Three Wishes

All of this happened a long, long time ago. In a deep, dark forest lived a poor woodcutter. Every day, he would go into the forest to chop down trees. One day, as usual, he prepared to head into the forest. His wife filled his knapsack with food and slung a full bottle over his shoulder so that the woodcutter could have a snack and a drink in the woods.

On this particular day, the woodcutter intended to fell a mighty old oak tree.
"Many strong planks will come from this one," he thought.
So, he approached the old oak, pulled out his axe, and swung it as if he hoped to bring down the mighty tree with a single blow. But before he could strike, a pitiful little voice suddenly came from within the oak itself, and a fairy appeared before him. She begged the woodcutter to spare the old oak. Well, the woodcutter was astonished—even frightened! He couldn’t even open his mouth to utter a single word. Finally, he came to his senses and muttered:
"Very well, I’ll grant your request."
"And it will be better for you this way," said the fairy. "I will reward you and your wife for this: your first three wishes shall be granted!"

With that, the fairy vanished, and the woodcutter set off home, his knapsack on his back and the bottle at his side.
The journey was long, and the whole way he couldn’t stop marveling at what had happened to him. By the time he finally reached home, all he could think about was sitting down and resting. Perhaps it was the fairy’s doing again—who knows? Either way, he sat down by the fire, and no sooner had he done so than he felt a terrible hunger, even though dinner was still a ways off.
"Is there anything to eat, my dear?" he asked his wife.
"In about two hours," she replied.
"Ah," sighed the woodcutter, "if only I had a ring of blood sausage right now, and a thick one at that!"

No sooner had he spoken these words than—plop!—a whole ring of blood sausage fell into the fireplace, and it looked so delicious it would make your mouth water.
The woodcutter was amazed, and his wife was even more astonished.
"What is this?" she exclaimed.
At that moment, the woodcutter remembered what had happened to him that morning and told his wife the whole story from beginning to end. But the more he spoke, the gloomier his wife became, and by the time he finished, she exploded:
"You fool! Such a fool! I hope that blood sausage sticks to your nose!"

Before either of them could blink, the blood sausage leaped out of the fireplace and stuck firmly to the woodcutter’s nose.
He tugged at the sausage, but it wouldn’t come off; his wife tugged at it, but it wouldn’t budge. They pulled and pulled, but the sausage was stuck fast.
"What are we going to do now?" asked the woodcutter.
Then it dawned on him that he still had one wish left—his third and final one! Without wasting a second, he wished for the blood sausage to fly off his nose.

Plop!—and the sausage was lying on the table in front of him.
And though the woodcutter and his wife never got to ride in a golden carriage or dress in silk and velvet—well, at least they had such a delicious blood sausage for dinner that it would make your mouth water.

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Three Wishes

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