d an axe, and with one blow felled the bush to
the ground. But what was her horror to find, as she let fall the axe,
that she had also struck off the heads of every one of the turkeys!

"Oh heavens! what a misfortune!" cried Catharine; "I am the most unlucky
woman in the world! _Now_ Wise Peter will not leave a whole bone in my
body! Alas, the turkeys would have sold for eight skillings apiece when
they had grown fat and big! The only thing that consoles me is, that I
shall have such a famous supper ready for him. When he tastes my fine
cabbage soup, I am sure he must forget to be vexed!" There were still,
however, the bodies of the turkeys to see after; so she took out her
needle and thread, sewed the heads of the turkeys on their necks, and
set them upright in the coop, that they might look as though they were
still alive.

After this precious piece of cleverness, Silly Catharine returned to the
house to see how her cabbage came on. But she had been gone so long that
the water in the pot had all boiled away, and the cabbage was burning on
hard and fast to the bottom of the pot. "Why, bless me! where can the
water have gone to?" cried Silly Catharine. "It must have all drawn up
chimney! Nevertheless, it would be a pity to lose it; full of the
cabbage juice as it was, it might well have been made into soup; and
Wise Peter has told me a hundred times never to waste anything. I will
get something to let down the chimney and see if I can dip it up."

So saying, she began to look about for a rope long enough to reach down
the chimney; but she couldn't find one. All at once her eye fell on the
bucket standing outside the well. Joyfully rushing to it, she cut the
rope, and dragging the bucket after her, scrambled out on the roof, and
began letting it down the chimney. While she was thus engaged, a poor
little frightened swallow, who had built its nest there, suddenly flew
up the chimney and darted right in her face. Silly Catharine was so much
frightened, that she gave a loud scream and let go of the rope. The
bucket, of course, fell into the middle of the fire, and in a twinkling
was burnt to cinders. Down from the roof, and into the kitchen, rushed
Catherine, but too late; nothing save the iron hoops now remained of the
bucket.

"What shall I do?" cried Silly Catharine. "Not an hour passes but some
new misfortune occurs. Alas! I am no longer able to draw water for my
soup! but stay, I think of a way!" So saying, she took