and it'll not matter if thou'rt a fool, so long's thou'st got me to look after thee."
"That's true," says he, and off they went and got married. And she kept his house so clean and neat, and cooked his dinner so fine, that one night he says to her: "Lass, I'm thinking I like thee best of everything after all."
"That's good hearing," says she, "and what then?"
"Have I got to kill thee, dost think, and take thy heart up to the wise woman for that pottle o' brains?"
"Law, no!" says she, looking skeered, "I winna have that. But see here; thou didn't cut out thy mother's heart, did thou?"
"No; but if I had, maybe I'd have got my pottle o' brains," says he.
"Not a bit of it," says she; "just thou take me as I be, heart and all, and I'll wager I'll help thee read the riddles."
"Can thee so?" says he, doubtful like; "I reckon they're too hard for women folk."
"Well," says she, "let's see now. Tell me the first."
"What runs without feet?" says he.
"Why, water!" says she.
"It do," says he, and scratched his head.
"And what's yellow and shining but isn't gold?"
"Why, the sun!" says she.
"Faith, it be!" says he. "Come, we'll go up to the wise woman at once," and off they went. And as they came up the pad, she was sitting at the door, twining straws.
"Gode'en, missis," says he.
"Gode'en, fool," says she.
