[Illustration:  The death of the ogress.]

Wil-lie was ear-ly a-foot; for the day, ac-cord-ing to the hands, was to be a day of la-bour, with its fruits.  He soon left the wood be-hind him, and saw a large cas-tle before him.

“Here, sure-ly, is some-thing to be done,” thought he; so he leapt up the steps, and tri-ed to raise the knock-er, but it was too hea-vy for his pu-ny strength.  In an in-stant the hands ap-pear-ed, and knock-ed such a dou-ble knock, that it e-cho-ed like thun-der through the val-ley, and you might have heard it rum-bling a-way on the dis-tant moun-tains.

The door o-pen-ed with a sud-den jerk, and the mis-tress of the man-sion ap-pear-ed.  The mo-ment Wil-lie saw her, he back-ed down the steps, for she was an o-gress, and as ug-ly as o-gress-es ge-ne-ral-ly are.  She gla-red up-on the lit-tle-man who she sup-po-sed had giv-en that great knock, with sur-prise and as-to-nish-ment; and then, in a voice like a ve-ry hoarse ra-ven, she cri-ed—­

“How dar-ed you to knock like that at my door, you lit-tle var-let?  You have put me all in a twit-ter.”

Wil-lie trem-bling-ly took off his hat, and re-pli-ed in an hum-ble voice, “If you please, prin-cess, I wish-ed to know whe-ther you want-ed a ser-vant to as-sist in your mag-ni-fi-cent cas-tle.”

“A ser-vant, brat!” said she; “what can you do?”

“Any-thing to please your high-ness, for I want to work.”

“Oh, oh! do you?  Then, come in, for my ser-vants have all left me be-cause I don’t put my work out,” said she.

[Illustration:  The Rescue.]

With that, Wil-lie en-ter-ed, and soon found that he had plen-ty to do; for his first job was to get the o-gress’s din-ner ready, who, in truth, had no de-li-cate ap-pe-tite, for the pro-vi-si-on con-sist-ed of fish, fowl, beef, soup, mut-ton, and ham-pers of ve-ge-ta-bles.

He sigh-ed as he look-ed up-on such a-bun-dance, which would have di-ned sump-tu-ous-ly his own na-tive vil-lage.  A-gain he sigh-ed:  as he did so, the gi-ant hands ap-pear-ed.  If you could on-ly have seen them truss this, skew-er that, boil the o-ther, turn out the sau-ces, pick the pic-kles, cut the bread, and put the dish-es to the fire, you would have been as-to-nish-ed, Wil-lie all the time do-ing all he knew to aid in the work.

The o-gress di-ned, and smi-led up-on her trea-sure of a ser-vant.

Self-in-dul-gent people are al-ways un-grate-ful; and so the o-gress pro-ved, for she was con-ti-nu-al-ly de-si-ring more and more at the hands of poor Wil-lie, un-til he had no rest:  and, one day, when she had been more im-po-sing than u-su-al, he turn-ed round, and told her that she left him hard-ly time to sleep, and that her ap-pe-tite was fright-ful.

Could you have seen her face, you would have been as fright-en-ed as Wil-lie was.

“Lit-tle wretch!” scream-ed she, “I have half a mind to snap you up as I would the wing of a chick-en:  and, re-mem-ber from this mo-ment, if my din-ner is short of what I de-sire, I will eat you to make up for what you have o-mit-ted.”