The landlord stood watching silently from a corner. ‘I could do with a cook like that here at my inn,’ he thought. The joiner and his guests ate and drank and laughed and talked late into the night. But finally they went to bed, and the young man lay down to sleep as well, putting his magic table against the wall. The landlord’s envy kept him awake. He remembered that he had a table which looked exactly the same up in his attic. So very quietly he fetched it, crept in, and swapped it for the magic table.
Next morning, the joiner paid his bill, lifted the table onto his back – never dreaming that it was the wrong one – and set off for his father’s house. He arrived home at midday and his father was overjoyed to see him. ‘Well, well, well, my dear boy,’ he said. ‘What have you learnt?’ ‘Father, I’ve become a joiner.’ ‘That’s a worthwhile trade,’ replied his father, ‘and what have you brought back from your travels?’ ‘Father, I’ve brought the most wonderful thing – a little table.’ The old man examined the table all over and said, ‘Well, you’ve made no work of art here. It’s just a shabby old table.’ ‘But it’s a magic table,’ said the son. ‘When I put it down in front of me and tell it to lay itself, the finest food and wine appear and gladden the heart. Just ask all our friends and relatives over and we’ll give them a real treat. They can eat and drink as much as they want.’
So when all the guests had assembled, he put his little table in the middle of the room and said, ‘Table, be laid!’ But this table did nothing. It stayed just as bare and wooden and still as any other table that doesn’t understand when it’s spoken to. Then the poor joiner realised what had happened at the inn; and he stood there ashamed and embarrassed that everyone would think he was a liar. His relations had a good old laugh at him, but had to go home with empty bellies. His father got out some cloth and went on tailoring, and the son went to work for a master joiner.
The second son had fetched up at a mill and apprenticed himself to the miller. When he’d finished his time, his master said, ‘Because you’ve been such a good worker, I’m going to give you a donkey. He’s very special. He doesn’t pull a cart and he won’t carry sacks of flour either.’ ‘Then what’s the use of him?’ asked the young man. ‘He spits out gold,’ said the miller. ‘If you stand him on a cloth and say “Jobaloo”, this magnificent creature will produce gold coins for you from both ends!’ ‘This is wonderful,’ said the young man. And he thanked his master and set off into the world. If ever he needed gold, he only had to say ‘Jobaloo’ to his donkey. Out would pour a shower of gold coins and he just had to bend down and pick them up. Because his purse was always full of gold, he bought the best of everything. After travelling for a time, he decided to visit his father. He thought, ‘When I turn up with the gold-donkey, he’ll forget his anger and make me welcome.’ On his way home, he stopped at the same inn as his brother. He was leading his donkey, and the landlord was about to take it for him, when he said, ‘Don’t bother yourself, landlord. I’ll take my donkey to the stable myself. I like to know where he is.’ The landlord thought this was strange, and that a man who had to tie up his own donkey wasn’t likely to have much money to spend. But when the young man pulled two gold pieces from his pocket and told him to buy him something good for supper, the landlord opened his eyes wide and hurried away to buy the best food and drink. After dinner, his guest asked him if he owed him anything, and the greedy landlord thought he might as well charge double and asked for two more gold pieces. The boy put his hand in his pocket, but it was empty, so he said, ‘Hang on, landlord, I’ll just go and get some more gold.’ But he took the tablecloth with him.
The landlord couldn’t understand this at all, so he secretly followed the boy. He crept along and discovered that his guest had bolted the stable door. Filled with curiosity he peered in through a gap in the wood. The young man spread the tablecloth under the donkey, called out ‘Jobaloo’, and suddenly the beast began to throw out gold from both ends – showers and showers of it. ‘Well, who would believe it,’ said the landlord, rubbing his eyes in amazement. ‘That’s a quick way to make gold. I could use a moneybag like that.’ The guest paid for his dinner and went to bed; but the landlord sneaked down to the stables overnight, led the gold-donkey away and tied up another donkey in its place.
