"Once on a time there were a Cock and a Hen, who walked out into the
field, and scratched, and scraped, and scrabbled. All at once,
Chanticleer found a burr of hop, and Partlet found a barley-corn; and
they said they would make malt and brew Yule ale.
"'Oh! I pluck barley, and I malt malt, and I brew ale, and the ale is
good,' cackled dame Partlet.
"'Is the wort strong enough?' crew Chanticleer; and as he crowed he flew
up on the edge of the cask, and tried to have a taste; but, just as he
bent over to drink a drop, he took to flapping his wings, and so he fell
head over heels into the cask, and was drowned.
"When dame Partlet saw that, she clean lost her wits, and flew up into
the chimney-corner, and fell a-screaming and screeching out. 'Harm in
the house! harm in the house!' she screeched out all in a breath, and
there was no stopping her.
"'What ails you, dame Partlet, that you sit there sobbing and sighing?'
said the Handquern.
"'Why not?' said dame Partlet; 'when goodman Chanticleer has fallen into
the cask and drowned himself, and lies dead? That's why I sigh and sob.'
"'Well, if I can do naught else, I will grind and groan,' said the
Handquern; and so it fell to grinding as fast as it could.
"When the Chair heard that, it said--
"'What ails you, Handquern, that you grind and groan so fast and oft?'
"'Why not, when goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the cask and drowned
himself; and dame Partlet sits in the ingle, and sighs and sobs? That's
why I grind and groan,' said the Handquern.
"'If I can do naught else, I will crack,' said the Chair; and, with
that, he fell to creaking and cracking.
"When the Door heard that, it said,--
"'What's the matter? Why do you creak and crack so, Mr. Chair?'
"'Why not?' said the Chair; 'goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the
cask and drowned himself; dame Partlet sits in the ingle, sighing and
sobbing; and the Handquern grinds and groans. That's why I creak and
crackle, and croak and crack.'
"'Well,' said the Door, 'if I can do naught else, I can rattle and bang,
and whistle and slam;' and, with that, it began to open and shut, and
bang and slam, it deaved one to hear, and all one's teeth chattered.
"All this the Stove heard, and it opened its mouth and called out--
"'Door! Door! why all this slamming and banging?'
"'Why not?' said the Door; 'when goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the
cask and drowned himself; dame Partlet sits in the ingle, sighing and
sobbing; the Handquern grinds and groans, and the Chair creaks and
cracks. That's why I bang and slam.'
"'Well,' said the Stove, 'if I can do naught else, I can smoulder and
smoke;' and so it fell a-smoking and steaming till the room was all in a
cloud.
"The Axe saw this, as it stood outside, and peeped with its shaft
through the window,--
"'What's all this smoke about, Mrs. Stove?' said the Axe, in a sharp
voice.
"'Why not? said the Stove; 'when goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the
cask and drowned himself; dame Partlet sits in the ingle, sighing and
sobbing; the Handquern grinds and groans; the Chair creaks and cracks,
and the Door bangs and slams. That's why I smoke and steam.'
"'Well, if I can do naught else, I can rive and rend,' said the Axe;
and, with that, it fell to riving and rending all round about.
"This the Aspen stood by and saw.
"'Why do you rive and rend everything so, Mr. Axe?' said the Aspen.
"'Goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the ale-cask and drowned himself,'
said the Axe; 'dame Partlet sits in the ingle, sighing and sobbing; the
Handquern grinds and groans; the Chair creaks and cracks; the Door slams
and bangs, and the Stove smokes and steams. That's why I rive and rend
all about.'
"'Well, if I can do naught else,' said the Aspen, 'I can quiver and
quake in all my leaves;' so it grew all of a quake.
"The Birds saw this, and twittered out,--
"'Why do you quiver and quake, Miss Aspen?'
"'Goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the ale-cask and drowned himself,'
said the Aspen, with a trembling voice; 'dame Partlet sits in the ingle,
sighing and sobbing; the Handquern grinds and groans; the Chair creaks
and cracks; the Door slams and bangs; the Stove steams and smokes; and
the Axe rives and rends. That's why I quiver and quake.'
"Well, if we can do naught else, we will pluck off all our feathers,'
said the Birds; and, with that, they fell a-pilling and plucking
themselves till the room was full of feathers.
"This the Master stood by and saw, and, when the feathers flew about
like fun, he asked the Birds,--
"'Why do you pluck off all your feathers, you Birds?'
"'Oh! goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the ale-cask and drowned
himself,' twittered out the Birds; 'dame Partlet sits sighing and
sobbing in the ingle; the Handquern grinds and groans; the Chair creaks
and cracks; the Door slams and bangs; the Stove smokes and steams; the
Axe rives and rends, and the Aspen quivers and quakes. That's why we are
pilling and plucking all our feathers off.'
"'Well, if I can do nothing else, I can tear the brooms asunder,' said
the man; and, with that, he fell tearing and tossing the brooms till the
birch-twigs flew about east and west.
"The goody stood cooking porridge for supper, and saw all this.
"'Why, man!' she called out; 'what are you tearing the brooms to bits
for?'
"'Oh!' said the man, 'goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the ale-vat
and drowned himself; dame Partlet sits sighing and sobbing in the ingle;
the Handquern grinds and groans; the Chair cracks and creaks; the Door
slams and bangs; the Stove smokes and steams; the Axe rives and rends;
the Aspen quivers and quakes; the Birds are pilling and plucking all
their feathers off, and that's why I am tearing the besoms to bits.'
"'So, so!' said the goody; 'then I'll dash the porridge over all the
walls;' and she did it; for she took one spoonful after the other and
dashed it against the walls, so that no one could see what they were
made of for very porridge.
"That was how they drank the burial ale after goodman Chanticleer, who
fell into the brewing-vat and was drowned; and, if you don't believe it,
you may set off thither and have a taste both of the ale and the
porridge."
* * * * *
When Christine ended, I did not tell them what I could now tell them,
that this story of _The Death of Chanticleer_ is _mutatis mutandis_, the
very same story as one in _Grimm's Tales_, and another in the Scotch
collection of Robert Chambers. But alas! I heard _The Death of
Chanticleer_ up on the Fjeld long before those Scotch Stories appeared
in print, and so, as some of these stories say, I could tell them
nothing about it.
Karin was not so good a story-teller as Christine, but she still told
her story well. Besides, it was harder to tell, and required an effort
of memory, like that needed in our _This is the House that Jack built_.
_The Greedy Cat_ has a wildness of its own, and is full of humour. Here
it is--