"That is a pity," said the old witch, "for I have a pretty little spoon
in my bag that I meant to give to him, and it is such a smart little
spoon that if you do but stir your porridge with it, it changes it into
something so delicious that the princess herself would be glad to eat
it."
When Buttercup in the cellar way heard that he wanted the spoon so
badly that he could stay hidden no longer. "Peep! peep! Here I am,"
said he.
"I am glad of that," said the witch, "for I had no wish to take the
spoon home again; but you will have to crawl into the sack yourself to
get it, for I am too old and stiff."
In a moment Buttercup was in the sack, and in another moment the old
witch had swung it over her back and was making off as fast as her legs
would carry her. This time she neither stayed nor stopped, but went
straight on home, and flung the sack on the floor with Buttercup in it.
"Did you get him this time?" asked the girl.
"Yes, I did," said the old witch, "and there he is, as plump as any
young chicken. Now I'll be off to ask the guests, and do you put him in
the pot and make a nice stew of him."
As soon as she had gone the witch girl opened the sack and told
Buttercup to come out. "Now put your head on the block, Buttercup," she
said, "so that I may chop it off."
"But I do not know how," said Buttercup.
[Illustration: "THEN SHOW ME HOW, AND I WILL HOLD THE AX FOR YOU"]
"Stupid! It is easy enough; anyone would know how to do that."
"Then show me how, and I will hold the ax for you."
The stupid witch girl put her head on the block, and as soon as she did
that, Buttercup cut it off. He put the head on the pillow of the bed
and drew the coverlid up about it and then it looked exactly as though
the witch girl were lying there asleep, but the body of her he popped
into the pot of boiling water. Then he climbed up on the roof and took
the fir tree stump and the stone with him.
And now home came the old witch again and all her troll friends with
her, and they were an ugly looking set all together.
They went stamping into the house and the old witch began to bawl for
her daughter, but there was no answer. She looked about her and spied
the head there on the pillow with the covers drawn up about it. "So
there you are!" cried the old witch. "Well, if you are too lazy to
get up and eat your dinner, you will have to be content with what we
leave." Then she picked up a big spoon and tasted the broth.
"Good, by my troth,
Is Buttercup broth,"
said she, and smacked her lips.
"Good, by my troth,
Is witch daughter broth,"
sang Buttercup out on the roof.
"Who was that?" asked the witch.
"Oh, it was only a bird singing outside," said her husband, and he took
the spoon himself and tasted the broth.
"Good, by my troth,
Is Buttercup broth,"
said he.
"Good, by my troth,
Is witch daughter broth,"
sang Buttercup on the roof.
"There certainly is someone outside there mocking at us," said the old
witch, and she ran out to see.
As soon as she came out Buttercup threw the stump down on her and
killed her, and that was the end of her.
The witch's husband waited for a time, and when she did not come back
he went to call her, but as soon as he stepped outside Buttercup rolled
the big stone down on him, and that was an end of him.
The friends who had come to share the broth waited and waited for the
witch and her husband to come back, but after a time, as they did not,
the guests grew impatient and came out to look for them. When they saw
the two lying there dead they never stopped for the broth, but ran away
as fast as they could go, and for all I know they may be running still.
But Buttercup climbed down from the roof, and hunted round in the house
until he found where the witch kept her money chest all full of gold
and silver money. Then he filled the sack with as much as he could
carry, and started home again. When he reached there you may guess
whether or not his mother was glad to see him. Then there was no more
poverty for them, for the money in the sack was enough to make them
rich for all their lives.