"Tell the tablecloth to turn outside in."

"Tablecloth," says the old man, "turn outside in."

Up jumped the tablecloth with all the empty dishes and dirty plates
and spoons, whirled itself this way and that in the air, and suddenly
spread itself out flat again on the table, as clean and white as when
it was taken out of the cupboard. There was not a dish or a bowl, or a
spoon or a plate, or a knife to be seen; no, not even a crumb.

"That's a good tablecloth," says the old man.

"See here, grandfather," shouted the children: "you take the
tablecloth along with you, and say no more about those turnips."

"Well, I'm content with that," says the old man. And he folded up the
tablecloth very carefully and put it away inside his shirt, and said
he must be going.

"Good-bye," says he, "and thank you for the dinner and the
tablecloth."

"Good-bye," say they, "and thank you for the turnips."

The old man made his way home, singing through the forest in his
creaky old voice until he came near the little wooden house where he
lived with the old woman. As soon as he came near there he slipped
along like any mouse. And as soon as he put his head inside the door
the old woman began,--