“Not so; for it was already hers by right, and had been unjustly taken from her by your uncle.”
“But he will come to see if you are here, and will know you again.”
“Go and gather three leaves of the cross-wort,[11] and I will tell you what to do.”
May-flower went, and soon returned with the three leaves.
“Now,” said Mor Vyoc’h, “pass those leaves over me, from my horns to my tail, and say ‘St. Ronan of Ireland!’ three times.”
May-flower did so; and as she called on the saint for the third time, lo, the cow became a beautiful horse. The little girl was lost in wonder.
“Now,” said the creature to her, “your uncle Perrik cannot possibly know me again; for I am no longer Mor Vyoc’h, but Marc’h-Mor.”[12]
On hearing what had come to pass, the widow was greatly rejoiced; and early on the morrow proceeded to make trial of her horse with a load of corn for Tréguier. But guess her astonishment when she found that the more sacks were laid on Marc’h-Mor’s back the longer it grew; so that he alone could carry as much wheat as all the horses in the parish.
The tale of the widow’s wonderful horse was soon noised about the neighbourhood, and among the rest her brother Fanche heard of it. He therefore lost no time in proceeding to the farm; and when he had seen Marc’h-Mor, begged his sister to part with him, which, however, she would by no means consent to do till Fanche had offered her in exchange his cows and his mill, with all the pigs that he was fattening there.
The bargain concluded, Ninorc’h took possession of her new property, as she had done at the farm; and Fanche led away Marc’h-Mor.