"Can't you play a trick upon me, then?" said the king.
"No, I don't think I can, because I have left my trickery-sticks at home," said Peik.
"Can't you go and fetch them?" said the king; "I should like to see, if you are such a clever trickster as folks make you out to be."
"I am not able to walk so far now," said Peik.
"I'll lend you a horse and saddle," said the king.
"I don't think I am able to ride either," said Peik.
"We'll lift you up," said the king, "and I suppose you'll be able to stick on to the horse."
Well, Peik rubbed and scratched his head, as if he was going to pull all his hair off, but he let himself be lifted on top of the horse at last; there he sat, and swung backwards and forwards and sideways as long as the king could see him, and the king laughed till the tears came into his eyes, for he had never seen such a sorry horseman before. But as soon as Peik came into the wood behind the hill, where the king could see him no longer, he sat straight and steady as if he was nailed to the horse and started off as if he had stolen both horse and bridle, and when he came to the town he sold them both.
In the meantime the king walked up and down and waited for Peik. He longed to see him coming back with his trickery-sticks; he could not help laughing when he called to mind how pitiable he looked, as he sat rolling to and fro on the horse like a haybag which didn't know which side to fall off on; but hours went and hours came,—and no Peik came. So the king guessed at last that he had been played a trick, and done out of his horse and saddle as well, although Peik did not have his trickery-sticks with him. But then things took another turn, for the king got in a rage and made up his mind to take Peik's life.
But Peik got to know the day when he was coming, and told his sister to put the porridge-pot on the fire with some water in it. But just before the king came in he took the pot off the fire and put it on the chopping-block and began making the porridge on the block.
