Far away in the Danish countryside stood a small thatched cottage beside the moor. Inside lived an old man and his wife, cheerful though poor. Their hearts were light, and their laughter filled the air like the hum of bees in summer.

One bright morning, the old man said, “Our horse eats much and works little. Perhaps I should take it to the fair and see if I can trade it for something better.” His wife nodded kindly. “Do as you think best. What you do is always right, my dear.”

The man set out along the dusty road, the horse plodding beside him. Skylarks sang above, and the air smelled of hay and sun. He hummed a tune, happy and hopeful.

At the first village, he met a farmer with a strong red cow. “A cow gives milk,” thought the old man. “That’s better than a horse that only eats.” So he traded—horse for cow—and smiled as he went on.

Soon he met another man leading a woolly sheep. “Wool for winter,” thought he, “and easier to feed.” So he traded again—cow for sheep. He felt clever and content.

Later, a woman came by with a fine white goose. “Ah,” said the old man, “a goose for Christmas dinner—now that’s something.” So sheep became goose, and he walked on, whistling.

By and by, he met a girl carrying a plump hen. “A hen lays eggs every day,” said the old man. “That’s even better than one feast.” And so he traded the goose for the hen, chuckling at his good sense.

At last, near the town, he met a man with a sack of spotted apples. “My wife loves apples,” said the old man. “She’ll be so pleased.” So the hen went for apples. His pockets were empty but his heart was full.

At a small inn, travelers laughed at his tale. “You’ve been cheated a dozen times!” they cried. “Wait till your wife scolds you for coming home with apples instead of a horse!” The old man only smiled. “She’ll kiss me and say I did right—you’ll see.”

One gentleman, amused, said, “I’ll bet a whole bag of gold that your wife will be angry!” “Done,” said the old man, shaking his hand. “Come along and see for yourself.” And together they started down the country road as the sun dipped low.

At the cottage gate stood the old wife, smiling as always. “You’re home early, my dear! How did things go at the fair?” “Oh, very well,” said he, and began to tell his tale—horse for cow, cow for sheep, sheep for goose, goose for hen, hen for apples.

After each exchange, she clapped her hands and cried, “How clever! Now we’ll have milk!” “Oh, and wool for winter!” “And a goose for feast!” “And eggs every morning!” When he said, “At last, I traded the hen for apples,” she laughed and said, “You dear soul! You always do what’s best. I love apples!”

The travelers stared in astonishment. Never had they seen such gentle love. The old man’s eyes shone, the wife’s laughter filled the room. The gentleman sighed and placed the bag of gold upon the table. “You have won, good sir—and rightly so.”

The old couple thanked him and shared the apples all around. The wind hummed softly outside, and the firelight danced upon their faces. “You see,” whispered the wife, resting her head on his shoulder, “what the old man does is always right—because love never counts the cost.”