You will rub it again, and then that great red monster will come again to frighten me.”

“I will rub it no more,” said he.

“Oh, but you will,” said she; “I know you will.”

“I will not,” said he.

“But I can’t trust you,” said she, “as long as you hold it in your hand.”

“Then I will lay it aside,” said he, and so he did. Yes, he did; and he is not the first man who has thrown aside a piece of good luck for the sake of a pretty face. “Now are you afraid of me?” said he.

“No, I am not,” said she; and she reached out her hand as though to give it to him. But, instead of doing so, she snatched up the piece of blue glass as quick as a flash.

“Now,” said she, “it is my turn;” and then the prime-minister knew that his end had come.

She blew her breath upon the piece of blue glass and rubbed her thumb upon it. Instantly, as with a clap of thunder, the great red Genie stood before her, and the poor prime-minister sat shaking and trembling.

“Whosoever hath that piece of blue crystal,” said the Genie, “that one must I obey. What are your orders, O princess?”

“Take this man,” cried the princess, “and carry him away into the desert where you took those other two, and bring my father and Jacob Stuck back again.”

“To hear is to obey,” said the Genie, and instantly he seized the prime-minister, and, in spite of the poor man’s kicks and struggles, snatched him up and flew away with him swifter than the wind. On and on he flew until he had come to the farthest part of the desert, and there sat the king and Jacob Stuck still thinking about things. Down he dropped the prime-minister, up he picked the king and Jacob Stuck, and away he flew swifter than the wind. On and on he flew until he had brought the two back to the palace again; and there sat the princess waiting for them, with the piece of blue crystal in her hand.

“You have saved us!” cried the king.

“You have saved us!” cried Jacob Stuck. “Yes, you have saved us, and you have my piece of good luck into the bargain. Give it to me again.”

“I will do nothing of the sort,” said the princess. “If the men folk think no more of a piece of good luck than to hand it round like a bit of broken glass, it is better for the women folk to keep it for them.”

And there, to my mind, she brewed good common sense, that needed no skimming to make it fit for Jacob Stuck, or for any other man, for the matter of that.

And now for the end of this story. Jacob Stuck lived with his princess in his fine palace as grand as a king, and when the old king died he became the king after him.

One day there came two men traveling along, and they were footsore and weary. They stopped at Jacob Stuck’s palace and asked for something to eat. Jacob Stuck did not know them at first, and then he did. One was Joseph and the other was John.

This is what had happened to them:

Joseph had sat and sat where John and Jacob Stuck had left him on his box of silver money, until a band of thieves had come along and robbed him of it all. John had carried away his pockets and his hat full of gold, and had lived like a prince as long as it had lasted. Then he had gone back for more, but in the meantime some rogue had come along and had stolen it all. Yes; that was what had happened, and now they were as poor as ever.

Jacob Stuck welcomed them and brought them in and made much of them.

Well, the truth is truth, and this is it: It is better to have a little bit of good luck to help one in what one undertakes than to have a chest of silver or a chest of gold.

“AND now for your story, holy knight,” said Fortunatus to St. George; “for ’twas your turn, only for this fair lady who came in before you.”

“Aye, aye,” said the saint; “I suppose it was, in sooth, my turn. Nevertheless, it gives me joy to follow so close so fair and lovely a lady.” And as he spoke he winked one eye at Cinderella, beckoned towards her with his cup of ale, and took a deep draught to her health. “I shall tell you,” said he, as soon as he had caught his breath again, “a story about an angel and a poor man who traveled with him, and all the wonderful things the poor man saw the angel do.”

“That,” said the Blacksmith who made Death sit in his pear-tree until the wind whistled through his ribs—“that, methinks, is a better thing to tell for a sermon than for a story.”

“Whether or no that be so,” said St. George, “you shall presently hear for yourselves.”

He took another deep draught of ale, and then cleared his throat.

“Stop a bit, my friend,” said Ali Baba. “What is your story about?”

“It is,” said St. George, “about—

THE FRUIT OF HAPPINESS

Once upon a time there was a servant who served a wise man, and cooked for him his cabbage and his onions and his potherbs and his broth, day after day, time in and time out, for seven years.

In those years the servant was well enough contented, but no one likes to abide in the same place forever, and so one day he took it into his head that he would like to go out into the world to see what kind of a fortune a man might make there for himself. “Very well,” said the wise man, the servant’s master; “you have served me faithfully these seven years gone, and now that you ask leave to go you shall go. But it is little or nothing in the way of money that I can give you, and so you will have to be content with what I can afford. See, here is a little pebble, and its like is not to be found in the seven kingdoms, for whoever holds it in his mouth can hear while he does so all that the birds and the beasts say to one another. Take it—it is yours, and, if you use it wisely, it may bring you a fortune.”

The servant would rather have had the money in hand than the magic pebble, but, as nothing better was to be had, he took the little stone, and, bidding his master good-bye, trudged out into the world to seek his fortune. Well, he jogged on and on, paying his way with the few pennies he had saved in his seven years of service, but for all of his traveling nothing of good happened to him until, one morning, he came to a lonely place where there stood a gallows, and there he sat him down to rest, and it is just in such an unlikely place as this that a man’s best chance of fortune comes to him sometimes.

As the servant sat there, there came two ravens flying, and lit upon the cross-beam overhead.