When
the cow was being milked he cried,

“Strip, strap, strull,
Will the pail soon be full?”


But the noise of the milking prevented his being understood. After this
the master of the house came into the cow-byre and said, “That cow
shall be killed to-morrow.” Then Thumbling was so alarmed that he cried
out in a clear voice, “Let me out first, for I am shut up inside her.”
The master heard that quite well, but did not know from whence the
voice came. “Where art thou?” asked he. “In the black one,” answered
Thumbling, but the master did not understand what that meant, and went
out. Next morning the cow was killed. Happily Thumbling did not meet with
one blow at the cutting up and chopping; he got among the sausage-meat. And when the butcher came in and began his work, he cried out with all
his might, “Don’t chop too deep, don’t chop too deep, I am amongst it.”
No one heard this because of the noise of the chopping-knife. Now poor
Thumbling was in trouble, but trouble sharpens the wits, and he sprang
out so adroitly between the blows that none of them touched him, and he
escaped with a whole skin. But still he could not get away, there was
nothing for it but to let himself be thrust into a black-pudding with
the bits of bacon. His quarters there were rather confined, and besides
that he was hung up in the chimney to be smoked, and there time did
hang terribly heavy on his hands. At length in winter he was taken down again, as the black-pudding had
to be set before a guest. When the hostess was cutting it in slices, he
took care not to stretch out his head too far lest a bit of it should
be cut off; at last he saw his opportunity, cleared a passage for
himself, and jumped out. The little tailor, however, would not stay any longer in a house where
he fared so ill, so at once set out on his journey again. But his
liberty did not last long. In the open country he met with a fox who
snapped him up in a fit of absence. “Hollo, Mr. Fox,” cried the little
tailor, “it is I who am sticking in your throat, set me at liberty
again.” “Thou art right,” answered the fox. “Thou art next to nothing
for me, but if thou wilt promise me the fowls in thy father’s yard I
will let thee go.” “With all my heart,” replied Thumbling. “Thou shalt
have all the cocks and hens, that I promise thee.” Then the fox let him
go again, and himself carried him home. When the father once more saw
his dear son, he willingly gave the fox all the fowls which he had. “For this I likewise bring thee a handsome bit of money,” said
Thumbling, and gave his father the kreuzer which he earned on his
travels. “But why did the fox get the poor chickens to eat?” “Oh, you goose,
your father would surely love his child far more than the fowls in the
yard!”



46 Fitcher’s Bird

There was once a wizard who used to take the form of a poor man, and
went to houses and begged, and caught pretty girls. No one knew whither
he carried them, for they were never seen more. One day he appeared
before the door of a man who had three pretty daughters; he looked like
a poor weak beggar, and carried a basket on his back, as if he meant to
collect charitable gifts in it. He begged for a little food, and when
the eldest daughter came out and was just reaching him a piece of
bread, he did but touch her, and she was forced to jump into his
basket. Thereupon he hurried away with long strides, and carried her
away into a dark forest to his house, which stood in the midst of it. Everything in the house was magnificent; he gave her whatsoever she
could possibly desire, and said, “My darling, thou wilt certainly be
happy with me, for thou hast everything thy heart can wish for.” This
lasted a few days, and then he said, “I must journey forth, and leave
thee alone for a short time; there are the keys of the house; thou
mayst go everywhere and look at everything except into one room, which
this little key here opens, and there I forbid thee to go on pain of
death.” He likewise gave her an egg and said, “Preserve the egg
carefully for me, and carry it continually about with thee, for a great
misfortune would arise from the loss of it.”

She took the keys and the egg, and promised to obey him in everything. When he was gone, she went all round the house from the bottom to the
top, and examined everything. The rooms shone with silver and gold, and
she thought she had never seen such great splendour. At length she came
to the forbidden door; she wished to pass it by, but curiosity let her
have no rest. She examined the key, it looked just like any other; she
put it in the keyhole and turned it a little, and the door sprang open. But what did she see when she went in? A great bloody basin stood in
the middle of the room, and therein lay human beings, dead and hewn to
pieces, and hard by was a block of wood, and a gleaming axe lay upon
it. She was so terribly alarmed that the egg which she held in her hand
fell into the basin. She got it out and washed the blood off, but in
vain, it appeared again in a moment. She washed and scrubbed, but she
could not get it out. It was not long before the man came back from his journey, and the
first things which he asked for were the key and the egg. She gave them
to him, but she trembled as she did so, and he saw at once by the red
spots that she had been in the bloody chamber. “Since thou hast gone
into the room against my will,” said he, “thou shalt go back into it
against thine own. Thy life is ended.” He threw her down, dragged her
thither by her hair, cut her head off on the block, and hewed her in
pieces so that her blood ran on the ground. Then he threw her into the
basin with the rest. “Now I will fetch myself the second,” said the wizard, and again he
went to the house in the shape of a poor man, and begged. Then the
second daughter brought him a piece of bread; he caught her like the
first, by simply touching her, and carried her away. She did not fare
better than her sister. She allowed herself to be led away by her
curiosity, opened the door of the bloody chamber, looked in, and had to
atone for it with her life on the wizard’s return. Then he went and
brought the third sister, but she was clever and crafty. When he had
given her the keys and the egg, and had left her, she first put the egg
away with great care, and then she examined the house, and at last went
into the forbidden room. Alas, what did she behold! Both her sisters
lay there in the basin, cruelly murdered, and cut in pieces. But she
began to gather their limbs together and put them in order, head, body,
arms and legs. And when nothing further was wanting the limbs began to
move and unite themselves together, and both the maidens opened their
eyes and were once more alive. Then they rejoiced and kissed and
caressed each other.