hands by stealth at
twilight or by moonlight, they would have possessed nothing. As soon as
the distaff was empty, they were immediately furnished with a fresh
supply, and the thread was required to be fine and regular. When the
thread was finished, the old woman hid it away under lock and key in a
secret chamber, where her daughters were never allowed to set foot. The
spinners knew not how the golden flax came into the house, nor for what
fabric the thread was used, for the mother never replied to any
questions on these subjects. The old woman went off on a journey two or
three times every summer, and sometimes stayed away more than a week,
but her daughters never knew where she went or what she brought back
with her, for she always returned by night. When she was about to start,
she always distributed as many days' work to her daughters as she
expected to be away.

The time came round again for the old woman to set out on her journey,
and she gave out work to the girls for six days, repeating her usual
admonition. "Children, do not let your eyes wander, and hold your
fingers carefully, that the thread on the reel is not broken, or the
glitter of the golden thread will vanish, and with it all your prospects
of good fortune." The girls laughed at this impressive warning, and
before their mother had hobbled ten steps from the house on her
crutches, all three began to make light of it. "There is no need of this
useless warning, which is always repeated," said the youngest sister.
"The golden threads do not break with picking, much less with spinning."
The other sisters added, "It is equally unlikely that the golden lustre
should disappear." The girls often ventured on such jests, but at last,
after much merriment, tears rose to their eyes.

On the third day after their mother's departure an unexpected event took
place, which at first filled the daughters with alarm, and then with joy
and happiness, but which was destined to cause them great trouble for a
long time afterwards. A prince of the race of Kalev found himself
separated from his companions while hunting in the forest,[129] and
wandered so far out of his way that he could no longer hear the barking
of the dogs, nor the blowing of the horns to direct him aright. All his
shouts met with no response but their own echo, or were lost in the
thick bush. At length the prince, tired and disheartened, dismounted
from his horse and lay down to rest under a bush, while he