never eaten anything equal to it before or since. He fixed his eyes on
the girl.

"Let me see the bun first?" said he.

She was not slow in producing a large twisted bun that she held in her
hand.

"Here it is!" cried she, and tossed it down to him.

"Oh! it broke in pieces!" exclaimed the boy, picking up every fragment
with the utmost care. He could not help tasting of the very smallest
morsel, and it was so good that he had to try another piece, and before
he knew it himself he had devoured the whole bun.

"Now the goat belongs to me," said the girl.

The boy paused with the last morsel in his mouth; the girl lay there
laughing, and the goat stood by her side, with its white breast and
shining brown hair, giving sidelong glances down.

"Could you not wait a while," begged the boy,--his heart beginning to
throb. Then the girl laughed more than ever, and hurriedly got up on
her knees.

"No, the goat is mine," said she, and threw her arms about it, then
loosening one of her garters she fastened it around its neck. Oyvind
watched her. She rose to her feet and began to tug at the goat; it
would not go along with her, and stretched its neck over the edge of
the cliff toward Oyvind.