"If our brother only chose, he has said he could easily get the king those seven silver ducks."
You may fancy it wasn't long before the coachman told this to the king; and the king called Boots before him, and said,—
"Your brothers say you can get me the silver ducks; so now go and fetch them."
"I'm sure I never thought or said anything of the kind," said the lad.
"You did say so, and you shall fetch them," said the king, who would hold his own.
"Well, well," said the lad; "needs must, I suppose; but give me a bushel of rye and a bushel of wheat, and I'll try what I can do."
So he got the rye and the wheat, and put them into the kneading-trough he had brought with him from home, got in, and rowed across the lake. When he reached the other side he began to walk along the shore, and to sprinkle and strew the grain, and at last he coaxed the ducks into his kneading-trough, and rowed back as fast as ever he could.
When he got half over, the Troll came out of his house and set eyes on him.
"Halloa!" roared out the Troll; "is it you that has gone off with my seven silver ducks? "
"Ay! Ay!" said the lad.
"Shall you be back soon?" asked the Troll.
"Very likely," said the lad.
So when he got back to the king, with the seven silver ducks, he was more liked than ever, and even the king was pleased to say, "Well done!" But at this his brothers grew more and more spiteful and envious; and so they
