The thieves took flight, and ran as if the Wild Huntsman were
behind them, but as the maid could not see anything, she went to strike
a light. When she came to the place with it, Thumbling, unperceived,
betook himself to the granary, and the maid, after she had examined
every corner and found nothing, lay down in her bed again, and believed
that, after all, she had only been dreaming with open eyes and ears. Thumbling had climbed up among the hay and found a beautiful place to
sleep in; there he intended to rest until day, and then go home again
to his parents. But he had other things to go through. Truly, there is
much affliction and misery in this world! When day dawned, the maid
arose from her bed to feed the cows. Her first walk was into the barn,
where she laid hold of an armful of hay, and precisely that very one in
which poor Thumbling was lying asleep. He, however, was sleeping so
soundly that he was aware of nothing, and did not awake until he was in
the mouth of the cow, who had picked him up with the hay. “Ah,
heavens!” cried he, “how have I got into the fulling mill?” but he soon
discovered where he was. Then it was necessary to be careful not to let
himself go between the teeth and be dismembered, but he was
nevertheless forced to slip down into the stomach with the hay. “In
this little room the windows are forgotten,” said he, “and no sun
shines in, neither will a candle be brought.” His quarters were
especially unpleasing to him, and the worst was, more and more hay was
always coming in by the door, and the space grew less and less. Then at
length in his anguish, he cried as loud as he could, “Bring me no more
fodder, bring me no more fodder.” The maid was just milking the cow,
and when she heard some one speaking, and saw no one, and perceived
that it was the same voice that she had heard in the night, she was so
terrified that she slipped off her stool, and spilt the milk. She ran
in great haste to her master, and said, “Oh heavens, pastor, the cow
has been speaking!” “Thou art mad,” replied the pastor; but he went
himself to the byre to see what was there. Hardly, however had he set
his foot inside when Thumbling again cried, “Bring me no more fodder,
bring me no more fodder.” Then the pastor himself was alarmed, and
thought that an evil spirit had gone into the cow, and ordered her to
be killed. She was killed, but the stomach, in which Thumbling was, was
thrown on the midden. Thumbling had great difficulty in working his
way; however, he succeeded so far as to get some room, but just as he
was going to thrust his head out, a new misfortune occurred. A hungry
wolf ran thither, and swallowed the whole stomach at one gulp. Thumbling did not lose courage. “Perhaps,” thought he, “the wolf will
listen to what I have got to say,” and he called to him from out of his
stomach, “Dear wolf, I know of a magnificent feast for you.”

“Where is it to be had?” said the wolf. “In such and such a house; thou must creep into it through the
kitchen-sink, and wilt find cakes, and bacon, and sausages, and as much
of them as thou canst eat,” and he described to him exactly his
father’s house. The wolf did not require to be told this twice,
squeezed himself in at night through the sink, and ate to his heart’s
content in the larder. When he had eaten his fill, he wanted to go out
again, but he had become so big that he could not go out by the same
way. Thumbling had reckoned on this, and now began to make a violent
noise in the wolf’s body, and raged and screamed as loudly as he could. “Wilt thou be quiet,” said the wolf, “thou wilt waken up the people!”
“Eh, what,” replied the little fellow, “thou hast eaten thy fill, and I
will make merry likewise,” and began once more to scream with all his
strength. At last his father and mother were aroused by it, and ran to
the room and looked in through the opening in the door. When they saw
that a wolf was inside, they ran away, and the husband fetched his axe,
and the wife the scythe. “Stay behind,” said the man, when they entered
the room. “When I have given him a blow, if he is not killed by it,
thou must cut him down and hew his body to pieces.” Then Thumbling
heard his parents, voices and cried, “Dear father, I am here; I am in
the wolf’s body.” Said the father, full of joy, “Thank God, our dear
child has found us again,” and bade the woman take away her scythe,
that Thumbling might not be hurt with it. After that he raised his arm,
and struck the wolf such a blow on his head that he fell down dead, and
then they got knives and scissors and cut his body open and drew the
little fellow forth. “Ah,” said the father, “what sorrow we have gone
through for thy sake.” “Yes father, I have gone about the world a great
deal. Thank heaven, I breathe fresh air again!” “Where hast thou been,
then?” “Ah, father, I have been in a mouse’s hole, in a cow’s stomach,
and then in a wolf’s; now I will stay with you.” “And we will not sell
thee again, no, not for all the riches in the world,” said his parents,
and they embraced and kissed their dear Thumbling. They gave him to eat
and to drink, and had some new clothes made for him, for his own had
been spoiled on his journey. 38 The Wedding of Mrs. Fox

FIRST STORY


There was once on a time an old fox with nine tails, who believed that
his wife was not faithful to him, and wished to try her. He stretched
himself out under the bench, did not move a limb, and behaved as if he
were stone dead. Mrs. Fox went up to her room, shut herself in, and her
maid, Miss Cat, sat by the fire, and did the cooking. When it became
known that the old fox was dead, wooers presented themselves. The maid
heard some one standing at the house-door, knocking. She went and
opened it, and it was a young fox, who said,

“What may you be about, Miss Cat? Do you sleep or do you wake?”


She answered,

“I am not sleeping, I am waking,
Wouldst thou know what I am making? I am boiling warm beer with butter so nice,
Will the gentleman enter and drink some likewise?”


“No, thank you, miss,” said the fox, “what is Mrs. Fox doing?” The maid
replied,

“She sits all alone,
And makes her moan,
Weeping her little eyes quite red,
Because old Mr. Fox is dead.”


“Do just tell her, miss, that a young fox is here, who would like to
woo her.” “Certainly, young sir.”

The cat goes up the stairs trip, trap,
The door she knocks at tap, tap, tap,
“Mistress Fox, are you inside?”
“Oh yes, my little cat,” she cried. “A wooer he stands at the door out there.”
“Tell me what he is like, my dear?”


“But has he nine as beautiful tails as the late Mr. Fox?” “Oh, no,”
answered the cat, “he has only one.”

“Then I will not have him.” Miss Cat went downstairs and sent the wooer
away. Soon afterwards there was another knock, and another fox was at
the door who wished to woo Mrs. Fox. He had two tails, but he did not
fare better than the first.