Off they all went to the king’s house, and there was the king feeding his chickens; for that was all the work he had upon his hands, and an easy life he led of it. The king looked at Peterkin, and thought that he had never seen such fine clothes. Did they want service? Well, the king thought that he might give it to them. The oldest brother might tend the pigs, the second might look after the cows. But as for Peterkin, he was so spruce and neat that he might stay in the house and open the door when folks knocked. That was what his fine clothes did for him. So Peterkin had the soft feathers in that nest, for he sat in the warm chimney all day, and had the scraping of the pipkins when good things had been cooked. Well, things went quietly enough for a while, but the elder brothers kept up a great buzzing in their heads, I can tell you; for one does not like to see another step in front of one, and that is the truth. So, one day, who should come to the king but the two elder brothers. Perhaps, said they, the king did not know it, but there was a giant over yonder who had a grey goose that laid a golden egg every day of her life. Now Peterkin had said more than once, and over and over again, that he was man enough to get the grey goose for the king whenever the king wanted it. You can guess how this tickled the king’s ears. Off he sent for Peterkin, and Peterkin came. Hui! how Peterkin opened his eyes when he heard what the king wanted. He had never said that he could get the giant’s goose; he vowed and swore that he had not. But it was to no purpose that he talked, the king wanted the grey goose, and Peterkin would have to get it for him. He might have three days for the business, and that was all. Then, if he brought the grey goose, he should have two bags of gold money; if he did not bring it he should pack off to the prison. So Peterkin left the king, and if anybody was down in the mouth in all of the world it was Peterkin. “Perhaps,” said he, “the Little Grey Hare can help me.” So he blew a turn or two on his fingers, and the Little Grey Hare came hopping and skipping up to him. What was Peterkin in the dumps about now? That was what it wanted to know. Why, the king wanted him to get such and such a grey goose from over at the giant’s house, and Peterkin knew no more about it than a red herring in a box; that was the trouble. “Oh, well,” says the Little Grey Hare, “maybe that can be cured; just go to the king and ask for this and that and the other thing, and we will see what can be done about the business.” So off went Peterkin to the king; perhaps he could get the grey goose after all, but he must have three barrels of soft pitch, and a bag of barley-corn, and a pot of good tallow. The king let him have all that he wanted, and then the Little Grey Hare took Peterkin and the three barrels of soft pitch and the bag of barley-corn and the pot of good tallow on its back, and off it went till the wind whistled behind Peterkin’s ears.