Prevod
Once upon a time there was a king’s daughter who was so proud and haughty that no suitor was good enough for her. She made fools of them all and sent them packing one after another. Yet proud as she was, suitors kept coming to the palace, for she was beautiful, the wicked little troll. Now one day a prince came to woo her in his turn, and his name was Haaken Borkenskjæg.
But on the very first night he was there, she told the court jester to cut the ears off one of his horses and slit the other’s mouth right back to its ears. When the prince was about to drive away the next day, the princess stood on the gallery, watching. “Well, I never saw the like!” she said. “The sharp north wind that blows here has carried off one horse’s ears, and the other has stood grinning at it till its mouth has split right back to its own ears.” With that she burst out laughing, flew indoors, and left him to drive away. He went home, but he thought to himself that he would pay her back yet. He put on a great beard of lichen, pulled on a loose leather coat, and disguised himself as an ordinary beggar. But from a goldsmith he bought a golden spinning wheel, and off he went. One morning he sat down beneath the princess’s window and began filing and working away at the golden wheel, for it was not quite finished, and it had no uprights either. When the princess came to her window that morning, she opened it, called down to him, and asked whether he would sell his golden spinning wheel. “No, it is not for sale,” said Haaken Borkenskjæg. “But all the same, if you let me sleep outside your chamber door tonight, you shall have it.” The princess thought that a fine bargain; surely there could be no harm in it. She took the wheel, and that evening Haaken Borkenskjæg lay down outside her chamber door. But as the night wore on, he began to feel terribly cold. “Brr-r-r-r, it’s so dreadfully cold that—let me in!” he said. “I do believe you’ve lost your wits,” said the princess. “Oh, brr-r-r-r, it’s so cold! Only let me in!” said Haaken Borkenskjæg.
“Hush, hush! Be quiet!” said the princess. “If Father hears there’s a man here, I shall be utterly ruined!” “Oh, brr-r-r-r, I’m freezing to death! Only let me come in and lie on the floor!” said Haaken Borkenskjæg. Well, there was nothing else for it: she had to let him in, and once inside he lay down on the floor and slept soundly enough.
Some time later Haaken came back with the uprights for the spinning wheel, and once again he sat down beneath the princess’s window and began filing them, for they were not quite finished.
When she heard him filing, she opened the window, spoke to him, and asked what he had there. “Oh, these are the uprights for the spinning wheel the princess bought. I thought to myself that, since she wanted a wheel, she might need the uprights too.” “And what do you want for them?” asked the princess.
They were not for sale either; but if he might sleep on the floor in the princess’s chamber that night, she could have them. Yes, he might do that, but she begged him to keep quiet and not start shivering and saying brr-r-r.
Haaken Borkenskjæg promised readily enough, but as the night wore on he began to shudder and shiver and make such a fuss, and then he asked whether he might lie on the floor beside the princess’s bed. There was nothing else for it: she had to let him, unless she wanted the king to hear. So Haaken Borkenskjæg lay down on the floor beside the princess’s bed and slept very well indeed.
A good while passed before Haaken Borkenskjæg came again, but this time he brought a golden yarn winder, and sat down beneath the princess’s windows one morning to file it. Things went just as before. When the princess heard him, she came to the window, greeted him, and asked what he wanted for the yarn winder. “It is not for sale for money, but if I may lie in your chamber tonight with my head resting on your bedstead, you shall have it,” said Haaken Borkenskjæg. Yes, he might do that, said the princess, so long as he would only keep quiet and make no noise. He promised to do his best; but as the night wore on he began shuddering and shivering till his teeth chattered. “Brr-r-r-r, it’s so cold! Oh, let me get into bed and warm myself a little!” said Haaken Borkenskjæg. “I do believe you’re mad,” said the princess. “Brr-r-r-r!” said Haaken Borkenskjæg. “Oh, let me get into bed! Brr-r-r-r!” “Hush, hush! For God’s sake, be quiet!” said the princess. “If Father hears there’s a man here, I shall be utterly ruined. I’m sure he’ll kill me on the spot.” “Brr-r-r-r, let me into bed!” said Haaken Borkenskjæg, shivering so hard that the whole room shook. There was nothing else for it: she had to let him into bed, and then he slept very well indeed. But some time afterwards the princess had a child, and the king grew so angry and furious that he very nearly put an end to both her and the baby. A little while later Haaken Borkenskjæg came wandering by, seemingly by chance, and sat out in the kitchen like any other poor man.
