"Little mistresses," quoth he, "the little father orders ye to give me……both of ye……"
"Give thee what?"
"Yet know well he meaneth ye yourself……to futter!"
The priest's daughters fell to abusing the labourer.
"What availeth it to abuse me?" asked the labourer. "The little father hath ordered ye to yield me this at once, for the borders of the garden must be dug. An ye believe not me, ask of him yourselves."
One of the daughters straightway ran to the steps leading to the house, and cried:
"Little father! Hast ordered us to give this thing to the labourer?"
"Give it him swiftly! Why keepest him waiting?" answered the priest.
"Come, my sister," said the young girl when she returned. "There is no help for it. We must give it him. So the little father hath ordered."
Both then went to bed, and the labourer put the matter through most expeditiously. Afterwards, he took a shovel from the shed, and ran to the little father in the garden. The priest showed him how to dig the borders of the garden, and he himself returned to the house to his wife. But what saw he? His daughters in tears.
"Why weep ye?"
"How should we not weep, little father," answered they, "when thou thyself hast ordered the labourer to make mock of us?"
"To make mock of ye?"
"Didst not order us to yield it to him?"
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