One day the husband went away on a journey, after telling her that he expected her, before his return, to have not only learned to spin, but to have spun a hundred hanks of thread. Quite downcast, she took a walk along the hill side, till she came to a big flat stone, and there she sat down and cried. By and by she heard a strain of gentle music, coming, as it were, from below the stone, and, on turning it up, she saw a path leading to a cave below. Here she entered, and found six little ladies in green, all spinning on little wheels and singing,

"Little kens my dame at hame,

That Whippety-Stourie is my name."

The lady was kindly asked to take a chair and sit down, while the ladies still continued their spinning. She observed that each one's mouth was drawn away to one side, but she did not venture to ask the reason. They asked why she looked so unhappy, and she told them it was because she was expected by her husband to be a good spinner, when the plain truth was that she could not spin at all, and found herself quite unable for it, having been so delicately brought up; neither was there any need for it, as her husband was a rich man. "Oh, is that all?" said the little bodies, [speaking out at the side of their mouths.]

"Yes, and is it not a very good all too?" said the lady, her heart ready to burst with distress.

"We could easily rid you of that trouble," said the little women. "Just ask us to dinner for the day when your husband is to come back. We'll then let you see how we can manage the matter."

So the lady asked them all to dine with herself and her husband, on the day when he was to come back.

When the gentleman came home, he found the house so occupied with preparations for dinner, that he had no time to ask his wife about her thread; and before he could speak to her on the subject, the company was announced. The six ladies all came in a coach and six, and were as fine as princesses, but still wore their dresses of green. The gentleman wondered, but was very polite, and showed them up stairs with a pair of wax candles in his hand. And so they all sat down to dinner, and conversation went on very pleasantly, till at length the husband, becoming more familiar with them, said, "Ladies, if it be not an uncivil question, I should like to know how it happens that all your mouths are turned to one side?"

"Oh," cried they, all at once, [speaking with their mouths turned to one side,] "it's with our constant spin-spin-spinning." "Is that the case?" cried the gentleman; "then, John, Tom, and Dick, go haste and burn every rock, reel, and spinning-wheel in the house, for I'll not have my wife to spoil her bonnie face with spin-spin-spinning."

And so the lady lived happily with her husband all the rest of her days.

XXXI.

THE GOOSE-GIRL.

THERE was once an old queen, whose husband had been dead many years, and she had a beautiful daughter. When she grew up, she was betrothed to a prince who lived a great way off; and as the time drew near for her to be married, and to set out for a foreign kingdom, then the old queen packed up a great many costly things-gold and silver, goblets and jewels in short, every thing suitable for a royal dower, for she loved her child very dearly and she gave her a waiting-maid to ride with her, and deliver her into the bridegroom's hands; and each had a horse for the journey. Now, the princess's horse was called Falada, and could speak.

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When, now the time of parting was come, the old queen went into her daughter's bed-chamber, and took a little knife, and cut her finger until it bled; she then held a white rag to the wound to receive three drops of blood, and gave it to her daughter, and said, "Take great care of it, dear child, for it may be of use to you on the road." Then they took a sorrowful leave of each other, and the princess put the rag into her bosom, got upon her horse, and, with her maid, set off on her journey to her bridegroom. When they had gone some distance, the princess began to feel very thirsty, and said to her maid,

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"Pray get down and fetch me some water in my golden cup out of yonder brook, for I want to drink." Nay," said the maid, "if you are thirsty, get down yourself, and lie down by the water and drink; I shall not be your waiting-maid." Then she was so thirsty that she got down and knelt beside the little brook, and drank, for she was frightened, and dared not drink out of her golden cup; and then she gave a deep sigh! And the three drops of blood answered her, and said, "If your mother knew this her heart would break." But the princess was very humble and meek; so she said nothing, but got upon her horse again.

Then they rode farther on their journey, till the day grew so warm, and the sun so scorching, that the princess began to feel very thirsty again; and, at last, when they came to a stream, she said, "Pray get down and fetch me some water to drink in my golden cup." For she had long since forgotten her maid's wicked language. But the maid answered her, and even spoke more haughtily than before, "If you wish to drink, help yourself; I shall not be your waiting-maid." Then the princess was so thirsty that she got off her horse, and lay down, and held her head over the running stream, and sighed deeply. And the three drops of blood answered her as before. And as she leaned down to drink, the little white rag containing the three drops of blood fell from her bosom, and floated away with the water, without her seeing it, in her anguish of mind. But her maid saw it, and was very glad, for she knew that the poor bride was in her power, and had, now that she had lost the three drops of blood, become weak. So, when the bride had done, and would have got upon Falada again, the maid said, "Falada belongs to me; this is your nag." So she was forced to submit, and also to take off her royal clothes, and put on her maid's meaner dress; and also to promise that she would not tell a word of all this to any one at the court, otherwise she would kill her on the spot.

