220
Tales from the Fjeld
and she laughed as though her sides would split; and when she saw the smith there too, she slapped her thigh and went off again in a loud peal. But when she had laughed her laugh out, she too thought the golden goose so lovely she must just stroke it.
"Taper Tom! Taper Tom!" she bawled out, and came running out with the ladle of porridge in her fist, "may I have leave to stroke that pretty bird of yours?"
"Better let her stroke me," said the smith.
"I dare say," said Taper Tom.
But when the cook heard that she got angry.
