The servants sat by the chamber-door and heard her weeping the whole night through, and in the morning informed their lord of it. And on the third evening, when she had washed up, she opened the third nut, and within it was a still more beautiful dress which was stiff with pure gold. When the Bride saw that, she wanted to have it, but the maiden gave it up only on condition that she might for the third time sleep in the Bridegroom’s apartment. The King’s Son was, However, on his guard, and threw the sleeping-draught away. Now, therefore, when she began to weep and to cry, “Dearest Love, I set you free when you were in the Iron Stove in the terrible wild forest,” the King’s Son leapt up and said, “You are the true one, you are mine, and I am yours.” Thereupon, while it was still night, he got into a carriage with her, and they took away the false Bride’s clothes so that she could not get up. When they came to the great lake, they sailed across it, and when they reached the three sharp-cutting swords they seated themselves on the plough-wheel, and when they got to the Glass Mountain they thrust the three needles in it. And so at length they reached the little old house. But when they went inside that, it was a great castle, and the Toads were all disenchanted, and were King’s children, and full of happiness. Then the wedding was celebrated, and the King’s Son and the Princess remained in the castle, which was much larger than the castles of their fathers. But, as the old King grieved at being left alone, they fetched him away, and brought him to live with them. And they had two Kingdoms, and lived together happily ever afterward. _A Mouse did run,_ _The story’s done!_ [Illustration] SWEET PORRIDGE There was a poor, good little girl, who lived alone with her mother, and they had nothing more to eat. So the child went into the forest, and an Old Woman met her, who knew of her sorrow, and gave her a Little Pot, which, when she said: “_Boil, Little Pot, boil!_” would cook good sweet Porridge. And when she said: “_Stop, Little Pot, stop!_” it ceased to cook. The little girl took the Pot home to her mother. And now they were freed from their poverty and hunger, and ate sweet Porridge as often as they liked. Once on a time, when the little girl had gone out, the mother said: “_Boil, Little Pot, boil!_” And it began to cook, and she ate till she was satisfied. Then she wanted the Pot to stop cooking, but did not know the word. So it went on cooking, and the Porridge rose over the edge. And still it cooked on till the kitchen, and the whole house was full, and then the next house, and then the whole street, just as if it wanted to satisfy the hunger of the whole world. And there was the greatest trouble, and no one knew how to stop it. At last, when only a single house was left, the child came home and just said: “_Stop, Little Pot, stop!_” and it stopped cooking.