‘You are a very rude old woman,’ he cried out. ‘First you mess all our
nice herbs about with your horrid brown fingers and sniff at them with
your long nose till no one else will care to buy them, and then you say
it’s all bad stuff, though the duke’s cook himself buys all his herbs
from us.’
The old woman looked sharply at the saucy boy, laughed unpleasantly, and
said:
‘So you don’t like my long nose, sonny? Well, you shall have one
yourself, right down to your chin.’
As she spoke she shuffled towards the hamper of cabbages, took up one
after another, squeezed them hard, and threw them back, muttering again,
‘Bad stuff, bad stuff.’
‘Don’t waggle your head in that horrid way,’ begged Jem anxiously. ‘Your
neck is as thin as a cabbage-stalk, and it might easily break and your
head fall into the basket, and then who would buy anything?’
‘Don’t you like thin necks?’ laughed the old woman. ‘Then you sha’n’t
have any, but a head stuck close between your shoulders so that it may
be quite sure not to fall off.’
‘Don’t talk such nonsense to the child,’ said the mother at last.
‘If you wish to buy, please make haste, as you are keeping other
customers away.’
‘Very well, I will do as you ask,’ said the old woman, with an angry
look. ‘I will buy these six cabbages, but, as you see, I can only walk
with my stick and can carry nothing. Let your boy carry them home for me
and I’ll pay him for his trouble.’
The little fellow didn’t like this, and began to cry, for he was afraid
of the old woman, but his mother ordered him to go, for she thought
it wrong not to help such a weakly old creature; so, still crying, he
gathered the cabbages into a basket and followed the old woman across
the Market Place.
It took her more than half an hour to get to a distant part of the
little town, but at last she stopped in front of a small tumble-down
house. She drew a rusty old hook from her pocket and stuck it into a
little hole in the door, which suddenly flew open. How surprised Jem
was when they went in! The house was splendidly furnished, the walls and
ceiling of marble, the furniture of ebony inlaid with gold and precious
stones, the floor of such smooth slippery glass that the little fellow
tumbled down more than once.
The old woman took out a silver whistle and blew it till the sound rang
through the house. Immediately a lot of guinea pigs came running down
the stairs, but Jem thought it rather odd that they all walked on their
hind legs, wore nutshells for shoes, and men’s clothes, whilst even
their hats were put on in the newest fashion.
‘Where are my slippers, lazy crew?’ cried the old woman, and hit about
with her stick. ‘How long am I to stand waiting here?’
They rushed upstairs again and returned with a pair of cocoa nuts lined
with leather, which she put on her feet. Now all limping and shuffling
was at an end. She threw away her stick and walked briskly across the
glass floor, drawing little Jem after her. At last she paused in a room
which looked almost like a kitchen, it was so full of pots and pans, but
the tables were of mahogany and the sofas and chairs covered with the
richest stuffs.
‘Sit down,’ said the old woman pleasantly, and she pushed Jem into
a corner of a sofa and put a table close in front of him. ‘Sit down,
you’ve had a long walk and a heavy load to carry, and I must give you
something for your trouble. Wait a bit, and I’ll give you some nice
soup, which you’ll remember as long as you live.’
So saying, she whistled again. First came in guinea pigs in men’s
clothing. They had tied on large kitchen aprons, and in their belts were
stuck carving knives and sauce ladles and such things. After them hopped
in a number of squirrels. They too walked on their hind legs, wore full
Turkish trousers, and little green velvet caps on their heads. They
seemed to be the scullions, for they clambered up the walls and brought
down pots and pans, eggs, flour, butter, and herbs, which they carried
to the stove. Here the old woman was bustling about, and Jem could see
that she was cooking something very special for him. At last the broth
began to bubble and boil, and she drew off the saucepan and poured its
contents into a silver bowl, which she set before Jem.
