Now, it happened that once, in the woods near the mountains, there lived a woman who was quite as wise as she was old, and probably a great deal more, for she never did mischief to anyone, but sat in her chair before her little cottage every day and tended to a fire-pit, over which she roasted the most delicious of fowls. If anyone came by her in the course of their hunting or gathering in the woods, she was obliged to give them their fill of her fowl, and invite them to sit and be merry with her for many hours, so that she soon became known far and wide for her generosity and the fine company she made.

In due time, tales of the old woman reached the ears of the devil who lived in the woods, and he said to himself, “I must surely have some of her food and beer, if it is so splendid!” Then he disguised himself as a hare, and went to her cottage to see if he could steal away one of her fowls. When he got there, he hid himself in the bushes, thinking that he might wait until the old woman made merry with her guest, and then carry the fowl away.

It happened that, on this day, she had put out a fowl, and she turned it on the spit until the skin was golden, and the smell of it made the devil’s mouth water. So, when she began to laugh and sing with her guest, who was a goose-girl, and gave her beer from the vat, and thick slices of white bread, and wedges of soft yellow cheese, and a piece of the fowl to eat, the devil could stand it no longer, and burst from the bushes, full of greed.

The old woman, who had seen much and heard much, saw through his disguise, and knew him for what he was, and set the goose-girl upon him. Up jumped the maiden, and seized her stick, and laid about the devil until he howled and ran away, leaving behind a single hair from his tail. This the old woman kept, for everyone knows that if you have a hair from the devil, you can get a wish out of him.

The devil hid himself in the woods and raged and cursed the old woman, until he could stand it no longer, and said to himself, “I must have a taste of that fowl! This time I shall fool her easily!” And he took on himself the shape of a wolf, and laid again in the bushes so he could snatch away a delicious fowl and eat it up.

As it happened, on that day the old woman was passing time in the company of a tailor, and treated him as she had the goose-girl, and gave him beer, and bread, and cheese, and meat from her fowl, which she basted with butter and pepper until its scent made the devil’s belly rumble.

At last, he could bear no more, and sprang from the brush, intending to grab up the fowl with his jaws and steal it away. Again, though, the old woman saw through his disguise, and set the tailor upon him, and the man seized up his yard-measure and beat the devil until he was obliged to flee in pain and terror. Once more, he left behind a hair from his tail, and this the old woman kept, and put it with the first.

Now the devil was sore put, and quite furious with the old woman, and stayed far away from her until he could no longer think of anything but her wonderful fowls, and had no choice but to go a third time to her cottage. This time, he turned himself into a field mouse, so that he could escape notice, and hid himself amongst the bushes.

Presently the old woman put a fowl on the spit, and roasted it with herbs and good red wine, so that very soon the devil was overcome by the aroma. Since she was alone that day, he felt bold, and leapt from the brush to take the fowl for himself. The old woman, however, had suspected as much, and knew him for what he was, and caught him up in a basket, and shook him until he cried out with anger and lost a hair from his tail, which she caught and put with the first two.

Then she said to him, “I have got three of your hairs, you vicious old sinner, and so you cannot harm me!” The old woman said this because she knew, as I suspect you do, too, that three is a number of power, and spirits and devils are bound by it.

“I will not harm you!” the devil promised, “just set me free and I will trouble you no more!”

“Oh, no!” chuckled the old woman. “I shan’t let you off that easy! I will let you go, but first you must grant me my three wishes!”

“Very well!” the devil snarled, “hurry up and make them, then!”

“First,” said the old woman, “I have a vat of beer, and I wish that whosoever put their mug in to draw it full would stick fast to it, until I gave them leave.”

“Yes, yes,” cried the devil, “that is granted!”

“Secondly,” the old woman said, “I have a bread-box, and I wish that whosoever put their hand in to get a loaf would stick fast to it, until I gave them leave.”

“Yes, yes,” cried the devil, “that is also granted!”

“Lastly,” the wise old woman said, “I have a cheese-knife, and I wish that whosoever took hold of it to cut a slice would stick fast to it, until I gave them leave.”

“Yes, yes,” the devil cried, “that is granted as well!”

“Then you are free,” she told him, and turned him out of the basket, so that he hurried off into the forest to plot his revenge.

