“You don’t know that,” that said, and twirled that’s tail round.
“Well,” says she, “that won’t do no harm, if that don’t do no good," and she upped and told about the pies, and the skeins, and everything.
“This is what I’ll do,” says the little black thing, “I’ll come to your window every morning and take the flax and bring it spun at night.”
“What’s your pay?” says she.
That looked out of the corner of that’s eyes, and that said: “I’ll give you three guesses every night to guess my name, and if you haven’t guessed it before the month’s up you shall be mine.”
Well, she thought she’d be sure to guess that’s name before the month was up. “All right,” says she, “I agree.”
“All right,” that says, and law! how that twirled that’s tail.
Well, the next day, her husband took her into the room, and there was the flax and the day’s food.
“Now there’s the flax,” says he, “and if that ain’t spun up this night, off goes your head.” And then he went out and locked the door.
He’d hardly gone, when there was a knocking against the window.