"Run out, Buttercup, there's a dear!" said the old wile. "and see what Goldtooth is barking at."
So the boy ran out, and came back crying out,
"Oh, Heaven help us! here comes a great big witch, with her head under her arm, and a bag at her back."
"Jump under the kneading-trough and hide yourself," said his mother.
So in came the old hag.
"Good day," said she.
"God bless you!" said Buttercup's mother,
"Isn't your Buttercup at home to-day?" asked the hag.
"No, that he isn't. He's out in the wood with his father shooting ptarmigan."
"Plague take it," said the hag, "for I had such a nice little silver knife I wanted to give him."
"Pip, pip! here I am," said Buttercup under the kneading-trough, and out he came.
"I'm so old and stiff in the back," said the hag, "you must creep into the bag and fetch it out for yourself."
But when Buttercup was well into the bag, the hag threw it over her back and strode off, and when they had gone a good bit of the way, the old hag got tired and asked,
"How far is it off to Snoring?"
"Half a mile," answered Buttercup.
So the hag put down the sack on the road, and went aside by herself into the wood, and lay down to sleep. Meantime Buttercup set to work and cut a hole in the sack with his knife; then he crept out and put a great root of a fir-tree into the sack, and ran home to his mother.
