erched on one of our trees. When we go to work the
sky is covered with clouds and it rains. When the day's work is done the
sun shines."

"Go," said the old man, "put glue on the branch where it perches."

They put glue on its branch and caught the bird. The daughter of the
stepmother said to her mother:

"Let us kill it."

"No," said a slave, "we will amuse ourselves with it."

"No; kill it." And they killed it. Its blood spurted upon a rose-tree. The
rose-tree became so large that it overspread all the village. The people
worked to cut it down until evening, and yet it remained the size of a
thread.

"To-morrow," they said, "we will finish it." The next morning they found it
as big as it was the day before. They returned to the old man and said to
him:

"O old man, we caught the bird and killed it. Its blood gushed upon a
rose-tree, which became so large that it overspreads the whole village.
Yesterday we worked all day to cut it down. We left it the size of a
thread. This morning we find it as big as ever."

"O my children," said the old man, "you are not yet punished enough. Take
H'ab Sliman, perhaps he will have an expedient. Make him sleep at your
house." H'ab Sliman said to them, "Give me a sickle." Someone said to him:
"We who are strong have cut all day without being able to accomplish it,
and do you think you will be capable of it? Let us see if you will find a
new way to do it."

At the moment when he gave the first blow a voice said to him:

"Take care of me, O my brother!"

The voice wept, the child began to weep, and it rained. H'ab Sliman
recognized his sister.

"Laugh," he said. She laughed and the sun shone, and the people got dried.

"Comb yourself," and legs of mutton fell. All those who were present
regaled themselves on them. "Walk," and roses fell. "But what is the matter
with you, my sister?"

"What has happened to me."

"What revenge does your heart desire?"

"Attach the daughter of my stepmother to the tail of a horse that she may
be dragged in the bushes."

When the young girl was dead, they took her to the house, cooked her, and
sent her to her mother and sister.

"O my mother," cried the latter, "this eye is that of my sister Aftelis."

"Eat, unhappy one," said the mother, "your sister Aftelis has become the
slave of slaves."

"But look at it," insisted the young girl. "You have not even looked at it.
I will give this piece to the one who will weep a little."

"Wel