So saying, he flung the box down on the ground: it burst open with
the shock, and out stepped a little old man. He was only one span
high, but his beard was a span and a quarter long, and trailed upon
the ground.

The little mannikin immediately began to stamp about and scold the lad
roundly for letting the box down so violently.

'Upon my word!' quoth the soldier's son, scarcely able to restrain a
smile at the ridiculous little figure, 'but you are weighty for your
size, old gentleman! And what may your name be?'

'Sir Buzz!' snapped the one-span mannikin, still stamping about in a
great rage.

'Upon my word!' quoth the soldier's son once more, 'if _you_ are
all the box contained, I am glad I didn't trouble to carry it
farther.'

'That's not polite,' snarled the mannikin; 'perhaps if you had carried
it the full nine miles you might have found something better; but
that's neither here nor there. I'm good enough for you, at any rate,
and will serve you faithfully according to my mistress's orders.'

'Serve me!--then I wish to goodness you'd serve me with some dinner,
for I am mighty hungry! Here are four shillings to pay for it.'

No sooner had the soldier's son said this and given the money, than
with a _whiz! boom! bing!_ like a big bee, Sir Buzz flew through
the air to a confectioner's shop in the nearest town. There he stood,