“THIS YOU HAVEN’T SUCKED OUT OF YOUR OWN BREAST. BUT NOW JUST TAKE THIS
BLACK WOOL AND WASH IT WHITE.”
This the lassie was at her wit’s end to know how to do, for she had
never seen or heard of any one who could wash black wool white. Still
she said nothing, but took the wool and went down with it to the well.
There the little birds sung again, and told her to take the wool and dip
it into the great butt that stood there; and she did so, and out it came
as white as snow.
“Well! I never!” said the old witch, when she came in with the wool,
“it’s no good keeping you. You can do everything, and at last you’ll be
the plague of my life. We’d best part, so take your wages and be off.”
Then the old hag drew out three caskets, one red, one green, and one
blue, and of these the lassie was to choose one as wages for her
service. Now she didn’t know at all which to choose, but the little
birds sung—
“Don’t take the red, don’t take the green,
But take the blue, where may be seen
Three little crosses all in a row,
We saw the marks, and so we know.”
So she took the blue casket, as the birds sang.
“Bad luck to you, then,” said the old witch; “see if I don’t make you
pay for this!”
So when the man’s daughter was just setting off, the old witch shot a
red-hot bar of iron after her, but she sprang behind the door and hid
herself, so that it missed her, for her friends, the little birds, had
told her beforehand how to behave. Then she walked on and on as fast as
ever she could; but when she got to the apple tree, she heard an awful
clatter behind her on the road, and that was the old witch and her
daughter coming after her.
So the lassie was so frightened and scared, she didn’t know what to do.
“Come hither to me, lassie, do you hear,” said the Apple Tree, “I’ll
help you; get under my branches and hide, for if they catch you, they’ll
tear you to death, and take the casket from you.”
Yes! she did so, and she had hardly hidden herself before up came the
old witch and her daughter.
“Have you seen any lassie pass this way, you apple tree,” said the old
hag.
“Yes, yes,” said the Apple Tree; “one ran by here an hour ago; but now
she’s got so far a-head, you’ll never catch her up.”
So the old witch turned back and went home again.
Then the lassie walked on a bit, but when she came just about where the
sheep was, she heard an awful clatter beginning on the road behind her,
and she didn’t know what to do, she was so scared and frightened; for
she knew well enough it was the old witch who had thought better of it.
“Come hither to me, lassie,” said the Wether, “and I’ll help you. Hide
yourself under my fleece, and then they’ll not see you; else they’ll
take away the casket, and tear you to death.”
Just then up came the old witch, tearing along.
“Have you seen any lassie pass here, you sheep?” she cried to the
wether.
“Oh, yes,” said the Wether, “I saw one an hour ago, but she ran so fast,
you’ll never catch her.”
So the old witch turned round and went home.
But when the lassie had come to where she met the cow, she heard another
awful clatter behind her.
“Come hither to me, lassie,” said the Cow, “and I’ll help you to hide
yourself under my udder, else the old hag will come and take away your
casket, and tear you to death.”
True enough, it wasn’t long before she came up.
“Have you seen any lassie pass here, you cow?” said the old hag.
“Yes, I saw one an hour ago,” said the Cow, “but she’s far away now, for
she ran so fast I don’t think you’ll ever catch her up.”
So the old hag turned round, and went back home again.
When the lassie had walked a long, long way farther on, and was not far
from the hedge, she heard again that awful clatter on the road behind
her, and she got scared and frightened, for she knew well enough it was
the old hag and her daughter, who had changed their minds.
“Come hither to me, lassie,” said the Hedge, “and I’ll help you. Creep
under my twigs, so that they can’t see you; else they’ll take the casket
from you, and tear you to death.”
Yes! she made all the haste she could to get under the twigs of the
hedge.
“Have you seen any lassie pass this way, you hedge?” said the old hag to
the hedge.
“No, I haven’t seen any lassie,” answered the Hedge, and was as
smooth-tongued as if he had got melted butter in his mouth; but all the
while he spread himself out, and made himself so big and tall, one had
to think twice before crossing him. And so the old witch had no help for
it but to turn round and go home again.
So when the man’s daughter got home, her step-mother and her stepsister
were more spiteful against her than ever; for now she was much neater,
and so smart, it was a joy to look at her. Still she couldn’t get leave
to live with them, but they drove her out into a pig-sty. That was to be
her house. So she scrubbed it out so neat and clean, and then she opened
her casket, just to see what she had got for her wages. But as soon as
ever she unlocked it, she saw inside so much gold and silver, and lovely
things, which came streaming out till all the walls were hung with them,
and at last the pig-sty was far grander than the grandest king’s palace.
