In a small village lived a woman with her son, Hans. Though grown to full manhood in size, Hans had remained somewhat simple in mind. His mother loved him dearly but often despaired of his peculiar way of understanding the world.

“Hans,” she said one morning, “it’s time you learned to court a girl. You’re of age now, and should start thinking about marriage.”

Hans scratched his head thoughtfully. “Court a girl? How do I do that, Mother?”

His mother sighed. “Go to Gretel’s house—you know, the daughter of old farmer Klaus. Take her a nice gift. Be polite, and listen to what she says.”

Hans nodded eagerly. “I’ll go today!” he declared, and set off to find a suitable gift. In the meadow behind their cottage grew some pretty wildflowers. “These will do nicely,” he said to himself, and gathered a large handful.

When he arrived at Gretel’s house, she welcomed him with a smile. She was a pretty girl with rosy cheeks and bright eyes, and had always been kind to Hans despite his simplicity.

“Good day, Hans,” she said. “What brings you here?”

“I’ve brought you a gift,” Hans said proudly, thrusting the wildflowers toward her.

Gretel accepted them gratefully. “Thank you, Hans. These are lovely. I’ll put them in water right away.” She went inside briefly and returned with a gift for Hans. “Here,” she said, “take this needle. It will be useful for mending your clothes.”

Hans was delighted. “Thank you, Gretel!” he exclaimed, and stuck the needle in a load of hay on a passing cart, then proudly walked home.

When he reached home, the hay cart had gone, and with it, the needle. “Where is your gift?” his mother asked.

“Gretel gave me a needle, and I stuck it in the hay cart,” Hans explained.

His mother shook her head. “Oh, Hans! You should have pinned it to your sleeve.”

“I’ll remember next time,” Hans promised.

The following Sunday, Hans visited Gretel again. This time she gave him a knife. Remembering his mother’s advice, Hans pinned the knife to his sleeve and walked home. The knife tore his sleeve and fell to the ground, lost.

“You should have put the knife in your pocket,” his mother scolded when he told her what had happened.

On his third visit, Gretel gave Hans a young goat. Determined to follow his mother’s advice correctly, Hans stuffed the protesting animal into his pocket, where it suffocated on the journey home.

“Oh, Hans!” his mother exclaimed in dismay. “You should have tied a rope around the goat’s neck and led it home!”

The next Sunday, Gretel gave Hans a side of bacon. Following his mother’s latest instructions, Hans tied a rope around the bacon and dragged it home along the ground. Dogs followed and ate it all, leaving Hans with only the rope when he reached home.

“You should have carried it on your head,” his mother told him.

For his fifth visit, Gretel gave Hans a calf. Balancing the struggling animal on his head as his mother had advised, Hans made his way homeward. The calf kicked and wriggled until it fell, then ran away.

When Hans returned home empty-handed yet again, his mother threw up her hands in despair. “Next time, lead the animal by a rope, but first, look into Gretel’s eyes to show her you appreciate her gifts.”

On his next visit, Hans stared so fixedly into Gretel’s eyes that she became uncomfortable. “Is something wrong with my face?” she asked.

“No,” Hans replied. “I’m showing you I appreciate your gifts.”

Gretel gave him a puzzled smile and presented him with a piece of smoked sausage. Hans carefully tied a rope around it and led it home like a pet, much to the amusement of the villagers.

“Now, Hans,” his mother said when he arrived, “the next time you visit Gretel, you must behave like a proper suitor. Compliment her, and ask her to walk with you.”

When Sunday came again, Hans went to Gretel’s house and said, “Gretel, you are as pretty as our spotted cow. Will you walk with me?”

Gretel laughed despite herself. “Yes, Hans, I’ll walk with you to the village green.”

As they walked, Hans would run ahead, then wait for Gretel to catch up, then run ahead again. “What are you doing?” Gretel asked, out of breath.

“I’m herding sheep!” Hans declared proudly. “My mother says a good husband knows how to tend livestock.”

Gretel couldn’t help but laugh at Hans’s earnest misunderstanding. Though simple, there was something endearing about his eager desire to please.

After several more visits filled with similar misadventures, Gretel’s father approached Hans’s mother. “Your son has been courting my daughter for some time now,” he said. “What are his intentions?”

Hans’s mother smiled apologetically. “My Hans is simple, but he has a good heart. He would make a loyal, if somewhat unusual, husband.”

Farmer Klaus nodded thoughtfully. “Gretel could do worse. She has a clever head on her shoulders—perhaps clever enough for the both of them. And she seems fond of him, despite his peculiarities.”

And so it was arranged that Hans and Gretel would be married. On their wedding day, Hans was beside himself with excitement. “Gretel is my wife now!” he announced to everyone who would listen. “And I didn’t even have to put her in my pocket or balance her on my head!”

The villagers roared with laughter, and even Gretel couldn’t suppress a smile. She knew that life with Hans would never be dull, and that his literal mind and kind heart would bring both challenges and joy to their marriage.

As the years passed, Gretel’s patience and Hans’s eagerness to please made their union a happy one. She learned to give very precise instructions, and he learned to ask for clarification when uncertain. Together they raised children who inherited their mother’s wit and their father’s kind spirit.

And whenever the villagers spoke of an odd couple who somehow managed to make things work, they would nod and say, “Just like Clever Hans and his Gretel,” though with a twinkle in their eyes that suggested “clever” might not be quite the right word after all.