“This morning everything attacks my head,” said he, and angrily sat down on his grandfather’s chair, but he quickly started up again and cried, “Woe is me,” for the needle had pricked him still worse than the pin, and not in the head. Now he was thoroughly angry, and suspected the guests who had come so late the night before, and when he went and looked about for them, they were gone. Then he made a vow to take no more ragamuffins into his house, for they consume much, pay for nothing, and play mischievous tricks into the bargain by way of gratitude.