Well, ivery day the flax an’ the vittles, they was browt, an’ ivery day that there little black impet used for to come mornin’s and evenin’s.  An’ all the day the darter, she set a tryin’ fur to think of names to say to it when te come at night.  But she niver hot on the right one.  An’ as that got to-warts the ind o’ the month, the impet that began for to look soo maliceful, an’ that twirled that’s tail faster an’ faster each time she gave a guess.

At last te came to the last day but one.  The impet that come at night along o’ the five skeins, an’ that said: 

“What, hain’t yew got my name yet?”

“Is that Nicodemus?” says she.

“Noo, t’ain’t,” that says.

“Is that Sammle?” says she.

“Noo, t’ain’t,” that says.

“A-well, is that Methusalem?” says she.

“Noo, t’ain’t that norther,” he says.

Then that looks at her with that’s eyes like a cool o’ fire, an that says, “Woman, there’s only to-morrer night, an’ then yar’ll be mine!” An’ away te flew.

Well, she felt that horrud.  Howsomediver, she hard the king a-comin’ along the passage.  In he came, an’ when he see the five skeins, he says, says he: 

“Well, me dare,” says he, “I don’t see but what yew’ll ha’ your skeins ready to-morrer night as well, an’ as I reckon I shorn’t ha’ to kill you, I’ll ha’ supper in here to-night.”  So they brought supper an’ another stool for him, and down the tew they sot.

Well, he hadn’t eat but a mouthful or so, when he stops and begins to laugh.

“What is it?” says she.

“A-why,” says he, “I was out a-huntin’ to-day, an’ I got away to a place in the wood I’d never seen afore.  An’ there was an old chalk pit.  An’ I heerd a sort of a hummin’, kind o’.  So I got off my hobby, an’ I went right quiet to the pit, an’ I looked down.  Well, what should there be but the funniest little black thing yew iver set eyes on.  An’ what was that a dewin’ on, but that had a little spinnin’ wheel, an’ that were a-spinnin’ wonnerful fast, an’ a-twirlin’ that’s tail.  An’ as that span, that sang: 

    “Nimmy, nimmy not,
     My name’s Tom Tit Tot.”

Well, when the darter heerd this, she fared as if she could ha’ jumped outer her skin for joy, but she di’n’t say a word.

Next day, that there little thing looked soo maliceful when he come for the flax.  An’ when night came, she heerd that a-knockin’ agin the winder panes.  She oped the winder, an’ that come right in on the ledge.  That were grinnin’ from are to are, an’ Oo! tha’s tail were twirlin’ round so fast.

“What’s my name?” that says, as that gonned her the skeins.

“Is that Solomon?” she says, pretendin’ to be a-feard.

“Noo, tain’t,” that says, an’ that come fudder inter the room.

“Well, is that Zebedee?” says she agin.

“Noo, tain’t,” says the impet.  An’ then that laughed an’ twirled that’s tail till yew cou’n’t hardly see it.