‘There, my boy,’ said she, ‘eat this soup and then you’ll have
everything which pleased you so much about me. And you shall be a clever
cook too, but the real herb--no, the REAL herb you’ll never find. Why
had your mother not got it in her basket?’
The child could not think what she was talking about, but he quite
understood the soup, which tasted most delicious. His mother had often
given him nice things, but nothing had ever seemed so good as this. The
smell of the herbs and spices rose from the bowl, and the soup tasted
both sweet and sharp at the same time, and was very strong. As he was
finishing it the guinea pigs lit some Arabian incense, which gradually
filled the room with clouds of blue vapour. They grew thicker and
thicker and the scent nearly overpowered the boy. He reminded himself
that he must get back to his mother, but whenever he tried to rouse
himself to go he sank back again drowsily, and at last he fell sound
asleep in the corner of the sofa.
Strange dreams came to him. He thought the old woman took off all his
clothes and wrapped him up in a squirrel skin, and that he went about
with the other squirrels and guinea pigs, who were all very pleasant and
well mannered, and waited on the old woman.
First he learned to clean her cocoa-nut shoes with oil and to rub them
up. Then he learnt to catch the little sun moths and rub them through
the finest sieves, and the flour from them he made into soft bread for
the toothless old woman.
In this way he passed from one kind of service to another, spending a
year in each, till in the fourth year he was promoted to the kitchen.
Here he worked his way up from under-scullion to head-pastrycook, and
reached the greatest perfection. He could make all the most difficult
dishes, and two hundred different kinds of patties, soup flavoured
with every sort of herb--he had learnt it all, and learnt it well and
quickly.
When he had lived seven years with the old woman she ordered him one
day, as she was going out, to kill and pluck a chicken, stuff it with
herbs, and have it very nicely roasted by the time she got back. He did
this quite according to rule. He wrung the chicken’s neck, plunged it
into boiling water, carefully plucked out all the feathers, and rubbed
the skin nice and smooth. Then he went to fetch the herbs to stuff it
with. In the store-room he noticed a half-opened cupboard which he did
not remember having seen before. He peeped in and saw a lot of baskets
from which came a strong and pleasant smell. He opened one and found a
very uncommon herb in it. The stems and leaves were a bluish green, and
above them was a little flower of a deep bright red, edged with yellow.
He gazed at the flower, smelt it, and found it gave the same strong
strange perfume which came from the soup the old woman had made him. But
the smell was so sharp that he began to sneeze again and again, and at
last--he woke up!
There he lay on the old woman’s sofa and stared about him in surprise.
‘Well, what odd dreams one does have to be sure!’ he said to himself.
‘Why, I could have sworn I had been a squirrel, a companion of guinea
pigs and such creatures, and had become a great cook, too. How mother
will laugh when I tell her! But won’t she scold me, though, for sleeping
away here in a strange house, instead of helping her at market!’
He jumped up and prepared to go: all his limbs still seemed quite stiff
with his long sleep, especially his neck, for he could not move his head
easily, and he laughed at his own stupidity at being still so drowsy
that he kept knocking his nose against the wall or cupboards. The
squirrels and guinea pigs ran whimpering after him, as though they would
like to go too, and he begged them to come when he reached the door, but
they all turned and ran quickly back into the house again.
The part of the town was out of the way, and Jem did not know the many
narrow streets in it and was puzzled by their windings and by the crowd
of people, who seemed excited about some show. From what he heard, he
fancied they were going to see a dwarf, for he heard them call out:
‘Just look at the ugly dwarf!’ ‘What a long nose he has, and see how his
head is stuck in between his shoulders, and only look at his ugly brown
hands!’ If he had not been in such a hurry to get back to his mother, he
would have gone too, for he loved shows with giants and dwarfs and the
like.
He was quite puzzled when he reached the market-place. There sat his
mother, with a good deal of fruit still in her baskets, so he felt he
could not have slept so very long, but it struck him that she was sad,
for she did not call to the passers-by, but sat with her head resting on
her hand, and as he came nearer he thought she looked paler than usual.
