“'Oh no， we won't keep it!' they all cried; and then they seized the skewer， which Igave up to them， and danced with it to the spot where the delicate moss GREw， and set itup in the middle of the green. They wanted a maypole， and the one they now had seemed cutout on purpose for them. Then they decorated it so beautifully that it was quite dazzling tolook at. Little spiders spun golden threads around it， and then it was hung with fluttering veilsand flags so delicately white that they glittered like snow in the moonshine. After that theytook colors from the butterfly's wing， and sprinkled them over the white drapery whichgleamed as if covered with flowers and diamonds， so that I could not recognize my sausageskewer at all. Such a maypole had never been seen in all the world as this. Then came a greatcompany of real elves. Nothing could be finer than their clothes， and they invited me to bepresent at the feast; but I was to keep at a certain distance， because I was too large forthem. Then commenced such music that it sounded like a thousand glass bells， and was so fulland strong that I thought it must be the song of the swans. I fancied also that I heard thevoices of the cuckoo and the black-bird， and it seemed at last as if the whole forest sent forthglorious melodies—the voices of children， the tinkling of bells， and the songs of the birds;and all this wonderful melody came from the elfin maypole. My sausage peg was a completepeal of bells. I could scarcely believe that so much could have been produced from it， till Iremembered into what hands it had fallen. I was so much affected that I wept tears such as alittle mouse can weep， but they were tears of joy. The night was far too short for me; thereare no long nights there in summer， as we often have in this part of the world. When themorning dawned， and the gentle breeze rippled the glassy mirror of the forest lake， all thedelicate veils and flags fluttered away into thin air; the waving garlands of the spider's web，the hanging bridges and galleries， or whatever else they may be called， vanished away as ifthey had never been. Six elves brought me back my sausage skewer， and at the same timeasked me to make any request， which they would grant if in their power; so I beggedthem， if they could， to tell me how to make soup from a sausage skewer.
“'How do we make it?' said the chief of the elves with a smile. 'Why you have just seen it;you scarcely knew your sausage skewer again， I am sure.'
“they think themselves very wise， thought I to myself. Then I told them all about it， andwhy I had travelled so far， and also what promise had been made at home to the one whoshould discover the method of preparing this soup. 'What use will it be，' I asked， 'to themouse-king or to our whole mighty kingdom that I have seen all these beautiful things? Icannot shake the sausage peg and say， Look， here is the skewer， and now the soup willcome. That would only produce a dish to be served when people were keeping a fast.'
“then the elf dipped his finger into the cup of a violet， and said to me， 'Look here， I willanoint your pilgrim's staff， so that when you return to your own home and enter the king'scastle， you have only to touch the king with your staff， and violets will spring forth and coverthe whole of it， even in the coldest winter time; so I think I have given you really somethingto carry home， and a little more than something.'”
But before the little mouse explained what this something more was， she stretched herstaff out to the king， and as it touched him the most beautiful bunch of violets sprang forthand filled the place with perfume. The smell was so powerful that the mouse-king ordered themice who stood nearest the chimney to thrust their tails into the fire， that there might be asmell of burning， for the perfume of the violets was overpowering， and not the sort ofscent that every one liked.
“But what was the something more of which youspoke just now?” asked the mouse-king.
“Why，” answered the little mouse， “I think it iswhat they call 'effect;'” and thereupon she turnedthe staff round， and behold not a single flower wasto be seen upon it! She now only held the nakedskewer， and lifted it up as a conductor lifts hisbaton at a concert. “Violets， the elf told me，”continued the mouse， “are for the sight， thesmell， and the touch; so we have only now toproduce the effect of hearing and tasting;” andthen， as the little mouse beat time with her staff， there came sounds of music， not suchmusic as was heard in the forest， at the elfin feast， but such as is often heard in the kitchen—the sounds of boiling and roasting. It came quite suddenly， like wind rushing through thechimneys， and seemed as if every pot and kettle were boiling over. The fire-shovel clattereddown on the brass fender; and then， quite as suddenly， all was still，—nothing could beheard but the light， vapory song of the tea-kettle， which was quite wonderful to hear， for noone could rightly distinguish whether the kettle was just beginning to boil or going to stop.And the little pot steamed， and the GREat pot simmered， but without any regard for each;indeed there seemed no sense in the pots at all. And as the little mouse waved her baton stillmore wildly， the pots foamed and threw up bubbles， and boiled over; while again the windroared and whistled through the chimney， and at last there was such a terrible hubbub， thatthe little mouse let her stick fall.
“That is a strange sort of soup，” said the mouse-king; “shall we not now hear about thepreparation?”
“That is all，” answered the little mouse， with a bow.