‘The matter?’ said he.
‘Yes, why are you weeping?’
‘Because,’ replied Halfman, ‘the baby is not really ours, but belongs to an ogress.’
‘Are you mad?’ cried the wife. ‘What do you mean by talking like that?’
‘I promised,’ said Halfman, ‘when she undertook to kill my brother and to give you to me, that the first son we had should be hers.’
‘And will she take him from us now?’ said the poor woman.
‘No, not quite yet,’ replied Halfman; ‘when he is bigger.’
‘And is she to have all our children?’ asked she.
‘No, only this one,’ returned Halfman.
Day by day the boy grew bigger, and one day as he was playing in the street with the other children, the ogress came by. ‘Go to your father,’ she said, ‘and repeat this speech to him: “I want my forfeit; when am I to have it?”’