Hop-o’-My-Thumb then approached the Ogre, softly drew off his boots, and put them on himself. The boots were very long and very large; but, as they were fairy boots, they had the gift of becoming larger or smaller, according to the size of the wearer’s leg. In fact, they fitted Hop-o’-My-Thumb as if they had been made for him. He then went straight to the Ogre’s house, where he found his wife weeping over her daughters. “Your husband,” said Hop-o’-My-Thumb, “is in great danger, for he has been taken by a band of robbers, who will kill him if he does not give them all his gold and silver. Just when they held their knives to his throat he perceived me, and besought me to come and tell you of the state in which he was, and to direct you to give me all that he has, without retaining anything, since otherwise they would slay him without mercy. As time passed, he wished that I should take his seven-league boots, as you see, in order to make haste, and also that you might not think me an impostor.” The good woman, very much frightened, gave him all she had; for this Ogre was a good husband, although he did eat little children. Hop-o’-My-Thumb, being then loaded with all the Ogre’s treasures, returned to his father’s house, where he was welcomed with great joy and where they all lived happily ever after. THE GOOSE-GIRL Anonymous There was once upon a time an old Queen whose husband had been dead for many years, and she had a beautiful daughter. When the princess grew up she was betrothed to a prince who lived at a great distance. When the time came for her to be married, and she had to ,journey forth into the distant kingdom, the aged Queen packed up for her many costly vessels of silver and gold, and trinkets also of gold and silver; and cups and jewels, in short, everything which appertained to a royal dowry, for she loved her child with all her heart. She likewise sent her maid in waiting, who was to ride with her, and hand her over to the bridegroom, and each had a horse for the journey, but the horse of the King’s daughter was called Falada, and could speak. So when the hour of parting had come, the aged mother went into her bedroom, took a small knife and cut her finger with it until it bled, then she held a white handkerchief to it into which she left three drops of blood fall, gave it to her daughter and said: “Dear child, preserve this carefully, it will be of service to you on your way.”