“Here we are, my man. Climb up upon the stove and cover yourself up, for my children will soon be here.”
“Why should I cover myself?” asked the man.
“Because, my son, the North-wind, will be here,” said the woman, “and he will otherwise freeze you up.”
In a short time the sons began to come in. When the South-wind had arrived, the old woman told the man to come off the stove, and said to her son—
“South-wind, my dear son, this man has a complaint against you. Why do you hurt the poor? You have taken this man’s flour out of his pan. Now give him money for it, or make him some recompense.”
“Very well, mother,” said the South-wind, “I will buy the flour of him.”
So saying, he turned to the man, and said—
“Here, my man. Take this basket. It has in it all you most want—money, bread, food, and drink of all kinds. You have only to say to it, ‘Basket, give me so and so,’ and it will give you whatever you wish. Take it to your house. I give it you for your flour.”
The peasant bowed to the Wind, thanked it for the basket, and set off homewards.
He gave the basket to his wife, and said—