"But there is no earth there."

"Carry earth up and put it there," says she.

So the old man laboured up and down with his tired old bones, and
covered the top of the dovecot with good black earth. He could only
take up a very little at a time, because he was old and weak, and
because the stairs were so narrow and dangerous that he had to hold on
with both hands and carry the earth in a bag which he held in his
teeth. His teeth were strong enough, because he had been biting crusts
all his life. The old woman left him nothing else, for she took all
the crumb for herself. The old man did his best, and by evening the
top of the dovecot was covered with earth, and he had sown it with
turnip seed.

Next day, and the day after that and every day, the old woman scolded
the old man till he went up to the dovecot to see how those turnip
seeds were getting on.

"Are they ready to eat yet?"

"They are not ready to eat."

"Is the green sprouting?"

"The green is sprouting."

And at last there came a day when the old man came down from the
dovecot and said: "The turnips are doing finely--quite big they are