come and drive them away, that we may have
a good night's rest?' and then they sigh so deeply and say, 'We
would gladly pay you for it. Good-night, Ole-Luk, the money lies on
the window.' But I never do anything for gold." "What shall we do
to-night?" asked Hjalmar. "I do not know whether you would care to
go to another wedding," he replied, "although it is quite a
different affair to the one we saw last night. Your sister's large
doll, that is dressed like a man, and is called Herman, intends to
marry the doll Bertha. It is also the dolls' birthday, and they will
receive many presents."

"Yes, I know that already," said Hjalmar, "my sister always allows
her dolls to keep their birthdays or to have a wedding when they
require new clothes; that has happened already a hundred times, I am
quite sure."

"Yes, so it may; but to-night is the hundred and first wedding,
and when that has taken place it must be the last, therefore this is
to be extremely beautiful. Only look."

Hjalmar looked at the table, and there stood the little card-board
doll's house, with lights in all the windows, and drawn up before it
were the tin soldiers presenting arms. The bridal pair were seated
on the floor, leaning against the leg of the table, looking very
thoughtful, and with good reason. Then Ole-Luk-Oie dressed up in
grandmother's black gown married them.

As soon as the ceremony was concluded, all the furniture in the
room joined in singing a beautiful song, which had been composed by
the lead pencil, and which went to the melody of a military tattoo.

"What merry sounds are on the wind,
As marriage rites together bind
A quiet and a loving pair,
Though formed of kid, yet smooth and fair!
Hurrah! If they are deaf and blind,
We'll sing, though weather prove unkind."

And now came the present; but the bridal pair had nothing to
eat, for love was to be their food.

"Shall we go to a country house, or travel?" asked the bridegroom.

Then they consulted the swallow who had travelled so far, and
the old hen in the yard, who had brought up five broods of chickens.

And the swallow talked to them of warm countries, where the grapes
hang in large clusters on the vines, and the air is soft and mild, and
about the mountains glowing with colors more beautiful than we can
think of.

"But they have no red cabbage like we have," said the hen, "I
was once in the country with my chickens for a whole summer, there was
a large sa