The Princess was walking out with her ladies-in-waiting, and when she heard the melody, she stopped short, and looked pleased, for she could play "Ach du lieber Augustin" herself; it was the only tune she knew, and that she played with one finger. "Why, that is the tune I play," she said. "What a cultivated Swineherd he must be. Go down and ask him how much his instrument costs." So one of the ladies-in-waiting was obliged to go down, but she put on pattens first. "How much do you want for your pipkin?" asked the Lady-in-waiting. "I will have ten kisses from the Princess," said the Swineherd. "Good gracious!" said the Lady-in-waiting. "I will not take less," said the Swineherd. "Well, what did he say?" asked the Princess. "I really cannot tell you," said the Lady-in-waiting. "It is too dreadful." "Then you must whisper it," said the Princess. So she whispered it. "He is very rude," said the Princess, and she walked away. But she had gone only a few steps when the bells sounded so sweetly: "Ach du lieber Augustin Alles ist weg, weg, weg!" "Listen," said the Princess, "ask him whether he will have his kisses from my Ladies-in-waiting." "No, thank you," said the Swineherd. "I will have ten kisses from the Princess, or, I will keep my pipkin." "How tiresome!" said the Princess; "but you must stand round me, so that nobody shall see." So the ladies-in-waiting stood round her and they spread out their skirts. The Swineherd got the kisses, and she got the pipkin. How delighted she was. All the evening and the whole of the next day, that pot was made to boil. And you might have known what everybody was cooking on every hearth in town, from the Chamberlain's to the shoemaker's. The court ladies danced and clapped their hands. "We know who is to have fruit-soup and pancakes, and we know who is going to have porridge, and cutlets. How very interesting it is!" "Most interesting, indeed," said the first Lady-of-Honor. "Yes, but hold your tongues, for I am the Emperor's daughter." "Of course we will," they cried in one breath. The Swineherd, or the Prince, nobody knew that he was not a real Swineherd, did not let the day pass without doing something, and he made a rattle which could play all the waltzes, and the polkas and the hop-dances which had been know since the creation of the world. "But this is _superbe_!" said the Princess, who was just passing: "I have never heard more beautiful composition. Go and as him what the instrument costs. But I will give no more kisses." "He insists on a hundred kisses from the Princess," said the ladies- in-waiting who had been down to ask.