“Well,” said Iván, “whoever you are, you’ve met the same fate!”
He was about to dash him against the cart, but the imp cried out: “Let me off, and I will not only let you alone, but I’ll do anything you tell me to do.”
“What can you do?”
“I can make soldiers out of anything you like.”
“But what use are they?”
“You can turn them to any use; they can do anything you please.”
“Can they sing?”
“Yes, if you want them to.”
“All right; you may make me some.”
And the imp said, “Here, take a sheaf of rye, then bump it upright on the ground, and simply say:
“O sheaf! my slave This order gave: Where a straw has been Let a soldier be seen!”
Iván took the sheaf, struck it on the ground, and said what the imp had told him to. The sheaf fell asunder, and all the straws changed into soldiers, with a trumpeter and a drummer playing in front, so that there was a whole regiment.
Iván laughed.
“How clever!” said he. “This is fine! How pleased the girls will be!”
“Now let me go,” said the imp.