He was afraid to come down, for there were hardly any turnips left at
all.

And when he did come down, the scolding the old woman gave him was
worse than the other two scoldings rolled into one. She was so angry
that she shook like a rag in the high wind, and the old man put both
hands to his ears and hobbled away into the forest.

He hobbled along as fast as he could hobble, until he came to the hut
under the pine trees. This time the little queer children were not
hiding under the blankets or in the stove, or chattering in the hut.
They were all over the roof of the hut, dancing and crawling about.
Some of them were even sitting on the chimney. And everyone of the
little queer children was playing with a turnip. As soon as they saw
the old man they all came tumbling off the roof, one after another,
head over heels, like a lot of peas rolling off a shovel.

"_We_ stole the turnips!" they shouted, before the old man could say
anything at all.

"I know you did," says the old man; "but that does not make it any
better for me. And it is I who get the scolding when the turnips fly
away in the night."

"Never again!" shouted the children.

"I'm glad to hear that," says the old man.

"And we'll pay for the turnips."