he want there? And he has not even said good-bye to me!"

"Oh, he wished very much to go, and asked if he might remain away six
weeks; he is well taken care of there, you know."

"Well," said the father, "I am sorry; for he ought to have bade me
good-bye."

After that he began to eat, and said, "Margery, what are you crying
for? Brother will be sure to come back. Oh, wife," continued he, "how
delicious this food tastes; give me some more." And the more he ate,
the more he wanted; and he said, "Give me more, you shall not have any
of it; I feel as if it were all mine." And he ate and ate, throwing
the bones under the table, till he had finished it all.

But Margery went to her drawers, and took out of the bottom drawer her
best silk handkerchief, and fetched out all the bones from under the
table; she tied them up in the silk handkerchief, and took them out of
doors, and shed bitter tears over them. Then she laid them under the
Juniper-tree in the green grass; and when she had put them there, she
felt all at once quite happy, and did not cry any more.

Soon the Juniper began to move, and the twigs kept dividing and then
closing, just as if the tree were clapping its hands for joy. After
that there went up from it a sort of mist, and right in the centre of
the mist burnt a fire, and out of the fire flew a beautiful bird, who,
singing deliciously, rose up high in the air. When he was out of
sight, the Juniper-tree was just as it had been before, only the
handkerchief with the bones was gone. But Margery felt quite pleased
and happy, just as if her brother were still alive. And she went back
merrily into the house to dinner.

The bird flew away, sat himself on a goldsmith's house, and began to
sing--

"My mother, she killed me;
My father, he ate me;
My sister, little Margery,
Gathered up all my bones,
Tied them in a silk handkerchief,
And laid them under the Juniper-tree:
Kywitt! Kywitt! what a beautiful bird am I!"

The goldsmith sat in his workshop, making a gold chain, but he heard
the bird, which sat on his roof, and sang, and he thought it very
beautiful. He stood up, and as he went over the door-step he lost one
slipper. But he went right into the middle of the street, with one
slipper and one sock on; he had on his leather apron; in one hand he
carried the gold chain, and in the other the pincers, while the sun
shone brightly up the street. There he stood, and looked at the bi