“Well,” said she, “I can do nothing for you yet, unless you can answer me one more riddle that I have to ask. What is it that is yellow and shining, but is not gold?”
He pondered on her question for a long time without being able to give any answer, and at last she shut the door in his face, and he walked sadly away. Pretty soon he sat down by the roadside and began to cry, and he fairly howled till the tears ran down into his mouth. While he was in the midst of his grief along came a lass who lived near by, and she stopped and looked at him. “What’s troubling you?” she asked.
“Oh dear!” said he, “I’ve killed my pig and lost my mother, and I’m nothing but a simpleton.”
“That’s bad,” said she; “and haven’t you anybody to look after you?”
“No,” said he, “and what is worst of all I don’t know how to buy a bottle of brains.”
“What are you talking about?” said she; and down she sat by him, and he told her all about the wise woman, and the pig, and his mother, and the riddles, and that he was alone in the world.
The lass stopped and looked at him
“Well,” said she, “I wouldn’t mind looking after you myself.”
“Could you do it?” said he, wiping away his tears and gazing at her hopefully.