At last they came to a miserable little hovel, and she said: 'Ah, heavens! what's this house, so mean and small? This wretched little hut's no house at all.' The Musician answered: 'This is my house, and yours; where we are to live together.' The door was so low that she had to stoop to get in. 'Where are the servants?' asked the Princess. 'Servants indeed!' answered the Beggar. 'Whatever you want done, you must do for yourself. Light the fire, and put the kettle on to make my supper. I am very tired.' But the Princess knew nothing about lighting fires or cooking, and to get it done at all, the Beggar had to do it himself. When they had finished their humble fare, they went to bed. But in the morning the Man made her get up very early to do the housework. They lived like this for a few days, till they had eaten up all their store of food. Then the Man said: 'Wife, this won't do any longer; we can't live here without working. You shall make baskets.' So he went out and cut some osiers, and brought them home. She began to weave them, but the hard osiers bruised her tender hands. 'I see that won't do,' said the Beggar. 'You had better spin; perhaps you can manage that.' So she sat down and tried to spin, but the harsh yarn soon cut her delicate fingers and made them bleed. 'Now you see,' said the Man, 'what a good-for-nothing you are. I have made a bad bargain in you. But I will try to start a trade in earthenware. You must sit in the market and offer your goods for sale.' [Illustration: {The Beggar took her by the hand and led her away.}] 'Alas!' she thought, 'if any of the people from my father's kingdom come and see me sitting in the market-place, offering goods for sale, they will scoff at me.' But it was no good. She had to obey, unless she meant to die of hunger. All went well the first time. The people willingly bought her wares because she was so handsome, and they paid what she asked them--nay, some even gave her the money and left her the pots as well. They lived on the gains as long as they lasted, and then the Man laid in a new stock of wares. She took her seat in a corner of the market, set out her crockery about her, and began to cry her wares. Suddenly, a drunken Hussar came galloping up, and rode right in among the pots, breaking them into thousands of bits. She began to cry, and was so frightened that she did not know what to do. 'Oh! what will become of me?' she cried. 'What will my Husband say to me?' She ran home, and told him her misfortune. 'Who would ever think of sitting at the corner of the market with crockery?' he said. 'Stop that crying. I see you are no manner of use for any decent kind of work. I have been to our King's palace, and asked if they do not want a kitchen wench, and they have promised to try you. You will get your victuals free, at any rate.'