“Yes, so it may; but to-night is the hundred and first wedding, and when
that has taken place it must be the last, therefore this is to be extremely
beautiful. Only look.”
Hjalmar looked at the table, and there stood the little card-board doll’s
house, with lights in all the windows, and drawn up before it were the tin
soldiers presenting arms. The bridal pair were seated on the floor, leaning
against the leg of the table, looking very thoughtful, and with good reason.
Then Ole-Luk-Oie dressed up in grandmother’s black gown married them.
As soon as the ceremony was concluded, all the furniture in the room
joined in singing a beautiful song, which had been composed by the lead
pencil, and which went to the melody of a military tattoo.
“What merry sounds are on the wind,
As marriage rites together bind
A quiet and a loving pair,
Though formed of kid, yet smooth and fair!
Hurrah! If they are deaf and blind,
We’ll sing, though weather prove unkind.”
And now came the present; but the bridal pair had nothing to eat, for love
was to be their food.
“Shall we go to a country house, or travel?” asked the bridegroom.
Then they consulted the swallow who had travelled so far, and the old
hen in the yard, who had brought up five broods of chickens.
And the swallow talked to them of warm countries, where the grapes
hang in large clusters on the vines, and the air is soft and mild, and about
the mountains glowing with colors more beautiful than we can think of.
“But they have no red cabbage like we have,” said the hen, “I was once in
the country with my chickens for a whole summer, there was a large sand-
pit, in which we could walk about and scratch as we liked. Then we got into
