"I haven't got any wings," cried the peasant girl. "Oh, I wish I could grow some wings."
"You stupid!" said the farmer's daughter. "Of course you haven't got wings. What do you want wings for?"
"I want to fly up into the sky and sing my little songs there," answered the little peasant girl.
Then the farmer's daughter was angry, and said again, "You stupid! How can you ever expect to grow wings? Your father's only a farm-laborer. They might grow on me, but not on you."
When the farmer's daughter had said that, she went away to the well, sprinkled some water on her shoulders, and stood out among the vegetables in the garden, waiting for her wings to sprout. She really believed the sun would bring them out quite soon.
But in a little while a merchant's daughter came along the road and called out to the girl who was trying to grow wings in the garden, "What are you doing standing out there, red face?"
"I am growing wings," said the farmer's daughter. "I want to fly."
Then the merchant's daughter laughed loudly, and cried out, "You stupid farm-girl; if you had wings they would only be a weight on your back."
The merchant's daughter thought she knew who was most likely to grow wings. And when she went back to the town where she lived she bought some olive-oil and rubbed it on her shoulders, and went out into the garden and waited for her wings to grow.
By and by a young lady of the Court came along, and said to her, "What are you doing out there, my child?"