Down he went ever so deep until he reached the bottom, and there he found a great room. The first body whom he saw was a princess as pretty as a ripe apple, but looking, oh, so sad! at being in such a place. The next he saw was the ugly little troll, who sat in the corner and growled like our cat when the dog comes into the kitchen. “So!” says the fiddler, “there you are, are you? Then it is rub-a-dub-dub again.” And this time before the drubbing was stopped it was all over with the troll. And then who was glad but the pretty princess. She flung her arms around the merry little fiddler’s neck, and gave him a right good smacking kiss or two, and that paid a part of the score, I can tell you. Then they sat down and the pretty princess told him all about how the troll had carried her off a year and more ago, and had kept her in this place ever since. After that she took a pure gold ring off of her finger and broke it in two; half of it was for the fiddler and half of it was for her; for they were sweethearts now, and the ring was to be a love-token. Then the fiddler put the princess into the basket, and the two fellows above hauled her up. By and by down came the basket again, and now it was the fiddler’s turn. “Suppose,” says he, “that they are up to some of their tricks!” So he tumbled a great stone into the basket in the place of himself. Sure enough, when the basket was about half-way up, down it came tumbling, for the rogues above had cut the rope, and if the fiddler had been there in the place of the stone, it would have been all over with him. [Illustration: The Fiddler finds y^e Princess in the cavern of the Dwarf.] Then if anybody was ever down in the dumps the fiddler was the fellow. For there he was down in the pit, and he could no more get out of his pickle than a toad out of the cellar window. After he had been there for ever so long a time, he saw a pretty little fiddle that hung back of the cupboard. “Aha!” says he, “there is some butter to the crust after all; and now we will just have a bit of a jig to cheer us up a little.” So down he sat and began to play. And then what do you think happened? Why, up popped a little fellow no higher than your knee and as black as your hat! “What do you want, master?” said he. “So,” said the fiddler, “and is that the tune we play? Well, I should like to get out of this pit, that I should.” No sooner said than done, for he had hardly time to pick up his staff and tuck the fiddle under his arm, when—whisk!—he was up above as quick as a wink. “Hi!” said he, “but this is a pretty fiddle to own and no mistake!” and off he went, right foot foremost.