“Good, by my troth,
Is witch daughter broth,”
sang Buttercup on the roof.
“There certainly is someone outside there mocking at us,” said the old witch, and she ran out to see.
As soon as she came out Buttercup threw the stump down on her and killed her, and that was the end of her.
The witch’s husband waited for a time, and when she did not come back he went to call her, but as soon as he stepped outside Buttercup rolled the big stone down on him, and that was an end of him.
The friends who had come to share the broth waited and waited for the witch and her husband to come back, but after a time, as they did not, the guests grew impatient and came out to look for them. When they saw the two lying there dead they never stopped for the broth, but ran away as fast as they could go, and for all I know they may be running still.
But Buttercup climbed down from the roof, and hunted round in the house until he found where the witch kept her money chest all full of gold and silver money. Then he filled the sack with as much as he could carry, and started home again. When he reached there you may guess whether or not his mother was glad to see him. Then there was no more poverty for them, for the money in the sack was enough to make them rich for all their lives.