BLOOM-OF-YOUTH AND THE WITCH
the Stones. It was the same tune as Bloom-of-Youth had sung her song to as she went through the wood. Now all the words in her song came back to her.—
Spin, wheel, spin; sing, wheel, sing;
Every branch on the tree, spin, spin, spin;
The wool is hers, the thread is mine;
For loss of my heart's blood I'll never dwine!
Her name is Bolg and Curr and Carr,
Her name is Lurr and Lappie.
She said the last two names and as she did the Witch of the Elders screamed and ran behind the stones. Bloom-of-Youth saw no more of her.
That evening her husband brought home the web of cloth that her step-mother had woven. The next day Bloom-of-Youth began to make clothes for him out of it. Never again did she make delays at the well but she came straight home with her pails of water. The fire was always clear upon the hearth and she had never to light it the second time and then sweep away the ashes that had gathered on the floor. She made good clothes for her husband out of the web of cloth
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