Early next morning, the boy set off, thinking he still had his own gold-donkey. He arrived home at midday and his father gave him a warm welcome. ‘Well, well, well, my boy, and what have you become?’ ‘I am a miller, Father.’ ‘And what have you brought back with you from your travels?’ ‘Just a donkey.’ ‘We’re all right for donkeys around here,’ said the father. ‘It would have been better if you’d brought a decent goat.’ ‘But this is no ordinary donkey, Father, it’s a gold-donkey. When I say “Jobaloo”, this wonderful creature drops down a whole tablecloth of gold coins. Ask all our friends and relatives round and I’ll make every one of them rich.’ ‘That’ll do me,’ said the tailor. ‘I won’t need to work my old fingers to the bone with this needle any more.’ And he ran round himself and invited all their relations.
As soon as everyone was there, the son asked them to make a space, spread out a cloth and led in the donkey. ‘Watch this, everybody!’ he said proudly, and called out ‘Jobaloo!’ But what landed on the white cloth was certainly not gold, and it was obvious that this donkey could pump out no more than any other old donkey. The poor young miller was mortified. He knew that he’d been tricked and just had to apologise to his relatives, who trudged home as poor as they’d always been. So the old man had to take up his needle again and the boy had to get a job with a miller.
The youngest son had apprenticed himself to a turner, and because this is such a skilled trade, he took longest to learn it. His brothers wrote him a letter, telling him of their bad luck and how the villainous landlord had stolen their magic gifts on the night before they got home. When the young turner had completed his time and was setting out to travel, his master rewarded him for his fine, honest work with a sack. ‘It’s got a cudgel inside,’ he said. ‘Well, I can sling the sack over my shoulder and make good use of it,’ said the boy, ‘but the cudgel will just make it heavy to carry. What use is it?’ ‘Plenty of use,’ said his master. ‘If anyone ever does you any harm at all, just say “Cudgel, out of the sack!” and the cudgel will jump out at whoever’s there and dance so madly on their backs that they won’t be able to walk for a week. And it won’t stop till you say “Cudgel, back in the sack!”’ The young miller said thank you, chucked the sack over his shoulder, and after that, if anyone gave him any trouble, he’d say ‘Cudgel, out of the sack!’ At once the cudgel would leap out and give their coats or jackets such a fierce dusting – while they were still wearing them – and it beat their backs so fast that before the next man knew what was to do it was his turn already.
Eventually, the boy arrived at the bad landlord’s inn. He put his sack down in front of him on the table, and started to talk about all the miraculous things he’d seen on his travels. ‘Oh yes,’ he yawned, ‘you come across magic tables and gold-donkeys and all that sort of thing – excellent in their way and I’ve nothing against them – but they’re peanuts compared to the treasure I’ve got in my sack here.’ The landlord listened excitedly and wondered what it could be. He thought, ‘Perhaps his sack is filled with jewels. If it is, I should have them as well. Twice is nice, but thrice is nicer.’
At bedtime, his guest lay down on the bench and put his sack under his head for a pillow. When the landlord thought he was sound asleep, he sneaked up and began tugging very gently and slowly at the sack. His sly plan was to pull it out and put another one in its place. Of course, this was exactly what the turner wanted, and just as the landlord was about to give one last tug, he called out, ‘Cudgel, out of the sack!’ Quick as anger, the cudgel was out and giving the landlord a terrible tattooing. The landlord screamed and howled, but the more noise he made, the more the cudgel tap danced on his back, till finally he fell to the ground and stayed there. Then the young man s
aid, ‘Unless you give back the magic table and the gold-donkey, the painful polka will begin again.’ ‘Oh no,’ moaned the landlord – very humbly now – ‘I’ll give you the lot, sir, honestly – just tell that hideous thing to get back in its sack.’ ‘Very well, I shall give you mercy as well as justice,’ said the young man, ‘but just you mind your step in future.’ Then he called out, ‘Cudgel, back in the sack!’ and the cudgel had a rest.
