“That I should like very much,” said Kesta, “but I can’t say yes, at once. Tomorrow I am going to town with my cheeses, when I come back I will give you an answer.”
At night Kesta looked into her glass and said, “I wonder why Adam wishes to marry me? but as he does, most likely some better man would like to do so; it would be folly to marry him till I see if I can’t do better. I must look about me when I go to town tomorrow, and see who I can meet.”
In the morning she dressed herself with great care in her best clothes, and set out for the town with the cheeses in a basket under her arm. When she had got a little way she passed a mill, and the miller all white with flour stood in the yard directing his men. He was an oldish man, and his wife was recently dead, and Kesta thought as she drew near, it would be a better thing to marry him than to marry poor Adam, so she said, “Good day, would you kindly let me rest a little?”
“Certainly, my girl,” said the miller, “you seem to be out of breath?”
“And well I may be,” said Kesta, “such a run as I have had. I’ve come from the farm yonder, and it was as much as I could do to get away, for the farmer’s man was very angry because I would not marry him, and of course I am too good for him, a pretty girl like me.”
“Are you really a pretty girl?” said the miller; “let me see, perhaps you are. Well, if you are too good for the farmer’s man perhaps you would suit me. How would you like to marry me, and live in the millhouse yonder?”
“I think I should like it well,” said Kesta, “but I have some business in the town, and must go there first, so I’ll stop here and tell you as I come back.” So she said goodbye, and went on her way feeling very merry.
“It would be much better to marry the miller than to marry Adam, but who knows if I may not do better than either, so I must not be in any hurry.” So she walked on, and near to the town she met a man on a white horse, and saw it was the bailiff of the great Duke at the Palace. “Who knows but that he may want a wife?” she said to herself, “I can but try.” So she sat down by the roadside and called out, “Ah me, what a thing it is to be a poor girl who has to run away from all the men she meets!”
“Why,” cried the bailiff, stopping his horse. “Why have you to run? who tries to hurt you?”
“No one tries to hurt me,” said Kesta, “but I have to run from men who want to marry me, because I am so pretty. At first it was a man at our farm, and now it is the miller, who would not let me pass his door unless I promised to come back and marry him, but I am far too good for such as he.”
“Is this really so?” cried the bailiff, who hated the miller; “did the miller really want to marry you? If you’re too good to marry him, it may be you would suit me.”
“Indeed,” said Kesta, “I think that might do well, for I should live in a nice house and have plenty of servants. But I have to go into the town on business, and you’re sure to be somewhere about here, and when I come back we will arrange it.” So she set off, leaving the bailiff chuckling at the thought of how angry the miller would be if he married Kesta.
On went Kesta in high good-humour. “Now am I indeed doing well,” said she; “how clever I was not to marry Adam before I came to town.” Presently she reached the town, and in the high street she passed the bank, and the banker himself stood in the doorway. He was fat and ugly and old, but his hands were covered with rings, and Kesta knew his pockets were full of gold. Kesta said, “It would be a fine thing to marry him, and I could hold up my head with anyone. I think I’ll speak to him, as it would be folly to pass him without trying.” So she gave a loud sigh and said, “Alack a day, how hard is my lot!”
“Why, what is wrong, my pretty lass?” said the banker.
“Pretty you may well say,” answered Kesta. “Would I were not so, for thence come all my troubles.”
“And what are they?” asked the banker.
“Only wherever I go, I have no peace, for all the men want to marry me. First it is the farmer, then the miller, and lastly the duke’s bailiff, who would scarcely let me pass on the road till I had promised him; and of course it is impossible, and I am much too pretty for any of them.”
“Is this really true?” cried the banker; “if so, there must be something very superior about you. Perhaps you would be good enough for me. How would you like to be my wife, and ride in a fine carriage, and wear silk gowns all day?”
“Nay, that would be much more fitting,” cried Kesta, “and from the first I thought you would be much more suitable to be my husband than any of the others I have met; but I must go down the town first, so I will come in here on my way back.” So she went on till she came to a great square in front of the barracks where the soldiers were drilling, with their helmets and swords glittering in the sun, and at their head rode the
