There was once a poor servant-girl who was industrious and cleanly and swept the house every day, and emptied her sweepings on the great heap in front of the door.
One morning, when she was just going back to her work, she found a letter on this heap and, as she could not read, she put her broom in the corner and took the letter to her employers. And behold, it was an invitation from the elves, who asked the girl to hold a child for them at its christening.
The girl did not know what to do. But, at length, after much persuasion, and as they told her that it was not right to refuse an invitation of this kind, she consented.
Then three elves came and conducted her to a hollow mountain, where the little folks lived. Everything there was small, but more elegant and beautiful than can be described. The baby’s mother lay in a bed of black ebony ornamented with pearls, the covers were embroidered with gold, the cradle was of ivory, the bath-tub of gold.
The girl stood as godmother, and then wanted to go home again; but the little elves urgently entreated her to stay three days with them. So she stayed, and passed the time in pleasure and gaiety, and the little folks did all they could to make her happy.
At last she set out on her way home. But first they filled her pockets quite full of gold, and then they led her out of the mountain again.
When she got home, she wanted to begin her work. She took the broom—which was still standing in the corner—in her hand and began to sweep. Then some strangers came out of the house, who asked her who she was and what business she had there.
And she had not, as she thought, been three days with the little men in the mountains, but seven years. And in the meantime her former masters had died.