He hesitated what to do, but at last he slipped behind her, laid a hand
on her arm, and said: ‘Mammy, what’s the matter? Are you angry with me?’
She turned round quickly and jumped up with a cry of horror.
‘What do you want, you hideous dwarf?’ she cried; ‘get away; I can’t
bear such tricks.’
‘But, mother dear, what’s the matter with you?’ repeated Jem, quite
frightened. ‘You can’t be well. Why do you want to drive your son away?’
‘I have said already, get away,’ replied Hannah, quite angrily. ‘You
won’t get anything out of me by your games, you monstrosity.’
‘Oh dear, oh dear! she must be wandering in her mind,’ murmured the lad
to himself. ‘How can I manage to get her home? Dearest mother, do look
at me close. Can’t you see I am your own son Jem?’
‘Well, did you ever hear such impudence?’ asked Hannah, turning to a
neighbour. ‘Just see that frightful dwarf--would you believe that he
wants me to think he is my son Jem?’
Then all the market women came round and talked all together and scolded
as hard as they could, and said what a shame it was to make game of Mrs.
Hannah, who had never got over the loss of her beautiful boy, who had
been stolen from her seven years ago, and they threatened to fall upon
Jem and scratch him well if he did not go away at once.
Poor Jem did not know what to make of it all. He was sure he had gone
to market with his mother only that morning, had helped to set out the
stall, had gone to the old woman’s house, where he had some soup and a
little nap, and now, when he came back, they were all talking of seven
years. And they called him a horrid dwarf! Why, what had happened to
him? When he found that his mother would really have nothing to do
with him he turned away with tears in his eyes, and went sadly down the
street towards his father’s stall.
‘Now I’ll see whether he will know me,’ thought he. ‘I’ll stand by the
door and talk to him.’
When he got to the stall he stood in the doorway and looked in. The
cobbler was so busy at work that he did not see him for some time, but,
happening to look up, he caught sight of his visitor, and letting shoes,
thread, and everything fall to the ground, he cried with horror: ‘Good
heavens! what is that?’
‘Good evening, master,’ said the boy, as he stepped in. ‘How do you do?’
‘Very ill, little sir, replied the father, to Jem’s surprise, for he did
not seem to know him. ‘Business does not go well. I am all alone, and am
getting old, and a workman is costly.’
‘But haven’t you a son who could learn your trade by degrees?’ asked
Jem.
‘I had one: he was called Jem, and would have been a tall sturdy lad
of twenty by this time, and able to help me well. Why, when he was only
twelve he was quite sharp and quick, and had learnt many little things,
and a good-looking boy too, and pleasant, so that customers were taken
by him. Well, well! so goes the world!’
‘But where is your son?’ asked Jem, with a trembling voice.
‘Heaven only knows!’ replied the man; ‘seven years ago he was stolen
from the market-place, and we have heard no more of him.’
‘SEVEN YEARS AGO!’ cried Jem, with horror.
‘Yes, indeed, seven years ago, though it seems but yesterday that my
wife came back howling and crying, and saying the child had not come
back all day. I always thought and said that something of the kind would
happen. Jem was a beautiful boy, and everyone made much of him, and
my wife was so proud of him, and liked him to carry the vegetables and
things to grand folks’ houses, where he was petted and made much of. But
I used to say, “Take care--the town is large, there are plenty of bad
people in it--keep a sharp eye on Jem.” And so it happened; for one day
an old woman came and bought a lot of things--more than she could carry;
so my wife, being a kindly soul, lent her the boy, and--we have never
seen him since.’
‘And that was seven years ago, you say?’
‘Yes, seven years: we had him cried--we went from house to house. Many
knew the pretty boy, and were fond of him, but it was all in vain. No
one seemed to know the old woman who bought the vegetables either; only
one old woman, who is ninety years old, said it might have been the
fairy Herbaline, who came into the town once in every fifty years to buy
things.’
