Days passed, and the sad temper of the newly-married couple did not
improve.
They scarcely attempted to speak to each other, and groaned so much
over the hardships of their life, that all their friends became tired
of trying to comfort them.
"They're bewitched," said the Bride's mother, "bewitched, and nothing
else. But wait till St. John's Eve, and you'll see I shall cure them."
She spoke mysteriously, but as she was a sensible woman everyone
believed her.
On St. John's Eve--as I daresay you know--all animals have the power
of talking together like human beings, and punctually as the clock
struck twelve the Bride's mother put on her thick shoes, and taking
the stable lantern from its nail, she went off to the stable, refusing
to allow either her husband or son to accompany her.
As she entered the door of the outhouse, she heard the oxen already
whispering to each other, and the old horse, with his head over the
division, addressing friendly remarks to a family of goats close by.
"Do you know anything of Terli or the Wood-Trolls?" enquired the old
woman, looking at the oxen severely.
"No, no, no!" and they shook their heads slowly.
