“Why, how now, my Son?” said she. “What have we here?”
“Why, Mother, yonder is a river that has been running all this day, and I stayed till just now, waiting for it to run out; and there it is, running still.”
“My Son,” said the good woman, “thy head and mine will be laid in the grave many a day before this river has all run by. You will never sell your butter and cheese if you wait for that.”
PUSS IN BOOTS
I. PUSS GOES A-HUNTING
There was once an old miller, and when he died he left nothing to his three sons except his mill, an ass, and a cat. The eldest son took the mill, the second son took the ass, and so the cat fell to the youngest. This poor fellow looked very sober, and said:—
“What am I to do? My brothers can take care of themselves with a mill and an ass. But I can only eat the cat and sell his skin. Then what will be left? I shall die of hunger.” The cat heard these words and looked up at his master.
“Do not be troubled,” he said. “Give me a bag and get me a pair of boots, and I will soon show you what I can do.”