d don't either of you come home till it is full. Dear
me, it does seem as if I had trouble enough without such actions as
yours," the distracted mother cried; and quite unjustly she hustled
the children and their basket outside the hut and off into the wood.

They had no sooner gone out than the poor, distracted woman, exhausted
with the day's tramping and unsuccessful effort to sell her brooms,
sat at the table weeping over the lost milk; and finally she fell
asleep. After a while a merry song was heard in the wood, and the
father presently appeared singing, at the very threshold. Really, for
a hungry man with a hungry family and nothing for supper, he was in a
remarkably merry mood.

"Ho, there, wife!" he called, and then entered with a great basket
over his shoulder. He saw the mother asleep and stopped singing. Then
he laughed and went over to her.

"Hey, wake up, old lady, hustle yourself and get us a supper. Where
are the children?"

"What are you talking about," the mother asked, waking up and looking
confused at the noise her husband was making. "I can't get any supper
when there is nothing to get."

"Nothing to get?--well, that is nice talk, I'm sure. We'll see if
there is nothing to get," he answered, roaring with laughter--and he
began to take things out of his basket. First he took out a ham, then
some butter. Flour and sausages followed, and then a dozen eggs;
turnips, and onions, and finally some tea. Then at last the good
fellow turned the basket upside down, and out rolled a lot of
potatoes.

"Where in the world did all of these things come from?" she cried.

"I had good luck with my brooms, when all seemed lost, and here we are
with a feast before us. Now call the children and let us begin."

"I was so angry because the milk got spilt that I sent them off to the
woods for berries and told them not to come home till they had a
basket full. I really thought that was all we should have for supper."
At this the father looked frightened.

"What if they have gone to the Ilsenstein?" he cried, jumping up and
taking a broom from the wall.

"Well, what harm?" the wife inquired, "and why do you take the broom?"

"What harm? Do you not know that it is the awful magic mountain where
the old witch who eats little children dwells?--and do you not know
that she rides on a broomstick. I may need one to follow her, in case
she has got the children."

"Oh, heavens above! What a wicked woman I was to send t