" She plucked a single curling hair from her
head. "Here," said she, "let him take this hair and make it
straight."
The Tailor was full of doubt; nevertheless, as there was nothing
better to do, he took it to the Demon.
"Hast thou found me a task to do?" cried the Demon.
"Yes," said the Tailor. "It is only a little thing. Here is a
hair from my wife's head; take it and make it straight."
When the Demon heard what was the task that the Tailor had set
him to do he laughed aloud; but that was because he did not know.
He took the hair and stroked it between his thumb and finger,
and, when he done, it curled more than ever. Then he looked
serious, and slapped it between his palms, and that did not
better matters, for it curled as much as ever. Then he frowned,
and, began beating the hair with his palm upon his knees, and
that only made it worse. All that day he labored and strove at
his task trying to make that one little hair straight, and, when
the sun set, there was the hair just as crooked as ever. Then, as
the great round sun sank red behind the trees, the Demon knew
that he was beaten. "I am conquered! I am conquered!" he howled,
and flew away, bellowing so dreadfully that all the world
trembled.
So ends the story, with only this to say:
Where man's strength fails, woman's wit prevails.
For, to my mind, the princess--not to speak of her husband the
little Tailor--did more with a single little hair and her
mother wit than King Solomon with all his wisdom.
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