e amusing to see him.'

So the King's daughter told Minnikin that the Troll was out trying
to get hold of someone who could brew a hundred lasts of malt at one
brewing, for there was to be a feast at the Troll's, at which less than
that would not be drunk.

'I can do that,' said Minnikin.

'Ah! if only the Troll were not so quick-tempered I might have told him
that,' answered the Princess, 'but he is so ill-natured that he will
tear you to pieces, I fear, as soon as he comes in. But I will try to
find some way of doing it. Can you hide yourself here in the cupboard?
and then we will see what happens.'

Minnikin did this, and almost before he had crept into the cupboard and
hidden himself, came the Troll.

'Huf! What a smell of Christian man's blood!' said the Troll.

'Yes, a bird flew over the roof with a Christian man's bone in his bill,
and let it fall down our chimney,' answered the Princess. 'I made
haste enough to get it away again, but it must be that which smells so,
notwithstanding.'

'Yes, it must be that,' said the Troll.

Then the Princess asked if he had got hold of anyone who could brew a
hundred lasts of malt at one brewing.

'No, there is no one who can do it,' said the Troll.

'A short time since there was a man here who said he could do it,' said
the King's daughter.

'How clever you always are!' said the Troll. 'How could you let him go
away? You must have known that I was just wanting a man of that kind.'

'Well, but I didn't let him go, after all,' said the Princess; 'but
father is so quick-tempered, so I hid him in the cupboard, but if father
has not found any one then the man is still here.'

'Let him come in,' said the Troll.

When Minnikin came, the Troll asked if it were true that he could brew a
hundred lasts of malt at one brewing.

'Yes,' said Minnikin, 'it is.'

'It is well then that I have lighted on thee,' said the Troll. 'Fall to
work this very minute, but Heaven help thee if thou dost not brew the
ale strong.'

'Oh, it shall taste well,' said Minnikin, and at once set himself to
work to brew.

'But I must have more trolls to help to carry what is wanted,' said
Minnikin; 'these that I have are good for nothing.'

So he got more and so many that there was a swarm of them, and then
the brewing went on. When the sweet-wort was ready they were all, as a
matter of course, anxious to taste it, first the Troll himself and then
the others; but Minnikin had brewed the wort