“Poor child, you are very sad, but remember you are not the only unfortunate one upon this earth,” said a hoarse, cracked voice behind her.
Turning quickly, the Fair One saw, seated upon a rock close by, an old woman so bent, so wrinkled, and so hideously ugly that the young girl was frightened by her looks. However, she tried to hide her fear and spoke to the crone civilly. She was then about to go on her way, but the old woman stopped her. “My daughter,” she said, “I am thirsty, but my old bones are too stiff for me to stoop to drink from the fountain. Will you not give me some water from your pitcher?”
“Willingly, mother,” answered the girl in a sweet voice, and approaching the old woman she lifted the heavy pitcher for her to drink. She held it carefully until the stranger had quenched her thirst, and then returned to the fountain to refill it.
“Daughter, you have obliged one who is not only able but willing to reward you,” said the old woman. “Your sweet temper is a dower greater than any I can give you, but this you shall have beside. When you speak, roses and pearls shall drop from your lips, and your tears shall be changed to diamonds as they fall.”
The girl thought the old woman must be out of her wits, for it was quite impossible that such a thing as that should happen to anyone, and bidding her good-day as quickly as she could, she hurried away with her brimming pitcher.
When she reached home her mother met her at the door with scowls and reproaches.
“Lazy wretch,” she cried, lifting her hand, “you have been gone twice as long as was necessary. You have been loitering and amusing yourself by the way,” and she seemed about to beat her.
“Pardon me, I beg of you,” cried the young girl. “Indeed I hurried all I could, but I feared to spill the water by the way.”
The mother’s hand dropped, and she stared down at the floor with open mouth and starting eyes; for every word the girl spoke, a rose or a pearl fell from her lips and showered upon the floor of the house.