As his father spoke, things grew clearer to Jem’s mind, and he saw now
that he had not been dreaming, but had really served the old woman seven
years in the shape of a squirrel. As he thought it over rage filled his
heart. Seven years of his youth had been stolen from him, and what had
he got in return? To learn to rub up cocoa nuts, and to polish glass
floors, and to be taught cooking by guinea pigs! He stood there
thinking, till at last his father asked him:
‘Is there anything I can do for you, young gentleman? Shall I make you a
pair of slippers, or perhaps’ with a smile--‘a case for your nose?’
‘What have you to do with my nose?’ asked Jem. ‘And why should I want a
case for it?’
‘Well, everyone to his taste,’ replied the cobbler; ‘but I must say if I
had such a nose I would have a nice red leather cover made for it. Here
is a nice piece; and think what a protection it would be to you. As it
is, you must be constantly knocking up against things.’
The lad was dumb with fright. He felt his nose. It was thick, and quite
two hands long. So, then, the old woman had changed his shape, and that
was why his own mother did not know him, and called him a horrid dwarf!
‘Master,’ said he, ‘have you got a glass that I could see myself in?’
‘Young gentleman,’ was the answer, ‘your appearance is hardly one to
be vain of, and there is no need to waste your time looking in a glass.
Besides, I have none here, and if you must have one you had better
ask Urban the barber, who lives over the way, to lend you his. Good
morning.’
So saying, he gently pushed Jem into the street, shut the door, and went
back to his work.
Jem stepped across to the barber, whom he had known in old days.
‘Good morning, Urban,’ said he; ‘may I look at myself in your glass for
a moment?’
‘With pleasure,’ said the barber, laughing, and all the people in his
shop fell to laughing also. ‘You are a pretty youth, with your swan-like
neck and white hands and small nose. No wonder you are rather vain; but
look as long as you like at yourself.’
So spoke the barber, and a titter ran round the room. Meantime Jem had
stepped up to the mirror, and stood gazing sadly at his reflection.
Tears came to his eyes.
‘No wonder you did not know your child again, dear mother,’ thought he;
‘he wasn’t like this when you were so proud of his looks.’
His eyes had grown quite small, like pigs’ eyes, his nose was huge and
hung down over his mouth and chin, his throat seemed to have disappeared
altogether, and his head was fixed stiffly between his shoulders. He was
no taller than he had been seven years ago, when he was not much more
than twelve years old, but he made up in breadth, and his back and
chest had grown into lumps like two great sacks. His legs were small and
spindly, but his arms were as large as those of a well-grown man, with
large brown hands, and long skinny fingers.
Then he remembered the morning when he had first seen the old woman, and
her threats to him, and without saying a word he left the barber’s shop.
He determined to go again to his mother, and found her still in the
market-place. He begged her to listen quietly to him, and he reminded
her of the day when he went away with the old woman, and of many things
in his childhood, and told her how the fairy had bewitched him, and he
had served her seven years. Hannah did not know what to think--the story
was so strange; and it seemed impossible to think her pretty boy and
this hideous dwarf were the same. At last she decided to go and talk to
her husband about it. She gathered up her baskets, told Jem to follow
her, and went straight to the cobbler’s stall.
‘Look here,’ said she, ‘this creature says he is our lost son. He has
been telling me how he was stolen seven years ago, and bewitched by a
fairy.’
‘Indeed!’ interrupted the cobbler angrily. ‘Did he tell you this? Wait a
minute, you rascal! Why I told him all about it myself only an hour ago,
and then he goes off to humbug you. So you were bewitched, my son were
you? Wait a bit, and I’ll bewitch you!’
So saying, he caught up a bundle of straps, and hit out at Jem so hard
that he ran off crying.
The poor little dwarf roamed about all the rest of the day without food
or drink, and at night was glad to lie down and sleep on the steps of a
church. He woke next morning with the first rays of light, and began to
think what he could do to earn a living. Suddenly he remembered that he
was an excellent cook, and he determined to look out for a place.
