The Steadfast- No, Rapunzel

The Brothers Grimm and Andersen

~Welcome, my little ponies. Please, make yourselves comfortable, for tonight you have the special treat of a bedtime story, written by me. Don’t be afraid, it isn’t one of those scary tales you hear around the campfire. No, this is a story about True Love, Honor, and Courage. It begins on-~

*Indeed.*

~Bah! Your stories are nothing but Old Mare’s Tales.~

<I…Do believe that is the point.>

*Aren’t all stories Old Mare’s Tales?*

~No! My stories are original, thank you very much Wilhem.~

*So just because we choose to gather folktales from ponies and save them for future generations rather than write our own, they are of less worth? Does that make sense, Jacob?*

~Will you two please allow me to tell my story? I already began.~

<Well, if you look up there you will see that you were only three words in.>

~Your point?~

*They are the same three words that begin almost any story.*

~That is not true. Name one story of yours that doesn’t begin with “Once Upon a Time.”~

*Alright, fine. But we had all agreed that tonight was our turn, didn’t we Hans?*

~You were late. The ponies needed a story and I was happy to fill in for the two of you.~

*We ran into traffic on the way here. I tried to send you a message but somepony put a block on the house.*

~Why are you looking at me? I did no such thing!~

*Oh really?*

~Yes!~

<Gentlecolts, please, let’s not lose our tempers. After all, we are all civilized stallions. Wilhelm, I’m afraid I was the one who blocked all messages to the house.>

*Really Jacob? Why in Equestria did you do that?!*

~Well that explains why I haven’t gotten any mail from Charles lately.~

*In any event, can we please move on with the story?*

~But whose story will we tell first? I still think since I already started I should at least finish it.~

*It will be your turn tomorrow. Tonight it will be either Jacob or I.*

~Oh…Fine. But which one of you will tell the story tonight?~

*You can do it, Jacob.*

~Very well.~

There was once an Earth stallion and his wife who had long wished in vain for a foal, when at last they had reason to hope that Heaven would grant their wish. There was a little window at the back of their house, which overlooked a beautiful garden, full of lovely flowers and shrubs. It was, however, surrounded by a high wall, and nopony dared to enter it, because it belonged to a powerful Witch, who was feared by everypony.

One day the mare, standing at this window and looking into the garden, saw a bed planted with beautiful bellflower. It looked so fresh and green that it made her long to eat some of it. This longing increased every day, and as she knew it could never be satisfied, she began to look pale and miserable, and to pine away. Then her husband was alarmed and said:

“What ails you, my dear wife?”

“Alas!” she answered, “If I cannot get any of the bellflower from the garden behind our house to eat, I shall die.”

Her husband, who loved her, thought, “Before you let your wife die, you must fetch her some of that bellflower, cost what it may.” So in the twilight he climbed over the wall into the Witch’s garden, hastily picked a hoof full of bellflower, and took it back to his wife. She immediately dressed it, and ate it up very eagerly. It was so very, very nice, that the next day her longing for it increased threefold. She could have no peace unless he husband fetched her some more. So in the twilight he set out again; but when he got over the wall he was terrified to see the Witch before him.

“How dare you come into my garden like a thief, and steal my bellflower?” she said, with angry looks and a flashing horn. “It shall be the worse for you!”

“Alas!” he answered, “Be merciful to me; I am only here from necessity. My wife sees your bellflower from the window, and she has such a longing for it, that she would die if she could not get some of it.”

The anger of the Witch abated, and she said to him, “If it is as you say, I will allow you to take away with you as much bellflower as you like, but on one condition. You must give me the foal which your wife is about to bring into the world. I will care for it like a mother, and all will be well with it.” In his fear the stallion consented to everything, and when the foal was born, the Witch appeared, gave it the name Rapunzel, and took it away with her.

Rapunzel was the most beautiful filly under Celestia's sun. When she was twelve years old, the Witch shut her up in a tower which stood in a wood. It had neither staircase nor doors, and only a little window quite high up in the wall. When the Witch wanted to enter the tower, she stood at the foot of it, and cried-

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your mane.”

Rapunzel had a splendidly long mane and tail, as fine as spun gold. As soon as she heard the voice of the Witch, she unfastened her plaits and twisted them round a hook by the window. They fell seventy five feet downwards, and the Witch climbed up by them.

It happened a couple of years later that the Chancellor’s son walked through the forest, and came close to the tower. From within he heard a song so lovely, that he stopped to listen. It was Rapunzel, who in her loneliness made her sweet voice resound to pass away the time. The Chancellor’s son wanted to join her, and he sought for the door of the tower, but there was none to find.

He walked home, but the song had touched his heart so deeply that he went into the forest every day to listen to it. Once, when he was hidden behind a tree, he saw a Witch come to the tower and call out-

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your mane.”

Then Rapunzel lowered her plaited mane and the Witch climbed up to her.

“If that is the ladder by which one ascends,” he thought, “I will try my luck myself.” And the next day, when it began to grow dark, he went to the tower and cried-

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your mane.”

Her mane fell down at once, and the Chancellor’s son climbed up by it.

At first Rapunzel was terrified, for she had never set eyes on a stallion before, but the Chancellor’s son talked to her kindly, and told her that his heart had been so deeply touched by her song that he had no peace, and he was obliged to see her. Then Rapunzel lost her fear, and when he asked if she would have him for her husband, and she saw that he was young and handsome, she thought, “He will love me better than old Mother Gothel.” So she said, “Yes,” and laid her hoof in his.

She said, “I will gladly go with you, but I do not know how I am to get down from this tower. When you come, will you bring a length of silk with you every time? I will twist it into a ladder, and when it is long enough I will descend by it, and you can take me away with you to your home.”

She arranged with him that he should come and see her every evening, for the old Witch came in the daytime.

The Witch discovered nothing, till suddenly Rapunzel said to her, “Tell me, Mother Gothel, how can it be that you are so much heavier to draw up than the young Stallion who will be here before long?”

“Oh, you wicked filly, what do you say?” I thought I had separated you from all the world, and yet you have deceived me.” In her rage she seized Rapunzel’s beautiful mane and tail with her magic, snatched up a pair of shears and cut off the plaits, which fell to the ground. She was so merciless that she took poor Rapunzel away into a wilderness, where she forced her to live in the greatest grief and misery.

In the evening of the day on which she had banished Rapunzel, the Witch fastened the plaits which she had cut off to the hook by the window, and when the Stallion came and called-

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your mane,” she lowered the hair. The Stallion climbed up, but there he found, not his beloved Rapunzel, but the Witch, who looked at him with angry and wicked eyes.

