Prevod
Once upon a time a man and a woman married, and each had a daughter. The woman’s daughter was lazy and idle and never willing to do a thing, while the man’s daughter was able and willing; yet she could never please her stepmother, and both the woman and her daughter wished to be rid of her. One day the two girls were to sit by the well and spin. The woman’s daughter was to spin flax, but the man’s daughter was given nothing but bristles. “You’re always so clever and so handy,” said the woman’s daughter, “but even so, I’m not afraid to race you at spinning.” So they agreed that the first one whose thread broke should go into the well. Before long the man’s daughter’s thread broke, and into the well she had to go.
But when she reached the bottom, she saw a beautiful green meadow stretching far and wide around her, and she had not hurt herself at all. She walked a little way and came to a brushwood fence, which she had to climb over. “Oh, don’t tread too heavily on me,” said the fence, “and I’ll help you another time.” So she made herself as light as she could and stepped so carefully that she scarcely touched it.
She went a little farther and came to a brindled cow with a milk bowl hanging from her horns. She was a fine, handsome cow, and her udder was full and round. “Oh, please be so kind as to milk me,” said the cow, “for I’m bursting with milk. Drink as much as you like, and pour the rest over my hooves, and I’ll help you in return.”
The man’s daughter did as the cow asked. As soon as she took hold of the teats, the milk spurted into the bowl. Then she drank her fill, poured the rest over the cow’s hooves, and hung the bowl back on her horns.
When she had gone a little farther, she met a great ram whose wool was so long and thick that he dragged it along the ground behind him. From one horn hung a large pair of shears. “Oh, shear me, please,” said the ram, “for here I am panting under all this wool, and it’s so hot I’m almost suffocating.
Take as much as you like, and wind the rest around my neck, and I’ll help you in return.” She was willing at once, and the ram lay down of his own accord in her lap. He lay quite still, and she sheared him so neatly that she did not give his skin so much as a scratch. Then she took as much wool as she wanted and wound the rest around the ram’s neck.
A little farther on she came to an apple tree so laden with apples that all its branches bowed to the ground. Beside the trunk stood a little pole. “Oh, please be so kind as to pick my apples,” said the tree, “so that my branches can straighten again, for it hurts to stand so bent. But do strike gently, so you don’t damage me. Eat as much as you like, and lay the rest at my roots, and I’ll help you in return.” So she picked all she could reach, then took the pole and gently knocked down the other apples. She ate her fill and laid the rest neatly at the roots.
Then she walked a long, long way and came to a large farm where a troll-woman lived with her daughter. She went in and asked whether she might have a place in service. “Oh, there’s no use in that,” said the troll-woman, “for we’ve had plenty of servants, but not one of them was any good.” But the girl begged so prettily that they must please take her on. At last they did, and the troll-woman gave her a sieve and told her to fetch water in it. She thought it strange to fetch water in a sieve, but she went all the same, and when she came to the well, the little birds sang:
“Daub in clay! Tuck in straw! Daub in clay! Tuck in straw!” She did so, and then she could carry water in the sieve well enough. But when she brought the water home and the troll-woman saw the sieve, she said, “You didn’t think that up all by yourself!” Then the troll-woman told her to go to the cowshed to muck out and milk the cows. But when she got there, she found a shovel so big and heavy that she could not manage it; she could not even lift it. She had no idea what to do, but the birds sang that she should take the broom handle and toss out a little, and all the rest would fly out after it. She did so, and no sooner was it done than the cowshed was as clean as if it had been both mucked out and swept. Now she was to milk the cows, but they were so restless, kicking and lashing out, that she could not get near enough to milk them. Then the birds outside sang:
“A little stream, a little sip, for all the birds let some milk drip!” So she did, squirting a little stream of milk out to the birds. Then all the cows stood still and let her milk them, without kicking or lashing out; they did not so much as lift a foot.
When the troll-woman saw her coming in with the milk, she said, “You didn’t think that up all by yourself! But now you can take this black wool and wash it white.” The girl had no idea how to go about this, for she had never known anyone to wash black wool white. Still, she said nothing, but took the wool and went out to the well with it. Then the little birds sang that she should put the wool into the great tub standing there, and it would turn white soon enough.
