They fell in behind him, and he led them straight to their house by the same path which they had taken to the forest. At first they dared not go in, but placed themselves against the door, where they could hear everything their father and mother were saying. Now the wood-cutter and his wife had no sooner reached home than the lord of the manor sent them a sum of ten crowns which had been owing from him for a long time, and of which they had given up hope. This put new life into them, for the poor creatures were dying of hunger. The wood-cutter sent his wife off to the butcher at once, and as it was such a long time since they had had anything to eat, she bought three times as much meat as a supper for two required. When they found themselves once more at table, the wood-cutter's wife began to lament. 'Alas! where are our poor children now?' she said; 'they could make a good meal off what we have over. Mind you, William, it was you who wished to lose them: I declared over and over again that we should repent it. What are they doing now in that forest? Merciful heavens, perhaps the wolves have already eaten them! A monster you must be to lose your children in this way!' [Illustration: '_A good dame opened the door_'] At last the wood-cutter lost patience, for she repeated more than twenty times that he would repent it, and that she had told him so. He threatened to beat her if she did not hold her tongue. It was not that the wood-cutter was less grieved than his wife, but she browbeat him, and he was of the same opinion as many other people, who like a woman to have the knack of saying the right thing, but not the trick of being always in the right. 'Alas!' cried the wood-cutter's wife, bursting into tears, 'where are now my children, my poor children?' She said it once so loud that the children at the door heard it plainly. Together they all called out: 'Here we are! Here we are!' She rushed to open the door for them, and exclaimed, as she embraced them: 'How glad I am to see you again, dear children! You must be very tired and very hungry. And you, Peterkin, how muddy you are--come and let me wash you!' This Peterkin was her eldest son. She loved him more than all the others because he was inclined to be red-headed, and she herself was rather red. They sat down at the table and ate with an appetite which it did their parents good to see. They all talked at once, as they recounted the fears they had felt in the forest.