"Oh, mother, mother!" says he, "who'll take care of me now? Thou shouldn't have left me alone, for I liked thee better than everything!"
And as he said that, he thought of the words of the wise woman. "Hi, yi!" says he, "must I take mother's heart to her?"
"No! I can't do that," says he. "What'll I do? what'll I do to get that pottle o' brains, now I'm alone in the world?" So he thought and thought and thought, and next day he went and borrowed a sack, and bundled his mother in, and carried it on his shoulder up to the wise woman's cottage.
"Gode'en, missis," says he, "I reckon I've fetched thee the right thing this time, surely," and he plumped the sack down kerflap! in the doorsill.
"Maybe," says the wise woman, "but read me this, now, what's yellow and shining but isn't gold?"
And he scratched his head, and thought and thought, but he couldn't tell.
"Thou 'st not hit the right thing, my lad," says she. "I doubt thou 'rt a bigger fool than I thought!" and shut the door in his face.
"See there!" says he, and set down by the road side and greets.
"I've lost the only two things as I cared for, and what else can I find to buy a pottle o' brains with!" and he fair howled, till the tears ran down into his mouth. And up came a lass that lived near at hand, and looked at him.
"What's up with thee, fool?" says she.