"Little girl! Little girl! Milk me! Please milk me, I've waited seven years to be milked——"
She only laughed and replied, "You may wait another seven years for all I care. I'm not your dairymaid!"
And with that she went on till she came to the apple tree, all overburdened by its fruit. But when it begged her to shake its branches, she only giggled, and plucking one ripe apple, said:
"One is enough for me: you can keep the rest yourself." And with that she went on munching the apple, till she came to the witch-woman's house.
Now the witch-woman, though she had got over being crisp and brown from the oven, was dreadfully angry with all little maid-servants, and made up her mind this one should not trick her. So for a long time she never went out of the house; thus the ill-tempered sister never had a chance of looking up the chimney, as she had meant to do at once. And she had to dust, and clean, and brush, and sweep ever so hard, until she was quite tired out.
But one day, when the witch-woman went into the garden to bury her bones, she seized the moment, looked up the chimney, and, sure enough, a bag of gold fell plump into her lap!
Well! she was off with it in a moment, and ran and ran till she came to the apple tree, when she heard the witch-woman behind her. So she cried as her sister had done:
"Apple tree! Apple tree, hide me
So the old witch can't find me,
For if she does she'll break my bones,
Or bury me under the garden stones."
But the apple tree said:
"No room here! I've too many apples."