“Do not take it ill,” said she, “I did it in a dream.”

“What have you dreamt this time?” asked he.

“I dreamt that in a certain kingdom there stood an apple-tree which had once borne golden apples, but now would not even bear leaves. What, think you, was the reason?”

“Oh! if they did but know,” answered the devil. “A mouse is gnawing at the root; if they killed this they would have golden apples again, but if it gnaws much longer the tree will wither altogether. But leave me alone with your dreams: if you disturb me in my sleep again you will get a box on the ear.”

The grandmother spoke gently to him until he fell asleep again and snored. Then she took hold of the third golden hair and pulled it out. The devil jumped up, roared out, and would have treated her ill if she had not quieted him once more and said, “Who can help bad dreams?”

“What was the dream, then?” asked he, and was quite curious.