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Next day the old man set the twelve maidens in a row before the boy, and commanded him to choose one of them. He looked until he had seen the one with the patch over the right eye, and chose her. The old man was angry, but he had to give her up. And he therefore mixed the maidens together and told him to make a second choice. The boy hit on the same one, and after a third choice he took his fated bride.

“This has been your piece of luck. Now take her home!”

All at once the boy and the maiden found themselves on the bank of the lake, and they walked backwards until they reached the high road. The Devil wanted to hunt after them; but all at once the lake vanished, and there was no trace of the water.

When the boy had taken his bride into the village, he stopped at the pope’s house. The pope saw her, and sent a servant out and asked what they desired.

“We are wandering folk, and ask for shelter.”

“I have guests staying here, and my hut would be too small anyhow.”

“But, father!” said the merchants, “wandering folk must be always taken in: they will not disturb us.”