“What shall we do with her?” said old Sappy.
“The riddle! The riddle!” screamed the ugly black bird overhead.
“The riddle! The riddle!” sang out all the owls together.
“Answer the riddle!” said old Sappy. But as he said it he gave a slow wink with his right eye. “Answer the riddle, and answer it right! Or else,—or else,—off come your shoes, off come your shoes!”
“What is the riddle?” cried all the owls.
“This is the riddle, and answer it right,” said old Sappy. “What is it that has no feet and runs away on four feet and is chased by the same four feet, and lives on food and drink and never eats nor drinks?”
“What is it? What is it?” croaked all the owls.
“Kitten-tails!” said Merrimeg, sobbing with fright as she said it.
The black bird overhead gave a piercing scream, spread its wings, and tried to fly away. But before it could fly, while it was flapping and struggling, a change came over it, and in its place was a horrible little old woman, hanging on to the branch and kicking and screaming, and trying to keep from falling down out of the tree. She was much heavier than the bird had been, and the branch was not strong enough to bear her; it snapped in half under her, and down she fell, still kicking, directly into the opening of the well. She was gone.
Merrimeg heard a splash far down in the well, and at the same time the green walls disappeared, and the well-opening was covered over, and the green marble floor turned into soft green moss, raised in the middle like a roof, and the owls flew away among the trees.