So when he got home that day he said to his youngest daughter whose name was Lisa:
“Lisa, my dear, I forgot my brogues at the lake. Like a good girl won’t you run and get them for me?”
So Lisa went to the lake and Wetehinen of course caught her and carried her down to his house as he had her two sisters.
Then the same old story was repeated. Wetehinen made Lisa mistress of the house and gave her keys to all the doors and closets with the same prohibition against opening the door of the forbidden room.
“If I am mistress of the house,” Lisa said to herself, “why should I not unlock every door?”
She waited until one day when Wetehinen was away from home, then went boldly to the forbidden room, fitted the key in the lock, and flung open the door.
There lay her two poor sisters with their heads cut off. There in the pool of blood sparkled the lovely ring, but Lisa paid no heed to it.
“Wicked old Wetehinen!” Lisa cried. “I suppose he thinks that ring will tempt me but nothing will tempt me to touch that awful blood!”
Then she rummaged about, opening boxes and chests, and turning things over. In a dark corner she found two pitchers, one marked Water of Life, the other Water of Death.
“Ha! This is what I want!” she cried, taking the pitcher of the Water of Life.