Now, it came to pass that the devil soon became so consumed with his vengeance that he quite forgot the wishes the old woman had made, and did not remember them into his plans. Thus, he resolved to disguise himself—this time as men instead of beasts—and go to her, and do her mischief. To that end, the devil had amongst his treasures a sack, and it was enchanted so that whomever he put in it, he got their shape until they were let out again. So, taking the sack on his shoulder, he went to the road to wait for passers-by.

After some time, a miller happened by, and saw the devil sitting on a stone. He stopped and said,

“Poor devil, sitting on your stone,

Why do you sit there all alone?”

For his trouble, the devil reached out and touched him, and the miller was forced to jump into the sack, so that the devil’s face became that of the miller. Then the devil, thinking himself very clever, went along the road into the woods until he came to the old woman’s cottage, where he entreated her to share some of her meal with him.

“But of course!” she said, recognizing him in an instant from his dirty, tattered coat, for his clothes had not changed. “But you must draw your own beer, for I am tending to this bird, and it would be a shame to burn it.”

Foolishly, the greedy devil obliged her, and when he put his mug in the vat, he stuck there fast, and struggle as he might, he could not get free. “Release me, old woman!” he cried, “or it shall go worse for you!”

But the old woman paid him no heed, and took up a switch, and beat him until he cried piteously, and then she let the miller out of his bag and sent the devil off. Red with rage, the devil swore and gnashed his teeth, and returned to the road, hoping to find for himself a better disguise.

Presently, a farm wandered by, and saw him sitting there, and said,

“Poor devil, sitting on your stone,

Why do you sit there all alone?”

But for his kindness, he was treated no better than the miller, and the devil touched him so that he sprang into the sack. This time, the devil put on the farmer’s coat, so that the old woman could not recognize him. In this way he went again to her cottage, and begged her for some of her victuals, to which she replied, “But of course! Only draw your own beer, for I am tending to this bird, and it would a shame to burn it.” For of course, she had seen his battered old hat, and knew him for what he was.

“I am not thirsty,” the devil replied hastily, so the old woman told him, “Very well, then, just cut us some bread so that we might have sandwiches.”

The devil obliged her, but of course, when he put his hand in the bread-box, it stuck there fast, and no amount of thrashing about could get him free.

“Release me, old woman!” screamed the devil, “or it will go ill with you!”

The old woman paid him no mind, but instead took up her switch and gave him a trashing more sound than the one before, and let the farmer out of his bag, and sent the devil off.

Black with fury, the devil tore at his hair, and stomped the ground until all the woods shook, and went swiftly back to the road to get a better disguise, so the old woman would not know him, and then he could take revenge upon her.

By and by, a young huntsman came along, and saw the devil seated beside the road, and asked him,

“Poor devil, sitting on your stone,

Why do you sit there all alone?”

But the devil put a hand out and touched him, and so he fared no better than the other two, but went into the sack, and the devil put on the huntsman’s cap and went back again to the cottage.

“Old woman,” he pleaded, share with me some of your food, for I am in a hurry to be at home and cannot spare time to hunt my supper in the wood.”

“But of course!” she replied, for this time she had seen the devil’s dirty boots, and knew him. “Only draw your own beer, for I am tending to this bird, and it would be a shame to burn it.”

“I have just quenched my thirst at a spring,” the devil lied, “so I shall have no beer.”

“Well, then,” the old woman told him, “just cut us some bread so we might have sandwiches.”

“Why not save the bread for drippings?” said the devil, who thought himself very cunning now.

“I suppose you are right,” the old woman agreed, “but at least slice some cheese, that we might toast it over our meat.”

The devil, who had thought then to shoot the old woman with the huntsman’s bow, was overcome again with gluttonous hunger, and the smell of the fowl so overwhelmed him that he eagerly grasped the knife to take a wedge of cheese, but he stuck fast to it, and could not lift it from the cutting-board for all his oaths and wailing.

“Release me, old woman!” he shouted, “or it will be all over with you!”

“I think not,” she replied, and set free the huntsman fro his sack. Then the huntsman, the farmer, and the miller put the devil in the sack himself, and tied it fast, and threw it into the fire-pit, where the flames burned him miserably, and made an end of him.

Then the miller promised the old woman that he would give her flour, in return for saving him, to bake her bread; and the farmer promised her milk for her cheese; and the huntsman promised her game to roast.

And so she lived quite happily, and for all I know, the wise old woman is living there still.