“Very well, I will accompany them,” replied the king; and he ordered his courtiers and attendants to get ready, and the best horses in his stable to be brought out for himself, Count Piro and the princess. So they all set out, and rode across the plain, the little fox running before them. He stopped at the sight of a great flock of sheep, which was feeding peacefully on the rich grass. “To whom do these sheep belong?” asked he of the shepherd. “To an ogre,” replied the shepherd. “Hush,” said the fox in a mysterious manner. “Do you see that crowd of armed men riding along? If you were to tell them that those sheep belonged to an ogre, they would kill them, and then the ogre would kill you! If they ask, just say the sheep belong to Count Piro; it will be better for everybody.” And the fox ran hastily on, as he did not wish to be seen talking to the shepherd. Very soon the king came up. “What beautiful sheep!” he said, drawing up his horse. “I have none so fine in my pastures. Whose are they?” “Count Piro’s,” answered the shepherd, who did not know the king. “Well, he must be a very rich man,” thought the king to himself, and rejoiced that he had such a wealthy son-in-law. Meanwhile the fox had met with a huge herd of pigs, snuffling about the roots of some trees. “To whom do these pigs belong?” he asked of the swineherd. “To an ogre,” replied he. “Hush!” whispered the fox, though nobody could hear him; “do you see that troop of armed men riding towards us? If you tell them that the pigs belong to the ogre they will kill them, and then the ogre will kill you! If they ask, just say that the pigs belong to Count Piro; it will be better for everybody.” And he ran hastily on. Soon after the king rode up. “What fine pigs!” he said, reining in his horse. “They are fatter than any I have got on my farms. Whose are they?” “Count Piro’s,” answered the swineherd, who did not know the king; and again the king felt he was lucky to have such a rich son-in-law. This time the fox ran faster than before, and in a flowery meadow he found a troop of horses feeding. “Whose horses are these?” he asked of the man who was watching them. “An ogre’s,” replied he. “Hush!” whispered the fox, “do you see that crowd of armed men coming towards us? If you tell them the horses belong to an ogre they will drive them off, and then the ogre will kill you! If they ask, just say they are Count Piro’s; it will be better for everybody.” And he ran on again. In a few minutes the king rode up. “Oh, what lovely creatures! how I wish they were mine!” he exclaimed. “Whose are they?” Count Piro’s,” answered the man, who did not know the king; and the king’s heart leapt as he thought that if they belonged to his rich son-in-law they were as good as his. At last the fox came to the castle of the ogre himself. He ran up the steps, with tears falling from his eyes, and crying: “Oh, you poor, poor people, what a sad fate is yours!”