I've plenty cream to eat with you."

But at this the wee bannock began dodging about, and it dodged so
craftily that the goodwife overset the churn in trying to grip it, and
before she set it straight again the wee bannock was off, trundling away
down the hill till it came to a mill-house where the miller was sifting
meal. So in it ran and sate down by the trough.

"Ho, ho!" says the miller. "It's a sign o' plenty when the likes of you
run about the country-side with none to look after you. But come in by.
I like bannock and cheese for supper, so I'll give ye a night's
quarters." And with that he tapped his fat stomach.

At this the wee bannock turned and ran; it wasn't going to trust itself
with the miller and his cheese; and the miller, having nothing but the
meal to fling after it, just stood and stared; so the wee bannock
trundled quietly along the level till it came to the smithy where the
smith was welding horse-nails.

"Hullo!" says he, "you're a well-toasted bannock. You'll do fine with a
glass of ale! So come in by and I'll give you a lodging inside." And
with that he laughed, and tapped his fat stomach.

But the wee bannock thought the ale was as bad as the cheese, so it up
and away, with the smith after it. And when he couldn't come up with it,
he just cast his hammer at it. But the hammer missed and the wee bannock
was out of sight in a crack, and trundled and trundled till it came to a
farm-house where the goodman and his wife were beating out flax and
combing it. So it ran in to the fireside and began to toast itself
again.

"Janet," says the goodman, "yon is a well-toasted wee bannock. I'll have
the half of it."

"And I'll take t'other half," says the goodwife, and reached out a hand
to grip it. But the wee bannock played dodgings again.

"My certy," says the wife, "but you're spirity!" And with that she cast
the flax comb at it. But it was too clever for her, so out it trundled
through the door and away was it down the road, till it came to another
house where the goodwife was stirring the scalding soup and the goodman
was plaiting a thorn collar for the calf. So it trundled in, and sate
down by the fire.

"Ho, Jock!" quoth the goodwife, "you're always crying on a well-toasted
bannock. Here's one! Come and eat it!"

Then the wee bannock tried dodgings again, and the goodwife cried on the
goodman to help her grip it.

"Aye, mother!" says he, "but where's it gone?"

"Over there!" cries she.