“Bless me!” cried the miller, and went there and found the wine. “Now go on,” said he.

The peasant made the raven croak again, and said, “In the second place, he says that there is some roast meat in the tiled stove.”

“Upon my word!” cried the miller, and went thither, and found the roast meat.

The peasant made the raven prophesy still more, and said, “Thirdly, he says that there is some salad on the bed.”

“That would be a fine thing!” cried the miller, and went there and found the salad.

At last the peasant pinched the raven once more till he croaked, and said, “Fourthly, he says that there are some cakes under the bed.”

“That would be a fine thing!” cried the miller, and looked there, and found the cakes.