“I cannot,” said the king, “for the light will go out if I leave the house.”
“It will not go out,” said Margaret; “I will keep it lighted till we come back.”
And they went together and got into the castle, to the giant's house, and they saw no one there but an old woman cooking; and it was not long till she opened an iron chest and took out the young giants and gave them boiled blood to eat.
“Come,” said Margaret, “and let us go to the house we left.”
They were not long in it when the king's son was falling asleep.
Margaret said to him, “If you fall asleep, it will not be long till the giants come and kill us.”
“I cannot help it,” he said. “I am falling asleep in spite of me.”
He fell asleep, and it was not long till Margaret heard a noise approaching, and the giant cried from outside to the king's son to come out to him.
“Fum, faw, faysogue! I feel the smell of a lying churl of an Irishman. You are too great for one bite and too little for two, and I don't know whether it is better for me to send you into the Eastern World with a breath or put you under my feet in the puddle. Which would you rather have—striking with knives in your ribs or fighting on the grey stones?”
