My ever-scolding, teasing, worrying brother band,
For they have roused my ire.”
The wand needed no second bidding, and darting out of his hand began to thrash the brothers soundly, crying out like a reasoning creature:
“Your brother has often your blows felt, alack!
Now taste it yourselves; hope you like it, whack, whack.”
The brothers were overpowered, and felt all the while as if boiling water were being poured over their heads. Yelling with pain they began to run at full speed, and soon disappeared with clouds of dust flying round them.
The wand then came back to the fool’s hand. He went into the house, climbed on the stove, and told his mother all that had happened. Then he cried:
“O Tablecloth, who for the poor,
The hungry, and thirsty, makes cheer,
Let us within our cottage door