Then the
slaughterer said he would do as she wished; cut off the head, and
nailed it fast under the dark gate.
Early the next morning, as she and Curdken went out through the gate,
she said sorrowfully--
"Falada, Falada, there thou art hanging!"
and the head answered--
"Bride, bride, there thou art ganging!
Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly her heart would rue it."
Then they went out of the city, and drove the geese in. And when she
came to the meadow, she sat down upon a bank here, and let down her
waving locks of hair, which were all of pure gold; and when Curdken
saw it glitter in the sun, he ran up, and would have pulled some of
the locks out; but she cried--
"Blow, breezes, blow!
Let Curdken's hat go!
Blow, breezes, blow!
Let him after it go!
O'er hills, dales, and rocks.
Away be it whirl'd,
Till the golden locks
Are all comb'd and curl'd!"
[Illustration]
Then there came a wind, so strong that it blew off Curdken's hat, and
away it flew over the hills, and he after it; till, by the time he
came back, she had done combing and curling her hair, and put it up
again safe.
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