The shepherd's daughter answered him, "_Prince Lindworm_, slough a
skin."
"No one has ever dared tell me to do that before," said he.--"But I
command you to do it now," said she. Then with groans and moans he
cast off the second skin: and she covered it with her second shift.
The _Lindworm_ said for the third time, "Fair maiden, shed a shift."
The shepherd's daughter answered him again, "_Prince Lindworm_, slough
a skin."--"No one has ever dared tell me to do that before," said he,
and his little eyes rolled furiously. But the girl was not afraid, and
once more she commanded him to do as she bade.
And so this went on until nine _Lindworm_ skins were lying on the
floor, each of them covered with a snow-white shift. And there was
nothing left of the _Lindworm_ but a huge thick mass, most horrible to
see. Then the girl seized the whips, dipped them in the lye, and
whipped him as hard as ever she could. Next, she bathed him all over
in the fresh milk. Lastly, she dragged him on to the bed and put her
arms round him. And she fell fast asleep that very moment.
Next morning very early, the _King_ and the courtiers came and peeped
in through the keyhole. They wanted to know what had become of the
girl, but none of them dared enter the room. However, in the end,
growing bolder, they opened the door a tiny bit. And there they saw
the girl, all fresh and rosy, and beside her lay--no _Lindworm_, but
the handsomest prince that any one could wish to see.
The _King_ ran out and fetched the _Queen_: and after that, there were
such rejoicings in the castle as never were known before or since. The
wedding took place all over again, much finer than the first, with
festivals and banquets and merrymakings for days and weeks. No bride
was ever so beloved by a King and Queen as this peasant maid from the
shepherd's cottage. There was no end to their love and their kindness
towards her: because, by her sense and her calmness and her courage,
she had saved their son, _Prince Lindworm_.