“That’s lucky,” said Clod-Hans. “I should be able to get a crow roasted then, shouldn’t I?”
“Yes, you certainly may,” said the princess, “but do you have something to roast it in? Because I have neither a pot nor a pan.
“But I have!” said Clod-Hans. “Here’s a cooker with a handle.” And he took out the old wooden shoe and set the crow in the middle of it.
“That’s an entire meal,” said the princess, “but where will we get the sauce?”
“I have it in my pocket!” said Clod-Hans. “I have a lot of it so I can waste some,” and he poured a little mud out of his pocket.
“I like this!” said the princess. “You sure can answer! And you can talk, and I want you for my husband. But do you know that every word we say and have said is being written up and will appear in the papers tomorrow? There are three reporters and a guild master by each window, and the guild master is the worst because he can’t understand anything!” She said this to scare him. And all the reporters giggled and spilled ink on the floor.
“That must be the gentry,” said Clod-Hans, “and I must give the guild master the best,” and he turned his pocket inside out and threw mud in his face.
“That was well done!” said the princess, “I couldn’t have done that, but I’ll learn.”
And then Clod-Hans became king. Indeed, he got a wife of his own, a crown, and a throne. And we have it right from the guild master’s newspaper—but you can’t rely on that!
WHAT FATHER DOES IS ALWAYS RIGHT
Now I’M GOING TO tell you a story that I heard when I was little, and every time I’ve thought about it since, I think it becomes more lovely. Stories are like many people—they get more and more lovely with age, and that’s a good thing!
Of course you’ve been out in the country? Then you’ve seen a really old farmhouse with a straw roof where moss and herbs grow by themselves. There’s a stork nest on the ridge of the roof—you’ve got to have a stork. The walls are crooked, the windows are low, and there’s only one that can be opened. The oven sticks out like a little chubby stomach, and the elder bush leans over the fence where there’s a tiny pond of water with a duck or ducklings right under the gnarled willow tree. And there’s always a tied watchdog that barks at each and all.
In just such a farmhouse in the country there lived a couple, a farmer and his wife. Even with as little as they had, they could have gotten along without one thing, and that was a horse that grazed in the road ditch. The farmer rode it to town, and the neighbors borrowed it, and gave a favor in return, but they thought it would be more worthwhile to sell the horse or trade it for something even more useful. But what could that be?
“You’ll understand what’s best, father,” said his wife. “There’s a fair in town. Go ahead and ride in there and sell the horse, or make a good trade. Whatever you do is always right. Ride to the fair.”
And she tied his neckerchief because she could do that better than he could. She tied a double knot—it looked elegant—and she brushed his hat with the flat of her hand, and kissed his warm mouth. And then he rode away on the horse that was to be sold or traded. Oh yes, father knew what to do.
The sun was burning hot, and there were no clouds. The road was dusty because there were so many going to the fair, in wagons, on horses, or on foot. It was hot, and there was no shade on the road.
There was one man leading a cow that was as lovely as a cow can be. “It must give delicious milk,” thought the farmer. “That would make a pretty good trade.”
“Say, you there with the cow,” said the farmer. “Let’s have a chat. You know a horse costs more than a cow, I believe, but that doesn’t matter. I have more use for the cow. Shall we trade?”
“Sure,” said the man with the cow, and so they traded.
That was done, and now the farmer could have turned around. After all, he had accomplished what he wanted to do, but since he had decided to go to the fair he wanted to go to the fair, just to look, and so he continued with his cow. He walked fast, and the cow walked fast, and soon they were walking side by side with a man leading a sheep. It was a good sheep, in good shape and with lots of wool.
“I wouldn’t mind owning that,” though the farmer. “It would have plenty to eat grazing in the ditch, and in the winter we could bring it into the house with us. It really makes more sense for us to have a sheep than a cow.”
“Shall we trade?”
Yes, the man who had the sheep wanted to do that. The exchange was made, and the farmer walked along the road with his sheep. By a stile he saw a man with a big goose under his arm.
“That’s a big one you’ve got there,” said the farmer. “It’s got both feathers and fat. It would look good tied up by our pond. That would be something for mother to gather peelings for. She has often said, ‘If only we had a goose!’ Now she can have one, and she shall have one! Will you trade? I’ll give you the sheep for the goose and throw in a thank-you.”
Well, the other man certainly wanted to trade, and so they did. The farmer got the goose. He was close to town, and the road got more crowded. What a throng of man and beast! They walked on the road and in the ditch right up to the toll-keeper’s potato field, where his hen was tied up so she wouldn’t get scared and run away. It was a short-tailed hen that blinked with one eye and looked like a good one. “Cluck, cluck,” it said. What it meant by that I can’t say, but the farmer thought when he saw her: “She’s the prettiest hen I have ever seen. She is prettier than the minister’s brood hen. I’d love to own her! A hen can always find grain, and can almost take care of itself. I think it would be a good trade if I get her for the goose. Shall we trade?” he asked. “Trade?” said the other man, “Well, that wouldn’t be too bad,” and so they traded. The toll-keeper got the goose, and the farmer got the hen.
He had accomplished a lot on his trip to town, but it was warm, and he was tired. He needed a drink and a bite to eat. He was near an inn and was about to go in, but the innkeeper’s servant was just coming out the door. The man had a big bag full of something.
“What have you got there?” asked the farmer.
