“I will go back now,” said Hulda; “I will go back to Othmar, and tell him I have failed, and ask him to forgive my vanity in thinking I could help him. I will go back at once and tell him all.” And overhead the raven croaked and told her to go quickly, but she did not understand what he said. So again she began to trudge on, holding the snake in her hands and toiling over fields and moors in the way that she knew led to her own little village, though by now her feet were so swollen and her legs so stiff that she almost cried for pain. Presently she came to the village where the cake-maker lived, and as she passed his shop, she saw that he stood at the door and nodded to her as he saw her coming. “Good-day,” he cried; “you are the young wench I saw go past awhile back.” “Yes, I am going home now,” said Hulda. “And have you found your fiddles and horns that turned to men and women?” he asked. “It was a fool’s errand, I fear, you were going on; and what have you got in your hand now?” “It is a snake,” answered Hulda, “and——” “A snake!” screamed the cake-maker. “Lord love the girl, is she mad to go wandering over the country carrying a snake with her? Why, it might kill you, wench! Drop it at once!” “No, indeed, I will not drop it,” said Hulda, “for it seems to me that it is the only thing which may do Othmar good, for at any rate it has killed the girl who stole his voice, and——” At this the man started and called out, “Good Lord, she is clean off her head. Stolen Othmar’s voice! What can the wench mean? Why, girl, that snake might bite you, and you would be dead at once. Why on earth should you carry it because it has killed a girl?” “I am carrying it because the fool told me to do what the raven does,” answered Hulda, “and he has still a worm in his mouth. Look.” At this the man burst out laughing. “Why, what has that to do with you?” he cried; “a raven will often carry a worm for a bit. Drop this snake at once, you silly lass, or, better still, hold it firm while I crush its head with my poker.” And he seized the poker to kill it with. Then Hulda was frightened lest he might steal the snake from her, or kill it by force, and she ran on; but she ran in such haste that she stumbled against the baker who was just coming out from his shop with his basket of loaves on his arm. “Can’t you look where you are going?” he cried in anger, as he picked up the bread which had rolled into the road; and then, seeing it was Hulda, he said:—“Why, who are you running away from, my girl? Are you on the look-out for more fools that you can’t see when an honest man comes along? And whatever have you got there?” “It is only a snake I have found,” said Hulda, when she had asked the man’s pardon, and she tried to hide the snake in her skirt, but the baker seized her arm and made her show it to him.