laughing and laughing, and looking at the old man. And every child had
a little turnip, and showed it to the old man and laughed.

Just then the door of the stove flew open, and out tumbled more of the
little queer children, dozens and dozens of them. The more they came
tumbling out into the hut, the more there seemed to be chattering in
the stove and squeezing to get out one over the top of another. The
noise of chattering and laughing would have made your head spin. And
everyone of the children out of the stove had a little turnip like
the others, and waved it about and showed it to the old man, and
laughed like anything.

"Ho," says the old man, "so you are the thieves who have stolen the
turnips from the top of the dovecot?"

"Yes," cried the children, and the chatter rattled as fast as
hailstones on the roof. "Yes! yes! yes! _We_ stole the turnips."

"How did you get on to the top of the dovecot when the door into the
house was bolted and fast?"

At that the children all burst out laughing, and did not answer a
word.

"Laugh you may," said the old man; "but it is I who get the scolding
when the turnips fly away in the night."

"Never mind! never mind!" cried the children. "We'll pay for the
turnips."