The Halcyon Fairy Book

keep my mare, and they have lost their heads for their pains!”
My sister collects ceramic cats, and Mrs. Worthington down the road collects roosters. It’s just pure country kitsch. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but between you and me, going into her living room gives me hives.
Me, I collect severed heads. Started when I was a kid. I’ve got a Mickey Mantle that still has most of the hair and everything.
But the prince was not a bit afraid, so he stayed to serve the old woman. When the evening came he mounted the mare and rode her into the field, and the foal followed. He sat still on her back, having made up his mind not to dismount, that he might be sure of her. But before midnight he slumbered a little, and when he awoke he found himself sitting on a rail and holding the bridle in his hand.
Falling magically asleep at inappropriate moments is seriously the theme of this fairy tale, and you’d think the prince would have noticed by now. This is, by my count, the seventh time it’s happened. (SPOILER: It’ll be nine by the end.) I wonder if by this point, he starts to feel the magic coming over him and thinks “Oh crap, not AGAIN!” or if it’s still a surprise every time.
I wonder if magical sleep has side-effects if you’re repeatedly exposed. For all we know, the prince ends this story with a bad case of narcolepsy.
Then he was greatly alarmed, and went instantly to look about to find the mare, and whilst looking for her, he came to a piece of water. When he saw the water he remembered the little fish, and took the scale from the handkerchief and rubbed it a little. Then immediately the little fish appeared and said, “What is the matter, my half-brother?”
And he replied, “The mare of the old woman ran away whilst under my charge, and now I do not know where she is!”
And the fish answered, “Here she is, turned to a fish, and the foal to a smaller one. But strike once upon the water with the bridle and cry out, “Hey! mare of the old woman!’”
“My name is Lady Flicka Ramona Sparkle Rainbow Phantasmagoria, but fine, whatever.”
The prince did as he was told, and immediately the mare came, with the foal, out of the water to the shore. Then he put on her the bridle and mounted and rode away to the old woman’s house, and the foal followed. When he got there the old woman gave him his breakfast. She, however, took the mare into the stable and beat her with a poker, saying, “Why did you not go down among the fishes, you cursed mare?”
Aww, man. And here I was starting to like her. That’s it, back to the talking stake.
And the mare answered, “I have been down to the fishes, but the fish are his friends, and they told him about me.”
Then the old woman said, “Then go among the foxes!”
When evening came the king’s son mounted the mare and rode to the field, and the foal followed the mare. Again he sat on the mare’s back until near midnight, when he fell asleep as before. When he awoke, he found himself riding on the rail and holding the bridle in his hand.
So he was much frightened, and went to look after the mare. As he went, he remembered the words the old woman had said to the mare—
Wait, she said that in front of him? I start to see how the dragon outwitted her.
— and he took from the handkerchief the fox’s hair and rubbed it a little between his fingers. All at once the fox stood before him, and asked, “What is the matter, half-brother?”
And he said, “The old woman’s mare has run away, and I do not know where she can be.”
Then the fox answered, “Here she is with us. She has turned into a fox, and the foal into a cub. But strike once with the bridle on the earth and cry out, “Hey! you old woman’s mare!’”
So the king’s son struck with the bridle on the earth and cried, “Hey! old woman’s mare!” and the mare came and stood, with her foal, near him.
He put on the bridle, and mounted and rode off home, and the foal followed the mare. When he arrived the old woman gave him his breakfast, but took the mare into the stable and beat her with the poker, crying, “To the foxes, cursed one! To the foxes!”
And the mare answered, “I have been with the foxes, but they are his friends, and told him I was there!”
Then the old woman cried, “If that is so, you must go among the wolves!”
When it grew dark again, the king’s son mounted the mare and rode out to the field, and the foal galloped by the side of the mare. Again he sat still on the mare’s back till about midnight, when he grew very sleepy and fell into a slumber, as on the former evenings, and when he awoke he found himself riding on the rail, holding the bridle in his hand, just as before.
Then, as before, he went in a hurry to look after the mare. As he went, he remembered the words the old woman had said to the mare, and took the wolf’s hair from the handkerchief and rubbed it a little. Then the wolf came up to him and asked, “What is the matter, half-brother?”
And he answered, “The old woman’s mare has run away, and I cannot tell where she is.”
The wolf said, “Here she is with us. She has turned herself into a wolf, and the foal into a wolf’s cub. Strike once with the bridle on the earth and cry out, “Hey! old woman’s mare!’”
As as side note, this would totally make more sense with birds or squirrels or something vaguely arboreal than with wolves. I am vaguely bothered by the fact