saddle. Yes; it was true. Her horse
had no tail! She had forgotten to ask for one, and the wicked dwarfs had
carried out her orders to the letter!

'Well, at any rate, I shall soon be there,' she thought, and shaking
the reins, tried to urge the horse to a gallop. But it was of no use; he
declined to move out of a walk; and she was forced to hear all the jokes
that were made upon her.

In the evening she returned to the farm more angry than ever, and
quite determined to revenge herself on the brownie whenever she had the
chance, which happened to be very soon.

It was the spring, and just the time of year when the dwarfs held their
fete, so one day the brownie asked Jegu if he might bring his friends to
have supper in the great barn, and whether he would allow them to dance
there. Of course, Jegu was only too pleased to be able to do anything
for the brownie, and he ordered Barbaik to spread her best table-cloths
in the barn, and to make a quantity of little loaves and pancakes,
and, besides, to keep all the milk given by the cows that morning. He
expected she would refuse, as he knew she hated the dwarfs, but she said
nothing, and prepared the supper as he had bidden her.

When all was ready, the dwarfs, in new green suits, came bustling in,
very happy and merry, and took their seats at the table. But in a moment
they all sprang up with a cry, and ran away screaming, for Barbaik had
placed pans of hot coals under their feet, and all their poor little
toes were burnt.

'You won't forget that in a hurry,' she said, smiling grimly to herself,
but in a moment they were back again with large pots of water, which
they poured on the fire. Then they joined hands and danced round it,
singing:

Wicked traitress, Barne Riou,
Our poor toes are burned by you;
Now we hurry from your hall--
Bad luck light upon you all.

That evening they left the country for ever, and Jegu, without their
help, grew poorer and poorer, and at last died of misery, while Barbaik
was glad to find work in the market of Morlaix.

From 'Le Foyer Breton,' par E. Souvestre.

The Winning of Olwen

There was once a king and queen who had a little boy, and they called
his name Kilweh. The queen, his mother, fell ill soon after his birth,
and as she could not take care of him herself she sent him to a woman
she knew up in the mountains, so that he might learn to go out in all
weathers, and bear heat and