“Ah!” she cried mockingly, “You have come to fetch your special somepony, but the pretty bird is no longer in her nest; and she can sing no more, for the cat has seized her, and it will scratch your own eyes out too. Rapunzel is lost to you; you will never see her again.”

The Stallion was beside himself with grief, and in his despair he sprang out the window. He was not killed, but his eyes were scratched out by the thorns among which he fell. He wandered about blind in the wood, and had nothing but roots and berries to eat. He did nothing but weep and lament over the loss of his beloved wife Rapunzel. In this way he wandered about for some years, till at last he reached the wilderness where Rapunzel had been living in great poverty with the twins who had been born to her, a colt and a filly.

He heard a voice which seemed very familiar to him, and he went towards it. Rapunzel knew him at once, and fell weeping upon his neck. Two of her tears fell upon his eyes, and they immediately grew quite clear, and he could see as well as ever.

He took her to his realm, where he was received with joy, and they lived long and happily together.

~Jacob?~

~That was awful.~

Now it's The Steadfast Tin Soldier

View Online

~Welcome once again, colts and fillies. Tonight we all have the great pleasure of listening to one of my original tales of love and adventure. This story will take your heart and fill it with such wonder that it may burst.~

*And then somepony dies.*

~What are you talking about?~

*I haven’t read a single one of your stories that doesn’t end in death.*

~Oh will you two be quiet? Death is only one facet of my stories, and even then I use it sparingly.~

~What?!~

*You’re on. In fact, I will do you one better: Ten bits says two or more characters die.*

<Deal.>

~Are you seriously betting on the outcome of my story?! This is insane!~

*And an easy way to make ten bits.*

*Very true.*

~I can’t believe you two! You are seriously betting money on this?~

<Oh, I’m very serious about this.>

*As am I. But please don’t let our little wager stop you from telling the story.*

*You get paid? Oh we’ll see about that, brother dear.*

~I…I am completely flabbergasted.~

<Well, perhaps a nice story will help soothe your nerves.>

*Indeed. I, for one, am looking forward to it a great deal.*

~Of course you are.~

~Fine. As I was saying, this story is about the trials of Love and the great lengths a stallion will go through to find his own True Love.~

There were once twenty-five tin soldiers, all brothers, for they all came from one old tin spoon.

“Shoulder arms! Eyes front!”-that’s how they were, and they wore splendid red tunics with blue trousers. The very first thing they ever heard, when the lid was taken off the box in which they were lying, was-

“Tin soldiers!” It was a little colt who had shouted this and clapped his hooves. He had been given them for his birthday, and now he was putting them up on the table.

Each soldier was the image of the other, except for one who was a little bit different. He had only three legs, because he was the last to be made and there wasn’t enough tin to go round. Still, there he stood, as firmly on his three legs as the others on their four; and, as it happened, he’s the soldier this story is all about.

There were a lot of other toys on the table where the tin soldiers had been put up, but the one you noticed first was a beautiful paper castle; through its tiny windows you could see right into the rooms. In front of it were some small trees standing round a little mirror, which was supposed to represent a lake, with wax swans reflected in it as they swam. Everything was very pretty, and yet the prettiest of all was a little mare who was standing at the open door of the castle. She, too, was cut out of paper, but she was wearing a skirt of the clearest muslin and a narrow blue ribbon draped over her shoulder like a scarf, with a glittering sequin in the middle as big as the whole of her face. The little mare was holding out one of her forelegs; you see, she was a dancer and, besides, she had kicked one of her back legs so high in the air that the tin soldier couldn’t make out where it was and imagined she only had three legs, like himself.

“That’s the wife for me!” he thought to himself. “But she’s so grand; she lives in a castle. I’ve only got a box, and there are twenty-five of us to that; it’s no place for her. All the same, I must see if I can’t get to know her.” Then he lay down at full length behind a snuff-box that was on the table. From here he could keep his eyes on the elegant little mare, who continued to stand on two legs without losing her balance.

Later in the evening, all the other tin soldiers went back into their box, and the people in the house went to bed. The toys now began to play games – visiting, fighting, dancing. The tin soldiers rattled in their box, because they wanted to join in, but they couldn’t get the lid off. The nutcrackers turned somersaults, and the chalk had some fun on the chalkboard. There was such a noise that the canary woke up and began to join in with some twittering in verse. The only two who didn’t budge were the tin soldier and the little dancer. She stood perfectly upright on the tip of her hooves with her foreleg stretched out, while he was just as staunch on his three legs; his eyes never left her for a moment.

Suddenly the clock struck twelve and – clack! Flew the lid from the snuff-box, but do you suppose there was snuff in it? No, there was a little black goblin – It was a kind of Jack-in-the-box.

“Tin soldier!” cried the goblin. “Will you please keep your eyes to yourself!” But the tin soldier pretended not to hear.

“All right – you wait till tomorrow!” said the goblin.

And when tomorrow came and the children got up, the tin soldier was put away by the window; and, whether it was the goblin or the draught that did it, all at once the window flew open and the soldier fell out head first from the third story. It was a terrible fall. There were his legs going straight up in the air, and he was left standing on his helmet with his sword stuck in between the paving-stones.

The maidservant and the little colt came down directly to look for him; but although they very nearly trod on him, they never saw him. If only the tin soldier had called out “Here I am!” they would have found him easily enough; but he didn’t think it would be right to shout out, as he was in uniform.

Presently it began raining, more and more heavily, until it was a regular downpour. When it was over, two street-colts came by.

“Gosh, look at that!” said one of them. “There’s a tin soldier. Let’s send him for a sail.” So they made a boat out of newspaper, put the tin soldier aboard, and away he sailed down the gutter with the two colts running alongside and clapping their hooves. Bless my soul, how the waves did rock in the gutter, and what a strong current there was! Well, after all, it had been a real soaker. The paper boat bobbed up and down, and now and then it whirled round so fast that the tin soldier became quite dizzy. But he kept steadfast and never moved a muscle; he looked straight ahead, and still shouldered arms.

All at once the boat drifted in under a broad culvert; it was as dark as if he were in his box.

“I wonder where I’m coming to now,” he thought. “I’ll swear it’s all the fault of that goblin. If only the little mare were here in the boat, it could be twice as dark for all I’d care!”

Just then a great water-rat appeared, who lived under the culvert. “Where’s your passport?” asked the rat. “Now then, show me your passport!”

But the tin soldier never said a word and clutched his sword more tightly than ever. The boat rushed on, and the rat after it. Ugh! How it ground its teeth and shouted to sticks and straws: “Stop him! Stop him! He hasn’t paid the toll! He hasn’t shown his passport.”

But the current grew stronger and stronger; the tin soldier could already see daylight ahead where the culvert ended. But he could also hear a roaring sound that might well bring dismay to the bravest stallion. Just think of it – where the culvert ended, the gutter plunged straight out into a large canal. It was as dangerous for him as it would be for us to sail down a big waterfall.

