"A bushel of money, for each," replied Great
Claus.
"Are you mad?" they all cried; "do you think we have money
to spend by the bushel?"
"Skins, skins," he cried again, "who'll buy skins?" but to
all who inquired the price, his answer was, "a bushel of
money."
"He is making fools of us," said they all; then the
shoemakers took their straps, and the tanners their leather aprons,
and began to beat Great Claus.
"Skins, skins!" they cried, mocking him; "yes, we'll mark
your skin for you, till it is black and blue."
"Out of the town with him," said they. And Great Claus was
obliged to run as fast as he could, he had never before been so
thoroughly beaten.
"Ah," said he, as he came to his house; "Little Claus
shall pay me for this; I will beat him to death."
Meanwhile the old gra
