So when they got to the trunk, the eldest foal took and pushed it on one side, and then they saw a door where it had stood, and inside the door was a little room, and in the room there was scarce anything but a little fireplace and one or two benches; but behind the door hung a great rusty sword and a little pitcher.
"Can you brandish the sword?" said the foals; "try."
So Boots tried, but he couldn't; then they made him take a pull at the pitcher; first once, then twice, and then thrice, and then he could wield it like anything.
"Yes," said the foals, "now you may take the sword with you, and with it you must cut off all our seven heads on your wedding-day, and then we'll be princes again as we were before. For we are brothers of that Princess whom you are to have when you can tell the King what we eat and drink; but an ugly Troll has thrown this shape over us. Now mind, when you have hewn off our heads, to take care to lay each head at the tail of the trunk which it belonged to before, and then the spell will have no more power over us."
Yes, Boots promised all that, and then on they went.
And when they had travelled a long long way, the foal asked,—
"Do you see anything?"
"No," said Boots.
So they travelled a good bit still.
"And now?" asked the foal.
"No, I see nothing," said Boots.
So they travelled many many miles again, over hill and dale.
"Now then," said the foal, "do you see anything now?"
