Then he said: “Look you here, I want a wife, and I'll marry your daughter. But look you here,” says he, “eleven months out of the year she shall have all she likes to eat, and all the gowns she likes to get, and all the company she likes to keep; but the last month of the year she'll have to spin five skeins every day, and if she don't I shall kill her.” “All right,” says the woman; for she thought what a grand marriage that was. And as for the five skeins, when the time came, there'd be plenty of ways of getting out of it, and likeliest, he'd have forgotten all about it. Well, so they were married. And for eleven months the girl had all she liked to eat, and all the gowns she liked to get, and all the company she liked to keep. But when the time was getting over, she began to think about the skeins and to wonder if he had 'em in mind. But not one word did he say about 'em, and she thought he'd wholly forgotten 'em. However, the last day of the last month he takes her to a room she'd never set eyes on before. There was nothing in it but a spinning-wheel and a stool. And says he: “Now, my dear, here you'll be shut in to-morrow with some victuals and some flax, and if you haven't spun five skeins by the night, your head'll go off.” And away he went about his business. Well, she was that frightened, she'd always been such a gatless girl, that she didn't so much as know how to spin, and what was she to do to-morrow with no one to come nigh her to help her? She sat down on a stool in the kitchen, and law! how she did cry! However, all of a sudden she heard a sort of a knocking low down on the door. She upped and oped it, and what should she see but a small little black thing with a long tail. That looked up at her right curious, and that said: “What are you a-crying for?” “What's that to you?” says she. “Never you mind,” that said, “but tell me what you're a-crying for.” “That won't do me no good if I do,” says she. “You don't know that,” that said, and twirled that's tail round. “Well,” says she, “that won't do no harm, if that don't do no good,” and she upped and told about the pies, and the skeins, and everything. “This is what I'll do,” says the little black thing, “I'll come to your window every morning and take the flax and bring it spun at night.” “What's your pay?” says she. That looked out of the corner of that's eyes, and that said: “I'll give you three guesses every night to guess my name, and if you haven't guessed it before the month's up you shall be mine.” Well, she thought she'd be sure to guess that's name before the month was up. “All right,” says she, “I agree.” “All right,” that says, and law! how that twirled that's tail. Well, the next day, her husband took her into the room, and there was the flax and the day's food. “Now there's the flax,” says he, “and if that ain't spun up this night, off goes your head.” And then he went out and locked the door.