man who was yet
entire, and Knud got the broken maiden; but the children had been so
much impressed by the story that they could not summon courage to eat
the lovers up.

On the following day they went out with them to the churchyard, and
sat down by the church wall, which is covered, winter and summer, with
the most luxuriant ivy as with a rich carpet. Here they stood the two
cake figures up in the sunshine among the green leaves, and told the
story to a group of other children; they told them of the silent love
which led to nothing. It was called _love_ because the story was so
lovely, on that they all agreed. But when they turned to look again at
the gingerbread pair, a big boy, out of mischief, had eaten up the
broken maiden. The children cried about this, and afterwards--probably
that the poor lover might not be left in the world lonely and
desolate--they ate him up too; but they never forgot the story.

The children were always together by the elder tree and under the
willow, and the little girl sang the most beautiful songs with a voice
that was clear as a bell. Knud, on the other hand, had not a note of
music in him, but he knew the words of the songs, and that, at least,
was something. The people of Kjoege, even to the rich wife of the
fancy-shop keeper, stood still and listened when Joanna sang. "She has
a very sweet voice, that little girl," they said.

Those were glorious days, but they could not last for ever. The
neighbours were neighbours no longer. The little maiden's mother was
dead, and the father intended to marry again, in the capital, where he
had been promised a living as a messenger, which was to be a very
lucrative office. And the neighbours separated regretfully, the
children weeping heartily, but the parents promised that they should
at least write to one another once a year.

[Illustration: THE NAUGHTY BOY WHO ATE THE GINGERBREAD MAIDEN.]

And Knud was bound apprentice to a shoemaker, for the big boy could
not be allowed to run wild any longer; and moreover he was confirmed.

Ah, how gladly on that day of celebration would he have been in
Copenhagen with little Joanna! but he remained in Kjoege, and had never
yet been to Copenhagen, though the little town is only five Danish
miles distant from the capital; but far across the bay, when the sky
was clear, Knud had seen the towers in the distance, and on the day of
his confirmation he could distinctly see the golden cross on the
principal