“Now you must take Buttercup and kill him, and boil him nicely till I
come back, for I’m off to church to bid my guests to dinner.”
So, when all in the house were gone to church, the daughter was to take
Buttercup and kill him, but then she didn’t know how to set about it at
all.
“Stop a bit,” said Buttercup; “I’ll soon shew you how to do it; just lay
your head on the chopping-block, and you’ll soon see.”
So the poor silly thing laid her head down, and Buttercup took an axe
and chopped her head off, just as if she had been a chicken. Then he
laid her head in the bed, and popped her body into the pot, and boiled
it so nicely; and when he had done that, he climbed up on the roof, and
dragged up with him the fir-tree root and the stone, and put the one
over the door, and the other at the top of the chimney.
So when the household came back from church, and saw the head on the
bed, they thought it was the daughter who lay there asleep; and then
they thought they would just taste the broth.
“Good, by my troth!
Buttercup broth,”
said the old hag.
“Good by my troth!
Daughter broth,”
said Buttercup down the chimney, but no one heeded him.
So the old hag’s husband, who was every bit as bad as she, took the
spoon to have a taste.
“Good by my troth!
Buttercup broth,”
said he.
“Good, by my troth!
Daughter broth,”
said Buttercup down the chimney pipe.
Then they all began to wonder who it could be that chattered so, and ran
out to see. But when they came out at the door, Buttercup threw down on
them the fir-tree root and the stone, and broke all their heads to bits.
After that he took all the gold and silver that lay in the house, and
went home to his mother, and became a rich man.
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