Der var engang en kokkepige, som hed Grete. Hun havde sko med røde hæle, og når hun gik med dem på, svansede hun rigtig af sted og tænkte: "Jeg er dog en køn pige." Når hun kom hjem, drak hun af bare glæde en slurk vin og så fik hun også lyst til at spise og smagte så længe på maden til hun var mæt. "Kokkepigen må da vide, hvordan det smager," sagde hun.
En gang sagde hendes husbond til hende: "I aften får vi fremmede. Kan du stege to rigtig lækre høns." - "Det skal jegnok," svarede Grete, slagtede dem, skoldede og plukkede dem og satte dem på spiddet, og henimod aften stillede hun dem på ilden for at stege dem. De begyndte at blive brune og møre, men den fremmede var ikke kommet endnu. "Hvis han ikke kommer snart, må jeg tage dem af ilden," sagde Grete, "men det er synd, hvis det varer ret længe før de bliver spist. De er allersaftigst nu." - "Jeg vil selv løbe hen og hente ham," sagde husbonden. Så snart han var gået, flyttede Grete hønsene til side og tænkte: "Man bliver varm og tørstig af at stå så længe ved ilden. Gud må vide, når de kommer hjem. Jeg må ned i kælderen og have noget at drikke." Derpå løb hun derned og fyldte et krus. "Skål, Grete," sagde hun og tog en ordentlig slurk. "Det er ikke sådan at holde op, når man først er begyndt," sagde hun og tog et drag til. Hun gik nu op igen, satte hønsene over ilden, smurte smør på og drejede dem rundt. De lugtede lækkert, og Grete tænkte: "Det er bedst at smage på dem, for at det ikke skal gå galt," strøg fingeren hen over dem og slikkede på den. "Hvor de høns dog er dejlige, tænkte hun, "det er synd og skam, at de ikke skal spises straks." Hun løb hen til vinduet for at se, om hendes husbond ikke kom med sin gæst, men der var ingen at se. "Den ene vinge brænder jo," tænkte hun, da hun kom hen til hønsene igen, "det er meget bedre, at jeg spiser den." Hun skar den af, og den smagte hende så godt, at hun tænkte: "Det er bedst, jeg også tager den anden. Ellers kan man se, at der mangler noget." Da hun havde spist den med, gik hun hen til vinduet for at se efter sin husbond, men hun kunne ikke øjne ham. "Måske kommer de slet ikke," tænkte hun, "de kan jo være taget ind et andet sted. Frisk mod, Grete. Tag en god slurk vin og spis det hele. Du er jo dog begyndt og så får du ro. Hvorfor skal man spilde Guds gaver." Hun løb så ned i kælderen og tog sig noget vin og spiste nok så fornøjet den ene høne. Og da hendes husbond stadig ikke kom, så hun på den anden og tænkte: "Hvor den ene er, må den anden også være. De to hører sammen, og hvad der passer for den ene, passer også for den anden. Når jeg får lidt mere at drikke, kan det vist ikke gøre mig noget." Og da hun havde taget sig en ordentlig slurk vin, gled den anden høne også ned.
Mens hun sad der og spiste nok så godt, kom husbonden gående og råbte: "Skynd dig lidt, Grete, nu kommer gæsten straks." - "Nu skal jeg gøre det i stand," svarede Grete. Husbonden så imidlertid efter, om bordet var dækket pænt, og gik så ud på gangen og hvæssede den store kniv, som han ville skære hønsene for med. Imidlertid kom den fremmede og bankede pænt og høfligt på døren. Grete løb derhen, og da hun så, hvem det var, lagde hun fingeren på munden og sagde: "Skynd jer lidt at komme af sted. Hvis min husbond får fat på jer, er I ulykkelig. Han har kun indbudt jer for at skære begge ørerne af jer. Kan I høre, han hvæsser kniven." Det kunne han jo nok høre og løb ned ad trappen, alt hvad han kunne. Grete var ikke tabt bag af en vogn, løb grædende ind til sin husbond og råbte: "Det er en net gæst, I der har indbudt." - "Hvad mener du, Grete." - "Tænkbare, jeg var på vej ind med hønsene, også snuppede ham dem begge to og løb sin vej." - "Det er rigtignok en nydelig opførsel," sagde manden, ærgerlig fordi han var gået glip af de dejlige høns, "bare han da i det mindste havde ladet mig beholde den ene, så havde jeg da haft noget at spise." Han råbte nu til gæsten, at han skulle vente, men han lod som han ikke hørte. Da løb han efter ham, stadig med kniven i hånden, og råbte: "Bare den ene, bare den ene." Han mente, at han ville have den ene høne, men den fremmede troede, at han skulle af med sit ene øre og løb, som han havde ild under fødderne, for at slippe helskindet hjem med dem begge to.
