sneezing, and stood there panting and out of breath in the middle of
the sea of gold pieces.

The children began kicking the gold pieces about, spreading them by
walking through them as if they were dead leaves. My old father used
to say that those gold pieces are lying about still for anybody to
pick up; but I doubt if he knew just where to look for them, or he
would have had better clothes on his back and a little more food on
the table. But who knows? Some day we may come upon that little hut
somewhere in the forest, and then we shall know what to look for.

The children laughed and chattered and kicked the gold pieces this way
and that into the green bushes. Then they brought the old man into the
hut and gave him a bowl of kasha to eat, because he had had no dinner.
There was no magic about the kasha; but it was good enough kasha for
all that, and hunger made it better. When the old man had finished the
kasha and drunk a glass of tea and smoked a little pipe, he got up and
made a low bow and thanked the children. And the children tied a rope
to the goat and sent the old man home with it. He hobbled away through
the forest, and as he went he looked back, and there were the little
queer children all dancing together, and he heard them chattering and
shouting: "Who stole the turnips? _We_ stole the turnips. Who paid for
the turnips? _We_ paid for the turnips. Who stole the tablecloth? Who
will pay for the tablecloth? Who will steal turnips again? _We_ will
steal turnips again."

But the old man was too pleased with the goat to give much heed to
what they said; and he hobbled home through the green forest as fast
as he could, with the goat trotting and walking behind him, pulling
leaves off the bushes to chew as they hurried along.