As soon as it was quite daylight he set out for the palace, for he
knew that the grand duke who reigned over the country was fond of good
things.
When he reached the palace all the servants crowded about him, and made
fun of him, and at last their shouts and laughter grew so loud that the
head steward rushed out, crying, ‘For goodness sake, be quiet, can’t
you. Don’t you know his highness is still asleep?’
Some of the servants ran off at once, and others pointed out Jem.
Indeed, the steward found it hard to keep himself from laughing at the
comic sight, but he ordered the servants off and led the dwarf into his
own room.
When he heard him ask for a place as cook, he said: ‘You make some
mistake, my lad. I think you want to be the grand duke’s dwarf, don’t
you?’
‘No, sir,’ replied Jem. ‘I am an experienced cook, and if you will
kindly take me to the head cook he may find me of some use.’
‘Well, as you will; but believe me, you would have an easier place as
the grand ducal dwarf.’
So saying, the head steward led him to the head cook’s room.
‘Sir,’ asked Jem, as he bowed till his nose nearly touched the floor,
‘do you want an experienced cook?’
The head cook looked him over from head to foot, and burst out laughing.
‘You a cook! Do you suppose our cooking stoves are so low that you can
look into any saucepan on them? Oh, my dear little fellow, whoever sent
you to me wanted to make fun of you.’
But the dwarf was not to be put off.
‘What matters an extra egg or two, or a little butter or flour and spice
more or less, in such a house as this?’ said he. ‘Name any dish you wish
to have cooked, and give me the materials I ask for, and you shall see.’
He said much more, and at last persuaded the head cook to give him a
trial.
They went into the kitchen--a huge place with at least twenty
fireplaces, always alight. A little stream of clear water ran through
the room, and live fish were kept at one end of it. Everything in the
kitchen was of the best and most beautiful kind, and swarms of cooks and
scullions were busy preparing dishes.
When the head cook came in with Jem everyone stood quite still.
‘What has his highness ordered for luncheon?’ asked the head cook.
‘Sir, his highness has graciously ordered a Danish soup and red Hamburg
dumplings.’
‘Good,’ said the head cook. ‘Have you heard, and do you feel equal to
making these dishes? Not that you will be able to make the dumplings,
for they are a secret receipt.’
‘Is that all!’ said Jem, who had often made both dishes. ‘Nothing
easier. Let me have some eggs, a piece of wild boar, and such and such
roots and herbs for the soup; and as for the dumplings,’ he added in a
low voice to the head cook, ‘I shall want four different kinds of meat,
some wine, a duck’s marrow, some ginger, and a herb called heal-well.’
‘Why,’ cried the astonished cook, ‘where did you learn cooking? Yes,
those are the exact materials, but we never used the herb heal-well,
which, I am sure, must be an improvement.’
And now Jem was allowed to try his hand. He could not nearly reach up to
the kitchen range, but by putting a wide plank on two chairs he managed
very well. All the cooks stood round to look on, and could not help
admiring the quick, clever way in which he set to work. At last, when
all was ready, Jem ordered the two dishes to be put on the fire till he
gave the word. Then he began to count: ‘One, two, three,’ till he got to
five hundred when he cried, ‘Now!’ The saucepans were taken off, and he
invited the head cook to taste.
The first cook took a golden spoon, washed and wiped it, and handed
it to the head cook, who solemnly approached, tasted the dishes, and
smacked his lips over them. ‘First rate, indeed!’ he exclaimed. ‘You
certainly are a master of the art, little fellow, and the herb heal-well
gives a particular relish.’
As he was speaking, the duke’s valet came to say that his highness was
ready for luncheon, and it was served at once in silver dishes. The head
cook took Jem to his own room, but had hardly had time to question him
before he was ordered to go at once to the grand duke. He hurried on his
best clothes and followed the messenger.
