The ravens, who were now flying past, could have told Franzl that she might dry her tears, as the buried alive were rescued; but men do not understand ravens, and human beings are some time before they can carry good news over hill and valley.
It was evening when a sledge came driving along, with a cheerful ringing of bells. What does the sledge come here for, and stop at this door?--there is no one at home but old Franzl.
"Who is getting out, is it not Pilgrim?" Franzl wishes to rise to meet him, but she is unable to stir.
"Franzl, I have come to fetch you;" cried Pilgrim. Franzl rubbed her eyes: "Is it a dream? what does it mean?" Pilgrim continued: "Lenz is saved, and all belonging to him, and I have been sent to fetch your fair Princess Cinderella! Will you entrust your precious person to my care in the sledge?"
"I have not a single pair of shoes to put on," said Franzl at last.
"I will lend you a pair of fur boots, I have below; they are sure to fit your small feet, Princess," answered Pilgrim. "And here is the skin--I mean the fur cloak of Petrowitsch the sorcerer. You must come with me this very moment, my well-beloved Franzl of Knuslingen! You must cease spinning your magic threads, and leave your magic wheel here; unless it thinks fit to walk after us on its wooden legs." So saying, Pilgrim bowed to Franzl and offered her his arm, as if to lead her to a banquet.
Franzl was utterly confounded. Luckily her sister-in-law came home at this moment, and she seemed to have no objections to Franzl being carried off in a sledge. She assisted to help old Franzl to pack her things; but the old woman made her leave the room, for she wished above all to pack up a certain secret shoe carefully.
"I have my own feather bed here," said Franzl, "do you think you could put it on the sledge?"
"Let Knuslingen sleep on it in peace," answered Pilgrim; "make a footstool of your pillow, and leave all the rest."
"Must I leave my hens and my geese here too? They are my own, they all belong to me; and my beautiful gold speckled hen has been laying for the last six weeks."
The bepraised lady stuck her head out, between the bars of the coop, and showed her red comb.
Pilgrim said that hens and geese all ran after the veritable Cinderella of their own accord; and that if these chose to do the same, no one wished to prevent them, but that they certainly would not be taken in the sledge.