The soldier took off his invisible cap, took the white hands of the princess, and kissed her sweet lips.
"Here is the key to my riddle," said the fair princess. "The casket is myself, and the golden key is my faithful husband."
All the wooers had to go home with nothing, and the princess and the soldier lived happily ever after.
"IT IS QUITE TRUE!"
"That is a terrible story!" said a Hen in a quarter of the town where the affair had not happened. "That is a terrible story from a poultry-yard. I dare not sleep alone to-night! It is quite fortunate that there are so many of us on the roost together!" And she told a tale, which made the feathers of the other hens stand on end, and the c.o.c.k"s comb fall down flat. It is quite true!
But we will begin at the beginning; and that took place in a poultry-yard in another part of the town. The sun went down, and the fowls jumped up on their perch to roost. There was a Hen, with white feathers and short legs, who laid eggs regularly and was a respectable hen in every way; as she flew up on to the roost she pecked herself with her beak, and a little feather fell from her.
"There it goes!" said she; "the more I peck myself the handsomer I grow!"
And she said it quite merrily, for she was a joker among the hens, though, as I have said, she was very respectable; and then she went to sleep.
It was dark all around; the hens sat side by side on the roost, but the one that sat next to the merry Hen did not sleep: she heard and she didn"t hear, as one should do in this world if one wishes to live in peace; but she could not help telling it to her neighbor.
"Did you hear what was said here just now? I name no names; but here is a hen who wants to peck her feathers out to look well. If I were a c.o.c.k I should despise her."
And just above the hens sat the Owl, with her husband and her children; the family had sharp ears, and they all heard every word that the neighboring Hen had spoken. They rolled their eyes, and the Mother-Owl clapped her wings and said, "Don"t listen to it! But I suppose you heard what was said there? I heard it with my own ears, and one must hear much before one"s ears fall off. There is one among the fowls who has so completely forgotten what is becoming conduct in a hen that she pulls out all her feathers, while the c.o.c.k sits looking at her."
"_Prenez garde aux enfants_," said the Father-Owl. "That"s not a story for the children to hear."
"I"ll tell it to the neighbor owl; she"s a very proper owl to a.s.sociate with." And she flew away.
"Hoo! hoo! to-whoo!" they both screeched in front of the neighbor"s dove-cote to the doves within. "Have you heard it? Have you heard it? Hoo!
hoo! there"s a hen who has pulled out all her feathers for the sake of the c.o.c.k. She"ll die with cold, if she"s not dead already."
"Coo! coo! Where, where?" cried the Pigeons.
"In the neighbor"s poultry-yard. I"ve as good as seen it myself. It"s hardly proper to repeat the story, but it"s quite true!"
"Believe it! believe every single word of it!" cooed the Pigeons, and they cooed down into their own poultry-yard. "There"s a hen, and some say that there are two of them that have plucked out all their feathers, that they may not look like the rest, and that they may attract the c.o.c.k"s attention. That"s a dangerous thing to do, for one may catch cold and die of a fever, and they are both dead."
[Ill.u.s.tration: "Pa.s.s it on," piped the bats.]
"Wake up! wake up!" crowed the c.o.c.k, and he flew up on to the plank; his eyes were still heavy with sleep, but yet he crowed. "Three hens have died of a broken heart. They have plucked out all their feathers. That"s a terrible story. I won"t keep it to myself; pa.s.s it on."
"Pa.s.s it on!" piped the Bats; and the fowls clucked and the c.o.c.ks crowed, "Pa.s.s it on! Pa.s.s it on!" And so the story traveled from poultry-yard to poultry-yard, and at last came back to the place from which it had gone forth.
"Five fowls," it was told, "have plucked out all their feathers to show which of them had become thinnest out of love to the c.o.c.k; and then they have pecked each other, and fallen down dead, to the shame and disgrace of their families, and to the great loss of their master."
And the Hen who had lost the little loose feather, of course did not know her own story again; and as she was a very respectable Hen, she said,--
"I despise those hens; but there are many of that sort. One ought not to hush up such a thing, and I shall do what I can that the story may get into the papers, and then it will be spread over all the country, and that will serve those hens right, and their families too."
It was put into the newspaper; it was printed; and it"s quite true--_that one little feather may easily become five hens_.
THE OLD HAG"S LONG LEATHER BAG
Once on a time, long, long ago, there was a widow woman who had three daughters. When their father died, their mother thought they never would want, for he had left her a long leather bag filled with gold and silver.
But he was not long dead, when an old hag came begging to the house one day and stole the long leather bag filled with gold and silver, and went away out of the country with it, no one knew where.
So from that day, the widow woman and her three daughters were poor, and she had a hard struggle to live and to bring up her three daughters.
But when they were grown up, the eldest said one day: "Mother, I"m a young woman now, and it"s a shame for me to be here doing nothing to help you or myself. Bake me a bannock and cut me a callop, till I go away to push my fortune."
The mother baked her a whole bannock, and asked her if she would have half of it with her blessing or the whole of it without. She said to give her the whole bannock without.
So she took it and went away. She told them if she was not back in a year and a day from that, then they would know she was doing well, and making her fortune.
She traveled away and away before her, far further than I could tell you, and twice as far as you could tell me, until she came into a strange country, and going up to a little house, she found an old hag living in it.
The hag asked her where she was going. She said she was going to push her fortune.
Said the hag: "How would you like to stay here with me, for I want a maid?"
"What will I have to do?" said she.
"You will have to wash me and dress me, and sweep the hearth clean; but on the peril of your life, never look up the chimney," said the hag.
"All right," she agreed to this.
The next day, when the hag arose, she washed her and dressed her, and when the hag went out, she swept the hearth clean, and she thought it would be no harm to have one wee look up the chimney. And there what did she see but her own mother"s long leather bag of gold and silver? So she took it down at once, and getting it on her back, started for home as fast as she could run.
But she had not gone far when she met a horse grazing in a field, and when he saw her, he said: "Rub me! Rub me! for I haven"t been rubbed these seven years."
But she only struck him with a stick she had in her hand, and drove him out of her way.
She had not gone much further when she met a sheep, who said "O, shear me!
Shear me! for I haven"t been shorn these seven years."
But she struck the sheep, and sent it scurrying out of her way.
She had not gone much further when she met a goat tethered, and he said: "O, change my tether! Change my tether! for it hasn"t been changed these seven years."
But she flung a stone at him, and went on.
Next she came to a lime-kiln, and it said: "O, clean me! Clean me! for I haven"t been cleaned these seven years."
But she only scowled at it, and hurried on.