When the king’s daughter came out and saw him, she said, “Oh, heaven help me, what misery you have brought upon me! My father is beside himself, he’s so furious. Let me go home with you!” “You’re surely too used to fine living to come with me,” said Haaken. “I have nothing but a hut of branches to live in, and how I’m to find food for you I do not know, for I have trouble enough feeding myself.” “I don’t care how you live,” she said. “Only let me come with you, for if I stay here any longer, Father will surely kill me.” So she was allowed to go with the tramp, as she called him, and they walked a long, long way, and she had a hard time of it on the road. When they left that country and entered another kingdom, the princess asked whose it was.
“Oh, it belongs to Haaken Borkenskjæg,” he said. “Does it indeed?” said the princess. “Well, I could have married him, and then I should not have had to go wandering here like a ragged beggar.” And whenever they came to the finest castles and woods and farms, she asked who owned them. “Oh, they belong to Haaken Borkenskjæg,” said the tramp. And the princess walked on, lamenting that she had not married the man who owned so much.
At long last they came to a royal palace. He said he was known there, and thought he could find her work so they would have something to live on. Then he built a hut of branches at the edge of the woods, where he meant to stay.
He himself went to the palace to chop wood and carry water for the cook, or so he said, and when he came home he brought a few scraps of food, but they did not go far.
One day he came home from the palace. “Tomorrow I shall stay at home and mind the child, but you must get ready to go to the palace,” he said, “for the prince said you were to come and help with the baking.” “Me, bake?” said the king’s daughter. “I cannot bake. I’ve never done it.” “Well, you’ll have to go,” said Haaken Borkenskjæg, “since he has said so. If you cannot bake, you can learn. Watch how the others do it, and when you leave, you must steal a few loaves for me.” “I cannot steal,” said the king’s daughter. “You can learn,” said Haaken Borkenskjæg. “You know how short of food we are.
But take good care around the prince, for he has eyes everywhere.” As soon as she had gone, Haaken ran by a shortcut and reached the palace long before her, threw off his rags and his lichen beard, and put on his princely clothes.
The king’s daughter helped with the baking and did as Haaken had told her, stealing enough loaves to fill all her pockets. When she was about to go home that evening, the prince said:
“We know nothing about this wife of Haaken Borkenskjæg’s. We had better see whether she has taken anything with her.” Then he plunged his hands into all her pockets, rummaging and searching, and when he found the loaves he grew angry and made a dreadful scene.
She wept and wailed and said, “The tramp told me to do it, so I had to.” “Well, you deserve to be punished,” said the prince, “but never mind. For the tramp’s sake, you shall be forgiven.” As soon as she had gone, he threw off his princely clothes, pulled on his leather coat, put on his lichen beard, and reached the hut before her. When she arrived, he was busy tending the child.
“Well, you have made me do something I am sorry for,” she said. “That was the first time I ever stole, and it shall certainly be the last.” Then she told him what had happened and what the prince had said.
A few days later Haaken came home to the hut one evening. “Tomorrow I must stay at home and mind the little one,” he said, “for you are to help with the slaughtering and make sausages.” “Me, make sausages?” said the king’s daughter. “I cannot do that.
I have eaten sausages, to be sure, but I have never made them.” Well, Haaken said she must go, since the prince had said so. She must do as she saw the others doing, and then he asked her to steal a few sausages to bring home to him.
