orns, that would not
have disgraced the head of a goat.

Then his courage failed him.

'As if it was not enough,' said he, 'that a woman should trick me, but
the devil must mix himself up in it and lend me his horns. What a pretty
figure I should cut if I went back into the world!'

But as he was still hungry, and the mischief was done, he climbed boldly
up another tree, and plucked two plums of a lovely green colour. No
sooner had he swallowed two than the horns disappeared. The little
soldier was enchanted, though greatly surprised, and came to the
conclusion that it was no good to despair too quickly. When he had done
eating an idea suddenly occurred to him.

'Perhaps,' thought he, 'these pretty little plums may help me to recover
my purse, my cloak, and my heart from the hands of this wicked Princess.
She has the eyes of a deer already; let her have the horns of one. If I
can manage to set her up with a pair, I will bet any money that I shall
cease to want her for my wife. A horned maiden is by no means lovely to
look at.' So he plaited a basket out of the long willows, and placed in
it carefully both sorts of plums. Then he walked bravely on for many
days, having no food but the berries by the wayside, and was in great
danger from wild beasts and savage men. But he feared nothing, except
that his plums should decay, and this never happened.

At last he came to a civilised country, and with the sale of some jewels
that he had about him on the evening of his flight he took passage on
board a vessel for the Low Countries. So, at the end of a year and a
day, he arrived at the capital of the kingdom.

VIII

The next day he put on a false beard and the dress of a date merchant,
and, taking a little table, he placed himself before the door of the
church.

He spread carefully out on a fine white cloth his Mirabelle plums, which
looked for all the world as if they had been freshly gathered, and when
he saw the Princess coming out of church he began to call out in a
feigned voice: 'Fine plums! lovely plums!'

'How much are they?' said the Princess.

'Fifty crowns each.'

'Fifty crowns! But what is there so very precious about them? Do they
give one wit, or will they increase one's beauty?'

'They could not increase what is perfect already, fair Princess, but
still they might add something.'

Rolling stones gather no moss, but they sometimes gain polish; and the
months which John had spent in roaming abou