my freedom," it called out. "In token of my gratitude take the ring—it is a wishing ring. If you wish anything as you turn it round on your finger, your wish will be fulfilled. But remember this—the ring contains but one wish, so think well before you use it."
The man put the ring on his finger, and set off on his homeward journey. Night was coming on when he entered a town. Almost the first person he saw was a goldsmith standing at the door of his shop. So he went up to him, and asked him what the ring was worth.
The goldsmith looked at it carefully, and handed it back to the man with a smile.
"It is of very little value," he said.
The plowman laughed.
"Ah, Mr. Goldsmith," he cried, "you have made a mistake this time. My ring is worth more than all you have in your shop; it's a wishing-ring, and will give me anything I care to wish for."
The goldsmith felt annoyed and asked to see it again.
"Well, my good man," he said, "never mind about the ring. I dare say you are far
