In a sunny little house, with a bright red roof, lived a young woman named Else. And oh, how her parents loved to say, "Our Else, she's so clever!"

One day, a nice young man named Hans came to visit. "Else," said her mother, "Hans would make a wonderful husband!"
"Indeed," said her father. "He's a good man. And he'll surely want to marry someone as clever as you."

So, Hans sat down with Else's parents, and Else was told, "Go down to the cellar, dear, and fetch us some beer."
Else skipped down the cool, dark steps. As she was about to fill the jug from the big wooden barrel, she looked up. Oh dear! Stuck in the wooden beam right above the beer barrel was a shiny pickaxe, left there by a workman.

Suddenly, a thought popped into Else's head. "What if," she thought, "what if Hans and I get married? And what if we have a little baby? And what if, one day, we send our little baby down here to get beer? And what if that pickaxe falls right on our baby's head? Oh, boo hoo hoo!" And Clever Else sat down on the cellar steps and started to cry. Big, splashy tears!

After a while, her mother called from upstairs, "Else, where's the beer?"
When Else didn't come, they sent the maid down. The maid found Else crying. "What's wrong, Else?" she asked.
Else told her all about the pickaxe, and the future baby, and the terrible accident that might happen.
"Oh, how dreadful!" cried the maid. "Our poor, poor little baby!" And she sat down and started crying too.

Next, when no one came back, they sent the farmhand down. He found Else and the maid both crying. "What's all this weeping?" he asked.
They told him the sad story of the pickaxe and the baby. "Oh, what a sad, sad thought!" he wailed, and he sat down and joined the crying.

Finally, Else's mother and father grew impatient. They went down to the cellar themselves. What a sight! Else, the maid, and the farmhand were all sobbing together, making a little puddle of tears on the cellar floor.
"What on earth is the matter?" asked Else's mother.
So they told her about the pickaxe, and the baby they might have with Hans, and how it might get hurt.
"Oh, our poor future grandchild!" cried the mother.
"Oh, my clever, thoughtful Else, to think of such a thing!" cried the father. And they both sat down and cried with the others.

Upstairs, Hans waited and waited. "Where is everyone?" he wondered. He tiptoed down to the cellar. And there they all were, crying their eyes out.
"Goodness me!" said Hans. "What's happened?"
Else, between sniffles, told him the whole story: how she was going to marry him, and they'd have a baby, and the baby would come for beer, and the pickaxe would fall.
Hans listened very carefully. Then he said, "Well, Else, if you can worry so much about something that hasn't even happened, and might never happen, you truly are a Clever Else! I will marry you!"

So, Hans and Else got married.
One sunny afternoon, Else went to the field to cut corn for their dinner. But it was warm, and the corn rustled so nicely in the breeze, that Else sat down for a little rest and... fell fast asleep.
Hans came looking for her after a while. He saw her sleeping amongst the corn. "Hmm," he thought, with a little smile. He had some small bells in his pocket. Very quietly, he tied the little bells all over Else's dress. Then he went back home.

When Else woke up, the sun was setting. She stood up, and JINGLE, JANGLE, JINGLE went the bells!
"Oh my!" she thought, looking around. "Is that me? Or is it not me? I don't sound like me." She was very confused.
She hurried back to their little house. She peeked in the window and called out softly, "Hans, is Else inside?"
Hans, who was inside making supper, called back, "Yes, Else is inside!"
"Oh dear!" cried Else, hearing the jingles from her dress again. "If Else is inside, then this jingling person can't be me!"
And she ran off down the road, jingle-jangling all the way, and was never seen in that village again. And whether she ever figured out if she was Else or not, nobody knows.

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