was strong
enough to carry it.

At last they took their leave of the King and went their way.
The old man said to the Pope, "We'll bury this money in the
ground, and go and make another cure." Well, they walked
and walked, and at length they reached another country. In
that country, also, the King had a daughter at the point of death,
and he had given notice that whoever cured his daughter should
have half of his kingdom and of his goods and possessions; but
if he failed to cure her he should have his head chopped off and
hung up on a stake.[457] Then the Evil One afflicted the envious
Pope, suggesting to him "Why shouldn't he go and perform
the cure by himself, without saying a word to the old man, and
so lay hold of all the gold and silver for himself?" So the
Pope walked about in front of the royal gates, forced himself on
the notice of the people there, and gave out that he was a doctor.
In the same way as before he asked the King for a private
room, a tub of water, a large table, and a sharp sword. Shutting
himself up in the private room, he laid the Princess on the table,
and began chopping her up with the sharp sword; and however
much the Princess might scream or squeal, the Pope, without
paying any attention to either screaming or squealing, went on
chopping and chopping just as if she had been so much beef.
And when he had chopped her up into little pieces, he threw
them into the tub, washed them, rinsed them, and then put
them together bit by bit, exactly as the old man had done, expecting
to see all the pieces unite with each other. He breathes
on them--but nothing happens! He gives another puff--worse
than ever! See, the Pope flings the pieces back again into the
water, washes and washes, rinses and rinses, and again puts
them together bit by bit. Again he breathes on them--but still
nothing comes of it.

"Woe is me," thinks the Pope; "here's a mess!"

Next morning the King arrives and looks--the doctor has
had no success at all--he's only messed the dead body all over
with muck!

The King ordered the doctor off to the gallows. Then our
Pope besought him, crying--

"O King! O free to do thy will! Spare me for a little
time! I will run for the old man, he will cure the Princess."

The Pope ran off in search of the old man. He found the
old man, and cried:

"Old man! I am guilty, wretch that I am! The Devil
got