So the woodman at last agreed to sell Thumbling to the strangers for a large piece of gold. "Where do you like to sit?" said one of them. "Oh! put me on the rim of your hat, that will be a nice gallery for me; I can walk about there, and see the country as we go along." So they did as he wished; and when Thumbling had taken leave of his father, they carried him away with them. They journeyed on till it began to be dusky, and then the little man said, "Let me get down, I'm tired." So the man took off his hat and set him down on a clod of earth in a ploughed field by the side of the road, But Thumbling ran about amongst the furrows, and at last slipped into a mouse-hole. "Good-night, masters," said he, "I'm off! mind and look sharp after me the next time."

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