When she had her house readied up, and
no business to keep her employed, he brought home sallies [willows],
peeled them, and showed her how to make baskets. But the hard twigs
bruised her delicate fingers, and she began to cry. Well, then he
asked her to mend their clothes, but the needle drew blood from her
fingers, and she cried again. He couldn't bear to see her tears, so
he bought a creel of earthenware, and sent her to the market to sell
them. This was the hardest trial of all, but she looked so handsome
and sorrowful, and had such a nice air about her, that all her pans,
and jugs, and plates, and dishes were gone before noon, and the only
mark of her old pride she showed was a slap she gave a buckeen across
the face when he axed her an impudent question.
Well, her husband was so glad, he sent her with another creel the next
day; but, faith! her luck was after deserting her. A drunken huntsman
came up riding, and his beast got in among her ware, and made _brishe_
of every mother's son of 'em. She went home cryin', and her husband
wasn't at all pleased. "I see," said he, "you're not fit for business.
Come along, I'll get you a kitchen-maid's place in the palace. I know
the cook.
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