“No, I cannot steal,” she said, “for you surely remember what happened last time.” “You can learn to steal,” said Haaken. “There’s no saying it will go wrong every time.” As soon as she had gone, Haaken Borkenskjæg ran along the shortcut, reached the palace long before her, threw off his leather coat and lichen beard, and was standing in the kitchen in his princely clothes when she arrived. The king’s daughter helped with the slaughtering and made sausages, and she did as Haaken had said and stuffed her pockets full. When she was about to go home that evening, the prince said:
“This tramp’s wife was light-fingered last time. We had better see whether she has taken anything with her.” And he began rummaging and searching through all her pockets. When he found the sausages, he grew angry again, made a terrible scene, and threatened to hand her over to the sheriff.
“Oh, God bless you, let me go! The tramp told me to do it,” she said, weeping and wailing. “Well, you deserve to be punished, but for the tramp’s sake you shall be forgiven,” said Haaken Borkenskjæg.
When she had gone, he threw off his princely clothes, pulled on his leather coat, put on his lichen beard, and ran along the shortcut. By the time she came home, he was already there.
She told him what had happened and swore solemnly that this was the last time he would make her do such a thing. Some time later the man had been to the palace again. “Now our prince is to be married,” he said when he came home that evening. “But the bride has fallen ill, so the tailor cannot take her measurements for the wedding dress. The prince wants you to come up to the palace and be measured in her place, for he says you are just her height and build. But once you have been measured, you must not leave. Stay there and watch while the tailor cuts out the dress, then scoop up the largest scraps and bring them home to make me a pointed cap.” “No, I cannot steal,” she said, “and you surely remember what happened last time.” “You can learn,” said Haaken. “There’s no saying it will go wrong this time.” She thought it wrong, but she went and did as he asked. She stood watching while the tailor cut out the dress, scooped up the largest scraps, and put them in her pocket. When she was about to leave, the prince said, “We had better see whether the woman has been light-fingered this time too.” And he began searching all her pockets. When he found the stolen things, he grew angry and began scolding and shouting beyond all measure. She wept and wailed and said:
“Oh, the tramp told me to do it, so I had to.” “Well, you deserve to be punished, but for the tramp’s sake I suppose you must be forgiven,” said Haaken Borkenskjæg. Then things went as they had before: when she came home to the hut, Haaken was there too. “Oh, God help me,” she said. “You will surely be the ruin of me in the end, for you never ask me to do anything but what is wrong. The prince was so angry and furious that he threatened me with both the sheriff and the house of correction.” Some time later Haaken came home to the hut one evening.
“Now the prince wants you to come to the palace and stand in for the bride,” he said, “for his bride is still ill in bed. But he means to hold the wedding, and you are so like her that no one can tell you apart. Tomorrow you must get ready to go to the palace.” “I believe you and the prince have both lost your wits,” she said. “Do you think I look fit to be a bride? No tramp’s wife could look worse than I do.” “Well, the prince has said so, and so you must do it,” said Haaken Borkenskjæg. There was nothing else for it: she had to go. When she reached the palace, they dressed and adorned her so splendidly that no princess could have looked finer. They went to church, and she stood as the bride, and when they came home again there was dancing and merriment at the palace. But just as she was in the midst of a dance with the prince, she caught sight of a glow through the window, and saw that the hut of branches was blazing.
“Oh no, the tramp and the child and the hut!” she cried, nearly fainting. “Here is the tramp, and there is the child, so let the hut go up in smoke!” said Haaken Borkenskjæg. And then she knew him again. Only then did the true merriment and rejoicing begin; but since that day I have neither heard from them nor asked after them.
Izvirnik
Der var engang en Kongsdatter, som var saa stolt og knibsk, at ingen Frier var god nok for hende; alle holdt hun for Nar og gav dem Afsked den Ene efter den Anden. Men endda hun var saa stolt, saa kom der altid Frier til Gaards, for hun var vakker, det lede Trold. Saa var der engang kommen en Kongesøn, som vilde frie til hende igjen, og han hed Haaken Borkenskjæg.