“No, no,” said the troll-woman when she came in with the wool, “there’s no use keeping you. You can do everything, and in the end you’d vex the life out of me. You’d better be on your way.” Then the troll-woman set out three chests, one red, one green, and one blue, and the girl was to choose whichever she liked as payment for her service. She did not know which to take, but the little birds sang:
“Do not take the green one, do not take the red; take the blue one, with three crosses on its head!” So she took the blue one, as the birds had told her. “A curse on you, then!” said the troll-woman. “You’ll pay for that yet.” As the man’s daughter was leaving, the troll-woman hurled a red-hot iron bar after her, but at that very moment she darted behind the door and hid, so it did not strike her, for the little birds had told her beforehand what to do. She went on as fast as she could, but as she drew near the apple tree, she heard a terrible rumbling along the road. It was the troll-woman and her daughter coming after her. The girl was so frightened that she did not know where to turn. “Come here to me,” said the apple tree, “and I’ll help you. Hide beneath my branches, for if they catch you, they’ll take your chest and tear you to pieces.” She did so, and a moment later the troll-woman and her daughter arrived. “Have you seen a girl pass this way?” asked the troll-woman. “Oh yes,” said the apple tree, “one ran past a while ago, but she’s so far away by now that you’ll never catch her.” So the troll-woman turned round and went home again.
The girl went a little farther, but as she approached the ram, she heard such a dreadful rumbling that she did not know where to turn, she was so frightened; for she knew well enough that the troll-woman had changed her mind.
“Come here to me, and I’ll help you,” said the ram. “Hide under my wool, and they won’t see you. Otherwise they’ll take your chest and tear you to pieces.” A moment later the troll-woman came rushing up. “Have you seen a girl pass this way?” she asked the ram. “Oh yes,” said the ram, “I saw one a while ago, but she was running so fast that you’ll never catch her.” So the troll-woman turned round and went home. When the girl had come as far as the cow, she heard a dreadful rumbling along the road. “Come here to me,” said the cow, “and I’ll help you. Hide beneath my udder, or the troll-woman will come and take your chest and tear you to pieces.” It was not long before she arrived. “Have you seen a girl pass this way?” the troll-woman asked the cow. “Yes, I saw one a while ago, but she’s far away by now, for she was running so fast. You’ll never catch her,” said the cow. Then the troll-woman turned round and went home again.
When the girl had gone a long, long way and was not far from the brushwood fence, she heard such a dreadful rumbling along the road that she grew terribly frightened, for she knew well enough that the troll-woman had changed her mind. “Come here to me, and I’ll help you,” said the fence. “Creep beneath my twigs so they won’t see you, or they’ll take your chest and tear you to pieces.” So she hurried in beneath the twigs of the brushwood fence. “Have you seen a girl pass this way?” the troll-woman asked the fence. “No, I haven’t seen any girl,” answered the fence, rustling with anger. Then it made itself so tall that there was no hope of climbing over it, and the troll-woman had no choice but to turn round and go home again.
When the man’s daughter reached home, the woman and her daughter grew even more envious of her than before, for now she was much prettier, and so splendid that she was a joy to behold. They would not let her stay in the house with them, but drove her out to the pigsty; there she was to live. She scrubbed it clean and tidy, then opened the chest to see what she had been given for her wages. The moment she opened it, out came so much gold and silver and so many beautiful things that both the walls and the roof were hung with them, and the pigsty was far more magnificent than the grandest royal palace. When the stepmother and her daughter saw this, they were quite beside themselves and began asking what her place in service had been like.
“Oh,” she said, “you can judge for yourselves, since I’ve been paid so handsomely. Such people, and such a mistress to work for—you won’t find their like anywhere.” Then nothing would do but the woman’s daughter must go into service too, so that she could get herself a chest of gold like that. So they sat down to spin again, but this time the woman’s daughter was to spin bristles and the man’s daughter flax, and the first one whose thread broke was to go into the well. As you may imagine, it was not long before the woman’s daughter’s thread broke, and then they threw her into the well.
Now the very same thing happened: she fell to the bottom without hurting herself and found herself in a beautiful green meadow. When she had walked a little way, she came to the brushwood fence. “Don’t tread too heavily on me, and I’ll help you in return,” it said. “Oh, what do I care for a heap of twigs?” she said, and she trod on the fence so hard that it creaked and cracked.
