But soon she saw that every one was laughing as she went along.
“See, see!” they cried, “the farmer’s wife has sold her horse’s tail.”
Barbaik turned quickly round, and saw indeed that her horse had no tail. She had forgotten to ask for one; and the malicious dwarf had served her to the letter.
Disconcerted, she would have hastened on, but the horse refused to mend his pace; and so she was compelled to endure the jests of passers-by.
The young wife came home at night more furious than ever against the Teuz-à-pouliet, accusing him of having played her this ill turn on purpose, and fully resolved to be revenged upon him at the earliest opportunity.
Well, spring drew near, and as this was the time the dwarfs held festival, the Teuz asked leave of Jégu to extend an invitation to all his friends to come and spend the night on the barn-floor, where he might give them a supper and a dance. Jégu was far too much indebted to the dwarf to think of saying no; and ordered Barbaik to spread over the barn-floor her finest fringed table-cloths, and to serve up a batch of little butter-cakes, all the morning and the evening milk, and as many wheaten pancakes as could be turned out in a good day’s work.
Barbaik made no reply, to her husband’s great surprise.
She made the pancakes, prepared the milk, cooked the buttered cakes, and at evening-tide she took them all out to the barn; but at the same time she spread down, all round about the extended table-cloths, just where the dwarfs were going to place themselves, the ashes she had drawn smoking from the oven; so that when the Teuz-à-pouliet and his guests came in to seat themselves, they were every one severely burned, and fled away, uttering loud cries. They soon came back, however, carrying jugs of water, and so put out the fire; and then danced round the farm, all singing in an angry tone,
“Barbe Riou, with dire deceit,
Has roasted our poor little feet: