old woman had slipped from
behind the tree, with a long staff in her hand and a great wallet by her
side.

"Noble lord and lady," she said, "will ye condescend to tell me where I
may find some water to mix a bottle of mead which I carry in my wallet,
because it is too strong for me?"

As the old woman spoke, she pulled out a large wooden bottle such as
shepherds used in the ancient times, corked with leaves rolled together,
and having a small wooden cup hanging from its handle.

"Perhaps ye will do me the favor to taste," she said. "It is only made
of the best honey. I have also cream cheese and a wheaten loaf here, if
such honorable persons as you would not think it beneath you to eat the
like."

Scrub and Fairfeather became very condescending after this speech. They
were now sure that there must be some appearance of nobility about them;
besides, they were very hungry, and, having hastily wrapped up the
golden leaves, they assured the old woman they were not at all proud,
notwithstanding the lands and castles they had left behind them in the
North Country, and would willingly help to lighten the wallet.

The old woman was a wood-witch; her name was Buttertongue; and all her
time was spent in making mead, which, being boiled with curious herbs
and spells, had the power of making all who drank it fall asleep and
dream with their eyes open. She had two dwarfs of sons; one was named
Spy, and the other Pounce. Wherever their mother went, they were not far
behind; and whoever tasted her mead was sure to be robbed by the dwarfs.

Scrub and Fairfeather sat leaning against the old tree. The cobbler had
a lump of cheese in his hand; his wife held fast a hunch of bread. Their
eyes and mouths were both open, but they were dreaming of great grandeur
at court, when the old woman raised her shrill voice:

"What ho, my sons! Come here, and carry home the harvest!"

No sooner had she spoken than the two little dwarfs darted out of the
neighboring thicket.

"Idle boys!" cried the mother. "What have ye done to-day to help our
living?"

"I have been to the city," said Spy, "and could see nothing. These are
hard times for us--everybody minds his business so contentedly since
that cobbler came. But here is a leathern doublet which his page threw
out of the window; it's of no use, but I brought it to let you see I was
not idle." And he tossed down Spare's doublet, with the merry leaves in
it, which he had been carrying like a b