By now he had come so near that there was no stopping. The boat dashed out, the poor tin soldier held himself as stiffly as he could; no one should say that he had moved an eyelid. The boat spun round three or four times and filled right up with water, until it was bound to sink. The tin soldier was now up to his neck; the boat sank deeper and deeper; the paper grew more and more sodden. At last the water closed over the soldier’s head…He thought of the pretty little dancer whom he would never see again, and the old song rang in his ears:

“On, on, brave warrior!

On where death awaits thee!”

At this moment, the paper went to pieces, and the tin soldier fell right through - but was instantly swallowed by a large fish. Oh, and how dark it was inside! Even worse than it was in the culvert, and so terribly cramped, too. But the tin soldier was still steadfast, still shouldering arms, as he lay at full length.

The fish darted about, making the most terrifying twists and turns. Then at last it lay quite still; a lightning flash went through it, there was broad daylight, and someone called out: “A tin soldier!” The fish had been caught, taken to the market and sold, and here it was in the kitchen, where the maid cut it open with a big knife. She picked up the soldier by the barrel with a hoof and carried him into the parlor, where everypony wanted to see this extraordinary stallion who had been travelling about inside a fish. But the tin soldier thought nothing of it. They set him up on the table, and there – well, what wonderful things can happen! The tin soldier found himself in the very same room as he had been in before. There they were – the same foals, the same toys on the table, the same beautiful castle with the pretty little dancer who still stood on two legs and kept the other ones high in the air – she, too, had been steadfast. This touched the tin soldier, who could have wept tears of tin, only that would hardly have done! He looked at her, and she looked at him, but neither of them spoke

Suddenly one of the small colts took and threw the soldier straight into the stove. He had no reason for doing this; of course, the Jack-in-the-box was behind it all.

The tin soldier stood in a complete glow; the hear that he felt was tremendous, but whether it came from the actual fire or from love, he had no idea. All his bright colors were gone, but nopony could tell if this had happened on his voyage or was the result of grief. He looked at the little mare, she looked at him, and he could feel that he was melting, but he still stood staunchly with arms at the shoulder. Then a door opened, the draught caught the dancer, and she flew like a pixie right into the stove to the tin soldier, flared up in a flame and was gone. The tin soldier was melted down to a lump and, when the maid cleared out the ashes next morning, she found him in the shape of a little tin heart; but all that was left of the dancer was her sequin, and that was burnt black as coal.

~Thank you, my little ponies, and I hope you have pleasant dreams tonight.~

*Ten bits, Jacob.*

*Yes. It counts. Time to pay up, brother of mine.*

<Oh…Fine. Here you are, ten bits.>

*Much obliged.*

~Are you two happy now?~

*Very much so, thank you.*

~Well excuse me for not consulting your gambling habits beforehand.~

*Don’t be a poor sport, Jacob. Come on, I’ll buy you a mug of cider.*

*Anytime. You want to come, Hans?*

~No, I think I’ll stay here and have some tea. It’s a bit chilly tonight, look, it’s starting to snow.~

<Bah, a little snow never hurt anypony.>

*He can stay here if he wants, come on Jacob.*

<Alright, we’ll be back later Hans.>

~Have fun.~

Harry Horseshoe

View Online

*Hello once again, little foals. Please forgive our lateness, Jacob and I had a business engagement in Trottingham that ran much later than we expected.*

~Why didn’t you send me a message? I would have been happy to fill in for you.~

<Well, we knew you were visiting your mother and her health hasn’t been the best. We didn’t want to trouble you.>

*Besides, it was our own fault. We should have made sure to bring all the paperwork with us.*

~What did happen over in Trottingham?~

<Oh, it doesn’t matter; let’s just move on with the story. Wilhelm?>

*Thank you, Jacob. Now then, colts and fillies, unlike the two stories you have heard before tonight, this tale is about adventure! None of that Love nonsense here!*

~What do you mean nonsense?~

*Yes, yes, I know, but come now; we have to appeal to more than just the fillies out there. The young colts want adventure! Not romance like you have provided.*

~Wilhelm, you’re being ridiculous.~

*Of course, of course. Anyway, prepare yourselves for a tale of a mischievous but wonderful little colt by the name of Harry Horseshoe.*

A poor Peasant sat one evening by his hearth and poked the fire, while his Wife sat opposite spinning. He said: “What a sad thing it is that we have no foals; our home is so quiet while other ponies’ houses are noisy and cheerful.”

“Yes,” answered the Wife, and she sighed; “even if it were an only one, and if it were no bigger than my horseshoe, I should be quite content; we would love it with all our hearts.”

Now, some time after this, she had a little colt who was strong and healthy, but was no bigger than a horseshoe. Then they said: “Well, our wish is fulfilled, and, as small as he is, we will love him dearly”; and because of his tiny stature they called him Harry Horseshoe. They let him want for nothing, yet still the foal grew no bigger, but remained the same size as when he was born. Still, he looked out on the world with intelligent eyes, and soon showed himself a clever and agile creature, who was lucky in all he attempted.

One day, when the Peasant was preparing to go into the forest to cut wood, he said to himself: “I wish I had somepony to bring the tools after me.”

“Oh Father!” said Harry Horseshoe, “I will soon bring them. You leave it to me; they shall be there at the appointed time.”

Then the Peasant laughed, and said: “How can that be? You are much too small even to hold the leash.”

“That doesn’t matter, if only Mother will harness the dog,” answered Harry. “I will sit in his ear and tell him where to go.”

“Very well,” said the Father; “we will try it for once.”

When the time came, the Mother harnessed the dog, set Harry in his ear, and then the little creature called out “Gee-up” and “Whoa” in turn, and directed it where to go. It went quite well, just as though it were being driven by its master; and they went the right way to the wood. Now it happened that while the cart of tools was turning a corner, and Harry was calling to the dog, two strange stallions appeared on the scene.

“My goodness,” said one, “what is this? There goes a cart, and a driver is calling to the dog, but there is nothing to be seen.”

“There is something queer about this,” said the other; “We will follow the cart and see where it stops.”

The cart went on deep into the forest, and arrived quite safely at the place where the wood was cut.

When Harry spied his Father, he said: “You see, Father, here I am with the cart; now lift me down.” The Father held the dog with his left hoof, and took his little son out of its ear with the right. Then Harry sat down quite happily on a straw.

When the two strangers noticed him, they did not know what to say for astonishment.

Then one drew the other aside, and said: “Listen, that little creature might make our fortune if we were to show him in the town for money. We will buy him.”

