“Give me my bone!” And this teeny-tiny woman was a teeny-tiny bit more frightened, but she put her teeny-tiny head out of the teeny-tiny clothes, and said in her loudest teeny-tiny voice, “TAKE IT!” JACK AND THE BEANSTALK There was once upon a time a poor widow who had an only son named Jack, and a cow named Milky-white. And all they had to live on was the milk the cow gave every morning which they carried to the market and sold. But one morning Milky-white gave no milk and they didn't know what to do. “What shall we do, what shall we do?” said the widow, wringing her hands. “Cheer up, mother, I'll go and get work somewhere,” said Jack. “We've tried that before, and nobody would take you,” said his mother; “we must sell Milky-white and with the money do something, start shop, or something.” “All right, mother,” says Jack; “it's market-day today, and I'll soon sell Milky-white, and then we'll see what we can do.” So he took the cow's halter in his hand, and off he starts. He hadn't gone far when he met a funny-looking old man who said to him: “Good morning, Jack.” “Good morning to you,” said Jack, and wondered how he knew his name. “Well, Jack, and where are you off to?” said the man. “I'm going to market to sell our cow here.” “Oh, you look the proper sort of chap to sell cows,” said the man; “I wonder if you know how many beans make five.” “Two in each hand and one in your mouth,” says Jack, as sharp as a needle. “Right you are,” said the man, “and here they are the very beans themselves,” he went on pulling out of his pocket a number of strange-looking beans. “As you are so sharp,” says he, “I don't mind doing a swop with you--your cow for these beans.” “Walker!” says Jack; “wouldn't you like it?” “Ah! you don't know what these beans are,” said the man; “if you plant them over-night, by morning they grow right up to the sky.” “Really?” says Jack; “you don't say so.” “Yes, that is so, and if it doesn't turn out to be true you can have your cow back.” “Right,” says Jack, and hands him over Milky-white's halter and pockets the beans. Back goes Jack home, and as he hadn't gone very far it wasn't dusk by the time he got to his door. “What back, Jack?” said his mother; “I see you haven't got Milky-white, so you've sold her. How much did you get for her?” “You'll never guess, mother,” says Jack. “No, you don't say so. Good boy! Five pounds, ten, fifteen, no, it can't be twenty.” “I told you you couldn't guess, what do you say to these beans; they're magical, plant them over-night and----” “What!” says Jack's mother, “have you been such a fool, such a dolt, such an idiot, as to give away my Milky-white, the best milker in the parish, and prime beef to boot, for a set of paltry beans. Take that! Take that! Take that! And as for your precious beans here they go out of the window. And now off with you to bed. Not a sup shall you drink, and not a bit shall you swallow this very night.”