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'I see this work won't do,' said he: 'try and spin; perhaps you

will do that better.' So she sat down and tried to spin; but the

threads cut her tender fingers till the blood ran. 'See now,'

said the fiddler, 'you are good for nothing; you can do no work:

what a bargain I have got! However, I'll try and set up a trade

in pots and pans, and you shall stand in the market and sell

them.' 'Alas!' sighed she, 'if any of my father's court should

pass by and see me standing in the market, how they will laugh at

me!'