"See here, grandfather," shouted the children: "you take the tablecloth along with you, and say no more about those turnips." "Well, I'm content with that," says the old man. And he folded up the tablecloth very carefully and put it away inside his shirt, and said he must be going. "Good-bye," says he, "and thank you for the dinner and the tablecloth." "Good-bye," say they, "and thank you for the turnips." The old man made his way home, singing through the forest in his creaky old voice until he came near the little wooden house where he lived with the old woman. As soon as he came near there he slipped along like any mouse. And as soon as he put his head inside the door the old woman began,-- "Have you found the thieves, you old fool?" "I found the thieves." "Who were they?" "They were a whole crowd of little queer children." "Have you given them a beating they'll remember?" "No, I have not." "What? Bring them to me, and I'll teach them to steal my turnips!" "I haven't got them." "What have you done with them?" "I had dinner with them." Well, at that the old woman flew into such a rage she could hardly speak. But speak she did--yes, and shout too and scream--and it was all the old man could do not to run away out of the cottage. But he stood still and listened, and thought of something else; and when she had done he said, "They paid for the turnips." "Paid for the turnips!" scolded the old woman. "A lot of children! What did they give you? Mushrooms? We can get them without losing our turnips." "They gave me a tablecloth," said the old man; "it's a very good tablecloth." He pulled it out of his shirt and spread it on the table; and as quickly as he could, before she began again, he said, "Tablecloth, turn inside out!" The old woman stopped short, just when she was taking breath to scold with, when the tablecloth jumped up and danced in the air and settled on the table again, covered with things to eat and to drink. She smelt the meat, took a spoonful of the soup, and tried all the other dishes. "Look at all the washing up it will mean," says she. "Tablecloth, turn outside in!" says the old man; and there was a whirl of white cloth and dishes and everything else, and then the tablecloth spread itself out on the table as clean as ever you could wish. "That's not a bad tablecloth," says the old woman; "but, of course, they owed me something for stealing all those turnips." The old man said nothing. He was very tired, and he just laid down and went to sleep. As soon as he was asleep the old woman took the tablecloth and hid it away in an iron chest, and put a tablecloth of her own in its place. "They were my turnips," says she, "and I don't see why he should have a share in the tablecloth. He's had a meal from it once at my expense, and once is enough." Then she lay down and went to sleep, grumbling to herself even in her dreams.