he went home, seated himself cross-legged on his work-table, and thought over what was to be done. "it can’t be managed," cried he at last, "i will go away; after all i can’t live in peace here." he tied up his bundle and hurried away to the gate. when he got to the meadow, he perceived his old friend the stork, who was walking backwards and forwards like a philosopher. sometimes he stood still, took a frog into close consideration, and at length swallowed it down. the stork came to him and greeted him. "i see," he began, "that thou hast thy pack on thy back. why art thou leaving the town?" the tailor told him what the king had required of him, and how he could not perform it, and lamented his misfortune. "don’t let thy hair grow grey about that," said the stork, "i will help thee out of thy difficulty. for a long time now, i have carried the children in swaddling-clothes into the town, so for once in a way i can fetch a little prince out of the well. go home and be easy.