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THERE WAS ONCE A COOK NAMED GRETHEL,
who always dressed herself up very fine and who wore red rosettes on her shoes whenever she went out. When she walked down the road she always felt very much pleased with herself, and always thought what a pretty girl she looked. Then, when she got home again, she generally poured herself out a nice glass of wine, and drank it up, and after that she would sit down and eat a good plateful of whatever she fancied.
"After all," she always said, "the cook ought to know what the food tastes like!"
One day her master said to her:
"Grethel! I'm expecting a visitor this evening, so will you please roast us a nice pair of chickens for supper?"
"Certainly, Sir!" answered Grethel cheerfully.
So she plucked two nice fat birds, and got them all ready for roasting on a spit, and, towards supper time, she put them in front of a good hot fire to cook. She stood there, turning the spit to roast them evenly and, as they began to get brown, they smelt delicious. But the visitor was late, so Grethel called out to her master:
"Master! If the visitor doesn't come soon I shall have to take those birds away from the fire. But it will be a sin and a shame! They ought to be eaten now, while they are
juiciest."
"Quite right, Grethel!" answered her master. "I will go and see if I can hurry him up."
So off he went, and Grethel moved the chickens a little farther away from the hot fire.
 "Standing by a fire turning a roast always makes one so hot and thirsty, and goodness knows how long they will be!" thought Grethel to herself. So she decided that she would have time to go down to the cellar and draw herself a glass of wine from one of the wine-barrels.
The cellar was cool after the hot kitchen and the wine tasted cold and delicious, so, while she was at it, she had another glass. Then she went up to see to the fowls again, for though she didn't want them to cook too much, she didn't want them to get cold either.
So now she put them closer to the fire again and, as she turned the spit merrily round, she basted them with butter so that they smelt nicer than ever.
"They certainly do smell good," thought Grethel. "I think I ought to make sure that they taste as good as they smell," and with that she began to lick one of her fingers. It seemed to her that the juice tasted even better than it smelt.
"Oh, how good a nice roast chicken does taste, to be sure! It's a sin and a shame to keep them waiting like this." And, shaking her head at the thought of spoiling good food, she went to the window to see if her master and his visitor were coming. But no, there wasn't a soul to be seen.
Now while she was at the window, and no longer turning the spit, one of the birds began to scorch and even to smoke a little.
"Dear, dear! I'd better get that scorched wing out of the way," said Grethel to herself.
No sooner said than done! She cut the wing off and ate it. Really, the scorched bit was almost the best! Looking at the chickens again, it seemed to her that a roast bird with only one wing looked rather lop-sided.
"I'd better take the other wing off to match,” thought she, "or the master will think there's something missing."
So now Grethel had eaten two wings, and still the master and his visitor didn't come.
"Perhaps they aren't coming at all? Perhaps they've decided to have dinner at the inn? I'll just look out, and if they aren't coming, it really might be best if I were to have another glass of wine and then tidy that chicken up. After all, I can enjoy my supper just the same as anyone else! It's very wrong to waste good food, so I might just as well have a pleasant evening and make myself happy."
Well, after the whole of the first chicken was finished, Grethel, who was feeling more cheerful than ever, had another look out of the window. But still there was no sign either of the master or of his visitor.
Out of the corner of her eye, she looked at the other bird. It really seemed to her that this one was beginning to get over-cooked.
"Where one is," said Grethel to herself, "the other ought to follow."
She was just in the middle of the second fowl, when all of a sudden, back came her master!
"Dish up the chickens, Grethel!" he called out. "The visitor is just behind me! He'll be here in a moment."
Now what was she to do? What she did, was to answer him cheerfully:
"I'll dish up directly, master!"
The master, suspecting nothing, hurried through into the dining-room to make sure that the table was properly laid, and, thinking that the carving-knife seemed rather blunt, he went outside to sharpen it on the step that led up to the back door. No sooner had he shut the back door than the visitor knocked softly and politely on the front door, Grethel ran to open it.
"Hush," said she, putting her finger to her lips, "for Heaven's sake, Sir! Get away as quickly as you can! My master asked you to supper, but what he really means to do is to cut off both your ears! You can hear him sharpening the knife this minute!"
The visitor felt very much frightened at these words and, sure enough, when he listened, he really could hear somebody sharpening a knife. So only just thanking Grethel for her kind warning, he scampered off, back down the path, as fast as he could go.
Without even waiting to shut the door after him, Grethel rushed back into the kitchen, upsetting a hall chair and calling out as she ran.
"Master, Master!" she shrieked.
"What's the matter, Grethel?" said he, astonished, and then came in through the back door, still with the carving-knife in his hand.
"You invited a nice sort of visitor!" said Grethel, as if she was going to cry.
"What do you mean?" asked he.
"Why, he's made off with the pair of fowls that I'd only just dished up!" and with that she threw her apron over her head and began to sob.
"The brute! He might at least have left me one," exclaimed her master, as he rushed through the open front door. "Stop, stop," he shouted, running knife in hand after the vanishing visitor, "I only want one!" The visitor took one look. What he saw was the master running after him with a great knife. Clapping his hands over his ears the terrified fellow ran as he had never run before. When he got home with both ears safe, he thanked his lucky stars and also kind, pretty, Clever Grethel, who had warned him just in time! |