Soon she came to the cow, who was bursting with milk. “Please be so kind as to milk me,” said the cow, “and I’ll help you in return. Drink as much as you like, but pour the rest over my hooves.” So she milked the cow and drank as much as she could hold, until there was nothing left to pour over the hooves. Then she flung the bowl away down the hillside and went on.
When she had gone a little farther, she came to the ram, who was dragging his wool behind him. “Oh, please be so kind as to shear me, and I’ll do you a good turn in return,” said the ram. “Take as much wool as you like, but wind the rest around my neck.” She did so, but she went at it so roughly that she cut great pieces out of the ram, and she took all the wool with her.
A little later she came to the apple tree, which was once again bowed down with fruit. “Please be so kind as to pick my apples, so my branches can straighten again, for it hurts to stand so bent,” said the apple tree. “But be careful not to damage me. Eat as much as you like, but lay the rest neatly at my roots, and I’ll help you in return.” She picked the nearest apples and knocked down those she could not reach with the pole. But she took no care at all, tearing and beating down great branches. She ate until she could eat no more, then flung the rest beneath the tree.
When she had gone a little farther, she came to the farm where the troll-woman lived, and there she asked for a place in service. The troll-woman said she wanted no servant girl, for either they were good for nothing, or they were far too clever and cheated her out of all she had. But the woman’s daughter would not give up; she said she wanted a place, and at last the troll-woman said she would take her on if she proved any good.
The first task she was given was to fetch water in the sieve. She went to the well and poured water into it, but as fast as she poured it in, it ran out again. Then the birds sang:
“Daub in clay! Tuck in straw! Daub in clay! Tuck in straw!” But she paid no heed to the birds’ song. She threw clay at them until they flew far away, and then she had to go home with an empty sieve and was scolded by the troll-woman. Next she was to muck out the cowshed and milk the cows, but she thought herself far too good for that. Still, she went into the cowshed, but when she got there she could not manage the shovel at all, it was so big. The birds told her the same thing they had told the man’s daughter: she should take the broom and toss out a little, and all the rest would fly out after it. But she took the broom and threw it at the birds. When she began to milk, the cows were so restless, kicking and lashing out, that every time she got a little milk into the bowl, they knocked it over. The birds sang:
“A little stream, a little sip, for all the birds let some milk drip!” But she thrashed and beat the cows, flung everything she could lay hands on at the birds, and made a dreadful uproar. So she got neither the mucking out nor the milking done. When she came indoors, the troll-woman both beat and scolded her, and then she was to wash the black wool white, but she did no better at that. The troll-woman thought this was altogether too much, so she set out three chests, one red, one green, and one blue, and said she had no use for her, since she was good for nothing. All the same, as payment for her service, she could choose whichever chest she liked. Then the birds sang:
“Do not take the green one, do not take the red; take the blue one, with three crosses on its head!” She paid no heed to what the birds sang, but took the red one, which shone the brightest. Then she set off for home, and she was allowed to go in peace, for no one came after her. When she reached home, her mother was overjoyed, and they went straight into the best room and set the chest there. They believed it held nothing but gold and silver, and thought both the walls and the roof would be gilded. But when they opened the chest, out poured nothing but snakes and toads; and whenever the woman’s daughter opened her mouth, it was just the same: out poured snakes and toads and every kind of vermin imaginable, until at last it was impossible to live in the same house with her. That was the reward she received for serving the troll-woman.
Izvirnik
Der var engang to Folk, som havde giftet sig sammen; de havde hver sin Datter. Kjærringdatteren var doven og lad og vilde aldrig bestille Noget, og Manddatteren var flink og villig, men endda kunde hun aldrig gjøre Moderen Noget til Lags, og baade Kjærringen og Datteren vilde gjerne være kvit hende. Saa skulde de engang sidde ved Brønden begge To og spinde; Kjærringdatteren skulde spinde Hør, men Manddatteren fik ikke Andet end Børster. „Du er nu saa flink og saa ferm bestandig, du,“ sagde Kjærringdatteren, „men endda er jeg ikke bange for at spinde omkap med dig.“ Ja, saa kom de overeens om at den, som det først røg af for, skulde i Brønden. Ret som det var, saa gik det af for Manddatteren, og hun maatte da i Brønden.