Men den første Nat, han var der, bad hun Hofnarren, at han skulde skjære Ørene af den ene Hesten hans og rispe Kjæften op til Ørene paa den anden. Da Prindsen skulde ud at kjøre den anden Dag, stod Prindsessen i Svalen og saa paa. „Nei nu har jeg da aldrig seet Magen heller,“ sagde hun; „den hvasse Nordensnoen som blæser her, har taget Ørene af den ene Hesten din, og det har den anden staaet og gliset af, saa at Kjæften er gaaet heelt op til Ørene paa den,“ og dermed slog hun hele Latterdøren op, fløi ind og lod ham kjøre sin Vei. Han reiste hjem, men han tænkte ved sig selv, at hun nok skulde have det igjen. Han satte paa sig et stort Skjæg af Lav, trak en vid Skindkjole paa og klædte sig ud som en anden Tigger; men hos en Guldsmed kjøbte
han sig en Guldrok, og dermed gik han afsted og satte sig en Morgen udenfor Vinduet til Kongsdatteren til at file og stelle paa Guldrokken, for den var ikke rigtig færdig, og der var ingen Opstandere paa den heller. Da Kongsdatteren kom til Vinduet om Morgenen, lukkede hun op, raabte paa ham og spurgte om han vilde sælge den Guldrokken sin. „Nei tilfalds er den ikke,“ sagde Haaken Borkenskjæg, „men det er det samme, faaer jeg sove udenfor Kammerdøren din i Nat, saa skal du faae den.“ Ja, det syntes Kongsdatteren var godt Kjøb; det kunde der ikke være nogen Fare i. Hun fik Rokken, og om Kvelden lagde Haaken Borkenskjæg sig udenfor Kammerdøren hendes. Men da det led ud paa Natten, begyndte han at fryse saa. „Hutetutetutetu, det
er saa fælt koldt, at — slip mig ind,“ sagde han. „Jeg mener du er reent forstyrret,“ sagde Prindsessen. „Aa Hutetutetutetu, det er saa koldt, og slip mig bare ind!“ sagde Haaken Borkenskjæg. „Hys, hys! ti stille!“ sagde Prindsessen, „faar Faer høre, det er Mandfolk her, saa bliver jeg rent ulykkelig!“ „Aa Hutetutetutetu, jeg fryser mest ihjel, lad mig bare komme ind og faae ligge paa Gulvet!“ sagde Haaken Borkenskjæg. Ja, det var ikke andet Raad, hun maatte slippe ham ind, og da han var kommen ind, lagde han sig paa Gulvet og sov nok saa godt.
En Stund efter kom Haaken igjen med Opstanderne til Rokken, og saa satte han sig udenfor Vinduet til Kongsdatteren igjen og til at file paa dem, for de vare ikke rigtig færdige. Da hun hørte, han filede, lukkede hun Vinduet op og snakkede til ham og spurgte hvad det var han havde der. „Aa, det er Opstanderne til den Rokken, Prindsessen kjøbte, for jeg tænkte som saa, at siden hun vilde have Rok, saa kunde hun vel behøve Opstandere ogsaa.“ „Hvad skal du have for dem da?“ spurgte Prindsessen.
De vare ikke tilfalds de heller; men hvis han fik Lov at ligge paa Gulvet i Kammeret til Prindsessen om Natten, skulde hun faae dem. Ja, det skulde han faae Lov til, men hun bad ham bare være rolig og ikke give sig til at fryse og sige Hutetu. Haaken Borkenskjæg lovede nok godt, men da det led paa Natten, begyndte han at hukle og fryse og bære sig, og saa bad han om han ikke kunde faa Lov at lægge sig paa Gulvet foran Sengen til Prindsessen. Der var ikke noget andet Raad for det, hun maatte give ham Lov, hvis ikke Kongen skulde faae høre det. Haaken Borkenskjæg lagde sig da paa Gulvet foran Sengen til Prindsessen og sov baade godt og vel.
