There, where he was born, the wild rocks overhung. From the top of the ridge, the firs and birch looked down upon the cottage; the bird cherry strewed its flowers on the roof. And up on the roof grazed Ovind's little goat; they kept him there that he mightn't stray, and Ovind gathered leaves and grass for him. One fine morning the goat leapt down, and skipped among the rocks, away where he had never been before. When Ovind came out in the afternoon, the goat was gone. He thought at once of a fox, and grew hot and listened--"Billy, Billy, Billy, Bil-ly goat!" "Ba-a-a!" he answered up from the ridge, laid his head to one side, and looked down. By the side of the goat sat a little girl. "Is the goat yours?" said she. Ovind stood with open eyes and mouth, and stuck both his hands in his pocket. "Who are you?" said he. "I am Marit, my mother's pet, my father's darling, the fairy in the house, granddaughter to Ole Nordistuen at Heidegaard, four years old in Autumn, two days after the frosty nights!" "Oh! are you that!" said he, as he drew a long breath, for he had not stirred while she spoke. "Is the goat yours?" said the little girl again. "Why, yes," said he, and looked up. "I have taken such a fancy to this goat;--you won't give it to me?" "No, that I won't." She twisted herself, looked down upon him, and said: "But if I give you a butter biscuit, can I get the goat?" Ovind was of poor folk, he had only eaten butter biscuit once in his life, that was when his grandfather came, and the like he had never tasted before or since. "Let me first see the biscuit," said he. She held up a large one--"Here it is!"--and tossed it down. "Oh! it's broken!" said the boy, and he carefully gathered up every crumb;--the smallest bit he must taste, and it was so good that he must take just another, and another, till before he knew it, the whole biscuit was gone. "Now the goat is mine," said the little girl. The boy stopped with the last bit in his mouth. The girl sat and smiled, the goat standing by her side, with his white breast and dark brown shaggy hair. "Couldn't you wait for a while?" begged the boy, and his heart began to beat. Then the little girl laughed the more, and rose up on her knees. "No--the goat is mine," said she, and threw her arm round his neck, untied her garter, and bound it round. Ovind looked on. She rose and began to pull at the goat, but he wouldn't go, and stretched his neck over towards Ovind. "Baa-a," said he. She took hold of him by the hair with one hand, and drawing the cord in with the other, said coaxingly,--"Come now, goaty, come, you shall come to the kitchen and I'll give you nice milk and bread,"--then she sang: