Years passed quickly with the whole family, and one day the
parents suddenly perceived that all three girls were grown up,
and that very soon they would be thinking of marriage.

'Have you decided what your husband's name is to be?' said the
father, laughingly, to his eldest daughter, one evening when they
were all sitting at the door of their cottage. 'You know that is
a very important point!'

'Yes; I will never wed any man who is not called Sigmund,'
answered she.

'Well, it is lucky for you that there are a great many Sigmunds
in this part of the world,' replied her father, 'so that you can
take your choice! And what do YOU say?' he added, turning to the
second.

'Oh, I think that there is no name so beautiful as Sigurd,' cried
she.

'Then you won't be an old maid either,' answered he. 'There are
seven Sigurds in the next village alone! And you, Helga?'

Helga, who was still the prettiest of the three, looked up. She
also had her favourite name, but, just as she was going to say
it, she seemed to hear a voice whisper: 'Marry no one who is not
called Habogi.'

The girl had never heard of such a name, and did not like it, so