merrily and staring up into the bright sky, where the white clouds hung
like little sheep, feeding on the wide blue field. "If those clouds were
sheep, and the sheep were mine, then I would be a great man and very
proud," said Peter. But the clouds were clouds, and he was not a great
man; nevertheless, he whistled more merrily than ever, for it was very
nice to think of these things.

So he trudged along with great comfort until high noontide, against
which time he had come nigh to the town, for he could see the red roofs
and the tall spires peeping over the crest of the next green hill. By
this time his stomach was crying, "Give! give!" for it longed for bread
and cheese. Now, a great gray stone stood near by at the forking of the
road, and just as Peter came to it he heard a noise. "Click! clack!" he
turned his head, and, lo and behold! the side of the stone opened like a
door, and out came a little old man dressed all in fine black velvet.
"Good-day, Peter," said he. "Good-day, sir," said Peter, and he took off
his hat as he spoke, for he could see with half an eye that this little
old gentleman was none of your cheese-paring fine folks.

"Will you strike a bargain with me for your eggs?" said the little old
man. Yes, Peter would strike a bargain; what would the little gentleman
give him for his eggs? "I will give you this," said the little old man,
and he drew a black bottle out of his pocket.

Peter took the bottle and turned it over and over in his hands. "It is,"
said he, "a pretty little, good little, sweet little bottle, but it is
not worth as much as my basket of eggs."

"Prut!" said the little gentleman, "now you are not talking like the
wise Peter. You should never judge by the outside of things. What would