“Good morning, mother.”
“May I come in and rest my poor old bones for a minute?”
“Come in, in heaven’s name.”
The old witch came in and sat down as near the dough trough as she dared.
“Daughter, I have journeyed far and I would be glad of a bit of bread to eat even if it is only the crust.”
Well, she might have that and welcome, so the good woman went to the dough trough to get a piece, for that was where she kept it. No sooner had she opened the lid than the old witch was close behind her, looking over her shoulder, and she was disappointed enough when she found that no Buttercup was there.
However, she sat down again with the piece of bread in her hand and began to munch and mumble it, though she had no liking for such dry food as that.
“Is your little boy Buttercup at home to-day?” she asked.