ou have never sent it
up to me yet. However, you will have to invent some other farewell dish,
for the pasty must be on my table to-morrow.'

'As your highness pleases,' said the dwarf, and took leave.

But it did not please HIM at all. The moment of disgrace seemed at hand,
for he had no idea how to make this pasty. He went to his rooms very
sad. As he sat there lost in thought the goose Mimi, who was left free
to walk about, came up to him and asked what was the matter? When she
heard she said:

'Cheer up, my friend. I know the dish quite well: we often had it at
home, and I can guess pretty well how it was made.' Then she told him
what to put in, adding: 'I think that will be all right, and if some
trifle is left out perhaps they won't find it out.'

Sure enough, next day a magnificent pasty all wreathed round with
flowers was placed on the table. Jem himself put on his best clothes and
went into the dining hall. As he entered the head carver was in the act
of cutting up the pie and helping the duke and his guests. The grand
duke took a large mouthful and threw up his eyes as he swallowed it.

'Oh! oh! this may well be called the Queen of Pasties, and at the same
time my dwarf must be called the king of cooks. Don't you think so, dear
friend?'

The prince took several small pieces, tasted and examined carefully, and
then said with a mysterious and sarcastic smile:

'The dish is very nicely made, but the Suzeraine is not quite
complete--as I expected.'

The grand duke flew into a rage.

'Dog of a cook,' he shouted; 'how dare you serve me so? I've a good mind
to chop off your great head as a punishment.'

'For mercy's sake, don't, your highness! I made the pasty according to
the best rules; nothing has been left out. Ask the prince what else I
should have put in.'

The prince laughed. 'I was sure you could not make this dish as well
as my cook, friend Long Nose. Know, then, that a herb is wanting called
Relish, which is not known in this country, but which gives the pasty
its peculiar flavour, and without which your master will never taste it
to perfection.'

The grand duke was more furious than ever.

'But I WILL taste it to perfection,' he roared. 'Either the pasty must
be made properly to-morrow or this rascal's head shall come off. Go,
scoundrel, I give you twenty-four hours respite.'

The poor dwarf hurried back to his room, and poured out his grief to the
goose.

'Oh, is that all,' said she, '