“What hast thou made of thyself, my son?” asked the old man.

“A miller,” dear father, he answered.

“What hast thou brought back with thee from thy travels?”

“Nothing else but an ass.”

“There are asses enough here,” said the father, “I would rather have had a good goat.”

“Yes,” replied the son, “but it is no common ass, but a gold-ass, when I say ‘Bricklebrit,’ the good beast opens its mouth and drops a whole sheetful of gold pieces. Just summon all our relations hither, and I will make them rich folks.”

“That suits me well,” said the tailor, “for then I shall have no need to torment myself any longer with the needle,” and ran out himself and called the relations together.