the Magician giant was howling with pain as he trod among them. You may
guess how he danced and stumbled and how long it took for him to pick
his way through as if he were walking on eggs!
So Nix Naught Nothing and his sweetheart were nearly out of sight ere
the giant could start again; yet it wasn't long before he was like to
catch them up; for the Magician's daughter, you see, could not run fast
because she had lost her toes on one foot! She did what she could, but
it was no use. So just as the giant was reaching out a hand to lay hold
of Nix Naught Nothing she cried breathlessly:
"There's nothing left but the magic flask. Take it out and sprinkle some
of what it holds on the ground."
And Nix Naught Nothing did as he was bid; but in his hurry he nearly
emptied the flask altogether; and so the big, big wave of water which
instantly welled up, swept him off his feet, and would have carried him
away, had not the Magician's daughter's loosened veil caught him and
held him fast. But the wave grew, and grew, and grew behind them, until
it reached the giant's waist; then it grew and grew until it reached
his shoulders; and it grew and grew until it swept over his head: a
great big sea-wave full of little fishes and crabs and sea-snails and
all sorts of strange creatures.
So that was the last of the Magician giant. But the poor little
Magician's daughter was so weary that, after a time she couldn't move a
step further, and she said to her lover, "Yonder are lights burning. Go
and see if you can find a night's lodging: I will climb this tree by the
pool where I shall be safe, and by the time you return I shall be
rested."
Now, by chance, it happened that the lights they saw were the lights of
the castle where Nix Naught Nothing's father and mother, the King and
Queen, lived (though of course, he did not know this); so, as he walked
towards the castle, he came upon the hen-wife's cottage and asked for a
night's lodging.
"Who are you?" asked the hen-wife suspiciously.
"I am Nix Naught Nothing," replied the young man.
Now the hen-wife still grieved over her boy who had been killed, so she
instantly resolved to be revenged.
"I cannot give you a night's lodging," she said, "but you shall have a
drink of milk, for you look weary. Then you can go on to the castle and
beg for a bed there."
So she gave him a cup of milk; but, being a witch-woman, she put a
potion to it so that the very moment he saw his father an
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