But Falada saw all this, and marked it well. Then the waiting-maid got upon Falada, and the real bride upon the poor nag; and they went on in this way till at last they came to the royal court. There was great joy at their arrival, and the prince flew to meet them, and lifted the maid from her horse, thinking she was his wife; and she was conducted up stairs to the royal chamber, but the true princess was left standing in the court below.

Now, the old king happened to be looking out of the window, and saw her in the yard below; and as she was very pretty,

and delicate-looking, he went into the royal chamber to ask the pride who she was? "I brought her with me to keep me company on the road," said she; " pray give the girl some work to do, that she may not be idle." The old king could not for some time think of anything for her to do; but at last he said, "There is a lad who takes care of my geese; she may go and help him." Now the name of this lad was Curdken, and the real bride was sent to help him in watching the king's geese.

Soon after, the false bride said to the prince, “ Dear husband, I have a favour to ask of you.”—“I will grant it with pleasure," said the prince. "Then tell one of your slaughterers to cut off the head of the horse I rode upon, for it is a very vicious animal, and plagued me sadly on the road." But the truth was, she was very much afraid lest Falada should speak, and tell how shamefully she had treated the princess. So the faithful Falada was killed. But when the true princess heard of it, she promised the man a piece of money if he would oblige her, and nail up Falada's head against a large dark gate of the city, through which she had to pass, every morning and evening, with the geese, that there she might still see him sometimes. Then the slaughterer said he would do as she wished, and cut off the head, and nailed it fast under the dark gate.

Early the next morning, as she and Curdken went out through the gate, she said, in passing

"O Falada, there thou art hanging!"

and the head answered,

“ O youthful queen, there thou art ganging!
If thy mother knew the sad mistake,

Alas! alas! her heart would break.'

Then they went out of the city, and drove the geese to the fields. And when she came to the meadow, she sat down upon a bank, and combed her hair, which was of pure silver; and when Curdken saw it glitter in the sun, he ran up, and would have pulled some of the locks out; but she cried—

"Blow, blow, kindly breeze!
Seize Curdken's cap, seize;
Over hill, over dale,

Let him hunt it right well,

Till he sink on his knees,

And leave me at ease,

To tie up my bonny bright hair."

Then there came a wind, so strong that it blew off Curdken's hat; and away it flew far away, and he after it; till, by the time he came back, she had done combing and curling, and he could not get a single hair. Then he was very angry and sulky, and would not speak to her at all; but they watched the geese until evening, and then drove them homewards.

The next morning as they were going through the dark gate, the poor girl looked up at Falada's head, and cried

"O Falada, there thou art hanging!"

and it answered,

"O youthful queen, there thou art ganging!

If thy mother knew the sad mistake,
Alas! alas! her heart would break."

Then she drove on the geese, and sat down again in the meadow, and began to comb out her hair as before; and Curdken ran up to her, and wanted to take hold of it; but she cried out quickly,

"Blow, blow, kindly breeze,
Seize Curdken's cap, seize;
Over hill, over dale,

Let him hunt it right well,

Till he sink on his knees,

And leave me at ease,

To tie up my bonny bright hair.”

Then the wind came and blew off his hat, a great way, so that he had to run after it: and when he came back she had done up her hair again, and he could not catch any of it. So they watched the geese till it grew dark.

In the evening, after they came home, Curdken went to the old king, and said, "I won't keep the geese any longer with that girl."-"Why?" said the king. "Because she does nothing but tease me all day long." Then the king made him tell him all that had passed. And Curdken said, “When we go in the morning through the dark gate with our flock of geese, she talks with the head of a horse that hangs upon the wall, and says,

"O Falada, there thou art hanging!"

and the head answers,

"O youthful queen, there thou art ganging!

If thy mother knew the sad mistake,

Alas! alas! her heart would break."

And Curdken went on telling the king what had happened upon the meadow where the geese fed; and how his hat was