Men da hun kom til Bunden, saa hun vidt og bredt omkring sig en vakker grøn Eng, og hun slog sig ikke. Hun gik nu et Stykke, saa kom hun til et Riisgjerde; det skulde hun over. „Aa, træd ikke haardt paa mig, du,“ sagde Riisgjerdet, „saa skal jeg hjælpe dig en anden Gang, jeg.“ — Hun gjorde sig da saa let og traadte saa forsigtig, at hun næsten ikke kom nær det engang.
Saa gik hun et Stykke til, saa kom hun til en brandet Ko, som gik med en Melkekolle paa Hornene; det var en stor, vakker Ko, og Yveret stod saa fuldt og trindt. „Aa vær saa snild at mælke mig, du,“ sagde Koen, „for jeg er saa mælkesprængt; drik saa Meget du vil og held Resten paa Klovene mine, saa skal jeg hjælpe dig igjen jeg." Manddatteren, hun gjorde som Koen bad; bare hun tog i Patterne, saa sprøitede Mælken i Kollen, saa drak hun sig utørst, og Resten heldte hun paa Klovene, og Kollen hængte hun paa Hornene igjen.
Da hun saa havde gaaet et Stykke til, mødte hun en stor Saubuk, som havde saa tyk og lang Uld, at den gik og slæbte den efter sig, og paa det ene Horn hængte en stor Sax. „Aa, klip mig du,“ sagde Bukken, „for her gaaer jeg med al denne Uld og pæser, og det er saa varmt, at jeg er færdig at kvæles. Tag saa Meget du vil, og vir Resten om Halsen min, saa skal jeg hjælpe dig igjen.“ Ja, hun var strax villig, og Bukken lagde sig af sig selv op i hendes Favn, og den laa saa stille, og hun klippede den saa peent, at den ikke fik den mindste Ridse i Skindet engang. Saa tog hun saa meget hun vilde af Ulden, og Resten virrede hun om Halsen paa Bukken.
Lidt længer frem kom hun til et Æbletræ, der var saa fuldt med Æbler, at alle Grenene vare bøiede ned mod Jorden, og inde ved Stammen stod der en liden Stang. „Aa vær saa snild at plukke Æblerne af mig du,“ sagde det, „saa at Grenene mine kan rette sig, for det lider paa at staae saa kroget; men slaa endelig peent, saaat du ikke slaaer mig fordærvet; spiis saa Meget du vil og læg Resten ind ved Roden min, saa skal jeg hjælpe dig igjen, jeg.“ Ja hun plukkede dem, hun kunde naae, og siden tog hun Stangen og slog de andre Æbler forsigtig ned med; saa spiste hun sig mæt, og Resten lagde hun peent ind til Roden.
Saa gik hun et langt, langt Stykke og da kom hun til en stor Gaard, hvor der boede en Troldkjærring med Datter sin. Der gik hun ind og spurgte, om hun kunde faae Tjeneste. „Aa, det kan ikke nytte,“ sagde Troldkjærringen; „for vi har havt Mange, men der har Ingen af dem duet til Noget.“ Men hun bad saa vakkert, at de endelig skulde tage hende i Tjeneste. Ja de tog hende da ogsaa, og saa gav Troldkjærringen hende et Sold og bad hende hente Vand i det. Hun syntes nok, at det var urimeligt at hente Vand i et Sold, men hun gik alligevel, og da hun kom til Brønden, sang Smaafuglene: „Kliin i Leer!