Saa varede det en god Stund, førend Haaken Borkenskjæg kom igjen, men da havde han med sig en Garnvinde af Guld, og den satte han sig til at file paa udenfor Vinduerne til Prindsessen om Morgenen. Det gik ligeens. Da Prindsessen hørte det, kom hun til Vinduet og hilste paa ham og spurgte hvad han skulde have for den Garnvinden. „Den er ikke tilfalds for Penge, men faaer jeg Lov at ligge i Kammeret dit med Hovedet paa Sengestokken i Nat, saa skal du faae den,“ sagde Haaken Borkenskjæg. Ja, det kunde han nok, naar han bare vilde være rolig og ikke gjøre nogen Støi, sagde Prindsessen, og han lovede, han skulde gjøre sit Bedste; men da det led ud paa Natten, begyndte han at hukle og fryse, saa han hakkede Tænder. „Hutetutetu,
det er saa koldt; aa lad mig faae Lov at komme op i Sengen og varme mig lidt!“ sagde Haaken Borkenskjæg. „Jeg mener, du er gal, jeg,“ sagde Prindsessen. „Hutetutetutetu!“ sagde Haaken Borkenskjæg, „aa lad mig komme op i Sengen, hutetutetutetu!“ „Hys, hys, ti stille for Guds Skyld!“ sagde Prindsessen, faar Fa’er høre der er Mandfolk her, saa bliver jeg reent ulykkelig; jeg troer vist, han tager Livet af mig med det samme.“ „Hutetutetutetu, slip mig op i Sengen!“ sagde Haaken Borkenskjæg og frøs saa hele Stuen rystede. Det var ikke noget Raad for det, hun maatte slippe ham op i Sengen, da sov han baade godt og vel. Men en Stund efter fik Prindsessen et Barn, og Kongen blev saa sindt og gal, at han var nærved at gjøre
Ende paa baade hende og Barnet. Da det led om lidt, kom Haaken Borkenskjæg ranglende did engang som af en Hændelse, og sad ude i Kjøkkenet ligesom en anden Fattigmand. Da Kongsdatteren kom ud og fik se ham, sagde hun: „Aa Gud bære mig, for Ulykke du har voldet mig; Fa’er min er færdig at flyve i Flint, saa vild er han; lad mig følge med hjem til dig!“ „Du er nok for vel vant til at følge med mig,“ sagde Haaken, „jeg har ikke andet end en Barhytte at være i, og hvorledes jeg skal skaffe dig Føde, det veed jeg ikke, for jeg slider ilde nok for at skaffe Føden til mig selv.“ „Ja jeg er lige glad, hvorledes du har det,“ sagde hun, „lad mig bare faae være med dig,
for bliver jeg her længer, tager vist Fa’er Livet af mig.“ Hun fik da Lov til at være med Fanten, som hun kaldte ham, og de gik baade langt og længe, og hun havde det ikke for godt paa Veien. Da de kom ud af det Land og ind i et andet Rige, spurgte Prindsessen, hvem det var, som eiede det. „Aa det er Haaken Borkenskjæg, det,“ sagde han. „Jasaa,“ sagde Prindsessen, „ja, jeg kunde have taget ham, saa kunde jeg have sluppet at gaae her som en Fantefille.“ Og alle de gjildeste Slotte og Skove og Gaarde, de kom til, saa spurgte hun hvem der eiede dem. „Aa det er hans Haaken Borkenskjæg,“ sagde Fanten. Og Prindsessen gik og bar sig ilde, fordi hun ikke havde taget ham, som eiede saa Meget.
Langt om længe kom de til en Kongsgaard; der sagde han, at han var kjendt, og han meente nok, han skulde faae Arbeide til hende der, saa de kunde faae Noget at leve af, og saa byggede han op en Barhytte i Skovbredden, hvor han vilde være. Selv gik han til Kongsgaarden og hug Ved og bar Vand for Kokken, sagde han, og da han kom hjem igjen, havde han med sig nogle Madsmuler, men de rak ikke langt.
