melancholy alone, when the three
brothers with the princesses rode into the courtyard of the palace.
The old King was so glad that he laughed and cried at the same time,
and his tears ran down his beard.

"Ah me!" says the old King, "I am old, and you young men have brought
my daughters back from the very world under the world. Safer they will
be if they have you to guard them, even than they were in the palace I
had built for them underground. But I have only one kingdom and three
daughters."

"Do not trouble about that," laughed the three princesses, and they
all rode out together into the open country, and there the princesses
broke their eggs, one after the other, and there were the palaces of
silver, copper, and gold, with the kingdoms belonging to them, and the
cattle and the sheep and the goats. There was a kingdom for each of
the brothers. Then they made a great feast, and had three weddings all
together, and the old King sat with the mother of the three strong
men, and men of power, the noble bogatirs, Evening, Midnight, and
Sunrise, sitting at his side. Great was the feasting, loud were the
songs, and the King made Sunrise his heir, so that some day he would
wear his crown. But little did Sunrise think of that. He thought of
nothing but the youngest Princess. And little she thought of it, for
she had no eyes but for Sunrise. And merrily they lived together in
the copper palace. And happily they rode together on the horse that
was as white as clouds in summer.

SALT.

One evening, when they were sitting round the table after their
supper, old Peter asked the children what story they would like to
hear. Vanya asked whether there were any stories left which they had
not already heard.

"Why," said old Peter, "you have heard scarcely any of the stories,
for there is a story to be told about everything in the world."

"About everything, grandfather?" asked Vanya.

"About everything," said old Peter.

"About the sky, and the thunder, and the dogs, and the flies, and the
birds, and the trees, and the milk?"

"There is a story about everyone of those things."

"I know something there isn't a story about," said Vanya.

"And what's that?" asked old Peter, smiling in his beard.

"Salt," said Vanya. "There can't be a story about salt." He put the
tip of his finger into the little box of salt on the table, and then
he touched his tongue with his finger to taste.

"But of course there is a story abo