Put i Straa! Kliin i Leer! Put i Straa!“ Ja det gjorde hun, og saa kunde hun bære Vand i Soldet nok saa godt; men da hun kom hjem med Vandet, og Troldkjærringen fik see Soldet, sagde hun: „Det har du ikke suget af dit eget Bryst!“ Saa sagde Troldkjærringen, hun skulde gaae i Fjøset for at maage og mælke; men da hun kom did, var der en Skuffe saa stor og tung, at hun ikke kunde raade med den, hun kunde ikke løfte den engang. Hun vidste nu slet ikke, hvorledes hun skulde bære sig ad; men Fuglene sang, at hun skulde tage Limeskaftet
og kaste ud Lidt, saa fløi alt det Øvrige efter. Det gjorde hun, og aldrig før var det gjort, saa var Fjøset saa reent som om det baade kunde været maaget og feiet. Nu skulde hun til at mælke Kjørene, men de vare saa urolige, de baade sparkede og spændte, saa at hun slet ikke kunde komme til at mælke dem. Men saa sang Fuglene udenfor: „Liden Streng, Liden Suup Til alle Smaafugle sprut!“ Ja, det gjorde hun, hun sprøitede en liden Streng af Mælken ud til Smaafuglene, saa stode alle Kjøerne stille og lod hende mælke sig, og de hverken spændte eller sparkede; de løftede ikke et
Been engang. Da Troldkjærringen saa, hun kom ind med Mælken, sagde hun: „Det har du ikke suget af dit eget Bryst; men nu kan du tage denne sorte Ulden og vaske hvid.“ Dette vidste Pigen slet ikke hvorledes hun skulde bære sig ad med; for hun havde aldrig seet, at Nogen havde kunnet vaske sort Uld hvid, men endda sagde hun ingen Ting; hun tog Ulden og gik ud til Brønden med. Saa sang Smaafuglene, at hun skulde tage Ulden og have den op i den store Bøtten, som stod der, saa blev den nok hvid.
„Nei, nei,“ sagde Troldkjærringen, da hun kom ind med Ulden, „dig nytter det ikke at have, du kan jo gjøre Alting, du kom til at ærgre Livet af mig tilsidst; det er bedst, du faaer Reisepas.“ Saa satte Troldkjærringen frem tre Skrin, et rødt, et grønt og et blaat, og af disse skulde hun faae Lov at tage hvilket hun vilde til Løn for sin Tjeneste. Hun vidste nu ikke, hvilket hun skulde tage, men Smaafuglene sang: „Tag ikke det grønne, Tag ikke det røde, Men tag det blaae, Som vi har sat Tre Kors oppaa!“ Hun tog da det blaae saaledes som Fuglene sang. „Tvi vorde
dig og da,“ sagde Troldkjærringen, „det skal du nok komme til at undgjælde.“ Da Manddatteren nu skulde reise, skjød Troldkjærringen en gloende Jernstang efter hende, men hun sprang bag Døren med det samme og gjemte sig, saa den ikke traf hende, for Smaafuglene havde sagt hende i Forveien, hvorledes hun skulde bære sig ad. Hun gik nu saa fort hun kunde; men da hun kom hen imod Æbletræet, hørte hun det begyndte at dure saa forfærdeligt paa Veien; det var Troldkjærringen og Datteren hendes, som kom efter. Pigen blev saa angest og bange, at hun ikke vidste hvor hun skulde gjøre af sig. — „Kom hid til mig, du,“ sagde Æbletræet, „saa skal jeg hjælpe dig; gaa under Grenene mine og gjem dig, for hvis de
faae fat paa dig, tage de Skrinet fra dig og rive dig ihjel.“ Ja det gjorde hun, og ret som det var, saa kom Troldkjærringen og Datteren: „Har du seet nogen Gjente, har gaaet her du?“ sagde Troldkjærringen. „Aa ja,“ sagde Æbletræet, „der løb en her forbi for en Stund siden, men hun er nu saa langt borte, at I aldrig naaer hende igjen.“ Saa vendte Troldkjærringen om og reiste hjem igjen.
Gjenten gik et Stykke frem, men da hun kom henover til Bukken, hørte hun det begyndte at dure saa forfærdeligt, at hun ikke vidste, hvor hun skulde gjøre af sig, saa angst og bange blev hun, for hun kunde nok vide at det var Troldkjærringen, som havde betænkt sig. „Kom hid til mig du, saa skal jeg nok hjælpe dig,“ sagde Bukken, „gjem dig under Ulden min, saa seer de dig ikke; ellers tage de Skrinet fra dig, og rive dig ihjel.“ Ret som det var, saa kom Troldkjærringen farende: „Har du seet nogen Gjente har gaaet her, du?“ sagde hun til Bukken. „Aa ja,“ sagde Bukken, „jeg saa en for en Stund siden, men hun løb saa fort, at du ikke tager hende igjen.“ Saa vendte
Troldkjærringen om og reiste hjem. Da Pigen nu var kommen saa langt som til Koen, hørte hun det begyndte at dure saa forskrækkeligt paa Veien. „Kom hid til mig du,“ sagde Koen, „saa skal jeg hjælpe dig; gjem dig under Yvret mit; ellers kommer Troldkjærringen og tager Skrinet fra dig og river dig ihjel.“ Det varede ikke længe, førend hun kom. „Har du seet nogen Gjente har gaaet her, du?“ sagde Troldkjærringen til Koen. „Ja jeg saa en for en Stund siden, men hun er langt borte nu, for hun løb saa fort; hende tager du nok ikke igjen,“ sagde Koen. Troldkjærringen vendte da om og reiste hjem igjen.