Saa var det engang, han kom hjem fra Slottet. „I Morgen skal jeg blive hjemme og passe Barnet, men du faaer lave dig til at gaae til Slottet, du,“ sagde han, „for Prindsen sagde, du skulde komme og være med og bage i Ovnen.“ „Jeg bage?“ sagde Kongsdatteren. „Jeg kan ikke bage, for det har jeg aldrig gjort.“ „Ja du faaer gaae,“ sagde Haaken Borkenskjæg „siden han har sagt det. Kan du ikke bage, saa kan du vel lære; du faaer see efter hvorledes de Andre gjøre for dig, og naar du skal gaae, faaer du stjæle med dig nogle Brød til mig.“ „Stjæle kan jeg ikke,“ sagde Kongsdatteren. „Du kan vel lære,“ sagde Haaken Borkenskjæg, „du veed, det er knapt for Mad.
Men pas dig vel for Prindsen, for han har Øinene med sig overalt.“ Da hun vel var gaaet, løb Haaken en Beenvei, og kom til Slottet længe før hende, og kastede Fillerne og Lavskjægget af sig og trak Prindseklæderne paa. Kongsdatteren var med i Bagningen og gjorde som Haaken havde bedet hende, og stjal alle Lommerne sine fulde med Brød. Da hun saa skulde hjem om Aftenen, sagde Prindsen: „Denne Kjærringen til Haaken Borkenskjæg kjende vi ikke Noget til; det er bedst at see efter, om hun ikke har taget Noget med sig.“ Saa foer han ned i alle Lommerne og grov og visiterte,
og da han fandt Brødene blev han sindt og holdt fælt Huus. Hun græd og bar sig ilde og sagde: „Fanten bad mig om det, saa maatte jeg gjøre det.“ „Ja, det burde have gaaet dig galt,“ sagde Prindsen, „men det er det samme, for Fantens Skyld, skal det være dig tilgivet.“ Da hun vel var gaaet, kastede han Prindseklæderne af, trak paa sig Skindkjolen, satte Lavskjægget paa og var før hende i Barhytten, og da hun kom, holdt han paa at stelle med Barnet.
„Ja du har faaet mig til at gjøre det, jeg har angret,“ sagde hun; „det var den første Gangen jeg har stjaalet og det skal nok blive den sidste.“ Og saa fortalte hun hvorledes det var gaaet og hvad Prindsen havde sagt. Nogle Dage efter kom Haaken hjem i Barhytten en Kveld. „I Morgen faaer jeg blive hjemme og passe Ungen,“ sagde han, „for du skal være med i Slagtningen og lave Pølser.“ „Jeg lave Pølse?“ sagde Kongsdatteren, „det kan jeg ikke.
Jeg har nok spist Pølse, men lavet Pølse har jeg aldrig.“ Ja Haaken sagde, hun maatte gaae, siden Prindsen havde sagt det; hun fik gjøre som hun saa de Andre gjorde, og saa bad han, at hun skulde stjæle med sig nogle Pølser til ham. „Nei stjæle kan jeg ikke,“ sagde hun, „for du husker nok, hvorledes det gik sidst.“ „Du kan lære at stjæle,“ sagde Haaken, „det er ikke sagt at det gaaer galt støt.“ Da hun vel var gaaet, løb Haaken Borkenskjæg Beenstien, kom længe før hende til Slottet, og kastede Skindkjolen og Lavskjægget af sig og stod i Kjøkkenet med Prindseklæderne paa, da hun kom. Kongsdatteren var med i Slagtningen og lavede Pølser, og hun gjorde som Haaken havde sagt, og stoppede Lommerne sine fulde. Da hun skulde
gaae hjem om Aftenen, sagde Prindsen: „Denne Fantekjærringen var jo langfingret sidst, det er nok bedst at see efter om hun ikke har taget Noget med sig,“ og til at lede og visitere i alle Lommerne hendes. Da han fandt Pølserne, blev han sindt igjen og holdt slemt Huus og truede med at han skulde sætte hende hos Lensmanden. „Aa Gud velsigne Jer, lad mig slippe; Fanten bad mig om det,“ sagde hun og græd og bar sig ilde.
