"Yes," he said at last; "Lord Peter has everything far finer than I have, there's no gainsaying that," and so he wanted to be off home again.
But Peter begged him to stay to supper, and the King stayed, but he was sour and surly the whole time.
So as they sat at supper, back came the Troll who owned the castle, and gave such a great knock at the door.
"Who's this eating my meat and drinking my mead like swine in here?" roared out the Troll.
As soon as the Cat heard that, she ran down to the gate.
"Stop a bit," she said, "and I'll tell you how the farmer sets to work to get in his winter rye."
And so she told him such a long story about the winter rye.
"First of all, you see, he ploughs his field, and then he dungs it, and then he ploughs it again, and then he harrows it;" and so she went on till the sun rose.
"Oh, do look behind you, and there you'll see such a lovely lady," said the Cat to the Troll.
So the Troll turned round, and, of course, as soon as he saw the sun he burst.
"Now all this is yours," said the Cat to Lord Peter. "Now, you must cut off my head; that's all I ask for what I have done for you."
"Nay, nay," said Lord Peter, "I'll never do any such thing, that's flat."
"If you don't," said the Cat, "see if I don't claw your eyes out."
Well, so Lord Peter had to do it, though it was sore against his will. He cut off the Cat's head, but there and
