Next morning the turner went home to his father with the table-be-set, and the gold-donkey. The tailor rejoiced when he saw him once more, and asked him likewise what he had learned in foreign parts. "Dear father," said he, "I have become a turner."
"A skilled trade," said the father. "What have you brought back with you from your travels?"
"A precious thing, dear father," replied the son, "a cudgel in the sack."
"What!" cried the father, "A cudgel! That's worth your trouble! From every tree you can cut yourself one."
"But not one like this, dear father. If I say, 'Cudgel out of the sack,' the cudgel springs out and leads anyone ill-disposed toward me a weary dance, and never stops until he lies on the ground and prays for fair weather. Look you, with this cudgel have I rescued the table-be-set and the gold-donkey which the thievish innkeeper took away from my brothers. Now let them both be sent for, and invite all our relatives. I will give them to eat and to drink, and will fill their pockets with gold as well."
The old tailor had not much confidence. Nevertheless he summoned the relatives together. Then the turner spread a cloth in the room and led in the gold-donkey, and said to his brother, "Now, dear brother, speak to him."
The miller said, "Bricklebrit," and instantly the gold pieces rained down on the cloth like a cloudburst, and the donkey did not stop until every one of them had so much that he could carry no more. (I can see by your face that you would have liked to be there as well.)
Then the turner brought out the little table and said, "Now, dear brother, speak to it." And scarcely had the joiner said, "Table be set," than it was spread and amply covered with the most exquisite dishes. Then such a meal took place as the good tailor had never yet known in his house, and the whole party of relatives stayed together until after nightfall, and were all merry and glad. The tailor locked his needle and thread and yardstick and pressing iron into a chest, and lived with his three sons in joy and splendor.
What, however, happened to the goat who was to blame for the tailor driving out his three sons? That I will tell you.
She was ashamed that she had a bald head, and ran to a fox's hole and crept into it. When the fox came home, he was met by two great eyes shining out of the darkness, and was terrified and ran away. A bear met him, and as the fox looked quite disturbed, he said, "What is the matter with you, Brother Fox, why do you look like that?"
"Ah," answered Redskin, "a fierce beast is in my cave and stared at me with its fiery eyes."
"We will soon drive him out," said the bear, and went with him to the cave and looked in, but when he saw the fiery eyes, fear seized on him likewise. He would have nothing to do with the furious beast, and took to his heels.
The bee met him, and as she saw that he was ill at ease, she said, "Bear, you are really pulling a very pitiful face. What has become of all your cheerfulness?"
"It is all very well for you to talk," replied the bear. "A furious beast with staring eyes is in Redskin's house, and we can't drive him out."
The bee said, "Bear, I pity you. I am a poor weak creature whom you would not turn aside to look at, but still, I believe I can help you." She flew into the fox's cave, lit on the goat's smoothly shorn head, and stung her so violently, that she sprang up, crying "meh, meh," and ran forth into the world as if mad, and to this hour no one knows where she has gone.
