“We know who this belongs to, and we will certainly restore it,” said the magpie; “the rest we will keep as some slight remuneration for our trouble.” There were enough jewels to make fifty people rich for life. It _was_ a haul! The youngest brother praised the magpie, and, taking off his shirt, knotted the tails together and filled it up to the neck with precious stones. It was almost light before he got back to his wife and showed her what the magpie’s good sense had accomplished. In a few days the magpie set out for the kingdom of Growgland, scarcely more than a hundred miles away, and demanded to see the King. He found the whole city in a ferment and everyone distracted. The King had grown quite thin, and the head of the police had been sent to prison for being unable to find the thieves. “If your Majesty will start the day after to-morrow,” said the magpie, “and go a day’s journey from the city, you will meet a young man and a girl on horseback carrying a red silk bag. Your Majesty may wring my neck if it does not contain the crown of Growgland.” At this everyone was electrified, and the King, with a great retinue, started and encamped a day’s march off, that the crown of Growgland might be received with all due ceremony. As evening came on the magpie grew a little nervous, for the King had placed a guard over him to do him honour (at least, that was what he said); but the bird knew very well that it was done so that he should not escape if the crown failed to appear. But at last he saw his friends approaching. Being now rich, they rode fine horses and were dressed as befitted great personages. The King sat on the royal throne (which was a folding one, and so had been brought with him), and the youngest brother, having related his story, gave the red silk bag into his hands. Before parting with him His Majesty presented him with a sum of money that, even had he not been rolling in wealth already, would have made him independent for life. After this, the magpie and his friends set out for the town in which they had left the two elder brothers and a few days later dismounted before the inn. The harrow was still in its place, prongs uppermost, and at the window, far above it, two forlorn-looking faces were to be seen. The landlord came out, transported with surprise at the fine appearance of his daughter and the youngest brother. “There,” he said, pointing to the upper window, “are the two knaves who have deceived me, and whom I have kept locked up ever since you left.” At this the imprisoned pair perceived who it was that had arrived. “Here,” they shouted, “here is the great lord come to pay our debts! Did we not assure you that he would come?” And they rained abuse upon the landlord. “Let them out and I will make it good to you,” said the youngest brother.