But when he pulled them out again and shook them before their faces, all saw that they were as dry and bright as before.
"Give them to me!" cried Martin, thinking that it was all right now.
"Never shall Martin wear such poor clothes--they will not resist fire," cried the old man, and into the flames he flung them.
Martin now gave up all hopes of possessing them, and was ready to burst into tears at their loss, when out of the fire they were pulled again, and it was seen that the flames had not injured or tarnished them in the least.

Once more Martin put out his arms and this time he was allowed to take those beautiful clothes, and then just as he clasped them to him with a cry of delight he woke! His head was lying on his new mother's arm, and she was awake watching him.
"O, mother, what a nice dream I had! O such pretty clothes--why did I wake so soon ?" She laughed and touched his arms, showing him that they were still clasping that beautiful suit of clothes to his breast--the very clothes of his wonderful dream!.