Tree could be climbed, Flann knew. But on the top of the
tree and along its branches were the fierce yellow cats--the cats that
the Hags of the Long Teeth had reared for Crom Duv, thinking that he
would some time give each of them the berry that would make them young
again. And at the butt of the tree there were more cats. And all about
the courtyard the Hags' fierce cats paraded themselves.

The walls round the Giant's Keep were being built higher by Crom Duv,
helped by his servant Flann. The Giant's herd was now increased by many
calves, and Morag the byre-maid had much to do to keep all the cows
milked. And day and night Morag and Flann heard the bellowing of the
Bull of the Mound.

Now one day while Crom Duv was away with his herd, Flann and Morag were
in the courtyard. They saw the Little Red Hen rouse herself up, shake
her wings and turn a bright eye on them. "What dost thou say, my Little
Red Hen?" said Morag.

"The Pooka," murmured the Little Red Hen. "The Pooka rides a fierce
horse, but the Pooka himself is a timid little fellow." Then the Little
Red Hen drooped her wings again, and went on picking in the courtyard.

"The Pooka rides a fierce horse," said Morag, "if the Pooka rides a
fierce horse he might carry us past the Bull of the Mound."

"And if the Pooka himself is a timid little fellow we might take the
fierce horse from him," said Flann.

"But this does not tell us how to get the berries off the Fairy Rowan
Tree," said Morag.

"No," said Flann, "it does not tell us how to get the berries off the
tree the cats guard."

The next day Morag gave grains to the Little Red Hen and begged for
words. After a while the Little Red Hen murmured, "There are things I
know, and things I don't know, but I do know what grows near the ground,
and if you pull a certain herb, and put it round the necks of the cats
they will not be able to see in the light nor in the dark. And to-morrow
is the day of Sowain," said the Little Red Hen. She said no more words.
She had become sleepy and now she flew down and roosted under the table.
There she went on murmuring to herself--as all hens murmur--where the
Children of Dana hid their treasures--they know, for it was the Children
of Dana who brought the hens to Ireland.

"To-morrow," said Morag to Flann, "follow the Little Red Hen, and if
she makes any sign when she touches an herb that grows near the ground,
pluck that herb and bring it to me."

That night Morag and Fla