When she saw the green Fairy coming up the hill, neither lazy nor lame this time, she put the baby under her stool on which she sat so as to hide it, and turning one leg over the other she put her elbow on her knee, resting her head in her hand as if she were fretting.
Up came the old Fairy, and said, “You know what I have come for, so let us waste no time.” The good woman pretends to grieve more than ever, and wringing her hands as she fell on her knees, “Good, kind Madam,” she cried, “spare my only child, and take the old sow.”
“The foul fiend take the sow,” the Fairy said; “I came not here for swine flesh. Now don’t be troublesome, but give me the child at once.”
“Oh! my good Lady,” the good Woman again said, “leave my dear child and take myself.”
“What does the old jade mean?” the Fairy cried, this time in a passion. “Why, you old fool, who do you think would have anything to do with the like of you, you ugly old cat?”
This, I promise you, put the good dame’s back up; for though she had blear eyes, and a long red nose, she thought herself no less engaging than the vainest; so up she jumped, and making a courtesy down to the ground, she said—
“We cannot all be as beautiful as your own sweet self, and I might have known that I should not be thought fit to tie even the shoes of the high and mighty Princess Fittletetot.”
The old Fairy could not have jumped higher if she had been blown up; but down she came again, and roaring with rage ran down the hill, followed by the laughter of the good dame of Kittleroopit.