But it was no use, neither words nor blows would get the secret out of the boy; and when her arm was quite tired and she had to leave off, the child, sore and aching, ran into the garden and knelt weeping beside his little sword. It was working round and round in its hole all by itself, and if anyone except the boy had tried to catch hold of it, he would have been badly cut. But the moment he stretched out his hand it stopped and slid quietly into the scabbard. For a long time the child sat sobbing, and the noise was heard by the king as he was driving by. “Go and see who it is that is crying so,” said he to one of his servants, and the man went. In a few minutes he returned saying: “Your Majesty, it is a little boy who is kneeling there sobbing because his mother has beaten him.” “Bring him to me at once,” commanded the monarch, “and tell him that it is the king who sends for him, and that he has never cried in all his life and cannot bear anyone else to do so.” On receiving this message the boy dried his tears and went with the servant to the royal carriage. “Will you be my son?” asked the king. “Yes, if my mother will let me,” answered the boy. And the king bade the servant go back to the mother and say that if she would give her boy to him, he should live in the palace and marry his prettiest daughter as soon as he was a man. The widow’s anger now turned into joy, and she came running to the splendid coach and kissed the king’s hand. “I hope you will be more obedient to his Majesty than you were to me,” she said; and the boy shrank away half-frightened. But when she had gone back to her cottage, he asked the king if he might fetch something that he had left in the garden, and when he was given permission, he pulled up his little sword, which he slid into the scabbard. Then he climbed into the coach and was driven away. After they had gone some distance the king said: “Why were you crying so bitterly in the garden just now?” “Because my mother had been beating me,” replied the boy. “And what did she do that for?” asked the king again. “Because I would not tell her my dream.” “And why wouldn’t you tell it to her?” “Because I will never tell it to anyone till it comes true,” answered the boy. “And won’t you tell it to me either?” asked the king in surprise. “No, not even to you, your Majesty,” replied he. “Oh, I am sure you will when we get home,” said the king smiling, and he talked to him about other things till they came to the palace. “I have brought you such a nice present,” he said to his daughters, and as the boy was very pretty they were delighted to have him and gave him all their best toys. “You must not spoil him,” observed the king one day, when he had been watching them playing together. He has a secret which he won’t tell to anyone.” “He will tell me,” answered the eldest princess; but the boy only shook his head. “He will tell me,” said the second girl. “Not I,” replied the boy.