And when the step-mother and her daughter came to see this, they almost
jumped out of their skin, and began to ask what kind of a place she had
down there?
“Oh,” said the lassie “can’t you see when I have got such good wages.
’Twas such a family, and such a mistress to serve, you couldn’t find
their like anywhere.”
Yes! the woman’s daughter made up her mind to go out to serve too, that
she might get just such another gold casket. So they sat down to spin
again, and now the woman’s daughter was to spin bristles, and the man’s
daughter flax, and she whose thread first snapped, was to go down the
well. It wasn’t long, as you may fancy, before the woman’s daughter’s
thread snapped, and so they threw her down the well.
So the same thing happened. She fell to the bottom, but met with no
harm, and found herself on a lovely green meadow. When she had walked a
bit she came to the hedge.
“Don’t tread hard on me, pray, lassie, and I’ll help you again,” said
the Hedge.
“Oh!” said she, “what should I care for a bundle of twigs?” and tramped
and stamped over the hedge till it cracked and groaned again.
A little farther on she came to the cow, which walked about ready to
burst for want of milking.
“Be so good as to milk me, lassie,” said the Cow, “and I’ll help you
again. Drink as much as you please, but throw the rest over my hoofs.”
Yes? she did that; she milked the cow, and drank till she could drink no
more; but when she left off, there was none left to throw over the cow’s
hoofs, and as for the pail, she tossed it down the hill and walked on.
When she had gone a bit further, she came to the sheep which walked
along with his wool dragging after him.
“Oh, be so good as to clip me, lassie,” said the Sheep, “And I’ll serve
you again. Take as much of the wool as you will, but twist the rest
round my neck.”
Well! she did that; but she went so carelessly to work, that she cut
great pieces out of the poor sheep, and as for the wool, she carried it
all away with her.
A little while after she came to the apple tree, which stood there quite
crooked with fruit again.
“Be so good as to pluck the apples off me, that my limbs may grow
straight, for it’s weary work to stand all awry,” said the Apple Tree.
“But please take care not to beat me too hard. Eat as many as you will,
but lay the rest neatly round my root, and I’ll help you again.”
Well, she plucked those nearest to her, and thrashed down those she
couldn’t reach with the pole, but she didn’t care how she did it, and
broke off and tore down great boughs, and ate till she was as full as
full could be, and then she threw down the rest under the tree.
So when she had gone a good bit further, she came to the farm where the
old witch lived. There she asked for a place, but the old hag said she
wouldn’t have any more maids, for they were either worth nothing, or
were too clever, and cheated her out of her goods. But the woman’s
daughter was not to be put off, she _would_ have a place, so the old
witch said she’d give her a trial, if she was fit for anything.
The first thing she had to do was to fetch water in a sieve. Well, off
she went to the well, and drew water in a sieve, but as fast as she got
it in it ran out again. So the little birds sung—
“Daub in clay,
Put in straw;
Daub in clay,
Put in straw!”
But she didn’t care to listen to the birds’ song, and pelted them with
clay, till they flew off, far away. And so she had to go home with the
empty sieve, and got well scolded by the old witch.
Then she was to go into the byre to clean it, and milk the kine. But she
was too good for such dirty work, she thought. Still, she went out into
the byre, but when she got there, she couldn’t get on at all with the
pitchfork, it was so big. The birds said the same to her as they had
said to her step-sister, and told her to take the broom-stick and toss
out a little dung, and then all the rest would fly after it; but all she
did with the broom-stick was to throw it at the birds. When she came to
milk, the kine were so unruly, they kicked and pushed, and every time
she got a little milk in the pail, over they kicked it. Then the birds
sang again—
“A little drop and a tiny sup
For the little birds to drink it up.”
But she beat and banged the cows about, and threw and pelted at the
birds everything she could lay hold of, and made such a to do, ’twas
awful to see. So she didn’t make much either of her pitching or milking,
and when she came in-doors she got blows as well as hard words from the
old witch, who sent her off to wash the black wool white; but that, too,
she did no better.
Then the old witch thought this really too bad, so she set out the three
caskets, one red, one green, and one blue, and said she’d no longer any
need of her services, for she wasn’t worth keeping, but for wages she
should have leave to choose whichever casket she pleased.