‘I did not bring him all the way home,’ answered Gudbrand, ’for, on the road, I changed my mind; I exchanged the horse for a hog.’

‘Come, now,’ said the wife, ’that’s just what I’d have done, in your place!  Thanks, a hundred times over!  Now, when my neighbors come to see me, I’ll have, like everybody else, a bite of ham to offer them.  What need had we of a horse?  The folks around us would have said, “See the saucy things! they think it beneath them to walk to church.”  Let us put the hog in a pen!’

‘I didn’t bring him with me,’ said Gudbrand, ’for on the way I exchanged him for a she-goat.’

‘Bravo!’ said the good wife.  ’What a sensible man you are!  When I come to think of it, what could I have done with a hog?  The neighbors would have pointed us out and have said, “Look at those people—­all they make they eat!  But, with a she-goat, I shall have milk and cheese, not to speak of the little kids.  Come, let us put her into the stable.”

‘I didn’t bring the she-goat with me, either,’ said Gudbrand; ’I traded her again, for a ewe.’

‘There!  That’s just like you,’ exclaimed the wife, with evident satisfaction.  ’It was for my sake that you did that.  Am I young enough to scamper, over hill and dale, after a she-goat?  No, indeed.  But, a ewe will yield me her wool as well as her milk; so let us get her housed at once.’

‘I didn’t bring the ewe home, either,’ stammered Gudbrand, once more, ‘but swapped her for a goose.’

’What? a goose! oh! thanks, thanks a thousand times, with all my heart—­for, after all, how could I have got along with the ewe?  I have neither card nor comb, and spinning is a heavy job, at best.  When you’ve spun, too, you have to cut and fit and sew.  It’s far easier to buy our clothes ready-made, as we’ve always done.  But a goose—­a fat one, too, no doubt—­why, that’s the very thing I want!  I’ve need of down for our quilt, and my mouth has watered this many a day for a bit of roast goose.  Put the bird in the poultry-coop.’

‘Ah!  I’ve not brought the goose, for I took a rooster in his stead.’

‘Good husband!’ said the wife, ’you’re wiser than I would have been.  A rooster! splendid!—­why, a rooster’s better than an eight-day clock.  The rooster will crow every morning, at four, and tell us when it is time to pray to God and set about our work.  What would we have done with a goose?  I don’t know how to cook one, and as for the quilt, Heaven be praised, there’s no lack of moss a great deal softer than down.  So, let us put the rooster in the corn-yard!’

‘I have not brought even the rooster,’ murmured Gudbrand, ’for, at sundown, I felt very hungry, and had to sell my rooster for a shilling to buy something to eat.  If it hadn’t been for that I must have starved to death.’

‘God be thanked for giving you that lucky thought,’ replied the wife.  ’All that you do, Gudbrand, is just after my own heart.  What need we of a rooster?  We are our own masters, I think; there is no one to give us orders, and we can stay in bed just as long as we please.  Here you are, my dear husband, safe and sound.  I am perfectly satisfied, and have need of nothing more than your presence to make me happy.’