But close to the palace lived a man who had three sons, and they had also heard that the king had made known that he who could make the princess laugh should have her and half the kingdom.

The eldest of the brothers wanted to try first, and away he went; and when he came to the palace, he told the king he wouldn’t mind trying to make the princess laugh.

“Yes, yes! that’s all very well,” said the king; “but I am afraid it’s of very little use, my man.  There have been many here to try their luck, but my daughter is just as sad, and I am afraid it is no good trying.  I do not like to see any more suffer on that account.”

But the lad thought he would try anyhow.  It couldn’t be such a difficult thing to make a princess laugh at him, for had not everybody, both grand and simple, laughed so many a time at him when he served as soldier and went through his drill under Sergeant Nils.

So he went out on the terrace outside the princess’s windows and began drilling just as if Sergeant Nils himself were there.  But all in vain!  The princess sat just as serious and immovable as before, and so they took him and cut three broad, red stripes out of his back and sent him home.

He had no sooner arrived home than his second brother wanted to set out and try his luck.  He was a schoolmaster, and a funny figure he was altogether.  He had one leg shorter than the other, and limped terribly when he walked.  One moment he was no bigger than a boy, but the next moment when he raised himself up on his long leg he was as big and tall as a giant—­and besides he was great at preaching.

When he came to the palace, and said that he wanted to make the princess laugh, the king thought that it was not so unlikely that he might; “but I pity you, if you don’t succeed,” said the king, “for we cut the stripes broader and broader for every one that tries.”

So the schoolmaster went out on the terrace, and took his place outside the princess’s window, where he began preaching and chanting imitating seven of the parsons, and reading and singing just like seven of the clerks whom they had had in the parish.

The king laughed at the schoolmaster till he was obliged to hold on to the door-post, and the princess was just on the point of smiling, but suddenly she was as sad and immovable as ever, and so it fared no better with Paul the schoolmaster than with Peter the soldier—­for Peter and Paul were their names, you must know!

So they took Paul and cut three red stripes out of his back, put salt into them, and sent him home again.

Well, the youngest brother thought he would have a try next.  His name was Hans.  But the brothers laughed and made fun of him, and showed him their sore backs.  Besides, the father would not give him leave to go, for he said it was no use his trying, who had so little sense; all he could do was to sit in a corner on the hearth, like a cat, rooting about in the ashes and cutting chips.  But Hans would not give in—­he begged and prayed so long, till they got tired of his whimpering, and so he got leave to go to the king’s palace and try his luck.