„Ja det burde gaae dig galt, men for Fantens Skyld skal det være dig tilgivet,“ sagde Haaken Borkenskjæg. Da hun var gaaet, kastede han Prindseklæderne af sig, trak paa Skindkjolen og satte paa sig Lavskjægget og løb Beenstien, og da hun kom hjem, var han alt kommen hjem i Forveien. Hun fortalte hvorledes det var gaaet, og lovede høit og dyrt, det skulde være sidste Gangen, han fik hende til Sligt. En Stund efter havde Manden været i Kongsgaarden igjen. „Nu skal Prindsen vor have Bryllup,“ sagde han, da han kom hjem om Kvelden; „men Bruden er bleven syg, saa Skrædderen ikke kan faae taget Maal af hende til Bryllupskjolen, og saa vil Prindsen, at du skal komme op til Kongsgaarden og tage Maal af dig
i Stedet for hende, for han siger, du ligner hende i Væxt og Alt. Men naar du er maalt, saa skal du ikke gaae; du kan blive staaende der du, og see paa, mens Skrædderen skjærer til, og sop saa ned de største Stykkerne og tag med dig til en Piklue til mig.“ „Nei stjæle kan jeg ikke,“ sagde hun, „og du husker nok, hvorledes det gik sidst.“ „Du kan nok lære,“ sagde Haaken, „det er ikke sagt, det gaaer galt nu.“ Hun syntes det var galt, men hun gik og gjorde som han bad; hun stod og saa paa, medens Skrædderen skar til, og sopte ned de største Stykkerne og puttede dem i Lommen. Da hun skulde gaae, sagde Prindsen: „vi faae vel see efter om Kjærringen
ikke har været langfingret denne Gangen ogsaa,“ og til at lede i alle Lommerne hendes, og da han fandt Kosterne, blev han sindt og begyndte at skjende og støie, saa det ikke var nogen Maade paa det. Hun græd og bar sig ilde og sagde: „Aa Fanten bad mig om det, saa maatte jeg jo gjøre det.“ „Ja, det burde gaae dig ilde, men for Fantens Skyld faaer det vel være dig tilgivet,“ sagde Haaken Borkenskjæg, og saa gik det som de forrige Gange, da hun kom hjem i Barhytten, var Haaken der ogsaa. „Aa Gud hjælpe mig,“ sagde hun, „jeg bliver nok ulykkelig jeg for din Skyld tilsidst; for du vil ikke have mig til Andet end det, som galt er. Prindsen var saa arg og gal, saa han truede baade med Lensmand og Tugthuus.“ En Stund efter kom Haaken hjem i Barhytten en Kveld.
„Nu vil Prindsen du skal komme til Slottet og staae Brud,“ sagde han, „for Bruden hans er syg og sengeliggende endda; men Bryllup vil han holde, og du er saa lig hende, at Ingen kjende Jer fra hinanden, og i Morgen faaer du lave dig til at gaae til Slottet.“ „Jeg mener I er fra Viddet baade du og Prindsen,“ sagde hun, „synes du jeg seer ud til at staae Brud; der kan jo ingen Fantekjærring see værre ud end jeg.“ „Ja Prindsen sagde det, og saa faaer du gjøre det,“ sagde Haaken Borkenskjæg. Der var ikke noget Raad for det, hun maatte gaae, og da hun kom til Kongsgaarden, blev hun saa pyntet og tilstadset, at ingen Prindsesse kunde være gjildere. De reiste til Kirken, og hun stod Brud, og da de kom hjem igjen var der Dands og Lystighed paa Slottet. Men ret som hun var
midt i Dandsen med Prindsen, fik hun see et Skin igjennem Vinduet, og saa saae hun, at Barhytten stod i lys Lue. „Aa nei, Fanten og Barnet og Barhytten!“ skreg hun og var daanefærdig. „Her er Fanten og der er Barnet, og lad saa Barhytten ryge!“ sagde Haaken Borkenskjæg. Og saa kjendte hun ham igjen. Da blev det først rigtig Lystighed og Glæde, men siden har jeg hverken hørt dem eller spurgt dem.