So they went up to the Peasant, and said: “Sell us the little stallion; he shall be well looked after with us.”

“No,” said the Peasant; “he is the delight of my eyes, and I will not sell him for all the gold in the world.”

But Harry Horseshoe, when he heard the bargain, crept up by the folds of his Father’s coat, placed himself on his shoulder, and whispered in his ear: “Father, let me go; I will soon come back again.”

Then his Father gave him to the two stallions for a fine piece of gold.

“Where will you sit?” they asked him.

“Oh, put me on the brim of your hat, then I can walk up and down and observe the neighborhood without falling down.”

They did as he wished, and when Harry had said good-bye to his Father, they went away with him.

They walked on till it was twilight, when the little stallion said: “You must lift me down.”

“Stay where you are,” answered the Stallion on whose head he sat.

“No,” said Harry; “I will come down. Lift me down immediately.”

The Stallion took off his hat and set the little creature in a field by the wayside. He jumped and crept about for a time, here and there among the sods, then slipped suddenly into a mouse-hole which he had discovered.

“Good evening, gentlecolts, just you go home without me,” he called out to them in mockery.

They ran about and poked with sticks into the mouse-hole, but all in vain. Harry crept further and further back, and, as it soon got quite dark, they were forced to go home, full of anger, and with empty purses.

When Harry noticed that they were gone, he crept out of his underground hiding-place again. “It is dangerous walking in this field in the dark,” he said; “one might easily break one’s leg or one’s neck.” Luckily, he came to an empty snail shell. “Thank goodness,” he said; “I can pass the night in safety here,” and he sat down.

Not long after, just when he was about to go to sleep, he heard two stallions pass by. One said: “How shall we set about stealing the rich unicorn lord’s gold and silver?”

“I can tell you,” interrupted Harry.

“What was that?” said one robber in a fright. “I heard somepony speak.”

They remained standing and listened.

Then Harry spoke again: “Take me with you and I will help you.”

“Where are you?” they asked.

“Just look on the ground and see where the voice comes from,” he answered.

At last the thieves found him, and lifted him up. “You little urchin, are you going to help us?”

“Yes,” he said; “I will creep between the iron bars in the lord’s room, and I will pass out to you what you want.”

“All right,” they said, “we will see what you can do.”

When they came to the Manor, Harry crept into the room, but called out immediately with all his strength to the others: “Do you want everything that is here?”

The thieves were frightened, and said: “Do speak softly, and don’t wake anypony.”

But Harry pretended not to understand, and called out again: “What do you want? Everything?”

The Cook, who slept above, heard him and sat up in bed and listened. But the thieves were so frightened that they retreated a little way. At last they summoned up courage again, and thought to themselves, “The little rogue wants to tease us.” So they came back and whispered to him: “Now, do be serious, and pass us out something.”

Then Harry called out again, as loud as he could, “I will give you everything if only you will hold out your hooves.”

The Maid, who was listening intently, heard him quite distinctly, jumped out of bed, and stumbled to the door. The thieves turned as fled, running as though Nightmare Moon was after them. But the Maid, seeing nothing, went to get a light. When she came back with it, Harry, without being seen, slipped out into the barn, and the Maid, after she had searched every corner and found nothing, went to bed again, thinking that she had been dreaming with her eyes and ears open.

Harry Horseshoe climbed about in the hay, and found a splendid place to sleep. There he determined to rest till day came, and then go home to his parents. But he had other experiences to go through first. This world is full of trouble and sorrow!

The Maid got up in the grey dawn to feed the barn animals. First she went into the barn where she piled up a hoof full of hay, the very bundle in which poor Harry was asleep. But he fell into a saucer of milk the Maid had put out for the cat and Harry knew nothing until he was almost in the mouth of the cat, who was lapping him up with the milk.

“Heavens!” he said, “however did I get into this river?” but he soon saw where he was, and the great thing was to avoid being cut between the cat’s fangs. At last, whether he liked it or not, he had to go down the cat’s throat.

“The windows have been forgotten in this house,” he said. “The sun does not shine into it, and no light has been provided.”

Altogether he was very ill-pleased with his quarters, and, worst of all, more and more milk came in at the door, and the space grew narrower and narrower. At last he called out, in his fear, as loud as he could, “Don’t give me any more milk. Don’t give me any more milk.”

The Maid was just petting the cat, and when she heard the same voice as in the night, without seeing anypony, she was frightened, and fell down in fright and spilt the cat’s milk. Then in greatest haste, she ran to her master, and said: “Oh, your Lordship, the cat has spoken!”

“You are mad,” he answered; but he went into the stable himself to see what was happening.

Scarcely had he set foot in the barn before Harry began again, “Don’t bring me any more milk.”

Then the Lord was terrified too, and thought the cat must be bewitched; so after he failed to remove the hex with his own magic, he ordered it to be killed. It was accordingly slaughtered, but the stomach, in which Harry was hidden, was thrown into the compost heap. Harry had the greatest trouble in working his way out. Just as he stuck out his head, a hungry Timber Wolf ran by and snapped up the whole stomach with one bite. But still Harry did not lose courage. “Perhaps the Wolf will listen to reason,” he said. So he called out, “Dear Wolf, I know where you would find a magnificent meal.”

“Where is it to be had?” asked the Wolf.

“Why, in such and such a house,” answered Harry. “You must squeeze through the grating of the store-room window, and there you will find cakes, oats, and treats, as many as you can possibly eat”; and he went on to describe his father’s house.

The Wolf did not wait to hear this twice, and at night forced himself in through the grating, and ate to his heart’s content. When he was satisfied, he wanted to go away again; but he had grown so fat that he could not get out the same way. Harry had reckoned on this, and began to make a great commotion inside the Wolf’s body, struggling and screaming with all his might.

“Be quiet,” said the Wolf; “you will wake up the ponies of the house.”

“All very fine,” answered Harry. “You have eaten your fill, and now I am going to make merry”; and he began to scream again with all his might.

At last his father and mother woke up, ran to the room, and looked through the crack of the door. When they saw a Timber Wolf, they went away, and the husband fetched his axe, and the wife a scythe.

“You stay behind,” said the stallion, as they came into the room. “If my blow does not kill him, you must attack him and rip up his body.”

When Harry Horseshoe heard his Father’s voice, he called out: “Dear Father, I am here, inside the Timber Wolf’s body.”

Full of joy, his Father cried, “Celestia be praised! Our dear foal is found again,” and he bade his wife throw aside the scythe that it might not injure Harry.

Then he gathered himself together, and struck the Wolf a blow on the head, so that it fell down lifeless. Then as the magic started to rebuild the twigs and sticks, they ripped up the body with hatchets, and took their little colt out.

“Ah,” said his Father, “what trouble we have been in about you.”

