“There, bird,” said the man, “now sing me
that piece again.” Then the bird came and took the shoes in his left
claw, and flew back on the roof, and sang,

“My mother she killed me,
My father he ate me,
My sister, little Marlinchen,
Gathered together all my bones,
Tied them in a silken handkerchief,
Laid them beneath the juniper-tree,
Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!”


And when he had sung the whole he flew away. In his right claw he had
the chain and the shoes in his left, and he flew far away to a mill,
and the mill went, “klipp klapp, klipp klapp, klipp klapp,” and in the
mill sat twenty miller’s men hewing a stone, and cutting, hick hack,
hick hack, hick hack, and the mill went klipp klapp, klipp klapp, klipp
klapp. Then the bird went and sat on a lime-tree which stood in front
of the mill, and sang,

“My mother she killed me,”


Then one of them stopped working,

“My father he ate me.”


Then two more stopped working and listened to that,

“My sister, little Marlinchen,”


Then four more stopped,

“Gathered together all my bones,
Tied them in a silken handkerchief,”


Now eight only were hewing,

“Laid them beneath”


Now only five,

“The juniper-tree,”


And now only one,

“Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!”


Then the last stopped also, and heard the last words. “Bird,” said he,
“how beautifully thou singest! Let me, too, hear that. Sing that once
more for me.”

“Nay,” said the bird, “I will not sing twice for nothing. Give me the
millstone, and then I will sing it again.”

“Yes,” said he, “if it belonged to me only, thou shouldst have it.”

“Yes,” said the others, “if he sings again he shall have it.” Then the
bird came down, and the twenty millers all set to work with a beam and
raised the stone up. And the bird stuck his neck through the hole, and
put the stone on as if it were a collar, and flew on to the tree again,
and sang,

“My mother she killed me,
My father he ate me,
My sister, little Marlinchen,
Gathered together all my bones,
Tied them in a silken handkerchief,
Laid them beneath the juniper-tree,
Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!”


And when he had done singing, he spread his wings, and in his right
claw he had the chain, and in his left the shoes, and round his neck
the millstone, and he flew far away to his father’s house. In the room sat the father, the mother, and Marlinchen at dinner, and
the father said, “How light-hearted I feel, how happy I am!” “Nay,”
said the mother, “I feel so uneasy, just as if a heavy storm were
coming.” Marlinchen, however, sat weeping and weeping, and then came
the bird flying, and as it seated itself on the roof the father said,
“Ah, I feel so truly happy, and the sun is shining so beautifully
outside, I feel just as if I were about to see some old friend again.”
“Nay,” said the woman, “I feel so anxious, my teeth chatter, and I seem
to have fire in my veins.” And she tore her stays open, but Marlinchen
sat in a corner crying, and held her plate before her eyes and cried
till it was quite wet. Then the bird sat on the juniper tree, and sang,

“My mother she killed me,”


Then the mother stopped her ears, and shut her eyes, and would not see
or hear, but there was a roaring in her ears like the most violent
storm, and her eyes burnt and flashed like lightning,

“My father he ate me,”


“Ah, mother,” says the man, “that is a beautiful bird! He sings so
splendidly, and the sun shines so warm, and there is a smell just like
cinnamon.”

“My sister, little Marlinchen,”


Then Marlinchen laid her head on her knees and wept without ceasing,
but the man said, “I am going out, I must see the bird quite close.”
“Oh, don’t go,” said the woman, “I feel as if the whole house were
shaking and on fire.” But the man went out and looked at the bird:

“Gathered together all my bones,
Tied them in a silken handkerchief,
Laid them beneath the juniper tree,
Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!”


On this the bird let the golden chain fall, and it fell exactly round
the man’s neck, and so exactly round it that it fitted beautifully. Then he went in and said, “Just look what a fine bird that is, and what
a handsome gold chain he has given me, and how pretty he is!” But the
woman was terrified, and fell down on the floor in the room, and her
cap fell off her head. Then sang the bird once more,

“My mother she killed me.”


“Would that I were a thousand feet beneath the earth so as not to hear
that!”

“My father he ate me,”


Then the woman fell down again as if dead. “My sister, little Marlinchen,”


“Ah,” said Marlinchen, “I too will go out and see if the bird will give
me anything,” and she went out. “Gathered together all my bones,
Tied them in a silken handkerchief,”


Then he threw down the shoes to her. “Laid them beneath the juniper-tree,
Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!”


Then she was light-hearted and joyous, and she put on the new red
shoes, and danced and leaped into the house. “Ah,” said she, “I was so
sad when I went out and now I am so light-hearted; that is a splendid
bird, he has given me a pair of red shoes!” “Well,” said the woman, and
sprang to her feet and her hair stood up like flames of fire, “I feel
as if the world were coming to an end! I, too, will go out and see if
my heart feels lighter.” And as she went out at the door, crash! the
bird threw down the millstone on her head, and she was entirely crushed
by it. The father and Marlinchen heard what had happened and went out,
and smoke, flames, and fire were rising from the place, and when that
was over, there stood the little brother, and he took his father and
Marlinchen by the hand, and all three were right glad, and they went
into the house to dinner, and ate. 48 Old Sultan

A farmer once had a faithful dog called Sultan, who had grown old, and
lost all his teeth, so that he could no longer hold anything fast. One
day the farmer was standing with his wife before the house-door, and
said, “To-morrow I intend to shoot Old Sultan, he is no longer of any
use.”

His wife, who felt pity for the faithful beast, answered, “He has
served us so long, and been so faithful, that we might well give him
his keep.”

“Eh! what?” said the man. “You are not very sharp. He has not a tooth
left in his mouth, and not a thief is afraid of him; now he may be off. If he has served us, he has had good feeding for it.”

The poor dog, who was lying stretched out in the sun not far off, had
heard everything, and was sorry that the morrow was to be his last day. He had a good friend, the wolf, and he crept out in the evening into
the forest to him, and complained of the fate that awaited him. “Hark
ye, gossip,” said the wolf, “be of good cheer, I will help you out of
your trouble. I have thought of something. To-morrow, early in the
morning, your master is going with his wife to make hay, and they will
take their little child with them, for no one will be left behind in
the house.