The grand duke was looking much pleased. He had emptied the dishes, and
was wiping his mouth as the head cook came in. ‘Who cooked my luncheon
to-day?’ asked he. ‘I must say your dumplings are always very good; but
I don’t think I ever tasted anything so delicious as they were to-day.
Who made them?’
‘It is a strange story, your highness,’ said the cook, and told him
the whole matter, which surprised the duke so much that he sent for the
dwarf and asked him many questions. Of course, Jem could not say he had
been turned into a squirrel, but he said he was without parents and had
been taught cooking by an old woman.
‘If you will stay with me,’ said the grand duke, ‘you shall have fifty
ducats a year, besides a new coat and a couple of pairs of trousers. You
must undertake to cook my luncheon yourself and to direct what I shall
have for dinner, and you shall be called assistant head cook.’
Jem bowed to the ground, and promised to obey his new master in all
things.
He lost no time in setting to work, and everyone rejoiced at having him
in the kitchen, for the duke was not a patient man, and had been known
to throw plates and dishes at his cooks and servants if the things
served were not quite to his taste. Now all was changed. He never
even grumbled at anything, had five meals instead of three, thought
everything delicious, and grew fatter daily.
And so Jem lived on for two years, much respected and considered, and
only saddened when he thought of his parents. One day passed much like
another till the following incident happened.
Dwarf Long Nose--as he was always called--made a practice of doing his
marketing as much as possible himself, and whenever time allowed went to
the market to buy his poultry and fruit. One morning he was in the goose
market, looking for some nice fat geese. No one thought of laughing at
his appearance now; he was known as the duke’s special body cook, and
every goose-woman felt honoured if his nose turned her way.
He noticed one woman sitting apart with a number of geese, but not
crying or praising them like the rest. He went up to her, felt and
weighed her geese, and, finding them very good, bought three and the
cage to put them in, hoisted them on his broad shoulders, and set off on
his way back.
As he went, it struck him that two of the geese were gobbling and
screaming as geese do, but the third sat quite still, only heaving a
deep sigh now and then, like a human being. ‘That goose is ill,’ said
he; ‘I must make haste to kill and dress her.’
But the goose answered him quite distinctly:
‘Squeeze too tight
And I’ll bite,
If my neck a twist you gave
I’d bring you to an early grave.’
Quite frightened, the dwarf set down the cage, and the goose gazed at
him with sad wise-looking eyes and sighed again.
‘Good gracious!’ said Long Nose. ‘So you can speak, Mistress Goose. I
never should have thought it! Well, don’t be anxious. I know better
than to hurt so rare a bird. But I could bet you were not always in this
plumage--wasn’t I a squirrel myself for a time?’
‘You are right,’ said the goose, ‘in supposing I was not born in this
horrid shape. Ah! no one ever thought that Mimi, the daughter of the
great Weatherbold, would be killed for the ducal table.’
‘Be quite easy, Mistress Mimi,’ comforted Jem. ‘As sure as I’m an honest
man and assistant head cook to his highness, no one shall harm you. I
will make a hutch for you in my own rooms, and you shall be well fed,
and I’ll come and talk to you as much as I can. I’ll tell all the other
cooks that I am fattening up a goose on very special food for the grand
duke, and at the first good opportunity I will set you free.’
The goose thanked him with tears in her eyes, and the dwarf kept his
word. He killed the other two geese for dinner, but built a little shed
for Mimi in one of his rooms, under the pretence of fattening her under
his own eye. He spent all his spare time talking to her and comforting
her, and fed her on all the daintiest dishes. They confided their
histories to each other, and Jem learnt that the goose was the daughter
of the wizard Weatherbold, who lived on the island of Gothland. He
fell out with an old fairy, who got the better of him by cunning and
treachery, and to revenge herself turned his daughter into a goose and
carried her off to this distant place. When Long Nose told her his story
she said:
‘I know a little of these matters, and what you say shows me that you
are under a herb enchantment--that is to say, that if you can find the
herb whose smell woke you up the spell would be broken.’
