Mother's Nursery Tales
Copyright© 2024 by Katharine Pyle
The Golden Goose
There was once an honest laborer who had three sons. The two eldest were stout clever lads, but as to the youngest one, John, he was little better than a simpleton.
One day their mother wanted some wood from the forest, and it was the eldest lad who was to go and get it for her. It was a long way to the forest, so the mother filled a wallet with food for him. There was a loaf of fine white bread, and a bit of cheese, and a leathern bottle of good red wine as well.
The lad set off and walked along and walked along and after awhile he came to the place where he was going, and there under a tree sat an old, old man. His clothes were gray, and his hair was gray, and his face was gray, so he was gray all over.
“Good-day,” said the man.
“Good-day,” said the lad.
“I am hungry,” said the gray man. “Have you not a bite and sup that you can share with me?”
“Food I have, and drink too,” said the lad, “but it is for myself, and not for you. It would be a simple thing for me to carry it this far just to give it to a beggar”; and he went on his way.
But it was bad luck the lad had that day. Scarcely had he begun chopping wood when the head of the ax flew off, and cut his foot so badly that he was obliged to go limping home, with not even so much as a fagot to carry with him.
The next day it was the second son who said he would go to the forest for wood.
“And see that you are more careful than your brother,” said his mother. Then she gave him a loaf of bread, and a bit of cheese, and a bottle of wine, and off he set.
Presently he came to the forest, and there, sitting in the same place where he had sat before, was the old gray man.
“Good-day,” said the man.
“Good-day,” said the lad.
“I am hungry,” said the gray man. “Have you not a bite or a sup to share with me?”
“Food I have and drink as well, but I am not such a simpleton as to give it away when I need all for myself.”
The lad went on to the place where he was going, and took his ax and began to chop, but scarcely had he begun when the ax slipped and cut his leg so badly that the blood ran, and he could scarcely get home again.
That was a bad business, for now both of the elder brothers were lame.
The next day the simpleton said he would go to the forest for wood.
“You, indeed!” cried his mother. “It is not enough that your two brothers are hurt? Do you think you are smarter than they are? No, no; do you stay quietly here at home. That is the best place for you.”
But the simpleton was determined to go, so his mother gave him an end of dough that was left from the baking and a bottle of sour beer, for that was good enough for him. With these in his wallet John started off, and after awhile he came to the forest, and there was the gray man sitting just as before.
“Good-day,” said the man.
“Good-day,” answered the simpleton.
“I am hungry,” said the gray man. “Have you not a bite or sup that you can share with me?”
Oh yes, the simpleton had both food and drink in his wallet. It was none of the best, but such as it was he was willing to share it.
He reached into his wallet and pulled out the piece of dough, but what was his surprise to find that it was dough no longer, but a fine cake, all made of the whitest flour. The old man snatched the cake from John and ate it all up in a trice. There was not so much as a crumb of it left.
“Poor pickings for me!” said John.
And now the old gray man was thirsty. “What have you in that bottle?” he asked.
“Oh, that was only sour beer.”
The old man took the bottle and opened it. “Sour beer! Why it is wine,” he cried, “and of the very best, too.”
And the simpleton could tell it was by the smell of it. But the smell of it was all he got, for the old man raised the bottle to his lips, and when he put it down there was not a drop left in it.
“And now I may go thirsty as well as hungry,” said John.
“Never mind that,” said the old man. “After this you may eat and drink of the best whenever you will. Go on into the forest and take the first turning to the right. There you will see a hollow oak tree. Cut it down, and whatever you find inside of it you may keep; it belongs to me, and it is I who give it to you.”
Then of a sudden the old man was gone, and where he went the simpleton could have told no one.
The lad went on into the forest, as the gray man had told him, and took the first turn to the left, and there sure enough was a hollow oak tree. The lad could tell it was hollow from the sound it made when his ax struck it.
John set to work, and chopped so hard the splinters flew.
After awhile he cut through it so that the tree fell, and there, sitting in the hollow, was a goose, with eyes like diamonds, and every feather of pure gold.
When John saw the goose he could not wonder enough. He took it up under his arm and off he set for home, for there was no more chopping for him that day.
But if the goose shone like gold it weighed like lead. The farther John went the wearier he grew. After awhile he came to an inn, just outside of the city where the King lived. There the simpleton sat him down to rest. He pulled a feather from the golden goose, and gave it to the landlord and bade him bring him food and drink, and with such payment as that it was the very best that the landlord sat before him you may be sure.
While the simpleton ate and drank the landlord’s wife and daughter watched him from a window.
“Oh, if we only had a second feather,” sighed the daughter.
“Oh, if we only had!” sighed the mother.
Then the two agreed between them that when the simpleton had finished eating and drinking, the daughter should creep up behind him and pluck another feather from the bird.
Presently John could eat and drink no more. He rose up and tucked the golden goose under his arm, and off he set.
The landlord’s daughter was watching, and she stole up behind him and caught hold of a feather in the goose’s tail. No sooner had she touched it, however, than her fingers stuck, and she could not let go. Off marched John with the goose under his arm, and the girl tagging along after him.
The mother saw her following John down the road, and first she called, and then she shouted, and then she ran after her and caught hold of her to bring her home. But no sooner had she laid hands on the girl than she, too, stuck, and was obliged to follow John and the golden goose.
The landlord was looking from the window. “Wife, wife,” he cried, “where are you going?” And he hurried after her and caught her by the sleeve. Then he could not let go any more than the others.
The simpleton marched along with the three tagging at his heels, and he never so much as turned his head to look over his shoulder at them.
The road ran past a church, and there was the clergyman just coming out of the door. “Stop, stop!” he cried to the landlord. “Have you forgotten you have a christening feast to cook to-day?” And he ran after the landlord and caught hold of him, and then he too stuck.
The sexton saw his master following the landlord, and he ran and caught hold of his coat, and he too had to follow. So it went. Everyone who touched those who followed the golden goose could not let go, and were obliged to tag along at John’s heels.
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