“Yes, Father, I have travelled about the world, and I am thankful to breathe fresh air again.”

“Wherever have you been?” they asked.

“Down a mouse-hole, in a Cat’s stomach, and in a Wolf’s maw,” he answered; “and now I shall stay with you.”

“And we will never sell you again, for all the riches in the world,” they said, kissing and fondling their dear foal.

Then they gave him food and drink, and had new clothes made for him, as his own had been spoilt in his travels.

*I hope you enjoyed that, my spunky colts, and may your own adventures be as fruitful and exciting.*

~Exciting? That was disgusting!~

<Yes, I forgot about that particular tale.>

*You two are such fillies sometimes. Shall I fetch your sparkly brushes? How about a ribbon for your manes?*

~Oh, you be quiet, Wilhelm.~

<Besides, I wouldn’t start playing that game with somepony that shared a room with you for most of our lives if I were you.>

*Touché, Jacob, touché.*

What is it Now? The Robber Bridegroom?

View Online

<Alright, it’s time for a story of my collection once again.>

~Wait, wait, wait. You two just did one!~

*So?*

~By all right’s it’s my turn.~

<No, it’s my turn. There are two of us so we should go in sequence.>

~But that’s my point, there are two of you, so I should go in between each of you.~

*Look, Hans, we have collected over two hundred tales, if we want to get through a good portion of them, Jacob and I have to tell more than you.*

~...Really? Two hundred tales?~

*The last time I checked.*

*Two hundred thirty?*

~I’m not sure whether to feel impressed or completely one-upped.~

~I suppose. But how are we going to do this? Will I just wait while the two of you tell three or four in a row?~

*How about it goes Jacob, Hans, I, Jacob, Hans, I, and so on.*

~I guess that will be equitable. Your story, Jacob?~

<Ah, yes. Now then, Wilhelm, you said that the stories that Hans and I told were for “fillies,” correct?>

*Yes.*

There was once a Miller, who had a beautiful daughter. When she grew up, he wanted to have her married and settled. He thought, “If a suitable bridegroom comes and asks for my daughter, I will give her to him.”

Soon after a suitor came who appeared to be rich, and as the Miller knew nothing against him he promised his daughter to him. The Maiden, however, did not like him as a bride ought to like her bridegroom; nor had she any faith in him. Whenever she looked at him, or thought about him, a shudder came over her.

One day he said to her, “You are my betrothed, and yet you have never been to see me.”

The Maiden answered: “I don’t even know where your house is.”

Then the Bridegroom said, “My house is in the depths of the Everfree Forest.”

She made excuses, and said she could not find the way.

The Bridegroom answered: “Next Sunday you must come and see me without fail. I have invited some other guests, and, so that you may be able to find the way, I will strew some ashes to guide you.”

When Sunday came, and the Maiden was about to start, she was frightened, though she did not know why. So that she should be sure of finding her way back she filled her saddlebags with peas and lentils. At the entrance to the Everfree Forest she found the track of ashes and followed it; but every step or two she scattered a few peas right and left.

She walked nearly the whole day, right into the midst of the forest, where it was almost dark. Here she saw a solitary house, which she did not like; it was so dark and dismal. She went in, but found nobody, and there was dead silence. Suddenly a voice cried-

“Turn back, turn back, thou bonnie Bride,

Nor in this house of death abide.”

The Maiden looked up, and saw that the voice came from a bird in a cage hanging on the wall. Once more it made the same cry-

“Turn back, turn back, thou bonnie Bride,

Nor in this house of death abide.”

The beautiful Bride went from room to room, all over the house, but they were all empty; not a soul was to be seen. At last she reached the cellar, and there she found an old, old mare with a shaking head.

“Can you tell me if my Bridegroom lives here?”

“Alas! Poor filly,” answered the old mare, “little dost thou know where thou art; thou art in a murderer’s den. Thou thoughtest thou wast about to be married, but death will be thy marriage. See here, I have had to fill this kettle with water, and when they have thee in their power they will kill thee without mercy, cook, and eat thee, for they are eaters of pony flesh. Unless I take pity on thee and save thee, thou art lost.” Then the old mare led her behind a great cask, where she could not be seen. “Be as quiet as a mouse,” she said. “Don’t stir, or all will be lost. Tonight, when the murderers are asleep, we will flee. I have long waited for an opportunity.”

Hardly had she said this when the riotous crew came home. They dragged another young mare with them, but as they were quite drunk they paid no attention to her shrieks and lamentations. They gave her wine to drink, three glasses full - red, white, and yellow. After she had drunk them she fell down dead. The poor Bride hidden behind the cask was terrified; she trembled and shivered, for she saw plainly to what fate she was destined.

One of the stallions noticed a gold ring on the forehoof of the murdered mare, and as he could not pull it off he took an axe and chopped the hoof off; but it sprang up into the air, and fell right in front of the Bride behind the cask. The stallion took a light to look for it, but he could not find it.

One of the others said, “Have you looked behind the big cask?”

But the old mare called out: “Come and eat, and leave the search till tomorrow; the hoof won’t run away.”

The murderer said: “The old mare is right,” and they gave up the search and sat down to supper. But the old mare dropped a sleeping potion into their wine, so they soon lay down, went to sleep, and snored lustily.

When the Bride heard them snoring she came out from behind the cask; but she was obliged to step over the sleepers, as they lay in rows upon the floor. She was dreadfully afraid of touching them, but Celestia helped her, and she got through without mishap. The old mare went with her and opened the door, and they hurried away as quickly as they could from that vile den.

All the ashes had been blown away by the wind, but the peas and lentils had taken root and shot up, and showed them the way in the moonlight.

They walked the whole night, and reached the mill in the morning. The Maiden told her father all that she had been through.

When the day which had been fixed for the wedding came, the Bridegroom appeared, and the Miller invited all his friends and relations. As they sat at the table, each one was asked to tell some story. The Bride was very silent, but when it came to her turn, and the Bridegroom said, “Come, my love, have you nothing to say? Pray tell us something,” she answered:

“I will tell you a dream I have had. I was walking alone in the dark wood, and I came to a solitary house where not a soul was to be seen. A cage was hanging on the wall of one of the rooms, and in it was a bird which cried-”

“Turn back, turn back, thou bonnie Bride,

Nor in this house of death abide.”

“It repeated the same words twice.” She turned to the Bridegroom and appealed “This was only a dream, my love! I walked through all the rooms, but they were all empty and dismal. At last I went down to the cellar, and there sat a very old mare, with a shaking head. I asked her: ‘Does my Bridegroom live here?’ She answered, ‘Alas, you poor child, you are in a murderer’s den! Your Bridegroom indeed lives here, but he will cut you to pieces, cook you, and eat you.’ This was only a dream, my love!”

