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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 99 pages of information about Old-Fashioned Fairy Tales.

    “We can’t have all this expense for nothing,” said the King: 
    so he married his daughter to the Prince of Moonshine.  If one
    can’t get gold one must be content with silver.

“Will you come to the funeral?” asked Dame Fortune of the godfather.

“Not I,” replied Good Luck.  “I had no hand in this matter.”

The rain came down in torrents.  The black feathers on the ravens’ backs looked as if they had been oiled.

“Caw! caw!” said they.  “It was an unlucky end.”

However, the funeral was a very magnificent one, for there was no stint of gold.

THE HILLMAN AND THE HOUSEWIFE.

It is well known that the Good People cannot abide meanness.  They like to be liberally dealt with when they beg or borrow of the human race; and, on the other hand, to those who come to them in need, they are invariably generous.

Now there once lived a certain Housewife who had a sharp eye to her own interests in temporal matters, and gave alms of what she had no use for, for the good of her soul.  One day a Hillman knocked at her door.

“Can you lend us a saucepan, good Mother?” said he.  “There’s a wedding in the hill, and all the pots are in use.”

“Is he to have one?” asked the servant lass who had opened the door.

“Aye, to be sure,” answered the Housewife.  “One must be neighbourly.”

But when the maid was taking a saucepan from the shelf, she pinched her arm, and whispered sharply—­“Not that, you slut!  Get the old one out of the cupboard.  It leaks, and the Hillmen are so neat, and such nimble workers, that they are sure to mend it before they send it home.  So one obliges the Good People, and saves sixpence in tinkering.  But you’ll never learn to be notable whilst your head is on your shoulders.”

Thus reproached, the maid fetched the saucepan, which had been laid by till the tinker’s next visit, and gave it to the dwarf, who thanked her, and went away.

In due time the saucepan was returned, and, as the Housewife had foreseen, it was neatly mended and ready for use.

At supper-time the maid filled the pan with milk, and set it on the fire for the children’s supper.  But in a few minutes the milk was so burnt and smoked that no one could touch it, and even the pigs refused the wash into which it was thrown.

“Ah, good-for-nothing hussy!” cried the Housewife, as she refilled the pan herself, “you would ruin the richest with your carelessness.  There’s a whole quart of good milk wasted at once!”

And that’s twopence,” cried a voice which seemed to come from the chimney, in a whining tone, like some nattering, discontented old body going over her grievances.

The Housewife had not left the saucepan for two minutes, when the milk boiled over, and it was all burnt and smoked as before.

“The pan must be dirty,” muttered the good woman, in great vexation; “and there are two full quarts of milk as good as thrown to the dogs.”

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