But the ogre, though he enjoyed roast boy very much, wasn't satisfied, and every now and then he would burst out with "_Fee-fi-fo-fum_," and get up and search the cupboards, keeping Jack in a fever of fear lest he should think of the copper. But he didn't. And when he had finished his breakfast he called out to his wife, "Bring me my magic harp! I want to be amused." So she brought out a little harp and put it on the table. And the ogre leant back in his chair and said lazily: "Sing!" And, lo and behold! the harp began to sing. If you want to know what it sang about? Why! It sang about everything! And it sang so beautifully that Jack forgot to be frightened, and the ogre forgot to think of "_Fee-fi-fo-fum_," and fell asleep and did NOT SNORE. Then Jack stole out of the copper like a mouse and crept hands and knees to the table, raised himself up ever so softly and laid hold of the magic harp; for he was determined to have it. But, no sooner had he touched it, than it cried out quite loud, "Master! Master!" So the ogre woke, saw Jack making off, and rushed after him. My goodness, it was a race! Jack was nimble, but the ogre's stride was twice as long. So, though Jack turned, and twisted, and doubled like a hare, yet at last, when he got to the beanstalk, the ogre was not a dozen yards behind him. There wasn't time to think, so Jack just flung himself on to the stalk and began to go down as fast as he could, while the harp kept calling, "Master! Master!" at the very top of its voice. He had only got down about a quarter of the way when there was the most awful lurch you can think of, and Jack nearly fell off the beanstalk. It was the ogre beginning to climb down, and his weight made the stalk sway like a tree in a storm. Then Jack knew it was life or death, and he climbed down faster and faster, and as he climbed he shouted, "Mother! Mother! Bring an axe! Bring an axe!" Now his mother, as luck would have it, was in the backyard chopping wood, and she ran out thinking that this time the sky must have fallen. Just at that moment Jack touched ground, and he flung down the harp--which immediately began to sing of all sorts of beautiful things--and he seized the axe and gave a great chop at the beanstalk, which shook and swayed and bent like barley before a breeze. "Have a care!" shouted the ogre, clinging on as hard as he could. But Jack _did_ have a care, and he dealt that beanstalk such a shrewd blow that the whole of it, ogre and all, came toppling down, and, of course, the ogre broke his crown, so that he died on the spot. [Illustration: "Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman."] [Illustration: Jack seized the axe and gave a great chop at the beanstalk]