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Heinel found himself at the gates in a moment; but the guards

would not let him go in, because he was so strangely clad. So he

went up to a neighbouring hill, where a shepherd dwelt, and

borrowed his old frock, and thus passed unknown into the town.

When he came to his father's house, he said he was his son; but

the merchant would not believe him, and said he had had but one

son, his poor Heinel, who he knew was long since dead: and as he

was only dressed like a poor shepherd, he would not even give him

anything to eat. The king, however, still vowed that he was his

son, and said, 'Is there no mark by which you would know me if I

am really your son?' 'Yes,' said his mother, 'our Heinel had a

mark like a raspberry on his right arm.' Then he showed them the

mark, and they knew that what he had said was true.