Well, the whole matter might have ended there; but it so happened that the younger princess had fallen in love with the prince, as he had with her. And as he had no jewels with him, he gave her the copper apple and staff. One day, as the princesses were talking with their father, the younger one asked him whether it might not have been their servant who had helped him so much. The king was quite angry at the idea; but, to satisfy her, he ordered the servant’s room to be searched. And there, to everyone’s surprise, they found the golden ring and the half of the handkerchief. When these were brought to the king he sent for the prince at once and asked if it had been he who had come to their rescue. “Yes, your Majesty, it was I,” answered the prince. “But where did you get your army?” “If you wish to see it, I can show it you outside the city walls.” And so he did; but first he asked for the copper apple from the younger princess, and when all the soldiers were drawn up there were such numbers that there was barely room for them. The king gave him his daughter and kingdom as a reward for his aid, and when he heard that the prince was himself a king’s son his joy knew no bounds. The prince packed all his soldiers carefully up once more, and they went back into the town. Not long after there was a grand wedding; perhaps they may all be alive still, but I don’t know. To Your Good Health! Long, long ago there lived a king who was such a mighty monarch that whenever he sneezed every one in the whole country had to say “To your good health!” Every one said it except the shepherd with the staring eyes, and he would not say it. The king heard of this and was very angry, and sent for the shepherd to appear before him. The shepherd came and stood before the throne, where the king sat looking very grand and powerful. But however grand or powerful he might be the shepherd did not feel a bit afraid of him. “Say at once, ‘To my good health!’” cried the king. “To my good health!” replied the shepherd. “To mine—to mine, you rascal, you vagabond!” stormed the king. “To mine, to mine, your Majesty,” was the answer. “But to mine—to my own,” roared the king, and beat on his breast in a rage. “Well, yes; to mine, of course, to my own,” cried the shepherd, and gently tapped his breast. The king was beside himself with fury and did not know what to do, when the Lord Chamberlain interfered: “Say at once—say this very moment: ‘To your health, your Majesty’; for if you don’t say it you’ll lose your life, whispered he.