The youngest daughter was as pretty as a ripe apple, and had hair as fine as silk and the color of pure gold, but the woman loved her not at all, for, as I have said, she herself was not pretty, nor had she hair of the color of pure gold.
The first sister and the second sister dressed in their Sunday clothes every day, and sat in the sun doing nothing, just as though they had been born rich, both of them.
As for Christine - that was the name of the youngest sister - as for Christine, she dressed in nothing but rags, and had to drive a flock of geese to the hills in the morning and home again in the evening, so that they might feed on the young grass all day and grow fat.
The first sister and the second sister had white bread, and butter beside, and as much fresh milk as they could drink; but Christine had to eat bits of cheese and bread-crusts, and had hardly enough of those to keep Goodman Hunger from whispering in her ears. This was the way things went in that house!
Well, one morning Christine started off to the hills with her flock of geese. In her hands she carried her knitting, at which she worked to save time. So she went along the dusty road until, by and by, she came to a place where a bridge crossed the brook. What should she see there but a little red cap, which a silver bell at the point of it, hanging from an alder branch. It was such a nice, pretty little red cap that Christine thought that she would take it home with her, for she had never seen the like of it before.
So she put it in her pocket , and then off she went with her geese again. But she had hardly taken ten steps when she heard a voice calling her, "Christine! Christine!"
She looked, and whom should she see but a queer little gray man, with a great head as big as a cabbage and little legs as thin as young radishes.
"What do you want?" said Christine, with the little man had come to where she was.
Oh, the little man only wanted his cap again, for without it he could not go back home into the hill - and that was where he belonged.
But how did the cap come to be hanging from the bush? Christine said she would like to know that before she gave it back again.
Well, the little man had been fishing by the brook over yonder when a puff of wind blew his cap into the water, and he had hung it up to dry. That was all there was about it; and now would Christine please give it to him?
Christine did not know about that; perhaps she would and perhaps she would not. It was a nice, pretty little cap. What would the little underground man give her for it? - that was the question.
Oh, the little man would give her five gold pieces for it, and gladly.
No; five gold pieces was not enough payment for such a pretty little cap - see how fine and red it was; there was a silver bell hanging to it too.
Well, the little man did not want to be hard at a bargain; he would give her a hundred gold pieces for it.
No; Christine did not care for money. What else would he give her for this little cap?
"See, Christine," said the little man, "I will give you this for the cap"; and he showed her something in his hand that looked just like a bean, only it was as black as a lump of coal.
"But what is that?" said Christine.
"That," said the little man, "is a seed from the apple of contentment. Plant it, and from it will grow a tree, and from the tree an apple. Everybody in the world that sees the apple will long for it, but nobody in the world can pick it but you. It will always be meat and drink for you when you are hungry,, and warm clothes for your back when you are cold. As soon as you pick it from the tree, another as good will grow in its place. Now, will you give me my hat?"
Oh, yes; Christine would give the little man his cap for such a seed as that, and gladly enough. So the little man gave Christine the seed, and Christine gave the little man his cap again. He put the cap on his head, and -- puff! -- away he was gone, as suddenly as the light of a candle when you blow it out.
Now Christine had only been teasing the little man. She had meant all the time to give him back his cap. But she thought she might as well plant the seed, though she was very doubtful that a tree would grow from it.
So Christine took the seed home with her, and planted it in front of the window of her room. The next morning when she looked out of the window she saw a beautiful tree, and on the tree hung an apple that shone in the sun as though it were pure gold.
Then she went to the tree and picked the apple as easily as though it were a gooseberry, and as soon as she had picked it another good grew in its place. Being hungry she ate it, and she had never eaten anything so good. It tasted like pancake with honey and milk.
By and by the oldest sister came out of the house and looked around, and when she saw the beautiful tree with the golden apple hanging from it you can guess how she stared.
Presently she began to long and long for the apple as she had never longed for anything in her life. "I will just pick it," said she, "and no one will be the wiser."
But that was easier said than done. She reached and reached, but she might as well have reached for the moon. She climbed and climbed, but she might as well have climbed for the sun - for either one would have been as easy to get as the apple. At last she had to give up trying for it; and her temper was none the sweeter for that, you may be sure.
After a while came the second sister, and when she saw the golden apple she wanted it just as much as the first one had. But to want and to get are very different things, as she soon found, for she was no more able to get it than the other sister had been.
Last of all came the mother, and she also strove to pick the apple. But it was no use. She had no more luck than her daughters. All that the tree could do was to stand under the tree and look at the apple, and wish for it and wish for it.
They are not the only ones who had done the like, with the apple of contentment hanging just above them.
As for Christine, she had nothing to do but to pick an apple whenever she wanted it. Was she hungry? There was the apple hanging in the tree for her. Was she thirsty? There was the apple. Was she cold? There was the apple So you see, she was the happiest girl betwixt all the seven hills that stand at the ends of the earth. For nobody in the world can have more than contentment, and that was what the apple brought her.
