"What have the children tricked you with this time?" she screamed at him.
"They gave me a whistle-pipe," says the old man, "and they are not going to steal the turnips any more."
"A whistle-pipe!" she screamed. "What's the good of that? It's worse than the tablecloth and the skinny old goat."
The old man said nothing.
"Give it to me!" screamed the old woman. "They were my turnips, so it is my whistle-pipe."
"Well, whatever you do, don't blow in it," says the old man, and he hands over the whistle-pipe.
She wouldn't listen to him.
"What?" says she; "I must not blow my own whistle-pipe?"
And with that she put the whistle-pipe to her lips and blew.