Once upon the usual time, a poor but comparatively honest woodcutter dwelt in a tiny hut on the edge of a great forest. Since he was so poor, his fare was simplicity itself: black bread and a cheese of goat's milk, washed down by draughts of cold water bottled at a neighbouring spring--in a word, just those articles of food which your dear mamma has nowadays to order specially from the most expensive shops. Well, one winter evening the poor man was enjoying (if you can call it so) his frugal supper as above, when there came a gentle tap at the door; and on opening it he perceived upon the threshold a very old woman dressed in a cloak of faded rags. She was so old and so remarkably ugly that had she been a duchess not the most inventive of reporters could have done better for her than "distinguished looking." So the woodcutter, not unnaturally, regarded his visitor with some suspicion. "Kind Sir," quavered the old woman, "I perish with hunger. Grant me, I entreat you, a crust of bread." "Ah!" said the woodcutter--to gain time. He was, of course, well aware that there was at least a sporting chance of the old woman being a fairy in disguise, in which case it would be perfectly sickening to have neglected so good a thing. On the other hand he knew also that there were a great many undeserving cases. As he was deliberating, however, he perceived beneath the old woman's gown the glitter of a white satin toe, and this decided him to risk it. [N.B. For our youthful readers, this is an infallible sign for the detection of disguised fairies--try it at the next pantomime you go to.] "Come in and welcome, Mother," said the woodcutter, and flung wide the door. Accordingly the old woman entered the hut, and having done apparent justice to what was left of the woodcutter's meal, "Now," said she, striking an appropriate attitude, "behold!" and in the twinkling of an eye there she stood, the complete fairy, all shimmer and spangles. "Well!" exclaimed the woodcutter, looking as astonished as he could manage, "I haven't a notion how that's done!" "And as a reward for your hospitality," continued the fairy, "choose three wishes, and they shall be granted." "I assure you," began the woodcutter politely, "nothing was further from my----" but a look in the fairy's eyes stopped him. "Of course, if you insist," he said; adding in rather a different tone, "Perhaps you'll excuse me for putting the matter on a business-like footing." So saying, he produced from his pocket a small pamphlet entitled, _On Transactions with Fairies; with Some Hints to Beginners_. Having studied this for a moment, "I suppose," said the woodcutter, "that by 'wishes' you mean without restriction? Not anything within reason, or economies of that sort?" The visitor looked surprised and a little hurt. "There is no such thing as reason in Fairyland," she said stiffly. "The mistake was mine," said the woodcutter.