Through fog and foul swamp the young man travelled to the witch in the woods, in her home in the hen-legged hut.

“Speak! Make your request,” she hissed.

“Please, Witch, grant me strength that I may be king!”
She grumbled, “As king, what would you do?”

“Why, I would be fairest in all the land, and marry the finest princess, and richness would abound.”

She scowled. 

“Swallow your eyes.”
The boy recoiled. “What?!”

Against his will, his fingers shot into his eye sockets. 

Over his screams, the witch granted his wish, and said, “The noblest kings are the least proud.”