"Listen to the ragged fellow!" shouted the people. "He says he is a King's Son! Ha-ha-ha! Stone them! Hit them! A Swineherd! A Goosegirl! Drive them out! Out! Out!" And so the King's Son and the Goosegirl were driven away from the town of Hellabrun, and the angry people returned in disappointment to their homes. Only one little pure-hearted girl lingered at the town gate and gazed with eyes of faith after the fleeing pair. When she could see them no longer, she fell upon the ground and wept and wept. "Why do you cry, little girl?" she was asked. "Oh, that was the King," she sobbed--"the King and his bride." IV During all the long summer days the King's Son and the Goosegirl wandered over hill and dale, through field and forest, far away from the World of Men. And the King's Son shielded the Goosegirl with his love and brought her berries to eat and the skins of wild animals to rest upon, and was gentle, oh, very gentle! And the Goosegirl made the King's Son glad with the sight of her beauty and the sound of her light-hearted laughter. And they were happy with a happiness that surpassed all that they had ever felt or dreamed. But then autumn came. The wind moaned piteously through the trees, driving brown leaves in whirling gusts before their eyes. Winter followed, covering the grim woods with a mantle of shining white. Their clothes were thin. Their feet were bare, and it was cold--bitter, bitter cold. So they wandered on and on, day after day, until at last, faint with hunger, sick with despair, they came, all unknowingly, to the lonely glade between the high mountains where the Witch's hut stood. The hideous Witch was no longer there. Because they believed she had prophesied falsely, the infuriated people of Hellabrun had burned her at the stake. Only the Broom-maker and the Wood-cutter were in the miserable tumble-down hut; while out in the grim forest were the Fiddler and the one pure-hearted little girl, seeking, ever seeking, with eyes of faith for the rightful King and Queen. With steps that faltered, and eyes half closed, the King's Son and the Goosegirl crept into the glade. Tottering feebly, hand in hand, they approached the door of the hut, and knocking, begged for shelter, for food, for drink. The face of the Wood-cutter appeared at the window for a brief moment. Blinded by his distrust, he saw only two beggar children before the door. "Away with you! We have naught to give," he shouted as he slammed the broken shutter. Hopelessly, sadly, the King's Son bore the Goosegirl to the snow-covered mound beneath the linden tree. Whither could he turn to get his loved one food? Ah, foolish, foolish King's Son who would not rule, who could not beg!