‘You shall judge for yourself,’ replied the Elfin-King, and here he called the eldest of his daughters to him. She was transparent and fair as moonlight; she was, in fact, the most delicate of all the sisters; she put a white wand between her lips and vanished: that was her accomplishment. But the mountain Chief said he should not at all like his wife to possess such an accomplishment as this, and he did not think his sons would like it either. The second could walk by the side of herself, just as though she had a shadow, which elves and trolds never have. The accomplishment of the third sister was of quite another kind: she had learned how to brew good ale from the Wise Witch of the Moor, and she also knew how to lard alder-wood with glow-worms. ‘She will make a capital housewife,’ remarked the old mountain Chief. And now advanced the fourth Elfin damsel; she carried a large gold harp, and no sooner had she struck the first chord than all the company lifted their left feet--for elves are left-sided--and when she struck the second chord, they were all compelled to do whatever she wished. ‘A dangerous lady, indeed!’ said the old Trold Chief. Both of his sons now got up and strode out of the mount; they were heartily weary of these accomplishments. ‘And what can the next daughter do?’ asked the mountain Chief. ‘I have learned to love the north,’ replied she, ‘and I have resolved never to marry unless I may go to Norway.’ But the youngest of the sisters whispered to the old man, ‘That is only because she has heard an old Norse rhyme, which says that when the end of the world shall come, the Norwegian rocks shall stand firm amid the ruins; she is very much afraid of death, and therefore she wants to go to Norway.’ ‘Ho, ho!’ cried the mountain Chief, ‘sits the wind in that quarter? But what can the seventh and last do?’ ‘The sixth comes before the seventh,’ said the Elfin-King; for he could count better than to make such a mistake. However, the sixth seemed in no hurry to come forward. ‘I can only tell people the truth,’ said she. ‘Let no one trouble himself about me; I have enough to do to sew my shroud!’ And now came the seventh and last, and what could she do? Why, she could tell fairy tales, as many as any one could wish to hear. ‘Here are my five fingers,’ said the mountain Chief; ‘tell me a story for each finger.’ And the Elfin-maiden took hold of his wrist, and told her stories, and he laughed till his sides ached, and when she came to the finger that wore a gold ring, as though it knew it might be wanted, the mountain Chief suddenly exclaimed, ‘Hold fast what thou hast; the hand is thine! I will have thee myself to wife!’ But the Elfin-maiden said that she had still two more stories to tell, one for the ring-finger, and another for the little finger.