Atondido Stories
As soon as Kubik reached home the farmer called his three sons
together and demanded to be shown their betrothal gifts.
All the eldest one had was a small cheap kerchief of no value
whatever.
“Um,” the farmer said, shaking his head. “Well, put it away for a
keepsake.”
The kerchief of the second had cost a few cents more.
“A little better,” the old man mumbled. “Perhaps it’s good
enough for a farmer. And now,” he said, turning to his youngest
son, “let us see what Kubik has brought from his promised
bride.”
They all looked at Kubik, and Kubik blushed as he pulled out a
parcel from under his shirt.
“Ho, ho!” his brothers laughed. “Kubik has such a fine kerchief
that he has to keep it wrapped up in paper!”
But when Kubik opened the paper they stopped laughing, and
well they might, for there was a silken kerchief so big that it
could have covered the whole room and so richly embroidered
that any princess in the world would have been proud to own it.
“Kubik!” the farmer cried when at last he was able to speak,
“where did you get that kerchief? You must have stolen it, you
wicked boy!” And without waiting to hear what Kubik had to
say, he reached down the whip again and trounced the poor boy
to within an inch of his life. Then he took the kerchief and hid it
carefully away.
“Now, my sons,” he said, “you will all have to make another tri-
al. But this time it will not be for a ring or a kerchief. This time
bring home your brides and he whose bride is the most beautiful
shall be my heir.”
So the next day the three sons again started out, each in a differ-
ent direction.
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