There was a poor, but worthy, and withal very merry, fellow at Tilleda, who was once put to the expense of a christening, and, as luck would have it, it was the eighth. According to the custom of the time, he was obliged to give a plain feast to the child’s sponsors. The wine of the country which he put before his guests was soon exhausted, and they began to call for more.

“Go,” said the merry father of the newly baptized child to his eldest daughter, a handsome girl of sixteen,—”go, and get us better wine than this out of the cellar.”

“Out of what cellar?”

“Why, out of the great wine-cellar of the old Knights in the Kyffhauser, to be sure,” said her father jokingly.

The simple-minded girl did as he told her, and taking a small pitcher in her hand went to the mountain.