Max. I love him because he is so good, And makes me such fine bows and arrows, To shoot at the robins and the sparrows, And the red squirrels in the wood!

  Bertha. I love him, too!

Gottlieb. Ah, yes! we all
Love him, from the bottom of our hearts;
He gave us the farm, the house, and the grange,
He gave us the horses and the carts,
And the great oxen in the stall,
The vineyard, and the forest range! 
We have nothing to give him but our love!

Bertha. Did he give us the beautiful stork above On the chimney-top, with its large, round nest?

Gottlieb. No, not the stork; by God in heaven, As a blessing, the dear, white stork was given; But the Prince has given us all the rest.  God bless him, and make him well again.

Elsie. Would I could do something for his sake, Something to cure his sorrow and pain!

Gottlieb. That no one can; neither thou nor I, Nor any one else.

  Elsie. And must he die?

Ursula. Yes; if the dear God does not take Pity upon him, in his distress, And work a miracle!

Gottlieb. Or unless
Some maiden, of her own accord,
Offers her life for that of her lord,
And is willing to die in his stead.

  Elsie. I will!

Ursula. Prithee, thou foolish child, be still!  Thou shouldst not say what thou dost not mean!

  Elsie. I mean it truly!

Max. O father! this morning,
Down by the mill, in the ravine,
Hans killed a wolf, the very same
That in the night to the sheepfold came,
And ate up my lamb, that was left outside.

Gottlieb. I am glad he is dead.  It will be a warning To the wolves in the forest, far and wide.

  Max. And I am going to have his hide!

Bertha. I wonder if this is the wolf that ate Little Red Ridinghood!

Ursula. O, no!  That wolf was killed a long while ago.  Come, children, it is growing late.

Max. Ah, how I wish I were a man, As stout as Hans is, and as strong!  I would do nothing else, the whole day long, But just kill wolves.

Gottlieb. Then go to bed,
And grow as fast as a little boy can. 
Bertha is half asleep already. 
See how she nods her heavy head,
And her sleepy feet are so unsteady
She will hardly be able to creep upstairs.

Ursula. Good-night, my children.  Here’s the light.  And do not forget to say your prayers Before you sleep.

  Gottlieb. Good-night!

  Max and Bertha. Good-night!

          (They go out with ELSIE.)

Ursula, (spinning). She is a strange and wayward child,
That Elsie of ours.  She looks so old,
And thoughts and fancies weird and wild
Seem of late to have taken hold
Of her heart, that was once so docile and mild!