“Then the old mare hid me behind a cask, and hardly had she done so when the murderers came home, dragging another young mare with them. They gave her three kinds of wine to drink - red, white, and yellow; and after drinking them she fell down dead. My love, I was only dreaming this! Then they took her things off and cut her to pieces. My love, I was only dreaming! One of the murderers saw a gold ring on the filly’s hoof, and as he could not pull it off, he chopped off the hoof; but the hoof bounded into the air, and fell behind the cask in front of me. Here is the hoof with the ring.”

At these words she produced the hoof and showed it to the company.

When the Bridegroom heard these words, he turned as pale as ashes beneath his coat, and tried to escape; but the guests seized him and handed him over to justice. And he and all his band were executed for their crimes.

*Alright, alright, I concede. I don’t believe I remember that tale, where did you find it?*

<Oh, I found it in a small village to the North, around the->

~What is wrong with you two?!~

*What do you mean?*

~That was the most horrible thing I have ever heard in my life! I thought Harry Horseshoe was bad, but this?! This is just, Dear Celestia, it’s just awful! Ponies eating ponies?! Are you serious?! I thought we were trying to tell bedtime stories, not give the poor foals nightmares for the rest of their lives!~

<Hans, calm down. It was only a story.>

*Get a hold of yourself!*

~I...I simply cannot believe you two would write...Something like that.~

*Hold on, don’t most of your stories end in death as well?*

~Death, but not cannibalism!~

<Look, it was just a story. If any of the foals have nightmares tonight, I will be deeply sorry, but you have to consider that not only will their parents be there to comfort them but Princess Luna will as well.>

*I think Hans is going to have the nightmares…*

~I am not, thank you, Wilhelm. I’m just...Astounded that a story like that even exists.~

*Very true. I think a few of our stories have been told since the time of the Three Tribes.*

~Alright, fine. Tomorrow, I’m telling a story and I swear it is not going to be nearly as dark as yours. Besides, I think the snow outside will give the perfect backdrop.~

The Snow Queen

View Online

~Alright, my little ponies, it is time for me to tell you a tale. Believe me, this tale will make anything Wilhelm or Jacob tell you seem like trifles and Old Mare's Tales.~

*Feeling a bit overconfident, aren't we?*

~Does it count as overconfidence if it is true?~

*Well considering you're the only one who knows anything about this story, I think so.*

~Oh hush and let me tell my story. By the way, where's Jacob?~

*Isn't he here?*

~Now why would I ask that if he was here?~

*Fair point. I don't know where he is, he told me this afternoon he had some errands to run but he'd be here before you started.*

~Well he's not here now.~

*Do you think we should wait for him?*

~I'm not going to. If he's late, he's late, and he'll explain himself when he gets here.~

*Oh fine.*

~Anyway, compose yourselves, little foals. Snuggle up in your beds and watch the snowflakes fall outside, for tonight, the Snow Queen may visit you.~

Now we are about to begin, and you must attend; and when we get to the end of the story, you will know more than you do now about a very wicked goblin. He was one of the worst kind; in fact he was a real demon. One day he was in a high state of delight because he had invented a mirror with this peculiarity, that every good and pretty thing reflected in it shrank away to almost nothing. On the other hand, every bad and good-for-nothing thing stood out and looked its worst. The most beautiful landscapes reflected in it looked like boiled spinach, and the best ponies became hideous, or else they were upside down and had no bodies. Their muzzles were distorted beyond recognition, and if they had even one freckle it appeared to spread all over the nose and mouth. The demon thought this immensely amusing. If a good thought passed through anypony's mind, it turned to a grin in the mirror, and this caused real delight to the demon. All the scholars in the demon's school, for he kept a school, reported that a miracle had taken place: now for the first time it had become possible to see what the world and ponykind were really like. They ran about all over with the mirror, till at last there was not a country or a pony which had not been seen in this distorting mirror. They even wanted to fly up to to the sky with it to mock the stars; but the higher they flew, the more it grinned, so much so that they could hardly hold it, and at last it slipped out of their hands and fell to the earth, shivered into hundreds of millions and billions of bits. Even then it did more harm than ever. Some of these bits were not as big as a grain of sand, and these flew about all over the world, getting into ponies' eyes, and, once in, they stuck there, and distorted everything they looked at, or made them see everything that was amiss. Each tiniest grain of glass kept the same power as that possessed by the whole mirror. Some ponies even got a bit of the glass into their hearts, and that was terrible, for the heart became like a lump of ice. Some of the fragments were so big that they were used for window panes, but it was not advisable to look at one's friends through these panes. Other bits were made into spectacles, and it was a bad business when ponies put on these spectacles meaning to be just. The bad demon laughed till he split his sides; it tickled him to see the mischief he had done. But some of these fragments were still left floating about the world, and you shall hear what happened to them.

In a big town crowded with houses and ponies, where there is no room for gardens, ponies have to be content with flowers in pots instead. In one of these towns lived two foals who managed to have something bigger than a flower pot for a garden. They were not brother and sister, but they were just as fond of each other as if they had been. Their parents lived opposite each other in two attic rooms. The roof of one house just touched the roof of the next one, with only a rain-water gutter between them. They each had a little dormer window, and one only had to step over the gutter to get from one house to the other. Each of the parents had a large window-box, in which they grew pot herbs and a little rose-tree. There was one in each box, and they both grew splendidly. Then it occurred to the parents to put the boxes across the gutter, from house to house, and they looked just like two banks of flowers. The pea vines hung down over the edges of the boxes, and the roses threw out long creepers which twined round the windows. It was almost like a green triumphal arch. The boxes were high, and the foals knew they must not climb up on to them, but they were often allowed to have their little stools out under the rose-trees, and there they had delightful games. Of course in the winter there was an end to these amusements. The windows were often covered with frost; then they would warm coppers on the stove and stick them on the frozen panes, where they made lovely peep-holes, as round as possible. Then a bright eye would peep through these holes, one from each window. The little colt's name was Kay, and the little filly's was Gerda.

In the summer they could reach each other with one bound, but in the winter they had to go down all the stairs in one house and up all the stairs in the other, and outside there were snowdrifts.

"Look! the white bees are swarming." said the old grandmother.

'Have they a queen bee, too?' asked the little colt, for he knew that there was a queen among the real bees.

"Yes, indeed they have," said the grandmother. "She flies where the swarm is thickest. She is biggest of them all, and she never remains on the ground. She always flies up again to the sky. Many a winter's night she flies through the streets and peeps in at the windows, and then the ice freezes on the panes into wonderful patterns like flowers."

"Oh yes, we have seen that!" said both foals, and then they knew it was true.

