The waiting-maid,
however, had seen it, and she rejoiced to think that she had now power
over the bride, for since the princess had lost the drops of blood, she
had become weak and powerless. So now when she wanted to mount her
horse again, the one that was called Falada, the waiting-maid said,
“Falada is more suitable for me, and my nag will do for thee” and the
princess had to be content with that. Then the waiting-maid, with many
hard words, bade the princess exchange her royal apparel for her own
shabby clothes; and at length she was compelled to swear by the clear
sky above her, that she would not say one word of this to any one at
the royal court, and if she had not taken this oath she would have been
killed on the spot. But Falada saw all this, and observed it well. The waiting-maid now mounted Falada, and the true bride the bad horse,
and thus they traveled onwards, until at length they entered the royal
palace. There were great rejoicings over her arrival, and the prince
sprang forward to meet her, lifted the waiting-maid from her horse, and
thought she was his consort. She was conducted upstairs, but the real
princess was left standing below. Then the old King looked out of the
window and saw her standing in the courtyard, and how dainty and
delicate and beautiful she was, and instantly went to the royal
apartment, and asked the bride about the girl she had with her who was
standing down below in the courtyard, and who she was? “I picked her up
on my way for a companion; give the girl something to work at, that she
may not stand idle.” But the old King had no work for her, and knew of
none, so he said, “I have a little boy who tends the geese, she may
help him.” The boy was called Conrad, and the true bride had to help
him to tend the geese. Soon afterwards the false bride said to the
young King, “Dearest husband, I beg you to do me a favour.” He
answered, “I will do so most willingly.” “Then send for the knacker,
and have the head of the horse on which I rode here cut off, for it
vexed me on the way.” In reality, she was afraid that the horse might
tell how she had behaved to the King’s daughter. Then she succeeded in
making the King promise that it should be done, and the faithful Falada
was to die; this came to the ears of the real princess, and she
secretly promised to pay the knacker a piece of gold if he would
perform a small service for her. There was a great dark-looking gateway
in the town, through which morning and evening she had to pass with the
geese: would he be so good as to nail up Falada’s head on it, so that
she might see him again, more than once. The knacker’s man promised to
do that, and cut off the head, and nailed it fast beneath the dark
gateway. Early in the morning, when she and Conrad drove out their flock beneath
this gateway, she said in passing,

“Alas, Falada, hanging there!”


Then the head answered,

“Alas, young Queen, how ill you fare! If this your tender mother knew,
Her heart would surely break in two.”


Then they went still further out of the town, and drove their geese
into the country. And when they had come to the meadow, she sat down
and unbound her hair which was like pure gold, and Conrad saw it and
delighted in its brightness, and wanted to pluck out a few hairs. Then
she said,

“Blow, blow, thou gentle wind, I say,
Blow Conrad’s little hat away,
And make him chase it here and there,
Until I have braided all my hair,
And bound it up again.”


And there came such a violent wind that it blew Conrad’s hat far away
across country, and he was forced to run after it. When he came back
she had finished combing her hair and was putting it up again, and he
could not get any of it. Then Conrad was angry, and would not speak to
her, and thus they watched the geese until the evening, and then they
went home. Next day when they were driving the geese out through the dark gateway,
the maiden said,

“Alas, Falada, hanging there!”


Falada answered,

“Alas, young Queen, how ill you fare! If this your tender mother knew,
Her heart would surely break in two.”


And she sat down again in the field and began to comb out her hair, and
Conrad ran and tried to clutch it, so she said in haste,

“Blow, blow, thou gentle wind, I say,
Blow Conrad’s little hat away,
And make him chase it here and there,
Until I have braided all my hair,
And bound it up again.”


Then the wind blew, and blew his little hat off his head and far away,
and Conrad was forced to run after it, and when he came back, her hair
had been put up a long time, and he could get none of it, and so they
looked after their geese till evening came. But in the evening after they had got home, Conrad went to the old
King, and said, “I won’t tend the geese with that girl any longer!”
“Why not?” inquired the aged King. “Oh, because she vexes me the whole
day long.” Then the aged King commanded him to relate what it was that
she did to him. And Conrad said, “In the morning when we pass beneath
the dark gateway with the flock, there is a sorry horse’s head on the
wall, and she says to it,

“Alas, Falada, hanging there!”


And the head replies,

“Alas, young Queen how ill you fare! If this your tender mother knew,
Her heart would surely break in two.”


And Conrad went on to relate what happened on the goose pasture, and
how when there he had to chase his hat. The aged King commanded him to drive his flock out again next day, and
as soon as morning came, he placed himself behind the dark gateway, and
heard how the maiden spoke to the head of Falada, and then he too went
into the country, and hid himself in the thicket in the meadow. There
he soon saw with his own eyes the goose-girl and the goose-boy bringing
their flock, and how after a while she sat down and unplaited her hair,
which shone with radiance. And soon she said,

“Blow, blow, thou gentle wind, I say,
Blow Conrad’s little hat away,
And make him chase it here and there,
Until I have braided all my hair,
And bound it up again.”


Then came a blast of wind and carried off Conrad’s hat, so that he had
to run far away, while the maiden quietly went on combing and plaiting
her hair, all of which the King observed. Then, quite unseen, he went
away, and when the goose-girl came home in the evening, he called her
aside, and asked why she did all these things. “I may not tell you
that, and I dare not lament my sorrows to any human being, for I have
sworn not to do so by the heaven which is above me; if I had not done
that, I should have lost my life.” He urged her and left her no peace,
but he could draw nothing from her. Then said he, “If thou wilt not
tell me anything, tell thy sorrows to the iron-stove there,” and he
went away.