one of her stupid rages; but neither her hunger nor the hole in the wall heeded her rage.  Then, in a burst of self-pity, she fell a-weeping, but neither the hunger nor the hole cared for her tears.  The darkness began to come on, and her hunger grew and grew, and the terror of the wild noises of the last night invaded her.  Then she began to feel cold, and saw that the fire was dying.  She darted to the heap of cones, and fed it.  It blazed up cheerily, and she was comforted a little.  Then she thought with herself it would surely be better to give in so far, and do a little work, than die of hunger.  So catching up a duster, she began upon the table.  The dust flew about and nearly choked her.  She ran to the well to drink, and was refreshed and encouraged.  Perceiving now that it was a tedious plan to wipe the dust from the table on to the floor, whence it would have all to be swept up again, she got a wooden platter, wiped the dust into that, carried it to the fire, and threw it in.  But all the time she was getting more and more hungry and, although she tried the hole again and again, it was only to become more and more certain that work she must if she would eat.

At length all the furniture was dusted, and she began to sweep the floor, which happily, she thought of sprinkling with water, as from the window she had seen them do to the marble court of the palace.  That swept, she rushed again to the hole—­but still no food!  She was on the verge of another rage, when the thought came that she might have forgotten something.  To her dismay she found that table and chairs and every thing was again covered with dust—­not so badly as before, however.  Again she set to work, driven by hunger, and drawn by the hope of eating, and yet again, after a second careful wiping, sought the hole.  But no! nothing was there for her!  What could it mean?

Her asking this question was a sign of progress:  it showed that she expected the wise woman to keep her word.  Then she bethought her that she had forgotten the household utensils, and the dishes and plates, some of which wanted to be washed as well as dusted.

Faint with hunger, she set to work yet again.  One thing made her think of another, until at length she had cleaned every thing she could think of.  Now surely she must find some food in the hole!

When this time also there was nothing, she began once more to abuse the wise woman as false and treacherous;—­but ah! there was the bed unwatered!  That was soon amended.—­Still no supper!  Ah! there was the hearth unswept, and the fire wanted making up!—­Still no supper!  What else could there be?  She was at her wits’ end, and in very weariness, not laziness this time, sat down and gazed into the fire.  There, as she gazed, she spied something brilliant,—­shining even, in the midst of the fire:  it was the little mirror all whole again; but little she knew that the dust which she had thrown into the fire had helped to heal it.  She drew it out carefully, and, looking into it, saw, not indeed the ugly creature she had seen there before, but still a very dirty little animal; whereupon she hurried to the well, took off her clothes, plunged into it, and washed herself clean.  Then she brushed and combed her hair, made her clothes as tidy as might be, and ran to the hole in the wall:  there was a huge basin of bread and milk!