When they came to a large forest she asked, “To
whom does that beautiful forest belong?” “It belongs to King
Thrushbeard; if you had taken him, it would have been yours.” “Ah,
unhappy girl that I am, if I had but taken King Thrushbeard!”

Afterwards they came to a meadow, and she asked again, “To whom does
this beautiful green meadow belong?” “It belongs to King Thrushbeard;
if you had taken him, it would have been yours.” “Ah, unhappy girl that
I am, if I had but taken King Thrushbeard!”

Then they came to a large town, and she asked again, “To whom does this
fine large town belong?” “It belongs to King Thrushbeard; if you had
taken him, it would have been yours.” “Ah, unhappy girl that I am, if I
had but taken King Thrushbeard!”

“It does not please me,” said the fiddler, “to hear you always wishing
for another husband; am I not good enough for you?” At last they came
to a very little hut, and she said, “Oh goodness! what a small house;
to whom does this miserable, mean hovel belong?” The fiddler answered,
“That is my house and yours, where we shall live together.”

She had to stoop in order to go in at the low door. “Where are the
servants?” said the King’s daughter. “What servants?” answered the
beggar-man; “you must yourself do what you wish to have done. Just make
a fire at once, and set on water to cook my supper, I am quite tired.”
But the King’s daughter knew nothing about lighting fires or cooking,
and the beggar-man had to lend a hand himself to get anything fairly
done. When they had finished their scanty meal they went to bed; but he
forced her to get up quite early in the morning in order to look after
the house. For a few days they lived in this way as well as might be, and came to
the end of all their provisions. Then the man said, “Wife, we cannot go
on any longer eating and drinking here and earning nothing. You weave
baskets.” He went out, cut some willows, and brought them home. Then
she began to weave, but the tough willows wounded her delicate hands. “I see that this will not do,” said the man; “you had better spin,
perhaps you can do that better.” She sat down and tried to spin, but
the hard thread soon cut her soft fingers so that the blood ran down. “See,” said the man, “you are fit for no sort of work; I have made a
bad bargain with you. Now I will try to make a business with pots and
earthenware; you must sit in the market-place and sell the ware.”
“Alas,” thought she, “if any of the people from my father’s kingdom
come to the market and see me sitting there, selling, how they will
mock me?” But it was of no use, she had to yield unless she chose to
die of hunger. For the first time she succeeded well, for the people were glad to buy
the woman’s wares because she was good-looking, and they paid her what
she asked; many even gave her the money and left the pots with her as
well. So they lived on what she had earned as long as it lasted, then
the husband bought a lot of new crockery. With this she sat down at the
corner of the market-place, and set it out round about her ready for
sale. But suddenly there came a drunken hussar galloping along, and he
rode right amongst the pots so that they were all broken into a
thousand bits. She began to weep, and did now know what to do for fear. “Alas! what will happen to me?” cried she; “what will my husband say to
this?”

She ran home and told him of the misfortune. “Who would seat herself at
a corner of the market-place with crockery?” said the man; “leave off
crying, I see very well that you cannot do any ordinary work, so I have
been to our King’s palace and have asked whether they cannot find a
place for a kitchen-maid, and they have promised me to take you; in
that way you will get your food for nothing.”

The King’s daughter was now a kitchen-maid, and had to be at the cook’s
beck and call, and do the dirtiest work. In both her pockets she
fastened a little jar, in which she took home her share of the
leavings, and upon this they lived. It happened that the wedding of the King’s eldest son was to be
celebrated, so the poor woman went up and placed herself by the door of
the hall to look on. When all the candles were lit, and people, each
more beautiful than the other, entered, and all was full of pomp and
splendour, she thought of her lot with a sad heart, and cursed the
pride and haughtiness which had humbled her and brought her to so great
poverty. The smell of the delicious dishes which were being taken in and out
reached her, and now and then the servants threw her a few morsels of
them: these she put in her jars to take home. All at once the King’s son entered, clothed in velvet and silk, with
gold chains about his neck. And when he saw the beautiful woman
standing by the door he seized her by the hand, and would have danced
with her; but she refused and shrank with fear, for she saw that it was
King Thrushbeard, her suitor whom she had driven away with scorn. Her
struggles were of no avail, he drew her into the hall; but the string
by which her pockets were hung broke, the pots fell down, the soup ran
out, and the scraps were scattered all about. And when the people saw
it, there arose general laughter and derision, and she was so ashamed
that she would rather have been a thousand fathoms below the ground. She sprang to the door and would have run away, but on the stairs a man
caught her and brought her back; and when she looked at him it was King
Thrushbeard again. He said to her kindly, “Do not be afraid, I and the
fiddler who has been living with you in that wretched hovel are one. For love of you I disguised myself so; and I also was the hussar who
rode through your crockery. This was all done to humble your proud
spirit, and to punish you for the insolence with which you mocked me.”

Then she wept bitterly and said, “I have done great wrong, and am not
worthy to be your wife.” But he said, “Be comforted, the evil days are
past; now we will celebrate our wedding.” Then the maids-in-waiting
came and put on her the most splendid clothing, and her father and his
whole court came and wished her happiness in her marriage with King
Thrushbeard, and the joy now began in earnest. I wish you and I had
been there too. 53 Little Snow-white

Once upon a time in the middle of winter, when the flakes of snow were
falling like feathers from the sky, a queen sat at a window sewing, and
the frame of the window was made of black ebony. And whilst she was
sewing and looking out of the window at the snow, she pricked her
finger with the needle, and three drops of blood fell upon the snow. And the red looked pretty upon the white snow, and she thought to
herself, “Would that I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood,
and as black as the wood of the window-frame.”

Soon after that she had a little daughter, who was as white as snow,
and as red as blood, and her hair was as black as ebony; and she was
therefore called Little Snow-white. And when the child was born, the
Queen died.