` To your Habogi , ' replied he ; ` and some day you shall have as much milk as you like , but we can not stop now . Do you see that big grey one , with the silver bells between her horns ? That is to be yours , and you can have her milked every morning the moment you wake . ' And Helga 's eyes shone , and though she did not say anything , she thought that she would learn to milk the cow herself . A mile further on they came to a wide common , with short , springy turf , where horses of all colours , with skins of satin , were kicking up their heels in play . The sight of them so delighted Helga that she nearly sprang from her saddle with a shriek of joy . ` Whose are they ? ' Oh ! whose are they ? ' she asked . ` How happy any man must be who is the master of such lovely creatures ! ' ` They are your Habogi 's , ' replied he , ` and the one which you think the most beautiful of all you shall have for yourself , and learn to ride him . ' At this Helga quite forgot the sheep and the cow . ' A horse of my own ! ' said she . ` Oh , stop one moment , and let me see which I will choose . The white one ? No . The chestnut ? No .
I think , after all , I like the coal-black one best , XXXXX the little white star on his forehead .
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