There the old hag was once more sitting spinning from her distaff , and she cried to Cinderlad ; ` Come hither , come hither , my handsome son , and let me comb your hair for you . ' ` Come to me , then ; come to me ! ' said Cinderlad , as he passed by jumping and running , and keeping tight hold of one of the foals ' tails . When he had got safely past the cleft in the rock , the youngest foal said : ` Get on my back , for we have still a long way to go . ' So the lad did this . And thus they journeyed onwards a long , long way . ` Dost thou see anything now ? ' said the Foal . ` No , ' said Cinderlad . So they journeyed onwards a good bit farther . ` Dost thou see anything now ? ' asked the Foal . ` Oh , no , ' said the lad . When they had gone thus for a long , long way , the Foal again asked : ` Dost thou see anything now ? ' ` Yes , now I see something that is white , ' said Cinderlad . ` It looks like the trunk of a great thick birch tree . ' ` Yes , that is where we are to go in , ' said the Foal . When they got to the trunk , the eldest foal broke it down on one side , and then they saw a door where the trunk had been standing , and inside this there was a small room , and in the room there was scarcely anything but a small fire-place and a couple of benches , but behind the door hung a great rusty sword and a small pitcher . ` Canst thou wield that sword ? ' asked the Foal .
Cinderlad tried , but could not do it ; so he had to take a draught from the pitcher , and then one more , and after that still another , and then he was able XXXXX wield the sword with perfect ease .
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