"Can the Snow Queen come in here?" asked the little filly.

"Just let her come," said the colt, "and I will put her on the stove, where she will melt."

But the grandmother smoothed his mane and told him more stories.

In the evening when little Kay was at home and half undressed, he crept up on to the chair by the window, and peeped out of the little hole. A few snow-flakes were falling, and one of these, the biggest, remained on the edge of the window-box. It grew bigger and bigger, till it became the figure of a mare, dressed in the finest white gauze, which appeared to be made of millions of starry flakes. She was delicately lovely, but all ice, glittering, dazzling ice. Still she was alive, her eyes shone like two bright stars, but there was no rest or peace in them. She nodded to the window and waved her hoof. The little colt was frightened and jumped down off the chair, and then he fancied that a big bird flew past the window.

The next day was bright and frosty, and then came the thaw—and after that the spring. The sun shone, green buds began to appear, the swallows built their nests, and ponies began to open their windows. The little foals began to play in their garden on the roof again. The roses were in splendid bloom that summer; the little filly had learnt a song, and there was something in it about roses, and that made her think of her own. She sang it to the little colt, and then he sang it with her—

"Where roses deck the flowery vale,

There, Celestia, we thee hail!"

The foals took each other by the hooves, kissed the roses, and rejoiced in Celestia's bright sunshine, and spoke to it as if the Sun Princess were there. What lovely summer days they were, and how delightful it was to sit out under the fresh rose-trees, which seemed never tired of blooming.

Kay and Gerda were looking at a picture book of birds and animals one day—it had just struck five by the town clock—when Kay said, "Oh, something struck my heart, and I have got something in my eye!"

The little filly put her hooves round his neck, he blinked his eye; there was nothing to be seen.

"I believe it is gone," he said; but it was not gone. It was one of those very grains of glass from the mirror, the magic mirror. You remember that horrid mirror, in which all good and great things reflected in it became small and mean, while the bad things were magnified, and every flaw became very apparent.

Poor Kay! A grain of it had gone straight to his heart, and would soon turn it to a lump of ice. He did not feel it any more, but it was still there.

"Why do you cry?" he asked; "it makes you look ugly; there's nothing the matter with me. How horrid!" he suddenly cried; "there's a worm in that rose, and that one is quite crooked; after all, they are nasty roses, and so are the boxes they are growing in!" He kicked the box and broke off two of the roses.

'What are you doing, Kay?' cried the little filly. When he saw her alarm, he broke off another rose, and then ran in by his own window, and left dear little Gerda alone.

When she next got out the picture book he said it was only fit for babies in their mother's hooves. When his grandmother told them stories he always had a "but—", and if he could manage it, he liked to get behind her chair, put on her spectacles and imitate her. He did it very well and ponies laughed at him. He was soon able to imitate everypony in the street; he could make fun of all their peculiarities and failings. "He will turn out a clever stallion." said ponies. But it was all that bit of glass in his heart, that bit of glass in his eye, and it made
him tease little Gerda who was so devoted to him. He played quite different games now; he seemed to have grown older. One winter's day, when the snow was falling fast, he brought in a big magnifying glass; he held out the end of his blue scarf, and let the snow flakes fall upon it.

"Now look through the glass, Gerda!" he said; every snowflake was magnified, and looked like a lovely flower, or a sharply pointed star.

"Do you see how cleverly they are made?" said Kay. "Much more interesting than looking at real flowers. And there is not a single flaw in them; they are perfect, if only they would not melt."

Shortly after, he appeared in his thick jacket, with his sled on his back. He shouted right into Gerda's ear, "I have got permission to ride my sled in the big square where the other colts play!" and away he went.

In the big square the bolder colts used to tie their little sleds to the farm carts and go a long way in this fashion. They had no end of fun over it. Just in the middle of their games a big sledge came along; it was painted white, and the occupant wore a white fur coat and cap. The sledge drove twice round the square, and Kay quickly tied his sled on behind. Then off they went, faster, and faster, into the next street. The driver turned round and nodded to Kay in the most friendly way, just as if they knew each other. Every time Kay wanted to loose his sled the person nodded again, and Kay stayed where he was, and they drove right out through the town gates. Then the snow began to fall so heavily that the little colt could not see a hoof before him as they rushed along. He undid the cords and tried to get away from the big sledge, but it was no use, his little sled stuck fast, and on they rushed, faster than the wind. He shouted aloud, but nobody heard him, and the sledge tore on through the snow-drifts. Every now and then it gave a bound, as if they were jumping over hedges and ditches. He was very frightened, and he wanted to say his prayers, but he could only remember the multiplication tables.

The snow-flakes grew bigger and bigger, till at last they looked like big white chickens. All at once they sprang on one side, the big sledge stopped and the pony who drove got up, coat and cap smothered in snow. It was a tall and upright mare all shining white, with a long white horn and beautiful feathery wings, the Snow Queen herself.

"We have come along at a good pace," she said; "but it's cold enough to kill one; creep inside my bearskin coat."

She took him into the sledge by her, wrapped him in her furs, and he felt as if he were sinking into a snowdrift.

"Are you still cold?" she asked, and she kissed him on the forehead. Ugh! it was colder than ice, it went to his very heart, which was already more than half ice; he felt as if he were dying, but only for a moment, and then it seemed to have done him good; he no longer felt the cold.

"My sled! don't forget my sled!" He only remembered it now; it was tied to one of the white chickens which flew along behind them. The Snow Queen kissed Kay again, and then he forgot all about little Gerda, Grandmother, and all the others at home

"Now I mustn't kiss you any more," she said, "or I should kiss you to death!"

Kay looked at her, she was so pretty; a cleverer, more beautiful face could hardly be imagined. She did not seem to be made of ice now, as she was outside the window when she waved her hoof to him. In his eyes she was quite perfect, and he was not a bit afraid of her; he told her that he could do mental arithmetic, as far as fractions, and that he knew the number of square miles and the number of inhabitants of the country. She always smiled at him, and he then thought that he surely did not know enough, and he looked up into the wide expanse of heaven, into which they rose higher and higher as she flew with him on a dark cloud, while the storm surged around them, the wind ringing in their ears like well-known old songs.

They flew over woods and lakes, over oceans and islands; the cold wind whistled down below them, the wolves howled, the black crows flew screaming over the sparkling snow, but up above, the moon shone bright and clear—and Kay looked at it all the long, long winter nights; in the day he slept at the Snow Queen's hooves.

But how was little Gerda getting on all this long time since Kay left her? Where could he be? Nobody knew, nobody could say anything about him. All that the other colts knew was that they had seen him tie his little sled to a splendid big one which drove away down the street and out of the town gates. Nobody knew where he was, and many tears were shed; little Gerda cried long and bitterly. At last, ponies said he was dead; he must have fallen into the river which ran close by the town. Oh, what long, dark, winter days those were.

