at, and a fine, great fish. The farmer's wife
and the sexton were sitting at the table all by themselves, and she was
pouring out wine for him, while his fork was in the fish, which he
seemed to like the best.

"If I could only get some too," thought Little Claus, and as he
stretched his neck toward the window he spied a large, beautiful cake.
Goodness! what a glorious feast they had before them.

At that moment some one came riding down the road towards the farm. It
was the farmer himself, returning. He was a good man enough, but he had
one very singular prejudice--he could not bear the sight of a sexton,
and if he came on one he fell into a terrible rage. This was the reason
that the sexton had gone to visit the farmer's wife during his absence
from home and that the good wife had put before him the best she had.

When they heard the farmer they were frightened, and the woman begged
the sexton to creep into a large empty chest which stood in a corner. He
did so with all haste, for he well knew how the farmer felt toward a
sexton. The woman hid the wine and all the good things in the oven, for
if her husband were to see them, he would certainly ask why they had
been provided.

"O dear!" sighed Little Claus, on the shed roof, as he saw the good
things disappear.

"Is any one up there?" asked the farmer, looking up where Little Claus
was. "What are you doing up there? You had better come with me into the
house."

Then Little Claus told him how he had lost his way, and asked if he
might have shelter for the night.

"Certainly," replied the farmer; "but the first thing is to have
something to eat."

The wife received them both in a friendly way, and laid the table,
bringing to it a large bowl of porridge. The farmer was hungry and ate
with a good appetite. But Little Claus could not help thinking of the
capital roast meat, fish, and cake, which he knew were hidden in the
oven.

He had put his sack with the hide in it under the table by his feet,
for, we must remember, he was on his way to the town to sell it. He did
not relish the porridge, so he trod on the sack and made the dried skin
squeak quite loudly.

"Hush!" said Little Claus to his bag, at the same time treading upon it
again, to make it squeak much louder than before.

"Hollo! what's that you've got in your bag?" asked the farmer.

"Oh, it's a magician," said Little Claus, "and he says we needn't eat
the porridge, for he has charmed the oven full