[Ill.u.s.tration: _Blockhead Hans and the Dead Crow_]

The brothers turned round to learn what in the world he could have found.

"Simpleton!" they said, "that cracked old shoe is absolutely worthless.

Are you going to take that to the princess?"

"Of course I shall," Blockhead Hans replied, and the brothers laughed and rode along.

But the lad on the goat soon brought them to a standstill by hopping off his goat and shouting: "Hurrah! Here's the best treasure of all!"

"What have you found now?" the brothers asked.

"Oh! something more for the princess," he said. "How pleased she will be!"

"Why, that is pure mud, straight from the ditch!" the brothers exclaimed.

"Of course it is!" Blockhead Hans responded. "There never was any better mud. See how it runs through my fingers."

So saying, he filled his coat pocket with it. The brothers did not enjoy these interruptions or his company, and they rode off with such speed that they were hidden in a cloud of dust raised by their horses' hoofs.

They reached the gate of the royal city a good hour before Blockhead Hans did.

XII--THE RIVAL SUITORS

Each suitor for the hand of the princess was numbered as he arrived and had to wait his turn. They waited as patiently as they could, standing in line closely guarded to prevent the jealous rivals from getting into a fight with one another.

A crowd of people had gathered in the throne room at the palace to look on while the princess received her suitors, and as each suitor came in all the fine phrases he had prepared pa.s.sed out of his mind. Then the princess would say: "It doesn't matter. Away with him!"

At last the brother who knew the dictionary by heart appeared, but he did not know it any longer. The floor creaked, and the ceiling was made of gla.s.s mirrors so that he saw himself standing on his head. At one of the windows were three reporters and an editor, and each of them was writing down what was said to publish it in the paper that was sold at the street corners for a penny. All this was fearful. You couldn't blame him for feeling nervous.

"It is very hot in here, isn't it?" was the only thing that the brother who knew the dictionary could think of to say.

"Of course it is," the princess responded. "We are roasting young chickens for dinner today."

The youth cleared his throat. "Ahem!" There he stood like an idiot. He was not prepared for such remarks from the princess. How nice it would be to make a witty response! But he could think of nothing appropriate, and all he did was to clear his throat again. "Ahem!"

"It doesn't matter," the princess said. "Take him out." And out he had to go.

Now the other brother entered. "How hot it is here!" he said.

The princess looked as if she thought him tiresome as she responded: "Of course. We are roasting young chickens today."

"Where do you--um?" the youth stammered, and the reporters wrote down, "Where do you--um?"

"It doesn't matter," the princess said. "Take him out."

After a while Blockhead Hans had his turn. He rode his goat right into the room and exclaimed, "Dear me, how awfully hot it is here!"

The princess looked at him and his goat with more interest than she showed in most of her suitors and said: "Of course! We are roasting young chickens today."

"That's good," Blockhead Hans commented; "and will you let me roast a crow with them?"

"Gladly," the princess responded; "but have you anything to roast it in?

I have neither pot nor saucepan to spare."

"That's all right," Blockhead Hans told her. "Here is a dish that will serve my purpose." And he showed her the wooden shoe and laid the crow in it.

The princess laughed and said, "If you are going to prepare a dinner you ought at least to have some soup to go with your crow."

"Very true," he agreed, "and I have it in my pocket." Then he showed her the mud he was carrying.

"I like you," the princess declared. "You can answer when you are spoken to. You have something to say. So I will marry you. But do you know that every word we speak is being recorded and will be in the paper tomorrow.

Over by the window not far from where we are you can see three reporters and an old editor. None of them understands much and the editor doesn't understand anything."

At these words the reporters giggled, and each dropped a blot of ink on the floor.

"Ah! those are great people," Blockhead Hans remarked. "I will give the editor something to write about."

Then he took a handful of mud from his pocket and threw it smack in the great man's face.

"That was neatly done!" the princess said--"much better, in fact, than I could have done it myself."

She and Blockhead Hans were married, and presently he became king and wore a crown and sat on the throne. At any rate so the newspaper said, but of course you can't believe all you see in the papers.

XIII--CUNNING TOM

Once there was a bad boy named Tom, and the older he grew, the wiser and slyer he thought himself. Many were the tricks he played until no one liked him or trusted him.

One day he asked his grandmother for some money. She had plenty, but she would not give him any. So that evening Tom went to the pasture and caught the old woman's black cow. He took the cow to a deserted house which stood at a distance from any other, and there he kept her two or three days, giving her food and water at night when n.o.body would see him going and coming.

Tom made his grandmother believe that some one had stolen the cow. This was a great grief to her. At last she told the lad to buy her another cow at a fair in a neighboring town, and she gave him three pounds with which to make the purchase.

He promised to get one as near like the other as possible and went off with the money. Then he took a piece of chalk, ground it into powder, steeped it in a little water and rubbed it in spots and patches over the head and body of the cow he had hidden.

Early the next morning he took her to an inn near the fair and spent the day in pleasure. Toward evening he drove the cow home before him, and as soon as he got to his grandmother's the cow began to bellow.

The old woman ran out rejoicing for she thought her own black cow had been found, but when she saw the spots and patches of white she sighed and exclaimed, "Alas, you'll never be the kindly brute my Black Lady was, though you bellow exactly like her."

"'Tis a mercy you know not what the cow says," Tom remarked to himself, "or all would be wrong with me."

The old woman put her cow to pasture the following morning, but there came on a heavy shower of rain, which washed away the chalk. So the old woman's Black Lady came home at night and the new cow went away with the shower and was never heard of afterward.