Then she went to the window, opened it, and said, “It is so warm in this room!” but she still looked after him as long as she could distinguish the white feathers in his hat. Then she sat down to work again in her own room and went on with her spinning, and a saying which the old woman had often repeated when she was sitting at her work, came into her mind, and she sang these words to herself⁠—

“Spindle, my spindle, haste, haste thee away,

And here to my house bring the wooer, I pray.”

“Spindle, my spindle, haste, haste thee away, And here to my house bring the wooer, I pray.”