She did not wait to be asked twice, but hobbled into the chair, and, to Daisy's wonder, ate all the bread at a mouthful, and drank the milk at a swallow, and then, looking as hungry as ever, asked for more.
So the little girl brought meat, and then some meal, and some dried fruit, and even cracked nuts; but the more she brought, the more the fairy wanted.
If Daisy had feared any thing, she would have trembled when, at last, the old dame fixed her glittering eyes upon her, and began to talk.
"Couldn't you do any better, Daisy, than this," she said, "for your mother's friend and yours? Are you not ashamed, when I am so hungry and tired, to give me such mean food?"
"I am sorry, if you do not like it," said Daisy; "it is the best we ever have."
"Don't tell me that," and the dame began to look angry. "Do you call it good food that leaves me thin as I was before, and as hungry, and my clothes as ragged, and does not rest or soothe my poor old aching bones?"
"If you wait till mother has done crying, she can make a drink out of herbs that will stop the aching—I am sure of that," said Daisy, looking up in the fairy's face.
"But I want it now; and, O, I am so cold! and she will cry all night. Do, Daisy, find me something else to eat."
The poor old woman shivered as she spoke, and tears came into her eyes.