The man with the white beard again asked the animals,

“Pretty little hen,
Pretty little cock,
And pretty brindled cow,
What say ye to that?”


The animals again replied “Duks,” and everything happened just as it
had happened the day before. The girl cooked a good meal, ate and drank
with the old man, and did not concern herself about the animals, and
when she inquired about her bed they answered,

“Thou hast eaten with him,
Thou hast drunk with him,
Thou hast had no thought for us,
To find out for thyself where thou canst pass the night.”


When she was asleep the old man came, looked at her, shook his head,
and let her down into the cellar. On the third morning the wood-cutter said to his wife, “Send our
youngest child out with my dinner to-day, she has always been good and
obedient, and will stay in the right path, and not run about after
every wild humble-bee, as her sisters did.” The mother did not want to
do it, and said, “Am I to lose my dearest child, as well?”

“Have no fear,” he replied, “the girl will not go astray; she is too
prudent and sensible; besides I will take some peas with me, and strew
them about. They are still larger than lentils, and will show her the
way.” But when the girl went out with her basket on her arm, the
wood-pigeons had already got all the peas in their crops, and she did
not know which way she was to turn. She was full of sorrow and never
ceased to think how hungry her father would be, and how her good mother
would grieve, if she did not go home. At length when it grew dark, she
saw the light and came to the house in the forest. She begged quite
prettily to be allowed to spend the night there, and the man with the
white beard once more asked his animals,

“Pretty little hen,
Pretty little cock,
And beautiful brindled cow,
What say ye to that?”


“Duks,” said they. Then the girl went to the stove where the animals
were lying, and petted the cock and hen, and stroked their smooth
feathers with her hand, and caressed the brindled cow between her
horns, and when, in obedience to the old man’s orders, she had made
ready some good soup, and the bowl was placed upon the table, she said,
“Am I to eat as much as I want, and the good animals to have nothing? Outside is food in plenty, I will look after them first.” So she went
and brought some barley and stewed it for the cock and hen, and a whole
armful of sweet-smelling hay for the cow. “I hope you will like it,
dear animals,” said she, “and you shall have a refreshing draught in
case you are thirsty.” Then she fetched in a bucketful of water, and
the cock and hen jumped on to the edge of it and dipped their beaks in,
and then held up their heads as the birds do when they drink, and the
brindled cow also took a hearty draught. When the animals were fed, the
girl seated herself at the table by the old man, and ate what he had
left. It was not long before the cock and the hen began to thrust their
heads beneath their wings, and the eyes of the cow likewise began to
blink. Then said the girl, “Ought we not to go to bed?”

“Pretty little hen,
Pretty little cock,
And pretty brindled cow,
What say ye to that?”


The animals answered “Duks,”

“Thou hast eaten with us,
Thou hast drunk with us,
Thou hast had kind thought for all of us,
We wish thee good-night.”


Then the maiden went upstairs, shook the feather-beds, and laid clean
sheets on them, and when she had done it the old man came and lay down
on one of the beds, and his white beard reached down to his feet. The
girl lay down on the other, said her prayers, and fell asleep. She slept quietly till midnight, and then there was such a noise in the
house that she awoke. There was a sound of cracking and splitting in
every corner, and the doors sprang open, and beat against the walls. The beams groaned as if they were being torn out of their joints, it
seemed as if the staircase were falling down, and at length there was a
crash as if the entire roof had fallen in. As, however, all grew quiet
once more, and the girl was not hurt, she stayed quietly lying where
she was, and fell asleep again. But when she woke up in the morning
with the brilliancy of the sunshine, what did her eyes behold? She was
lying in a vast hall, and everything around her shone with royal
splendor; on the walls, golden flowers grew up on a ground of green
silk, the bed was of ivory, and the canopy of red velvet, and on a
chair close by, was a pair of shoes embroidered with pearls. The girl
believed that she was in a dream, but three richly clad attendants came
in, and asked what orders she would like to give? “If you will go,” she
replied, “I will get up at once and make ready some soup for the old
man, and then I will feed the pretty little hen, and the cock, and the
beautiful brindled cow.” She thought the old man was up already, and
looked round at his bed; he, however, was not lying in it, but a
stranger. And while she was looking at him, and becoming aware that he
was young and handsome, he awoke, sat up in bed, and said, “I am a
King’s son, and was bewitched by a wicked witch, and made to live in
this forest, as an old gray-haired man; no one was allowed to be with
me but my three attendants in the form of a cock, a hen, and a brindled
cow. The spell was not to be broken until a girl came to us whose heart
was so good that she showed herself full of love, not only towards
mankind, but towards animals—and that thou hast done, and by thee at
midnight we were set free, and the old hut in the forest was changed
back again into my royal palace.” And when they had arisen, the King’s
son ordered the three attendants to set out and fetch the father and
mother of the girl to the marriage feast. “But where are my two
sisters?” inquired the maiden. “I have locked them in the cellar, and
to-morrow they shall be led into the forest, and shall live as servants
to a charcoal-burner, until they have grown kinder, and do not leave
poor animals to suffer hunger.”



170 Sharing Joy and Sorrow

There was once a tailor, who was a quarrelsome fellow, and his wife,
who was good, industrious, and pious, never could please him. Whatever
she did, he was not satisfied, but grumbled and scolded, and knocked
her about and beat her. As the authorities at last heard of it, they
had him summoned, and put in prison in order to make him better. He was
kept for a while on bread and water, and then set free again. He was
forced, however, to promise not to beat his wife any more, but to live
with her in peace, and share joy and sorrow with her, as married people
ought to do. All went on well for a time, but then he fell into his old
ways, and was surly and quarrelsome. And because he dared not beat her,
he would seize her by the hair and tear it out. The woman escaped from
him, and sprang out into the yard, but he ran after her with his
yard-measure and scissors, and chased her about, and threw the
yard-measure and scissors at her, and whatever else came his way.