Once upon a time, there were three houses in a row. In one lived a tailor, in another a carpenter, and in the third a smith. All three were married, and their wives were very good friends. They often talked about how foolish their husbands were, but they could never agree on whose husband was the most foolish. Each wife defended her own, insisting it was he.
The three wives went to church together every Sunday, enjoying a good gossip on the way. On their return, they always stopped at a roadside tavern to share half a pint of brandy. At that time, half a pint cost threepence, so each paid a penny.
When the price rose to fourpence, they were annoyed. With only three of them, none wanted to pay the extra penny. As they walked home from church that day, they decided to make a wager. The one who, by the following Sunday, was judged to have played the greatest trick on her husband would thereafter drink for free, while the other two would each pay twopence for their Sunday half-pint.
The next day, the tailor's wife told her husband, "Some girls are coming to help card my wool today. We'll be very busy. I'm annoyed our watchdog is dead, as young fellows will come to flirt with the girls and nothing will get done. A fierce watchdog would keep them away."
"Yes," said the man, "that would be good."
"Listen," said his wife, "you must be the watchdog yourself and scare them away."
Though hesitant, the tailor was usually ready to give in to her. "Oh yes, you'll see it will work," she insisted. That evening, she dressed him in a shaggy fur coat, tied a black woolen cloth around his head, and chained him beside the dog's kennel. There he stood, barking and growling at everyone nearby. The neighbor wives knew all about it and were greatly amused.
The day after, the carpenter came home from work quite merry. As soon as he entered, his wife clapped her hands and cried, "My dear, what's wrong? You look ill!"
The carpenter felt fine and only wanted dinner. He sat down to eat, but his wife sat opposite him, folded her hands, shook her head, and looked at him anxiously.
"You're getting worse, my dear," she said. "You're quite pale. You have a serious illness; I can see it in your looks."
The husband grew anxious and began to think he might not be well. "No, indeed," she said. "It's high time you were in bed."
She made him lie down, piled all the bedclothes she could find on him, and gave him various medicines. He felt worse and worse.
"You'll never get over it," she said. "I'm afraid you're going to die."
"Do you think so?" said the carpenter. "I can well believe it, for I am indeed very poorly."
Soon she said, "Ah, now I must part with you. Here comes Death. Now I must close your eyes." And she did so.
The carpenter believed everything his wife said, so he now believed he was dead. He lay still and let her do as she pleased. She summoned her neighbors, and they helped lay him in a coffin—one he had made himself. His wife had bored holes in it for air. She made a soft bed for him, put a coverlet over him, and folded his hands on his chest. Instead of a flower or a psalm-book, she placed a pint-bottle of brandy in his hands. After lying there a while, he took a sip, then another and another. It seemed to do him good, and soon he was sleeping sweetly, dreaming he was in heaven.
Meanwhile, word spread through the village that the carpenter was dead and would be buried the next day.
Now it was the smith's wife's turn. Her husband was sleeping off a drinking bout. She pulled off all his clothes, made him black as coal from head to foot, and let him sleep late into the day.
The funeral party had already gathered at the carpenter's house and was marching toward the church with the coffin when the smith's wife rushed in to her husband.
"Gracious, man!" she said. "Are you still lying there? You've slept too long. You know you're going to the funeral."
The smith was confused; he knew nothing about a funeral.
"It's our neighbor the carpenter," said his wife. "He's to be buried today. They're already halfway to church with him."
"All right," said the smith. "Make haste and help me on with my black clothes."
"What nonsense!" said his wife. "You have them on already. Be off with you now."
The smith looked down and saw he was much blacker than usual. He grabbed his hat and ran after the funeral. The procession was near the church, and the smith, wanting to help carry the coffin like a good neighbor, ran with all his might and shouted, "Hey! Wait a little! Let me get a hold of him!"
The people turned, saw the black figure coming, and thought it was the devil himself come to take the carpenter. They threw down the coffin and ran for their lives.
The lid sprang off with the shock, and the carpenter woke up and looked out. He remembered everything; he knew he was dead and was being buried. Recognizing the smith, he said in a low voice, "My good neighbor, if I hadn't been dead already, I should have laughed myself to death now to see you coming like this to my funeral."
From that time forth, the carpenter's wife drank free every Sunday, for the others had to admit she had fooled her husband the best.