to see all the pieces unite with each other. He breathes on them--but nothing happens! He gives another puff--worse than ever! See, the Pope flings the pieces back again into the water, washes and washes, rinses and rinses, and again puts them together bit by bit. Again he breathes on them--but still nothing comes of it. "Woe is me," thinks the Pope; "here's a mess!" Next morning the King arrives and looks--the doctor has had no success at all--he's only messed the dead body all over with muck! The King ordered the doctor off to the gallows. Then our Pope besought him, crying-- "O King! O free to do thy will! Spare me for a little time! I will run for the old man, he will cure the Princess." The Pope ran off in search of the old man. He found the old man, and cried: "Old man! I am guilty, wretch that I am! The Devil got hold of me. I wanted to cure the King's daughter all by myself, but I couldn't. Now they're going to hang me. Do help me!" The old man returned with the Pope. The Pope was taken to the gallows. Says the old man to the Pope: "Pope! who ate my loaves?" "Not I, on my word! So help me Heaven, not I!" The Pope was hoisted on to the second step. Says the old man to the Pope: "Pope! who ate my loaves?" "Not I, on my word! So help me Heaven, not I!" He mounted the third step--and again it was "Not I!" And now his head was actually in the noose--but it's "Not I!" all the same. Well, there was nothing to be done! Says the old man to the King: "O King! O free to do thy will! Permit me to cure the Princess. And if I do not cure her, order another noose to be got ready. A noose for me, and a noose for the Pope!" Well, the old man put the pieces of the Princess's body together, bit by bit, and breathed on them--and the Princess stood up alive and well. The King recompensed them both with silver and gold. "Let's go and divide the money, Pope," said the old man. So they went. They divided the money into three heaps. The Pope looked at them, and said: "How's this? There's only two of us. For whom is this third share?" "That," says the old man, "is for him who ate my loaves." "I ate them, old man," cries the Pope; "I did really, so help me Heaven!" "Then the money is yours," says the old man. "Take my share too. And now go and serve in your parish faithfully; don't be greedy, and don't go hitting Nicholas over the shoulders with the keys." Thus spake the old man, and straightway disappeared.