There was once a cook named Grethel, who wore shoes with red rosettes, and when she walked out with them on, she turned herself this way and that, and thought, "You certainly are a pretty girl!" And when she came home she drank, in her gladness of heart, a draught of wine, and as wine excites a desire to eat, she tasted the best of whatever she was cooking until she was satisfied, and said, "The cook must know what the food is like."
It came to pass that the master one day said to her, "Grethel, there is a guest coming this evening; prepare me two fowls very daintily." - "I will see to it, master," answered Grethel. She killed two fowls, scalded them, plucked them, put them on the spit, and towards evening set them before the fire, that they might roast. The fowls began to turn brown, and were nearly ready, but the guest had not yet arrived. Then Grethel called out to her master, "If the guest does not come, I must take the fowls away from the fire, but it will be a sin and a shame if they are not eaten directly, when they are juiciest." The master said, "I will run myself, and fetch the guest." When the master had turned his back, Grethel laid the spit with the fowls on one side, and thought, "Standing so long by the fire there, makes one hot and thirsty; who knows when they will come? Meanwhile, I will run into the cellar, and take a drink." She ran down, set a jug, said, "God bless it to thy use, Grethel," and took a good drink, and took yet another hearty draught.
It came to pass that the master one day said to her, "Grethel, there is a guest coming this evening; prepare me two fowls very daintily." - "I will see to it, master," answered Grethel. She killed two fowls, scalded them, plucked them, put them on the spit, and towards evening set them before the fire, that they might roast. The fowls began to turn brown, and were nearly ready, but the guest had not yet arrived. Then Grethel called out to her master, "If the guest does not come, I must take the fowls away from the fire, but it will be a sin and a shame if they are not eaten directly, when they are juiciest." The master said, "I will run myself, and fetch the guest." When the master had turned his back, Grethel laid the spit with the fowls on one side, and thought, "Standing so long by the fire there, makes one hot and thirsty; who knows when they will come? Meanwhile, I will run into the cellar, and take a drink." She ran down, set a jug, said, "God bless it to thy use, Grethel," and took a good drink, and took yet another hearty draught.
Then she went and put the fowls down again to the fire, basted them, and drove the spit merrily round. But as the roast meat smelt so good, Grethel thought, "Something might be wrong, it ought to be tasted!" She touched it with her finger, and said, "Ah! how good fowls are! It certainly is a sin and a shame that they are not eaten directly!" She ran to the window, to see if the master was not coming with his guest, but she saw no one, and went back to the fowls and thought, "One of the wings is burning! I had better take it off and eat it." So she cut it off, ate it, and enjoyed it, and when she had done, she thought, "the other must go down too, or else master will observe that something is missing." When the two wings were eaten, she went and looked for her master, and did not see him. It suddenly occurred to her, "Who knows? They are perhaps not coming at all, and have turned in somewhere." Then she said, "Hallo, Grethel, enjoy yourself, one fowl has been cut into, take another drink, and eat it up entirely; when it is eaten you will have some peace, why should God's good gifts be spoilt?" So she ran into the cellar again, took an enormous drink and ate up the one chicken in great glee. When one of the chickens was swallowed down, and still her master did not come, Grethel looked at the other and said, "Where one is, the other should be likewise, the two go together; what's right for the one is right for the other; I think if I were to take another draught it would do me no harm." So she took another hearty drink, and let the second chicken rejoin the first.
While she was just in the best of the eating, her master came and cried, hurry up, "Haste thee, Grethel, the guest is coming directly after me!" - "Yes, sir, I will soon serve up," answered Grethel. Meantime the master looked to see that the table was properly laid, and took the great knife, wherewith he was going to carve the chickens, and sharpened it on the steps. Presently the guest came, and knocked politely and courteously at the house-door. Grethel ran, and looked to see who was there, and when she saw the guest, she put her finger to her lips and said, "Hush! hush! get away as quickly as you can, if my master catches you it will be the worse for you; he certainly did ask you to supper, but his intention is to cut off your two ears. Just listen how he is sharpening the knife for it!" The guest heard the sharpening, and hurried down the steps again as fast as he could. Grethel was not idle; she ran screaming to her master, and cried, "You have invited a fine guest!" - "Eh, why, Grethel? What do you mean by that?" - "Yes," said she, "he has taken the chickens which I was just going to serve up, off the dish, and has run away with them!" - "That's a nice trick!" said her master, and lamented the fine chickens. "If he had but left me one, so that something remained for me to eat." He called to him to stop, but the guest pretended not to hear. Then he ran after him with the knife still in his hand, crying, "Just one, just one," meaning that the guest should leave him just one chicken, and not take both. The guest, however, thought no otherwise than that he was to give up one of his ears, and ran as if fire were burning under him, in order to take them both home with him.