But the old king happened to be looking out of the window, and saw her in the yard below; and as she looked very pretty, and too delicate for a waiting-maid, he went into the royal chamber to ask the bride who it was she had brought with her, that was thus left standing in the court below.  “I brought her with me for the sake of her company on the road,” said she.  “Pray give the girl some work to do, that she may not be idle.”  The old king could not for some time think of any work for her to do, but at last he said, “I have a lad who takes care of my geese; she may go and help him.”  Now the name of this lad, that the real bride was to help in watching the king’s geese, was Curdken.

Soon after, the false bride said to the prince, “Dear husband pray do me one piece of kindness.”  “That I will,” said the prince.  “Then tell one of your slaughterers to cut off the head of the horse I rode upon, for it was very unruly, and plagued me sadly on the road.”  But the truth was, she was very much afraid lest Falada should speak, and tell all she had done to the princess.  She carried her point, and the faithful Falada was killed; but when the true princess heard of it she wept, and begged the man to nail up Falada’s head against a large dark gate in the city through which she had to pass every morning and evening, that there she might still see him sometimes.  Then the slaughterer said he would do as she wished; cut off the head, and nailed it fast under the dark gate.

Early the next morning, as she and Curdken went out through the gate, she said sorrowfully—­

      “Falada, Falada, there thou art hanging!”

and the head answered—­

      “Bride, bride, there thou art ganging! 
      Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
      Sadly, sadly her heart would rue it.”

Then they went out of the city, and drove the geese in.  And when she came to the meadow, she sat down upon a bank here, and let down her waving locks of hair, which were all of pure gold; and when Curdken saw it glitter in the sun, he ran up, and would have pulled some of the locks out; but she cried—­

      “Blow, breezes, blow! 
      Let Curdken’s hat go! 
      Blow, breezes, blow! 
      Let him after it go! 
      O’er hills, dales, and rocks. 
      Away be it whirl’d,
      Till the golden locks
      Are all comb’d and curl’d!”

[Illustration]

Then there came a wind, so strong that it blew off Curdken’s hat, and away it flew over the hills, and he after it; till, by the time he came back, she had done combing and curling her hair, and put it up again safe.  Then he was very angry and sulky, and would not speak to her at all; but they watched the geese until it grew dark in the evening, and then drove them homewards.

The next morning, as they were going through the dark gate, the poor girl looked up at Falada’s head, and cried—­