"Messenger after messenger had been sent to the palace to entreat for assistance. Soldiers in numbers had been despatched to seize the monster and imprison him. But it was no use--he was not to be caught. Nothing would content him but the promise of the Princess; and as it was of course plain that he was not a common bull, but a creature endowed with magical power, the country-people's fear of him was unbounded. They threatened to rise in revolution unless some means were found of ridding them of their terrible visitor. Then the king called together the wisest of his counsellors, and finding force of no avail, they determined to try cunning. The giving the Princess was not to be thought of, but a pretty girl about her age and size--the gardener's daughter, the same whom the Princess had found weeping over her fate--was chosen, dressed in one of her royal mistress's beautiful robes, and a message sent to the bull that his request was to be granted. He came. All round, the castle was protected by soldiers, though they well knew their power against him was nothing. The king and queen, feigning to weep over the loss of their daughter, themselves presented to him the false Princess.
"She was mounted on his back, and off he rushed with her--up hill, down dale, by rocky ground and smooth, across rivers and through forests he rushed, said the girl, faster and faster, till at last, as evening fell, he came to a stand and spoke to her for the first time.
"'What time of day must it be by this, king's daughter?' he said.
"The girl considered for a moment. Then, forgetting her pretended position, she replied thoughtlessly,
"'It must be getting late. About the time that my father gathers the flowers to adorn the king's and queen's supper table.'
"'Throw thee once, throw thee twice, throw thee _thrice_,' roared the bull, each time shaking the girl roughly, and the last time flinging her off his back. 'Shame on thee, gardener's daughter, and thou wouldst call thyself a true Princess.'
"And with that he left her bruised and frightened out of her wits on the ground, and rushed off by himself whither she knew not. And it was not till two days later that the unfortunate gardener's daughter found her way home, glad enough, one may be sure, to be again there in safety.