Da Pigen nu var kommen et langt, langt Stykke frem og hun ikke var langt fra Riisgjerdet, hørte hun det begyndte at dure saa forskrækkeligt paa Veien, at hun blev baade angst og bange, for hun kunde nok vide, at det var Troldkjærringen, der havde betænkt sig. „Kom hid til mig, du, saa skal jeg hjælpe dig,“ sagde Riisgjerdet; „kryb under Kvistene mine, saa at de ikke see dig; ellers tage de Skrinet fra dig og rive dig ihjel.“ Ja hun skyndte sig ind under Kvistene i Riisgjerdet. „Har du seet nogen Gjente har gaaet her du?“ sagde Troldkjærringen til Riisgjerdet. „Nei jeg har ikke seet nogen Gjente,“ svarede Riisgjerdet og var saa sint at det frasede af det, og saa gjorde det sig saa stort, at det ikke var at tænke paa at komme over det; og der blev da intet andet Raad for Troldkjærringen,
end at vende om og reise hjem igjen. Da nu Manddatteren var kommen hjem, blev baade Kjærringen og Datter hendes endnu meer misundelige paa hende end de før havde været, for nu var hun meget penere og saa gjild, at det var en Lyst at see hende. Hun fik ikke Lov at være inde hos dem; men de jagede hende ud i Svinehuset, der skulde hun boe. Her vaskede hun nu peent og reent, og saa lukkede hun op Skrinet for at see, hvad det var hun havde faaet til Løn, og med det samme, hun lukkede det op, saa var deri saa meget Guld og Sølv og saa mange deilige Ting, at baade Vægge og Tag bleve behængte dermed, og det var meget prægtigere i Svinehuset end paa den gjildeste Kongsgaard. Da Stedmoderen
og Datteren fik see dette, bleve de reent udaf sig selv og begyndte at spørge hende, hvorledes hendes Tjeneste havde været. „Aa,“ sagde hun, „I kan nok vide det, siden jeg har faaet saadan Løn; det var slige Folk og slig en Kone at tjene hos, at der ikke findes Magen.“ Ja, saa vilde Kjærringdatteren endelig afsted og tjene, for at hun ogsaa kunde faae sig et saadant Guldskriin. De satte sig da til at spinde igjen; men da skulde Kjærringdatteren spinde Børster og Manddatteren Hør, og den, som det først røg af for, skulde i Brønden. Det varede ikke længe, førend det røg af for Kjærringdatteren, det kan man nok vide, og saa kastede de hende i Brønden.
Nu gik det lige eens, hun faldt tilbunds, men slog sig ikke, og saa kom hun paa en deilig grøn Eng. Da hun havde gaaet et Stykke, kom hun til Riisgjerdet: „Træd ikke haardt paa mig du, saa skal jeg hjælpe dig igjen,“ sagde det. „Aa, hvad bryder jeg mig om en Kvistehob,“ sagde hun og traadte paa Riisgjerdet, saa det knagede i det. Om lidt kom hun til Koen, som gik der saa mælkesprængt.
„Vær saa snild at mælke mig du,“ sagde Koen, „saa skal jeg hjælpe dig igjen; drik saa Meget du vil, men held Resten paa Klovene mine.“ Ja det gjorde hun da, hun mælkede Koen og saa drak hun saalænge hun orkede, og saa var der Intet igjen at slaae paa Klovene; Kollen kastede hun bort over Bakken og gik. Da hun havde gaaet et Stykke til, kom hun til Bukken, som gik og slæbte Ulden efter sig. „Aa vær saa snild at klippe mig du, saa skal jeg tjene dig igjen, jeg,“ sagde Bukken; „tag saa Meget af Ulden du vil, men vir Resten om Halsen min.“ Det gjorde hun, men hun lagde saa uvorrent i Veien at hun klippede store Stykker af Bukken, og al Ulden tog hun med sig.
