But for dessert a pea was
passed around, on which a mouse had bitten the first letters of the
names of the betrothed pair. This was something quite uncommon. All the
mice said it was a very beautiful wedding, and that they had been very
agreeably entertained. After this Hjalmar returned home. He had certainly been in grand
society, but he had been obliged to creep under a room and to make
himself small enough to wear the uniform of a tin soldier. FRIDAY

"It is incredible how many old people there are who would be glad to
have me at night," said Ole-Luk-Oie, "especially those who have done
something wrong. "'Good old Ole,' say they to me, 'we cannot close our eyes, and we lie
awake the whole night and see all our evil deeds sitting on our beds
like little imps and sprinkling us with scalding water. Will you come
and drive them away, that we may have a good night's rest?' and then
they sigh so deeply and say: 'We would gladly pay you for it. Good
night, Ole-Luk, the money lies in the window.' But I never do anything
for gold." "What shall we do to-night?" asked Hjalmar. "I do not know whether you would care to go to another wedding," replied
Ole-Luk-Oie, "although it is quite a different affair from the one we
saw last night. Your sister's large doll, that is dressed like a man and
is called Herman, intends to marry the doll Bertha. It is also the
dolls' birthday, and they will receive many presents." "Yes, I know that already," said Hjalmar; "my sister always allows her
dolls to keep their birthdays or to have a wedding when they require new
clothes. That has happened already a hundred times, I am quite sure." "Yes, so it may; but to-night is the hundred-and-first wedding, and when
that has taken place it must be the last; therefore this is to be
extremely beautiful. Only look." Hjalmar looked at the table, and there stood the little cardboard dolls'
house, with lights in all the windows, and drawn up before it were the
tin soldiers, presenting arms. The bridal pair were seated on the floor, leaning against the leg of the
table, looking very thoughtful and with good reason. Then Ole-Luk-Oie,
dressed up in grandmother's black gown, married them. As soon as the ceremony was concluded all the furniture in the room
joined in singing a beautiful song which had been composed by the lead
pencil, and which went to the melody of a military tattoo:

          "Waft, gentle breeze, our kind farewell
           To the tiny house where the bride folks dwell. With their skin of kid leather fitting so well,
           They are straight and upright as a tailor's ell. Hurrah! hurrah! for beau and belle. Let echo repeat our kind farewell." And now came the presents; but the bridal pair had nothing to eat, for
love was to be their food. "Shall we go to a country house, or travel?" asked the bridegroom. They consulted the swallow, who had traveled so far, and the old hen in
the yard, who had brought up five broods of chickens. And the swallow talked to them of warm countries where the grapes hang
in large clusters on the vines and the air is soft and mild, and about
the mountains glowing with colors more beautiful than we can think of. "But they have no red cabbage such as we have," said the hen. "I was
once in the country with my chickens for a whole summer. There was a
large sand pit in which we could walk about and scratch as we liked. Then we got into a garden in which grew red cabbage. Oh, how nice it
was! I cannot think of anything more delicious." "But one cabbage stalk is exactly like another," said the swallow; "and
here we often have bad weather." "Yes, but we are accustomed to it," said the hen. "But it is so cold here, and freezes sometimes." "Cold weather is good for cabbages," said the hen; "besides, we do have
it warm here sometimes. Four years ago we had a summer that lasted more
than five weeks, and it was so hot one could scarcely breathe. And then
in this country we have no poisonous animals, and we are free from
robbers. He must be a blockhead, who does not consider our country the
finest of all lands. He ought not to be allowed to live here." And then
the hen wept very much and said: "I have also traveled. I once went
twelve miles in a coop, and it was not pleasant traveling at all." "The hen is a sensible woman," said the doll Bertha. "I don't care for
traveling over mountains, just to go up and come down again. No, let us
go to the sand pit in front of the gate and then take a walk in the
cabbage garden." And so they settled it. [Illustration: Look at these ... Chinese people ...]


SATURDAY

"Am I to hear any more stories?" asked little Hjalmar, as soon as
Ole-Luk-Oie had sent him to sleep. "We shall have no time this evening," said he, spreading out his
prettiest umbrella over the child. "Look at these Chinese people." And
then the whole umbrella appeared like a large china bowl, with blue
trees and pointed bridges upon which stood little Chinamen nodding their
heads. "We must make all the world beautiful for to-morrow morning," said
Ole-Luk-Oie, "for it will be a holiday; it is Sunday. I must now go to
the church steeple and see if the little sprites who live there have
polished the bells so that they may sound sweetly; then I must go into
the fields and see if the wind has blown the dust from the grass and the
leaves; and the most difficult task of all which I have to do is to take
down all the stars and brighten them up. I have to number them first
before I put them in my apron, and also to number the places from which
I take them, so that they may go back into the right holes, or else
they would not remain and we should have a number of falling stars, for
they would all tumble down one after another." "Hark ye, Mr. Luk-Oie!" said an old portrait which hung on the wall of
Hjalmar's bedroom. "Do you know me? I am Hjalmar's great-grandfather. I
thank you for telling the boy stories, but you must not confuse his
ideas. The stars cannot be taken down from the sky and polished; they
are spheres like our earth, which is a good thing for them." "Thank you, old great-grandfather," said Ole-Luk-Oie. "I thank you. You
may be the head of the family, as no doubt you are, and very old, but I
am older still. I am an ancient heathen. The old Romans and Greeks named
me the Dream God. I have visited the noblest houses,--yes, and I
continue to do so,--still I know how to conduct myself both to high and
low, and now you may tell the stories yourself"; and so Ole-Luk-Oie
walked off, taking his umbrellas with him. "Well, well, one is never to give an opinion, I suppose," grumbled the
portrait. And it woke Hjalmar. SUNDAY

"Good evening," said Ole-Luk-Oie. Hjalmar nodded, and then sprang out of bed and turned his
great-grandfather's portrait to the wall so that it might not interrupt
them as it had done yesterday.