At last the spring came and the sunshine.

<Sorry! Sorry! Please pardon my lateness, I'm here now, all is well!>

*Jacob! You're all out of breath, where were you?*

*Someplace? What are you hiding?*

~Oh never mind that, he interrupted my story!~

*Come now, Jacob, where did you run off to?*

~Can we continue this later?! I've still got to finish my story!~

*Alright, alright. Just out of curiosity, how long is this story? It seems as though we've been here for a while.*

~It's...Got a lot of story, is that a crime?~

~It has seven parts.~

<*Seven?!*>

~What? I was in a mood when I wrote it.~

*...*

~Oh be quiet and let me finish.~

At last the spring came and the sunshine.

"Kay is dead and gone." said little Gerda.

"I don't believe it." said the sunshine.

"He is dead and gone." she said to the swallows.

"We don't believe it." said the swallows; and at last little Gerda did
not believe it either.

*We're going to be here till Hearth's Warming.*

<Indeed.>

~Quiet!~

"I will put on my new red boots," she said one morning; "those Kay never saw; and then I will go down to the river and ask it about him!"

It was very early in the morning; she kissed the old grandmother, who was still asleep, put on the red boots, and went quite alone, out by the gate to the river.

"Is it true that you have taken my little playfellow? I will give you my red boots if you will bring him back to me again."

She thought the little ripples nodded in such a curious way, so she took off her red boots, her most cherished possessions, and threw all four into the river. They fell close by the shore, and were carried straight back to her by the little wavelets; it seemed as if the river would not accept her offering, as it had not taken little Kay.

She only thought she had not thrown them far enough; so she climbed into a boat which lay among the rushes, then she went right out to the further end of it, and threw the boots into the water again. But the boat was loose, and her movements started it off, and it floated away from the shore: she felt it moving and tried to get out, but before she reached the other end the boat was more than a yard from the shore, and was floating away quite quickly.

Little Gerda was terribly frightened, and began to cry, but nobody heard her except the sparrows, and they could not carry her ashore, but they flew alongside twittering, as if to cheer her, "We are here, we are here." The boat floated rapidly away with the current; little Gerda sat quite still with only her stockings on; her little red boots floated behind, but they could not catch up the boat, which drifted away faster and faster.

The banks on both sides were very pretty with beautiful flowers, fine old trees, and slopes dotted with sheep and cattle, but not a single pony.

"Perhaps the river is taking me to little Kay," thought Gerda, and that cheered her; she sat up and looked at the beautiful green banks for hours.

Then they came to a big cherry garden; there was a little house in it, with curious blue and red windows, it had a thatched roof, and two wooden soldiers stood outside, who presented arms as she sailed past. Gerda called out to them; she thought they were alive, but of course they did not answer; she was quite close to them, for the current drove the boat close to the bank. Gerda called out again, louder than before, and then an old, old unicorn mare came out of the house; she was leaning upon a big, hooked stick, and she wore a big sun hat, which was covered with beautiful painted flowers.

"You poor little filly," said the old mare, "how ever were you driven out on this big, strong river into the wide, wide world alone?" Then she walked right into the water, and caught hold of the boat with her hooked stick; she drew it ashore, and lifted little Gerda out with her magic.

Gerda was delighted to be on dry land again, but she was a little bit frightened of the strange old mare.

"Come, tell me who you are, and how you got here." said she.

When Gerda had told her the whole story and asked her if she had seen Kay, the mare said she had not seen him, but that she expected him. Gerda must not be sad, she was to come and taste her cherries and see her flowers, which were more beautiful than any picture-book; each one had a story to tell. Then she took Gerda by the hoof, they went into the little house, and the old mare locked the door.

The windows were very high up, and they were red, blue, and yellow; they threw a very curious light into the room. On the table were quantities of the most delicious cherries, of which Gerda had leave to eat as many as ever she liked. While she was eating, the old mare combed her mane with a golden comb, so that the hair curled, and shone like gold round the pretty little face, which was as sweet as a rose.

"I have long wanted a little filly like you!" said the old mare. "You will see how well we shall get on together." While she combed her mane Gerda had forgotten all about Kay, for the old mare was learned in the magic art; but she was not a bad unicorn witch, she only cast spells over ponies for a little amusement, and she wanted to keep Gerda. She therefore went into the garden and waved her hooked stick and horn over all the rose-bushes, and however beautifully they were flowering, all sank down into the rich black earth without leaving a trace behind them. The old mare was afraid that if Gerda saw the roses she would be reminded of Kay, and would want to run away. Then she took Gerda into the flower garden. What a delicious scent there was! and every imaginable flower for every season was in that lovely garden; no picture-book could be brighter or more beautiful. Gerda jumped for joy and played till the sun went down behind the tall cherry trees. Then she was put into a lovely bed with rose-colored silken coverings stuffed with violets; she slept and dreamed as lovely dreams as any queen on her wedding day.

The next day she played with the flowers in the garden again—and many days passed in the same way. Gerda knew every flower, but however many there were, she always thought there was one missing, but which it was she did not know.

One day she was sitting looking at the old mare's sun hat with its painted flowers, and the very prettiest one of them all was a rose. The old mare had forgotten her hat when she charmed the others away. This is the consequence of being absent-minded.

"What!" said Gerda, "are there no roses here?" and she sprang in among the flower-beds and sought, but in vain! Her hot tears fell on the very places where the roses used to be; when the warm drops moistened the earth the rose-trees shot up again, just as full of bloom as when they sank. Gerda embraced the roses and kissed them, and then she thought of the lovely roses at home, and this brought the thought of little Kay.

*Agh! I can't take it!*

<Wilhelm! What is it?>

~Why are you interrupting me now?!~

*Because this is the longest story I have ever heard! We are doing this to tell bedtime stories to foals, not novels! Seriously Hans, what is this nonsense?*

~Nonsense?! This is one of my best works!~

*And it is taking forever! Do you see what time it is?!*

~Oh...I suppose I did lose track of time...~

<Hans, I have to agree with Wilhelm, the length of this story is a bit ridiculous.>

~Well what do you expect me to do? I'm already halfway through.~

*I think that would be best.*

~Oh alright. Don't worry little foals, you will hear all about little Gerda and Kay on my next turn.~

*Oh! I nearly forgot! Why were you so late, Jacob?*

<Fine, if you must know, I was having dinner with somepony.>

~Who?~

*Oh come now, be a sport!*

~Yes, tell us. We're all friends here.~

<Fine! I was having dinner with my marefriend. Happy?>

~...~

*...*

~*WHAT?!*~