Plavacek promised to do so, and was dismissed with good wishes.  He then traveled through deep dark forests, in the midst of which might be seen a large meadow:  out of it grew lovely flowers, and in the center stood a castle built of gold.  It was the home of Dede-Vsevede.  So brilliant with light was it that it seemed to be built of fire.  When he entered there was no one there but an old woman spinning.

“Greeting, Plavacek, I am well pleased to see you.”

She was his godmother, who had given him shelter in her cottage when he was the bearer of the King’s letter.

“Tell me what brings you here from such a distance,” she went on.

“The King would not have me for his son-in-law, unless I first got him three golden hairs from the head of Dede-Vsevede.  So he sent me here to fetch them.”

The Fate laughed.  “Dede-Vsevede indeed!  Why, I am his mother, it is the shining sun himself.  He is a child at morning time, a grown man at midday, a decrepit old man, looking as if he had lived a hundred years, at eventide.  But I will see that you have the three hairs from his head; I am not your godmother for nothing.  All the same you must not remain here.  My son is a good lad, but when he comes home he is hungry, and would very probably order you to be roasted for his supper.  Now I will turn this empty bucket upside down, and you shall hide underneath it.”

Plavacek begged the Fate to obtain from Dede-Vsevede the answers to the three questions he had been asked.

“I will do so certainly, but you must listen to what he says.”

Suddenly a blast of wind howled round the palace, and the Sun entered by a western window.  He was an old man with golden hair.

“I smell human flesh,” cried he, “I am sure of it.  Mother, you have some one here.”

“Star of day,” she replied, “whom could I have here that you would not see sooner than I?  The fact is that in your daily journeys the scent of human flesh is always with you, so when you come home at evening it clings to you still.”

The old man said nothing, and sat down to supper.  When he had finished he laid his golden head on the Fate’s lap and went to sleep.  Then she pulled out a hair and threw it on the ground.  It fell with a metallic sound like the vibration of a guitar string.

“What do you want, mother?” asked he.

“Nothing, my son; I was sleeping, and had a strange dream.”

“What was it, mother?”

“I thought I was in a place where there was a well, and the well was fed from a spring, the water of which cured all diseases.  Even the dying were restored to health on drinking that water, and the dead who were sprinkled with it came to life again.  For the last twenty years the well has run dry.  What must be done to restore the flow of water?”

“That is very simple.  A frog has lodged itself in the opening of the spring, this prevents the flow of water.  Kill the frog, and the water will return to the well.”