Early in the morning the old woman woke the old man and told him to go
up to the dovecot and see how those turnips were getting on.

He got up and rubbed his eyes. When he saw the tablecloth on the
table, the wish came to him to have a bite of food to begin the day
with. So he stopped in the middle of putting on his shirt, and called
to the tablecloth, "Tablecloth, turn inside out!"

Nothing happened. Why should anything happen? It was not the same
tablecloth.

The old man told the old woman. "You should have made a good feast
yesterday," says he, "for the tablecloth is no good any more. That is,
it's no good that way; it's like any ordinary tablecloth."

"Most tablecloths are," says the old woman. "But what are you dawdling
about? Up you go and have a look at those turnips."

The old man went climbing up the narrow twisting stairs. He held on
with both hands for fear of falling, because they were so steep. He
climbed to the top of the house, to the top of the tower, to the top
of the dovecot, and looked at the turnips. He looked at the turnips,
and he counted the turnips, and then he came slowly down the stairs
again wondering what the old woman would say to him.

"Well," says the old woman in her sharp voice, "are they doing nicely?
Because if not, I know whose fault it is."

"They are doing finely," said the old man; "but some of them have