listen when it is played grow glad, however sad they may be.”
Yes! the coachman went and told the king, and he said to the lad:
“If you have said this, you shall do it. If you do it, you shall have the Princess and half the kingdom. If you don’t, you shall lose your life.”
“I’m sure I never thought or said anything of the kind”, said the lad; “but if there’s no help for it, I may as well try; but I must have six days to think about it.”
Yes! he might have six days, but when they were over, he must set out.
Then he took a tenpenny nail, a birch-pin, and a waxen taper-end in his pocket, and rowed across, and walked up and down before the Troll’s cave, looking stealthily about him. So when the Troll came out, he saw him at once.
“HO, HO!” roared the Troll; “is it you who took my seven silver ducks?”
“AYE! AYE!” said the lad.
“And it is you who took my bed-quilt, with the gold and silver patches?” asked the Troll.
“Aye! aye!” said the lad.
So the Troll caught hold of him at once, and took him off into the cave in the face of the rock.
“Now, daughter dear”, said the Troll, “I’ve caught the fellow who stole the silver ducks and my bed-quilt, with gold and silver patches; put him into the fattening coop, and when he’s fat, we’ll kill him, and make a feast for our friends.”
She was willing enough, and put him at once into the fattening coop, and there he stayed eight days, fed on the best, both in meat and drink, and as much as he could cram. So, when the eight days were over, the Troll said to his daughter to go down and cut him in his little finger, that they might see if he were fat. Down she came to the coop.
“Out with your little finger!” she said.
But Boots stuck out his tenpenny nail, and she cut at it.
“Nay! nay! he’s as hard as iron still”, said the Troll’s daughter, when she got back to her father; “we can’t take him yet.”
After another eight days the same thing happened, and this time Boots stuck out his birchen pin.
“Well, he’s a little better”, she said, when she got back to the Troll; “but still he’ll be as hard as wood to chew.”
But when another eight days were gone, the Troll told his daughter to go down and see if he wasn’t fat now.
“Out with your little finger”, said the Troll’s daughter, when she reached the coop, and this time Boots stuck out the taper end.
“Now he’ll do nicely”, she said.
“Will he?” said the Troll. “Well, then, I’ll just set off and ask the guests; meantime you must kill him, and roast half and boil half.”
So when the Troll had been gone a little while, the daughter began to sharpen a great long knife.
“Is that what you’re going to kill me with?” asked the lad.
“Yes it is,” said she.
“But it isn’t sharp”, said the lad. “Just let me sharpen it for you, and then you’ll find it easier work to kill me.”
So she let him have the knife, and he began to rub and sharpen it on the whetstone.
“Just let me try it on one of your hair plaits; I think it’s about right now.”
So he got leave to do that; but at the same time that he grasped the plait of hair, he pulled back her head, and at one gash, cut off the Troll’s daughter’s head; and half of her he roasted and half of her he boiled, and served it all up.
After that he dressed himself in her clothes, and sat away in the corner.
So when the Troll came home with his guests, he called out to his daughter—for he thought all the time it was his daughter—to come and take a snack.
“No, thank you”, said the lad, “I don’t care for food, I’m so sad and downcast.”
“Oh!” said the Troll, “if that’s all, you know the cure; take the harp, and play a tune on it.”
“Yes!” said the lad; “but where has it got to; I can’t find it.”
“Why, you know well enough”, said the Troll; “you used it last; where should it be but over the door yonder?
The lad did not wait to be told twice; he took down the harp, and went in and out playing tunes; but, all at once he shoved off the kneading-trough, jumped into it, and rowed off, so that the foam flew around the trough.
After a while the Troll thought his daughter was a long while gone, and went out to see what ailed her; and then he saw the lad in the trough, far, far out on the lake.
“HALLOA! Is it you”, he roared, “that took my seven silver ducks?”
“AYE, AYE!” said the lad.
“Is it you that took my bed-quilt, with the gold and silver patches.”
“Yes!” said the lad.
“And now you have taken off my gold harp?” screamed the Troll.
“Yes!” said the lad; “I’ve got it, sure enough.”
“And haven’t I eaten you up after all, then?”
“No, no! ’twas your own daughter you ate”, answered the lad.
But when the Troll heard that, he was so sorry, he burst; and then Boots rowed back, and took a whole heap of gold and silver with him, as much as the trough could carry. And so, when he came to the palace with the gold harp, he got the Princess and half the kingdom, as the king had promised him; and, as for his brothers, he treated them well, for he thought they had only wished his good when they said what they had said.
GOOSEY GRIZZEL
Once on a time there was a widower, who had a housekeeper named Grizzel, who set her mutch at him and teazed him early and late to marry her. At last the man got so weary of her, he was at his wits’ end to know how to get rid of her. So it fell on a day, between hay time and harvest, the two went out to pull hemp. Grizzel’s head was full of her good looks and her handiness, and she worked away at the hemp till she grew giddy from the strong smell of the ripe seed, and at last down she fell flat, fast asleep among the hemp. While she slept, her master got a pair of scissors and cut her skirts short all round, and then he rubbed her all over, face and all, first with tallow and then with soot, till she looked worse than the Deil himself. So, when Grizzel woke and saw how ugly she was, she didn’t know herself.
“Can this be me now?” said Grizzel. “Nay, nay! it can never be me. So ugly have I never been; it’s surely the Deil himself?”
Well! that she might really know the truth, she went off and knocked at her master’s door, and asked,
“Is your Girzie at home the day, father?”
“Aye, aye, our Girzie is at home safe enough”, said the man, who wanted to be rid of her.
“Well, well!” she said to herself, “then I can’t be his Grizzel,” and stole away; and right glad the man was, I can tell you.
So, when she had walked a bit she came to a great wood, where she met two thieves. “The very men for my money, thought Grizzel, “since I am the Deil, thieves are just fit fellows for me.”
But the thieves were not of the same mind, not they. As soon as they set eyes on her, they took to their heels as fast as they could, for they thought the Evil One was come to catch them. But it was no good, for Grizzel was long-legged and swift-footed, and she came up with them before they knew where they were.
“If you’re going out to steal, I’ll go with you and help,” said Grizzel, “for I know the whole country round.” So, when the thieves heard that, they thought they had found a good mate, and were no longer afraid.
Then they said they were off to steal a sheep, only they didn’t know where to lay hold of one.
“Oh!” said Grizzel, “that’s a small matter, for I was maid with a farmer ever so long out in the wood yonder, and I could find the sheepfold, though the night were dark as pitch.”
The thieves thought that grand; and when they came to the place, Grizzel was to go into the fold and turn out the sheep, and they were to lay hold on it. Now, the sheepfold lay close to the wall of the room where the farmer slept, so Grizzel crept quite softly and carefully into the fold; but, as soon as she got in, she began to scream out to the thieves, “Will you have a wether or a ewe? here are lots to choose from.”
“Hush, hush!” said the thieves, “only take one that is fine and fat.”
“Yes, yes! but will you have a wether or a ewe? will you have a wether or a ewe? for here are lots to choose from,” screeched Grizzel.
“Hush, hush!” said the thieves again, “only take one that’s fine and fat; it’s all the same to us whether it’s a wether or a ewe.”
“Yes!” screeched Grizzel, who stuck to her own; “but will you have a wether or a ewe—a wether or a ewe? here are lots to choose from.”
“Hold your jaw!” said the thieves, “and take a fine fat one, wether or ewe, its all one to us.”