or. The Ogre only cared for two things in a woman--he
liked her to be little, and a good housewife.

Now it was when the Ogre had just lost his twenty-fourth wife (within
the memory of man) that these two qualities were eminently united in
the person of the smallest and most notable woman of the district, the
daughter of a certain poor farmer. He was so poor that he could not
afford properly to dower his daughter, who had in consequence remained
single beyond her first youth. Everybody felt sure that Managing Molly
must now be married to the Ogre. The tall girls stretched themselves
till they looked like maypoles, and said, "Poor thing!" The slatterns
gossiped from house to house, the heels of their shoes clacking as
they went, and cried that this was what came of being too thrifty.

And sure enough, in due time, the giant widower came to the farmer as
he was in the field looking over his crops, and proposed for Molly
there and then. The farmer was so much put out that he did not know
what he said in reply, either when he was saying it, or afterwards,
when his friends asked about it. But he remembered that the Ogre had
invited himself to sup at the farm that day week.

Managing Molly did not distress herself at the news.

"Do what I bid you, and say as I say," said she to her father, "and if
the Ogre does not change his mind, at any rate you shall not come
empty-handed out of the business."

By his daughter's desire the farmer now procured a large number of
hares, and a barrel of white wine, which expenses completely emptied
his slender stocking, and on the day of the Ogre's visit, she made a
delicious and savoury stew with the hares in the biggest pickling tub,
and the wine-barrel was set on a bench near the table.

When the Ogre came, Molly served up the stew, and the Ogre sat down to
sup, his head just touching the kitchen rafters. The stew was perfect,
and there was plenty of it. For what Molly and her father ate was
hardly to be counted in the tubful. The Ogre was very much pleased,
and said politely:

"I'm afraid, my dear, that you have been put to great trouble and
expense on my account, I have a large appetite, and like to sup well."

"Don't mention it, sir," said Molly. "The fewer rats the more corn.
How do _you_ cook them?"

"Not one of all the extravagant hussies I have had as wives ever
cooked them at all," said the Ogre; and he thought to himself, "Such a
stew out of rats! What frugality! What a h