sad. He had a daughter, a clever girl named Manka, who met him at the door of his cottage and asked:
“What is it, father? What did the burgomaster say?”
The shepherd sighed.
“I’m afraid I’ve lost the heifer. The burgomaster set us a riddle and I know I shall never guess it.”
“Perhaps I can help you,” Manka said. “What is it?”
So the shepherd gave her the riddle and the next day as he was setting out for the burgomaster’s, Manka told him what answers to make.
When he reached the burgomaster’s house, the farmer was already there rubbing his hands and beaming with self-importance.
The burgomaster again propounded the riddle and then asked the farmer his answers.
The farmer cleared his throat and with a pompous air began:
“The swiftest thing in the world? Why, my dear sir, that’s my gray mare, of course, for no other horse ever passes us on the road. The sweetest? Honey from my beehives, to be sure. The richest? What can be richer than my chest of golden ducats!”