Next morning, the turner went home to his father with the magic table and the gold-donkey. His father was delighted to see him, and asked him what he had learnt. ‘I am a turner, dear Father,’ he said. ‘A very skilful trade,’ said the old tailor. ‘And what have you brought home from your travels?’ ‘Something very valuable, Father. A cudgel in a sack.’ ‘A cudgel?’ scoffed his father. ‘What for? You can hack one off the nearest tree.’ The son smiled. ‘Not one like this, dear Father. When I say, “Cudgel, out of the sack!” the cudgel jumps out and bangs away at anyone who’s giving me trouble. And it doesn’t stop its bruising dance until they beg for mercy. Look, Father, with this cudgel I’ve got back the magic table and the gold-donkey that were stolen from my brothers. So send for both of them and invite all our friends and relations. I’ll fill their bellies with food and drink and their pockets with gold.’ The old tailor still wasn’t sure about this, but he did as his youngest son asked.
When they were all together, the turner put a cloth down on the floor, led in the gold-donkey, and said to his brother, ‘Now, my dear brother, speak to your donkey!’ The miller called out ‘Jobaloo!’ and there and then it began to rain gold coins on the cloth. The donkey didn’t stop till everyone’s pockets were bulging. (I bet you’d have liked to have been there too!) Then the turner fetched the little table and said, ‘Speak to your table, my good brother.’ As soon as the joiner cried ‘Table be laid!’ the table was crowded with every delicious dish and the best wine. Then they had a feast the like of which had never been known in the poor tailor’s house, and the whole family stayed together till late at night, having the most wonderful party. The tailor locked away his needle and thread and yardstick, and lived long and happy and prosperous with his three fine sons.
But what about the wicked goat whose fault it was that the three sons had been thrown out of their home? Listen to this. She was so ashamed of being bald that she ran to a fox-hole and crawled in to hide there. When the fox came home, he saw two huge yellowy eyes gleaming at him in the darkness. He was so scared that he ran away. The bear met him and he looked so terrified that he asked, ‘What’s the matter, brother fox?’ ‘Oh,’ said the fox. ‘There’s a terrible monster squatting in my earth-hole, glowering at me with glowing eyes.’ ‘We’ll soon get rid of it,’ said the bear, and he went with the fox to his hole and peeped in. But when he saw the fiery eyes, he was scared as well, and ran away. The bee met him, and saw that he looked upset and said, ‘Bear, that’s a very worried face you have. What’s the matter?’ ‘Oh, it’s awful,’ said the bear. ‘There’s a savage beast with burning eyes sitting in brother fox’s house and we can’t get it out.’ The bee said, ‘Poor old bear. I know I’m only a little thing that you hardly ever notice, but I think I can help you.’ The bee flew into the fox’s hole, landed on the goat’s bald head and stung her so badly that she leapt up bleating, ‘Beh! Beh! Beh!’ and ran out into the big wide world like a mad creature. And no one knows where she fetched up to this very day.
Little Red-Cap
There was once a delicious little girl who was loved by everyone who saw her, but most of all by her grandmother, who was always wondering what treat to give the sweet child next. Once she sent her a little red cap which suited her so well that she wouldn’t wear anything else and she was known from then on as Little Red-Cap.
One day her mother said, ‘Little Red-Cap, here are some cakes and a bottle of best wine. Take them to Grandmother. She’s been poorly and is still a bit weak and these will do her good. Now, hurry up before it gets too hot. And mind how you go, like a good little girl. And don’t go wandering off the path or you’ll fall over and break the wine bottle – because there will be none left for Grandmother if you do. And when you go into her room, make sure you say “Good morning” nicely, instead of peeping into every corner first!’
Little Red-Cap held her mother’s hand and said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll do everything just as you say.’
Her grandmother lived out in the wood, a half an hour’s walk from the village, and as soon as Little Red-Cap stepped into the wood, a wolf saw her. Because she didn’t know what a wicked animal it was, she wasn’t afraid of it.
‘Good morning, Little Red-Cap,’ it said.
