little, "I will give you a good price for it, because I happen to have
the very fellow of it."

He bid the countryman a thousand dollars for it.

"A thousand dollars are money, my father used to say when he drove fat
oxen to market," replied John Wilde, in a mocking tone; "but it will not
leave my hands for that shabby price, and, for my own part, it may
ornament the foot of my daughter's doll! Hark ye, my friend, I have
heard a sort of little song sung about the glass shoe, and it is not for
a parcel of dirt it will go out of my hands. Tell me now, my good
fellow, should you happen to know the knack of it, how in every furrow I
make when I am ploughing I may find a ducat? If not, the shoe is still
mine; and you may inquire for glass shoes at those other markets."

The merchant made still a great many attempts, and twisted and turned in
every direction to get the shoe; but when he found the farmer
inflexible, he agreed to what John desired, and swore to the performance
of it. Cunning John believed him, and gave him up the glass shoe, for he
knew right well with whom he had to do. So, the business being ended,
away went the merchant with his glass shoe.

Without a moment's delay John repaired to his stable, got ready his
horses and his plough, and went out to the field. He selected a piece of
ground where he would have the shortest turns possible, and began to
plough. Hardly had the plough turned up the first sod when up sprang a
ducat out of the ground, and it was the same with every fresh furrow he
made. There was now no end of his ploughing, and John Wilde soon bought
eight new horses, and put them into the stable to the eight he already
had, and their mangers were never without plenty of oats in them, that