‘Oh, luckless being!’ sighed the girl; ‘how will you ever get through
with it. The white horse, who is our master’s grandmother, is always
hungry: it takes twenty men always mowing to keep it in food for one
day, and another twenty to clean out its stall. How, then, do you expect
to do it all by yourself? But listen to me, and do what I tell you. It
is your only chance. When you have filled the manger as full as it will
hold you must weave a strong plait of the rushes which grow among the
meadow hay, and cut a thick peg of stout wood, and be sure that the
horse sees what you are doing. Then it will ask you what it is for, and
you will say, ‘With this plait I intend to bind up your mouth so that
you cannot eat any more, and with this peg I am going to keep you still
in one spot, so that you cannot scatter your corn and water all over
the place!’ After these words the maiden went away as softly as she had
come.
Early the next morning he set to work. His scythe danced through the
grass much more easily than he had hoped, and soon he had enough to fill
the manger. He put it in the crib, and returned with a second supply,
when to his horror he found the crib empty.
Then he knew that without the maiden’s advice he would certainly have
been lost, and began to put it into practice. He took out the rushes
which had somehow got mixed up with the hay, and plaited them quickly.
‘My son, what are you doing?’ asked the horse wonderingly.
‘Oh, nothing!’ replied he. ‘Just weaving a chin strap to bind your jaws
together, in case you might wish to eat any more!’
The white horse sighed deeply when it heard this, and made up its mind
to be content with what it had eaten.
The youth next began to clean out the stall, and the horse knew it had
found a master; and by mid-day there was still fodder in the manger,
and the place was as clean as a new pin. He had barely finished when in
walked the old man, who stood astonished at the door.
‘Is it really you who have been clever enough to do that?’ he asked. ‘Or
has some one else given you a hint?’
‘Oh, I have had no help,’ replied the prince, ‘except what my poor weak
head could give me.’
The old man frowned, and went away, and the prince rejoiced that
everything had turned out so well.
In the evening his master said, ‘To-morrow I have no special task to set
you, but as the girl has a great deal to do in the house you must milk
the black cow for her. But take care you milk her dry, or it may be the
worse for you.’
‘Well,’ thought the prince as he went away, ‘unless there is some trick
behind, this does not sound very hard. I have never milked a cow before,
but I have good strong fingers.’
He was very sleepy, and was just going toward his room, when the maiden
came to him and asked: ‘What is your task to-morrow?’
‘I am to help you,’ he answered, ‘and have nothing to do all day, except
to milk the black cow dry.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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