The fairy godmother sprang up and stamped her foot three times. "Thou shalt have thy wish," said she, "let them say what they will." Then with playful solemnity, she put her hand in her apron pocket and drew forth a large glass bead. "Bury this," said she, giving it to Hans, "where I have stamped, and ere moonrise thy wish shall be granted." Gretel laughed more merrily than ever. The godmother pretended great displeasure. "Naughty child," said she, scowling terribly. "In punishment for laughing at a fairy, _thy_ wish shall not be granted." "Ha!" cried Gretel in high glee, "better wait till you're asked, godmother. I haven't made any wish!" Annie acted her part well. Never smiling, through all their merry laughter, she stalked away, the embodiment of offended dignity. "Good-night, fairy!" they cried again and again. "Good-night, mortals!" she called out at last as she sprang over a frozen ditch, and ran quickly homeward. "Oh, isn't she--just like flowers--so sweet and lovely!" cried Gretel, looking after her in great admiration, "and to think how many days she stays in that dark room with her grandmother--Why, brother Hans! What is the matter? What are you going to do?" "Wait and see!" answered Hans as he plunged into the cottage and came out again, all in an instant, bearing the spade and ysbrekker in his hands--"I'm going to bury my magic bead!" * * * * * Raff Brinker still slept soundly; his wife took a small block of peat from her nearly exhausted store, and put it upon the embers. Then opening the door, she called gently: "Come in, children." "Mother! mother! See here!" shouted Hans. "Holy St. Bavon!" exclaimed the dame, springing over the door-step. "What ails the boy!" "Come quick, mother," he cried, in great excitement, working with all his might, and driving in the ysbrekker at each word. "Don't you see? _This_ is the spot--right here on the south side of the stump. Why didn't we think of it last night? _The stump_ is the old willow-tree--the one you cut down last spring because it shaded the potatoes. That little tree wasn't here when father--Huzzah!" Dame Brinker could not speak. She dropped on her knees beside Hans just in time to see him drag forth--_the old stone pot_! He thrust in his hand and took out--a piece of brick--then another--then another--then, the stocking and the pouch, black and mouldy, but filled with the long lost treasure! Such a time! Such laughing! Such crying! Such counting, after they went into the cottage! It was a wonder that Raff did not waken. His dreams were pleasant, however, for he smiled in his sleep. Dame Brinker and her children had a fine supper, I can assure you. No need of saving the delicacies now. "We'll get father some nice fresh things, to-morrow," said the dame, as she brought forth cold meat, wine, bread and jelly, and placed them on the clean pine table. "Sit by, children, sit by." * * * * *