The farmer went home in a temper.
“What kind of a burgomaster is this young fellow!” he growled. “If he had let me keep the heifer I’d have sent him a bushel of pears. But now I’m in a fair way of losing the heifer for I can’t think of any answer to his foolish riddle.”
“What is the matter, husband?” his wife asked.
“It’s that new burgomaster. The old one would have given me the heifer without any argument, but this young man thinks to decide the case by asking us riddles.”
When he told his wife what the riddle was, she cheered him greatly by telling him that she knew the answers at once.
“Why, husband,” said she, “our gray mare must be the swiftest thing in the world. You know yourself nothing ever passes us on the road. As for the sweetest, did you ever taste honey any sweeter than ours? And I’m sure there’s nothing richer than our chest of golden ducats that we’ve been laying by these forty years.”
The farmer was delighted.
“You’re right, wife, you’re right! That heifer remains ours!”
The shepherd when he got home was downcast and
