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THE ENCHANTED CANARY
gave me any bread. He has given me as much as I want. Let him go in peace.’
‘Iron gate, iron gate,’ cried the voice, growling like thunder, ‘fall on him and grind him to powder.’
‘No,’ replied the gate; ‘it is a hundred years since you left me to rust, and he has oiled me. Let him go in peace.’
VI
Once outside, the young adventurer put his oranges into a bag that hung from his saddle, mounted his horse, and rode quickly out of the forest.
