When they were brought, Bud turned to the fat woman and ordered the bandage taken from her mouth.
“The cow’s mine! It’s my cow! I own it!” she screamed, the moment she could speak.
“Hold!” said the king. “If the cow belongs to you, let me see you milk her.”
“Certainly, your Majesty, certainly!” she cried; and seizing the pail and the stool, she ran up to the left side of the cow, placed the stool, and sat down upon it. But before she could touch the cow the animal suddenly gave a wild kick that sent the startled woman in a heap upon the floor, with her head stuck fast in the milk-pail. Then the cow moved forward a few steps and looked blandly around.
Two of the guards picked the woman up and pulled the pail from her head.
“What’s the matter?” asked Bud.
“She’s frightened, of course,” whimpered the woman, “and I’ll be black and blue by to-morrow morning, your Majesty. Any cow would kick in such a place as this.”
“Put this woman in the room and fetch the other woman here,” commanded the king.
So the lean woman was brought out and ordered to milk the cow.
