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then four more left off,

She laid her kerchief over me, And took my bones that they might

lie

now there were only eight at work,

Underneath

And now only five,

the juniper-tree.

And now only one,

Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!'

then he looked up and the last one had left off work.

'Bird,' he said, 'what a beautiful song that is you sing! Let me

hear it too; sing it again.'

'Nay,' answered the bird, 'I do not sing twice for nothing; give

me that millstone, and I will sing it again.'

'If it belonged to me alone,' said the man, 'you should have it.'

'Yes, yes,' said the others: 'if he will sing again, he can have

it.'

The bird came down, and all the twenty millers set to and lifted

up the stone with a beam; then the bird put his head through the

hole and took the stone round his neck like a collar, and flew

back with it to the tree and sang--