hot and thirsty, that his tongue was parched and clung to the roof of his mouth.
‘This can easily be set to rights,’ thought Hans. ‘I will milk my cow and sup up the milk.’ He tied her to a tree, and as he had no pail, he used his leather cap instead; but, try as hard as he liked, not a single drop of milk appeared. As he was very clumsy in his attempts, the impatient animal gave him a severe kick on his forehead with one of her hind legs. He was stunned by the blow, and fell to the ground, where he lay for some time, not knowing where he was.
Happily just then a butcher came along the road, trundling a young pig in a wheel-barrow.
‘What is going on here?’ he cried, as he helped poor Hans up.
Hans told him all that had happened.
The butcher handed him his flask, and said: ‘Here, take a drink, it will do you good. The cow can’t give any milk I suppose; she must be too old, and good for nothing but to be a beast of burden, or to go to the butcher.’
‘Oh dear!’ said Hans, smoothing his hair. ‘Now who would ever have thought it! Killing the animal is all very well, but what kind of meat will it be? For my part, I don’t like cow’s flesh; it’s not juicy enough. Now, if one had a nice young pig like that, it would taste ever so much better; and then, all the sausages!’
‘Listen, Hans!’ then said the butcher, ‘for your sake I will exchange, and let you have the pig instead of the cow.’
‘God reward your friendship!’ said Hans, handing over the cow, as the butcher untied the pig, and put the halter with which it was tied into his hand.
Hans went on his way, thinking how well everything was turning out for him. Even if a mishap befell him, something else immediately happened to make up for it. Soon after this, he met a lad carrying a beautiful white goose under his arm. They passed the time of day, and Hans began to tell him how lucky he was, and what successful bargains he had
