But the clever scarecrow kept his temper, and answered never a word. So again the old crow had to take herself off no wiser about his thoughts.
Well, all good things go in threes, as every child who knows more than a crow can tell you. So the third evening along came flying the old black crow, as old as the hills, with her five black children after her. And the third time he whispered, “Now, Magic Darkness and Moving Wind, help me.” And the third time they did. Magic Darkness came down and hid his headlessness, and Moving Wind bent him sharply down, lifted him halfway with his arms held out, one hand beyond the other, like this; then suddenly straightened him up with arms pointing up at the crows.
“Don’t shoot, dear farmer,” shrieked the old crow. She hadn’t time to turn tail. “My children and I will let your corn alone until you have harvested it.”
Immediately Moving Wind dropped the scarecrow’s armless sleeves and brought his hat back to its position on the top of the stalk. And away flew the old crow, as old as the hills, with her five black children after her. When she reached her nest built of sticks in the fork of the apple-tree a quarter of a mile away, and she had rested two minutes, she said, “My children, keep away from that field until I tell you the corn has been gathered in.”
When the corn was harvested, the old black crow and her five black children went gleaning to pick up the kernels that had dropped, and fat eating they had. And the scarecrow let them enjoy their meal in peace; his duty was done.
—Angela M. Keyes
OEYVIND AND MARIT
There was once a boy named Oeyvind who lived in a hut at the foot of a steep rocky hill. On the roof of the hut walked a little goat. It was Oeyvind’s own. Oeyvind kept it there so that it should not go astray, and he carried up leaves and grass to it.
But one fine day the goat leaped down, and away it went up the hill until it came where it never had been before. When Oeyvind ran out of the hut after dinner, he missed his little goat and at once thought of the fox. He looked all about, calling, “Killy-killy-killy-goat!”
“Bay-ay-ay,” said the goat, from the top of the hill, as it cocked its head on one side and looked down. And at the side of the goat kneeled a little girl.