This was but small comfort for Jem, for how and where was he to find the
herb?
About this time the grand duke had a visit from a neighbouring prince, a
friend of his. He sent for Long Nose and said to him:
‘Now is the time to show what you can really do. This prince who is
staying with me has better dinners than any one except myself, and is a
great judge of cooking. As long as he is here you must take care that
my table shall be served in a manner to surprise him constantly. At
the same time, on pain of my displeasure, take care that no dish shall
appear twice. Get everything you wish and spare nothing. If you want to
melt down gold and precious stones, do so. I would rather be a poor man
than have to blush before him.’
The dwarf bowed and answered:
‘Your highness shall be obeyed. I will do all in my power to please you
and the prince.’
From this time the little cook was hardly seen except in the kitchen,
where, surrounded by his helpers, he gave orders, baked, stewed,
flavoured and dished up all manner of dishes.
The prince had been a fortnight with the grand duke, and enjoyed himself
mightily. They ate five times a day, and the duke had every reason to
be content with the dwarf’s talents, for he saw how pleased his guest
looked. On the fifteenth day the duke sent for the dwarf and presented
him to the prince.
‘You are a wonderful cook,’ said the prince, ‘and you certainly know
what is good. All the time I have been here you have never repeated a
dish, and all were excellent. But tell me why you have never served the
queen of all dishes, a Suzeraine Pasty?’
The dwarf felt frightened, for he had never heard of this Queen of
Pasties before. But he did not lose his presence of mind, and replied:
‘I have waited, hoping that your highness’ visit here would last some
time, for I proposed to celebrate the last day of your stay with this
truly royal dish.’
‘Indeed,’ laughed the grand duke; ‘then I suppose you would have waited
for the day of my death to treat me to it, for you have never sent it
up to me yet. However, you will have to invent some other farewell dish,
for the pasty must be on my table to-morrow.’
‘As your highness pleases,’ said the dwarf, and took leave.
But it did not please HIM at all. The moment of disgrace seemed at hand,
for he had no idea how to make this pasty. He went to his rooms very
sad. As he sat there lost in thought the goose Mimi, who was left free
to walk about, came up to him and asked what was the matter? When she
heard she said:
‘Cheer up, my friend. I know the dish quite well: we often had it at
home, and I can guess pretty well how it was made.’ Then she told him
what to put in, adding: ‘I think that will be all right, and if some
trifle is left out perhaps they won’t find it out.’
Sure enough, next day a magnificent pasty all wreathed round with
flowers was placed on the table. Jem himself put on his best clothes and
went into the dining hall. As he entered the head carver was in the act
of cutting up the pie and helping the duke and his guests. The grand
duke took a large mouthful and threw up his eyes as he swallowed it.
‘Oh! oh! this may well be called the Queen of Pasties, and at the same
time my dwarf must be called the king of cooks. Don’t you think so, dear
friend?’
The prince took several small pieces, tasted and examined carefully, and
then said with a mysterious and sarcastic smile:
‘The dish is very nicely made, but the Suzeraine is not quite
complete--as I expected.’
The grand duke flew into a rage.
‘Dog of a cook,’ he shouted; ‘how dare you serve me so? I’ve a good mind
to chop off your great head as a punishment.’
‘For mercy’s sake, don’t, your highness! I made the pasty according to
the best rules; nothing has been left out. Ask the prince what else I
should have put in.’
The prince laughed. ‘I was sure you could not make this dish as well
as my cook, friend Long Nose. Know, then, that a herb is wanting called
Relish, which is not known in this country, but which gives the pasty
its peculiar flavour, and without which your master will never taste it
to perfection.’
The grand duke was more furious than ever.
‘But I WILL taste it to perfection,’ he roared. ‘Either the pasty must
be made properly to-morrow or this rascal’s head shall come off. Go,
scoundrel, I give you twenty-four hours respite.’
