does not kill it. If,
however, Buccia reveals what he has heard, he will turn to stone. Buccia
acts accordingly, and the king forgives him everything but killing the
queen's pet dog; for that Buccia is condemned to be hung. Then he
relates all, and gradually turns to stone from his feet up. The king,
queen, and Buccia's mother are inconsolable until they are informed by
an old woman that the blood of the little prince will bring the statue
back to life. The faithful friend is by that means restored, and the
child also saved. In this version the abduction is wanting, and the last
danger is not the one usually threatened.

In a version from Siena (Gradi, _Vigilia_, p. 64), one of two brothers
goes in search of the "Princess with Blonde Tresses." He also buys a
parrot and a horse, and the dangers are: he who touches the parrot will
have his eyes put out; he who mounts the horse will be thrown; he who
marries the fair one will be devoured by a dragon; and he who reveals
these dangers will become stone. The remainder of the story is like the
last version.

The Florentine version (_Nov. fior._ p. 421) is mixed up with a number
of other incidents. The dangers from which the prince is saved by his
faithful servant are: poisoned apples, poisoned pastry, and a lion in
the royal chamber. The servant is turned to stone and restored, as in
the other versions.

In a Mantuan story (_Fiabe mant_, No. 9), the dangers are: parrot,
horse, and bride; whoever touches these will be devoured by a dragon;
whoever reveals these dangers will become stone. The conclusion is the
same as above.

The last version we shall mention here is in the Pentamerone (IV. 9),
and resembles the one from Monferrato. The elder brother, who goes in
search of a bride for his younger brother, buys a falcon and a horse.
The first will pick out the younger brother's eyes; the horse will throw
him, and finally a dragon will devour him on his wedding night. The
remainder of the story is as usual.[30]

We shall conclude this chapter with the class of stories in which giants
are outwitted by men. The simplest form is found in two stories which
are interesting examples of the survival of classic myths. Both stories
are from Sicily, and one was told to Pitre by a girl eight years old
(Pitre, No. 51). It is entitled "The Little Monk," and is, in substance,
as follows: There were once two monks who went begging for the church
every year. One was large and the other smal