.

'Well, we shall see who will win in the end,' said the witch, in a great
rage.

The following day she called the girl to her and said: 'Take this sack
of wheat. I am going out for a little; by the time I return I shall
expect you to have made it into bread. If you have not done it I will
kill you.' Having said this she left the room, closing and locking the
door behind her.

Poor Prunella did not know what to do. It was impossible for her to
grind the wheat, prepare the dough, and bake the bread, all in the short
time that the witch would be away. At first she set to work bravely, but
when she saw how hopeless her task was, she threw herself on a chair,
and began to weep bitterly. She was roused from her despair by hearing
Bensiabel's voice at her side saying: 'Prunella, Prunella, do not weep
like that. If you will give me a kiss I will make the bread, and you
will be saved.'

'I will not kiss the son of a witch,' replied Prunella.

But Bensiabel took the wheat from her, and ground it, and made the
dough, and when the witch returned the bread was ready baked in the
oven.

Turning to the girl, with fury in her voice, she said: 'Bensiabel must
have been here and helped you;' and Prunella looked down, and said
nothing.

'We shall see who will win in the end,' said the witch, and her eyes
blazed with anger.

Next day she called the girl to her and said: 'Go to my sister, who
lives across the mountains. She will give you a casket, which you must
bring back to me.' This she said knowing that her sister, who was a
still more cruel and wicked witch than herself, would never allow the
girl to return, but would imprison her and starve her to death. But
Prunella did not suspect anything, and set out quite cheerfully. On the
way she met Bensiabel.

'Where are you going, Prunella?' he asked.

'I am going to the sister of my mistress, from whom I am to fetch a
casket.'

'Oh poor, poor girl!' said Bensiabel. 'You are being sent straight to
your death. Give me a kiss, and I will save you.'

But again Prunella answered as before, 'I will not kiss the son of a
witch.'

'Nevertheless, I will save your life,' said Bensiabel, 'for I love you
better than myself. Take this flagon of oil, this loaf of bread, this
piece of rope, and this broom. When you reach the witch's house, oil the
hinges of the door with the contents of the flagon, and throw the loaf
of bread to the great fierce mastiff, who will come to meet you. Whe