Free London Folk Tales by Helen East Page B

gate, and off fast as she could through the wood.
    But just as she had gone the witch came home, and straight away she could smell something wrong. So she looked up the chimney and saw that the bag was stolen and since the girl had gone too, then she knew.
    ‘Why didn’t you scratch and stop her?’ she asked the cat.
    ‘She fed me,’ said the cat. ‘And you never do that.’
    So the witch spat at her and ran outside. ‘Garden, why didn’t you tangle and trip her?’
    ‘She dug me and cleared me and cared for me too. I never even get a glance from you.’
    ‘Gate, why ever did you let her through?’
    ‘She mended me and you never do.’
    The witch kicked it, and ran on through the wood, screaming and swearing and sniffing out the trail. The girl was well ahead; she had reached the apple tree. But she heard the witch getting closer and closer; soon she would catch her up:

    Apple tree, Apple tree hide me, before the old witch can find me.
    If she do, she’ll break my bones and bury me under the marble stones.
    Apple tree do hide me.

    The tree bent down and scooped her up, and put her high up on its trunk.
    Soon enough the witch came up. ‘Apple tree, did you see, a girl as skinny can be? She looked and she took my long-tailed bag, and she’s got my gold, she got all I had.’
    ‘Yes,’ said the tree, ‘she ran off to the right.’ So the witch chased after, down the path to the right, and the girl climbed down and went off to the left.
    But by and by the witch saw she was tricked, and she turned and she ran the other way. Now the girl could hear her catching up again. Just then she saw the cow:

    Cow, oh Cow, do hide me, before the old witch can find me.
    If she do, she’ll break my bones and bury me under the marble stones.
    Oh Cow, do hide me.

    So the cow hid her in the long, long grass, under her swishing tail.
    Sooner than ever, the witch was there. ‘Cow, oh Cow, did you see, a girl as skinny can be? She looked and she took my long-tailed bag, and she’s got my gold, she got all I had.’
    ‘Yes,’ said the cow, ‘she ran off to the left.’ So the witch chased after, down the path to the left, and the girl came out from under the cow’s tail, and ran off to the right.
    But by and by the witch saw she was tricked, and ran back the other way. Now the girl heard her almost at her heels:

    Oven, oh Oven, do hide me, before the old witch can find me.
    If she do, she’ll break my bones and bury me under the marble stones.
    Oven, do hide me.

    ‘Very well,’ said the oven, ‘crouch behind me, but when the time comes be ready.’
    The girl had hardly hidden herself before the witch was there. ‘Oven, oh Oven, did you see, a girl as skinny can be? She looked and she took my long-tailed bag, and she’s got my gold …’
    ‘Yes,’ said the oven, ‘look in me. She climbed inside to hide.’
    So the witch opened the oven door, and reached right in, to grab the girl. But the oven gave a lurch and the girl gave a push, and then slammed the door shut, and that was that.
    She thanked the oven, picked up the gold and danced all the way to the well. Spindle in the water, she went after, back home dry and safe. And weren’t they surprised when she arrived with her great big bag of money! As there was so much, her father said she should have half, to do with as she wished.
    The stepmother, of course, was none too pleased with this. But when she’d heard the whole tale through, she thought her own daughter should go too; for where there’s money found, there’s always hope of more.
    So she sent her own child off to the well, telling her exactly what to do. This girl never even tried to spin; she just took her mother’s spindle and threw it in. She didn’t really want to jump in after, but her mother had told her it was not real water.
    So in she leaped. But the well was deep, and the water was wet, and she couldn’t swim, so down she went.
    When her daughter did not come home, the mother went to the