The poor dwarf hurried back to his room, and poured out his grief to the
goose.
‘Oh, is that all,’ said she, ‘then I can help you, for my father taught
me to know all plants and herbs. Luckily this is a new moon just now,
for the herb only springs up at such times. But tell me, are there
chestnut trees near the palace?’
‘Oh, yes!’ cried Long Nose, much relieved; ‘near the lake--only a couple
of hundred yards from the palace--is a large clump of them. But why do
you ask?’
‘Because the herb only grows near the roots of chestnut trees,’ replied
Mimi; ‘so let us lose no time in finding it. Take me under your arm and
put me down out of doors, and I’ll hunt for it.’
He did as she bade, and as soon as they were in the garden put her on
the ground, when she waddled off as fast as she could towards the lake,
Jem hurrying after her with an anxious heart, for he knew that his life
depended on her success. The goose hunted everywhere, but in vain. She
searched under each chestnut tree, turning every blade of grass with her
bill--nothing to be seen, and evening was drawing on!
Suddenly the dwarf noticed a big old tree standing alone on the other
side of the lake. ‘Look,’ cried he, ‘let us try our luck there.’
The goose fluttered and skipped in front, and he ran after as fast as
his little legs could carry him. The tree cast a wide shadow, and it was
almost dark beneath it, but suddenly the goose stood still, flapped
her wings with joy, and plucked something, which she held out to her
astonished friend, saying: ‘There it is, and there is more growing here,
so you will have no lack of it.’
The dwarf stood gazing at the plant. It gave out a strong sweet scent,
which reminded him of the day of his enchantment. The stems and leaves
were a bluish green, and it bore a dark, bright red flower with a yellow
edge.
‘What a wonder!’ cried Long Nose. ‘I do believe this is the very herb
which changed me from a squirrel into my present miserable form. Shall I
try an experiment?’
‘Not yet,’ said the goose. ‘Take a good handful of the herb with you,
and let us go to your rooms. We will collect all your money and clothes
together, and then we will test the powers of the herb.’
So they went back to Jem’s rooms, and here he gathered together some
fifty ducats he had saved, his clothes and shoes, and tied them all up
in a bundle. Then he plunged his face into the bunch of herbs, and drew
in their perfume.
As he did so, all his limbs began to crack and stretch; he felt his head
rising above his shoulders; he glanced down at his nose, and saw it grow
smaller and smaller; his chest and back grew flat, and his legs grew
long.
The goose looked on in amazement. ‘Oh, how big and how beautiful you
are!’ she cried. ‘Thank heaven, you are quite changed.’
Jem folded his hands in thanks, as his heart swelled with gratitude. But
his joy did not make him forget all he owed to his friend Mimi.
‘I owe you my life and my release,’ he said, ‘for without you I should
never have regained my natural shape, and, indeed, would soon have been
beheaded. I will now take you back to your father, who will certainly
know how to disenchant you.’
The goose accepted his offer with joy, and they managed to slip out of
the palace unnoticed by anyone.
They got through the journey without accident, and the wizard soon
released his daughter, and loaded Jem with thanks and valuable presents.
He lost no time in hastening back to his native town, and his parents
were very ready to recognise the handsome, well-made young man as their
long-lost son. With the money given him by the wizard he opened a shop,
which prospered well, and he lived long and happily.
I must not forget to mention that much disturbance was caused in the
palace by Jem’s sudden disappearance, for when the grand duke sent
orders next day to behead the dwarf, if he had not found the necessary
herbs, the dwarf was not to be found. The prince hinted that the duke
had allowed his cook to escape, and had therefore broken his word. The
matter ended in a great war between the two princes, which was known in
history as the ‘Herb War.’ After many battles and much loss of life, a
peace was at last concluded, and this peace became known as the ‘Pasty
Peace,’ because at the banquet given in its honour the prince’s cook
dished up the Queen of Pasties--the Suzeraine--and the grand duke
declared it to be quite excellent.