e public road she was certain he would
have eaten her up. 'Well,' said the grandmother, 'we will shut the door,
that he may not come in.' Soon afterwards the wolf knocked, and cried:
'Open the door, grandmother, I am Little Red-Cap, and am bringing you
some cakes.' But they did not speak, or open the door, so the grey-beard
stole twice or thrice round the house, and at last jumped on the roof,
intending to wait until Red-Cap went home in the evening, and then to
steal after her and devour her in the darkness. But the grandmother
saw what was in his thoughts. In front of the house was a great stone
trough, so she said to the child: 'Take the pail, Red-Cap; I made some
sausages yesterday, so carry the water in which I boiled them to the
trough.' Red-Cap carried until the great trough was quite full. Then the
smell of the sausages reached the wolf, and he sniffed and peeped down,
and at last stretched out his neck so far that he could no longer keep
his footing and began to slip, and slipped down from the roof straight
into the great trough, and was drowned. But Red-Cap went joyously home,
and no one ever did anything to harm her again.

THE ROBBER BRIDEGROOM

There was once a miller who had one beautiful daughter, and as she was
grown up, he was anxious that she should be well married and provided
for. He said to himself, 'I will give her to the first suitable man who
comes and asks for her hand.' Not long after a suitor appeared, and as
he appeared to be very rich and the miller could see nothing in him with
which to find fault, he betrothed his daughter to him. But the girl did
not care for the man as a girl ought to care for her betrothed husband.
She did not feel that she could trust him, and she could not look at him
nor think of him without an inward shudder. One day he said to her, 'You
have not yet paid me a visit, although we have been betrothed for some
time.' 'I do not know where your house is,' she answered. 'My house is
out there in the dark forest,' he said. She tried to excuse herself by
saying that she would not be able to find the way thither. Her betrothed
only replied, 'You must come and see me next Sunday; I have already
invited guests for that day, and that you may not mistake the way, I
will strew ashes along the path.'

When Sunday came, and it was time for the girl to start, a feeling of
dread came over her which she could not explain, and that she might
be able to find her path again, she