Well, Shortshanks did as she told him, and he had scarce crept into the side-room before the Ogre came in.
"HUF!" said the Ogre; "what a horrid smell of Christian man's blood!"
"Yes!" said the Princess, "I know there is, for a bird flew over the house with a Christian man's bone in his bill, and let it fall down the chimney. I made all the haste I could to get it out again, but I daresay it's that you smell."
"Ah!" said the Ogre, "like enough."
Then the Princess asked the Ogre if he had laid hold of any one who could brew a hundred lasts of malt at one strike?
"No," said the Ogre, "I can't hear of any one who can do it."
""Well," she said, "a while ago, there was a chap in here who said he could do it."
"Just like you, with your wisdom!" said the Ogre; "why did you let him go away then, when you knew he was the very man I wanted? "
"Well, then,' I didn't let him go," said the Princess; "but father's temper is a little hot, so I hid him away in the side-room yonder; but if father hasn't hit upon any one, here he is."
"Well," said the Ogre, "let him come in then."
So Shortshanks came in, and the Ogre asked him if it were true that he could brew a hundred lasts of malt at a strike.
"Yes, it is," said Shortshanks.
"'Twas good luck then to lay hands on you," said the Ogre, "and now fall to work this minute; but heaven help you if you don't brew the ale strong enough."
