Manka made no outcry.
“Very well, my dear husband, I shall do as you say: I shall go home to my father’s cottage and take with me the one thing I like best in your house. But don’t make me go until after supper. We have been very happy together and I should like to eat one last meal with you. Let us have no more words but be kind to each other as we’ve always been and then part as friends.”
The burgomaster agreed to this and Manka prepared a fine supper of all the dishes of which her husband was particularly fond. The burgomaster opened his choicest wine and pledged Manka’s health. Then he set to, and the supper was so good that he ate and ate and ate. And the more he ate, the more he drank until at last he grew drowsy and fell sound asleep in his chair. Then without awakening him Manka had him carried out to the wagon that was waiting to take her home to her father.
The next morning when the burgomaster opened his eyes, he found himself lying in the shepherd’s cottage.
“What does this mean?” he roared out.
“Nothing, dear husband, nothing!” Manka said. “You know you told me I might take with me the one
