glanced from time to time at the little maid, and soon perceived that
she had once more ceased working.

"Why don't you go on darning?" asked the Ogress.

"Alas! dear mother," said the child, "when I hear you sharpening that
terrible knife my hands tremble so that I cannot thread my needle."

"Well, it will do now," growled the Ogress, feeling the edge of the
blade with her horny finger; and, having seen the darning-needle once
more at work, she went to fetch up one of the children. As she went,
she hummed what cookmaids sing--

"Dilly, dilly duckling, come and be killed!"

But it sounded like the wheezing and groaning of a heavy old door upon
its rusty hinges.

When she came in, with the child in one hand, and the huge knife in
the other, she went up to the little darner to look at her work. The
heel of the Ogre's stocking was exquisitely mended, all but seven
threads; but the little maid sat idle with her hands before her.

"Why don't you go on darning?" asked the Ogress.

"Alas! dear mother," was the reply, "when I think of my little
playmate about to die, the tears blind my eyes, so that I cannot see
what stitches I take. Wherefore I beg of you, dear mother, to cook one
of the little pigs instead, that I may be able to go on with my work,
and that a pair of stockings may be ready to-morrow morning when the
Ogre will ask for them; so my playmate's life will be spared, and your
head will not be put into a poke."

At first the Ogress would not hear of such a thing, but at last she
consented, and made a stew of one of the little pigs instead of
cooking the little girl.

"But supposing the Ogre goes to count the children," said she; "he
will find one too many."

"Then let her go, dear mother," said the widow's daughter; "she will
find her way home, and you will never be blamed."

"But she must stir the stew with her forefinger first," said the
Ogress, "that it may have a human flavour."

So the little girl had to stir the hot stew with her finger, which
scalded it badly; and then she was set at liberty, and ran home as
hard as she could; and as the little maid's needles sparkled here and
there on the path, she had no difficulty in finding her way.

The Ogre was quite contented with his dinner, and the Ogress got great
praise for the way in which she had darned his stockings. Thus it went
on for four days more. As the widow's little girl wouldn't work if her
companions were killed, the Ogress cooked