Om en liden Stund kom hun til Æbletræet, som stod ganske kroget af Frugt igjen. „Vær saa snild at plukke Æblerne af mig, du, saa Grenene mine kan rette sig, for det lider saa paa at staae saa kroget,“ sagde Æbletræet; „men vær forsigtig saa at du ikke slaaer mig fordærvet; spiis saa Meget du vil, men læg Resten peent ind til Roden min, saa skal jeg hjælpe dig igjen.“ Hun plukkede de nærmeste af, og slog ned dem, hun ikke kunde naae, med Stangen; men hun brød sig ikke om nogen Ting, og rev og slog ned store Grene, og spiste til hun ikke aarkede Mere, og saa kastede hun Resten under Træet.
Da hun saa havde gaaet et lidet Stykke, kom hun til Gaarden, hvor Troldkjærringen boede; der bad hun om Tjeneste. Troldkjærringen sagde, hun ingen Tjenestegjente vilde have, for enten duede de ikke til Noget, eller ogsaa var de altfor flinke og bedrog hende for det, hun havde. Kjærringdatteren gav sig ikke endda hun, men sagde at hun vilde have Tjeneste, og saa sagde Troldkjærringen at hun skulde tage hende, hvis hun duede til Noget.
Det første hun fik at bestille, det var da at hente Vand i Soldet. Ja hun gik til Brønden og heldte Vand i Soldet, men ligesaa fort som hun heldte i, randt det ud igjen. Saa sang Fuglene: „Kliin i Leer, Put i Straa! Kliin i Leer, Put i Straa!“ Men hun brød sig ikke om Fuglesangen, hun kastede Leer efter Fuglene, saa at de fløi langt bort, og hun maatte da gaae hjem igjen med tomt Sold og fik Skrub af Troldkjærringen. Saa skulde hun maage i Fjøset og mælke Kjørene; men det syntes
hun, at hun var alt for god til. Hun gik dog ind i Fjøset alligevel, men da hun kom did, kunde hun nu slet ikke raade med Skuffen, saa stor var den. Fuglene sagde det samme til hende som til Manddatteren, at hun skulde tage Limen og kaste ud Lidt, saa fløi alt det Øvrige efter; men hun tog Limen og kastede efter Fuglene. Da hun skulde til at mælke, vare Kjørene saa urolige, de spændte og sparkede, og hver Gang hun havde faaet Lidt i Kollen, slog de den overende. Fuglene sang: „Liden Streng, Liden Suup Til alle Smaafugle sprut!“ Men hun bankede og slog Kjørene, kastede og slængte Alt, hvad
hun kunde overkomme, efter Fuglene og holdt et Spektakel, som var reent uligt. Hun fik da heller ikke hverken maaget eller mælket. Da hun saa kom ind fik hun baade Hug og Skjænd af Troldkjærringen, og saa skulde hun vaske den sorte Ulden hvid, men det gik det da ikke bedre med. — Dette syntes nu Troldkjærringen var altfor galt, og saa satte hun frem tre Skrin, et rødt, et grønt og et blaat, og sagde, at hende havde hun intet Brug for, for hun duede ikke til Noget, men til Løn for sin Tjeneste skulde hun ligevel faae Lov at tage hvilket Skrin hun vilde. Da sang Fuglene: „Tag ikke det grønne, Tag ikke det røde;
Men tag det blaae, Som vi har sat Tre Kors oppaa!“ Hun brød seg ikke om hvad Fuglene sang, men tog det røde, som det gloede mest af. Saa gav hun sig paa Veien og gik hjem, og hun fik da gaae i god Ro og Mag, der var Ingen, som satte efter hende. Da hun kom hjem, blev der en stor Glæde paa Moderen, og de gik strax ind i Storstuen og satte Skrinet der, for de troede, at der ikke var Andet end Guld og Sølv i det, og de tænkte, at baade Vægge og Tag skulde blive forgyldte; men da de aabnede Skrinet, saa væltede der ud bare Orme og Padder, og naar Kjærringdatteren lukkede
op Munden, saa var det ligeens, der væltede ud baade Orme og Padder og alt det Utøi som tænkes kunde, saa at det tilsidst ikke var muligt at være i Huus med hende. Det var den Løn, hun fik fordi hun havde tjent hos Troldkjærringen.
