[Illustration: Peterkin as a girl combs the Giant’s hair.] Oh, yes! that suited Peterkin; of course he would come in. So in he came, and then he and the giant sat down to supper together. After they had eaten as much as they could the giant laid his head in Peterkin’s lap, and Peterkin combed his hair and combed his hair, until he fell fast asleep and began to snore so that he made the cinders fly up the chimney. Then Peterkin rose up softly and took down the Sword of Light from the wall. After that he went out on tiptoes and mounted the Little Grey Hare, and away they went till the chips flew behind them. By and by the giant opened his eyes and saw that Peterkin was gone, and, what was more, his Sword of Light was gone also. Then what a rage he was in! Off he went after Peterkin and the Little Grey Hare, seven miles at a step. But he was just a little too late, though there was no room to spare between Peterkin and him, and that is the truth. “Is that you, Peterkin?” said he. “Yes; it is I,” said Peterkin. “And have you stolen my Sword of Light?” said the giant. Oh, yes; Peterkin had done that. “And what would you do if you were me and I were you?” said the giant. “I would drink the river dry and follow after,” said Peterkin. “That is good,” said the giant. So he laid himself down and drank and drank and drank, until he drank so much that he burst with a great noise, and there was an end of him! The king was so pleased with the Sword of Light that it seemed as though he could not look at it and talk about it enough. As for Peterkin, he got the princess for his wife, and that pleased him also, you may be sure. The princess was pleased too, for Peterkin was a good, smart, tight bit of a lad, and that is what the girls like. So it was that everybody was pleased except the two elder brothers, who looked as sour as green gooseberries. But now Peterkin was an apple that hung too high for them to reach, and so they had to let him alone. The next day after the wedding, whom should Peterkin come across but the Little Grey Hare. “See, Peterkin,” it said, “I have done much for you; will you do a little for me?” “Yes, indeed, that I will,” said Peterkin. “Then take the Sword of Light and cut off my head and feet,” said the Little Grey Hare. No, no; Peterkin could never do such a thing as that; that would be a pretty way to treat a good friend. But the Little Grey Hare begged and begged and begged, until at last Peterkin did as he asked; he cut off his head and his feet. Then who should stand before him but a handsome young prince, with yellow hair and blue eyes. That was what the Little Grey Hare had been all the time, only the giant had bewitched him. As for Peterkin—well, this is the way of it; the youngest will step ahead of the others sometimes. [Illustration] Three O’clock·