Now a cow won't run away, but will give
us milk and butter, which we can sell. So we shall live in comfort for
the rest of our days."

"What a head you have, lovey!" said Mr. Vinegar admiringly, and started
off on his errand.

"Mind you make a good bargain," bawled his wife after him.

"I always do," bawled back Mr. Vinegar. "I made a good bargain when I
married such a clever wife, and I made a better one when I shook her
down from the tree. I am the happiest man alive!"

So he trudged on, laughing and jingling the forty gold pieces in his
pocket.

Now the first thing he saw in the market was an old red cow.

"I am in luck to-day," he thought; "that is the very beast for me. I
shall be the happiest of men if I get that cow." So he went up to the
owner, jingling the gold in his pocket.

"What will you take for your cow?" he asked.

And the owner of the cow, seeing he was a simpleton, said, "What you've
got in your pocket."

"Done!" said Mr. Vinegar, handed over the forty guineas, and led off the
cow, marching her up and down the market, much against her will, to show
off his bargain.

Now, as he drove it about, proud as Punch, he noticed a man who was
playing the bagpipes. He was followed about by a crowd of children who
danced to the music, and a perfect shower of pennies fell into his cap
every time he held it out.

"Ho, ho!" thought Mr. Vinegar. "That is an easier way of earning a
livelihood than by driving about a beast of a cow! Then the feeding, and
the milking, and the churning! Ah, I should be the happiest man alive if
I had those bagpipes!"

So he went up to the musician and said, "What will you take for your
bagpipes?"

"Well," replied the musician, seeing he was a simpleton, "it is a
beautiful instrument, and I make so much money by it, that I cannot take
anything less than that red cow."

"Done!" cried Mr. Vinegar in a hurry, lest the man should repent of his
offer.

So the musician walked off with the red cow, and Mr. Vinegar tried to
play the bagpipes. But, alas and alack! though he blew till he almost
burst, not a sound could he make at first, and when he did at last, it
was such a terrific squeal and screech that all the children ran away
frightened, and the people stopped their ears.

But he went on and on, trying to play a tune, and never earning
anything, save hootings and peltings, until his fingers were almost
frozen with the cold, when of course the noise he made on the bagpipe