Her children were eagerly awaiting her at home, but alas! she came with empty hands.
The next day she went early to the rich man’s house to knead bread, and when she finished her task they bade her farewell and told her to be sure to come next time, but they gave her nothing whatever.
As soon as she returned home the children said, “Have you brought us some food, mother?”
“No,” she replied, “but maybe they will send us a bit of bread when the baking is done.”
However, she waited in vain. Two or three days later she got word that they wanted her to come and knead again. So she went to the rich man’s house and began her work. As she was kneading, the thought came into her head not to wash her hands until she reached home. Then she could give to the children the water in which she washed off the dough and flour. She hurried home as soon as she had done kneading, and said to her children, “I am going to give you a little milk soup.”
Then she washed her hands thoroughly, and divided the water among them, and they liked it so much they said, “Mother, whenever you go to knead, be sure to bring us some of that broth to drink.”
Twice a week she went to the rich man’s house to knead bread, and her children had never been more hearty and vigorous. One day the rich man was passing by his younger brother’s house, and he put his head in at the door and said, “How do you do here?”
He looked at the children and was amazed to see how fat they were. That put him in a great rage, and he went home and called to his wife: “Come at once, and tell me what you give to my sister-in-law, who does the kneading for us.”
She was frightened by the way he shouted at her. “I never give her anything,” she declared, “because I am so afraid of giving her too much and then getting a scolding from you.”
“You must have given her something,” he persisted, “for her children are so fat they look as if they would burst.”