HERE was once a cook called Grethel,
 who wore shoes with red heels, and
 when she went out in them she gave
 herself great airs, and thought herself
 very fine indeed. When she came
 home again, she would take a drink of
 wine to refresh herself, and as that
 gave her an appetite, she would take
 some of the best of whatever she was
 
cooking, until she had had enough ;—“ for,” said she, “a cook
 
must know how things taste.”
 
Now it happened that one day her master said to her,—
 
‘“‘Grethel, I expect a guest this evening; you must make
 ready a pair of fowls.”
 
6 Certainly, sir, I will,” answered Grethel. So she killed
 the fowls, cleaned them, and plucked them, and put them on the
 spit, and then, as evening drew near, placed them before the
 fire to roast. And they began to be brown, and were nearly
 done, but the guest had not come.
 
‘If he does not make haste,” cried Grethel to her master, “I
 must take them away from the fire ; it’s a pity and a shame not
 to eat them now, just when they are done to a turn.” And
 the master said he would run himself and fetch the guest. As
 soon as he had turned his back, Grethel took the fowls from
 before the fire.
 
‘Standing so long before the fire,” said she, " makes one
 hot and thirsty,—and who knows when they will come! in the
 meanwhile I will go to the cellar and have a drink.” So down