“ ‘Bleat, bleat, my little goat, I pray,

And take the table quite away,’

“ ‘Bleat, bleat, my little goat, I pray, And take the table quite away,’

“and all disappears. I watched everything closely. She put two of my eyes to sleep by using a certain form of words, but luckily the one in my forehead kept awake.”

Then the envious mother cried, “Dost thou want to fare better than we do? The desire shall pass away,” and she fetched a butcher’s knife, and thrust it into the heart of the goat, which fell down dead.