But the old woman was running about the hut so fast, with the whips
flying after her and beating her, that he could not get it out of her
hands. At last he grabbed it. "Into the whistle," says he, and put it
to his lips and blew.

In a moment the three lively whips had hidden themselves in the
whistle. And there was the cross old woman, kissing his hand and
promising never to scold any more.

"That's all right," says the old man; and he fetched the sneezing goat
out of the bushes and made it sneeze a little gold, just to be sure
that it was that goat and no other. Then he laid the tablecloth on
the table and told it to turn inside out. Up it flew, and came down
again with the best dinner that ever was cooked, only waiting to be
eaten. And the old man and the old woman sat down and ate till they
could eat no more. The old woman rubbed herself now and again. And the
old man rubbed himself too. But there was never a cross word between
them, and they went to bed singing like nightingales.

"Is that the end?" Maroosia always asked.

"Is that all?" asked Vanya, though he knew it was not.

"Not quite," said old Peter; "but the tale won't go any quicker than
my old tongue."

In the morning the old woman had forgotten about her promise. And just
from habit, she set about scolding the old man as if the whips had
never jumped out of the whistle. She scolded him for sleeping too
long, sent him upstairs, with a lot of cross words after him, to go to