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 doorway. He struck the ground with his leaden club and the whole castle shook.

“No, no, my son, don’t talk that way. It’s true there is a pretty youth here, but he’s come to ask you about something.”

“Well, if he wants to ask me something, let him come out and ask.”

“Yes, my son, he will, but only when you promise me that you will do nothing to him.”

“Well, I won’t do anything to him. Now let him come out.”

The prince hidden under the besom was shaking like an aspen leaf, for when he peeped through the twigs he saw an ogre so huge that he himself would reach up only to his knees. Happily the ogre had guaranteed his life before Yezibaba ordered him out.

“Well, well, well, you little June bug!” shouted the ogre. “What are you afraid of? Where have you been? What do you want?”

“What do I want?” repeated the prince. “I have been wandering in these mountains a long time and I can’t find what I’m seeking. So I’ve come to you to ask whether you can tell me something about the Glass Hill and the Three Citrons.”

Yezibaba’s son wrinkled his forehead. He thought