‘Thank you, Wolf.’
‘And where might you be going so early?’
‘To my grandmother’s house.’
‘And what’s that you’re carrying in your apron?’
‘Cakes and wine. We were baking yesterday – and my poor grandmother has been ill, so these will strengthen her.’
‘Where does Grandmother live, Little Red-Cap?’
‘She lives a quarter of an hour’s walk from here, under the three big oak trees. Her house has hazel hedges near it. I’m sure you know it.’
But the wolf was thinking to itself, ‘How young and sweet and tender she is. I could eat her. She’ll make a plumper mouthful for my jaws than the old woman. If I am cunning, though, I can scoff the pair of them!’ So it walked beside Little Red-Cap for a bit, and then said, ‘Look, Little Red-Cap. Open your eyes and see! There are beautiful flowers all around us. And there’s wonderful birdsong that you don’t even listen to. You just plod straight ahead as though you were going to school – and yet the woods are such fun!’
So Little Red-Cap gazed around her and when she saw the sunbeams seeming to wink at her among the trees, and when she saw the tempting flowers leading away from the straight path, she thought, ‘Grandmother will be very pleased if I pick her a bunch of lovely fresh flowers. And it’s still early, so I’ve got plenty of time.’ So she ran from the path, among the trees, gathering her flowers, and she kept seeing prettier and prettier flowers, which led her deeper and deeper into the wood.
But the wily wolf ran fast and straight to the grandmother’s house and knocked on the door.
‘Who’s there?’ called out Grandmother.
‘Only Little Red-Cap, bringing you cake and wine. Open the door.’
‘Lift the latch. I’m too feeble to get up.’
So the wolf lifted the latch and the door flew open and without even a word it leapt onto the old woman’s bed and gobbled her up. Then it pulled her clothes and her nightcap over its wolfy fur, crawled into her bed and closed the curtains.
All this time, Little Red-Cap had been trotting about among the flowers and when she’d picked as many as her arms could hold, she remembered her grandmother and hurried off to her house. She was surprised to see that the door was open and as soon as she stepped inside she felt very strange and said to herself, ‘Oh dear, I always look forward to seeing Grandmother, so why do I feel so nervous today?’
‘Good morning?’ she said, but there was no reply. So she walked over to the bed and drew back the curtains.
Grandmother lay there with her nightcap pulled right down over her face, looking very peculiar indeed.
‘Oh, Grandmother, what big ears you have!’
‘The better to hear you with, my sweet.’
‘Oh, Grandmother, what big eyes you have!’
‘The better to see you with, my love.’
‘Oh, Grandmother, what big hands you have!’
‘The better to touch you with, my precious.’
‘But Grandmother, what a terrible big mouth you have.’
‘The better to eat you.’
And as soon as the words had left its drooling lips, the wolf made one leap from the bed and gobbled up poor Little Red-Cap. When it had had its fill, the wolf dragged itself onto the bed, fell fast asleep and started to snore very loudly. The Huntsman was just
passing the house and thought, ‘How loudly the old woman is snoring. I’d better see if something is wrong.’ So he went into the house and when he reached the bed he saw the wolf spread out in it.
‘So you’ve come here, you old sinner. I’ve wanted to catch you for a long, long time.’ The Huntsman took aim with his gun and was about to shoot when it flashed through his mind that the wolf might have swallowed the grandmother whole and that she might still be saved. So instead of firing, he got a good pair of scissors and began to snip the belly of the sleeping wolf.
After two snips he saw the bright red colour of the little red cap. Two snips, three snips, four snips more and out jumped Little Red-Cap, crying, ‘Oh, how frightened I’ve been! It’s so dark inside the wolf!’ And then out came the grandmother, hardly breathing, but still alive. Little Red-Cap rushed outside and quickly fetched some big stones and they filled the wolf’s belly with them. When the wolf woke up, it tried to run away, but the great stones in its evil gut were too heavy and it dropped down dead.
Faery Tales Page 14
