that. Not a bit of it.

"You don't know how to lift your eyes from the ground," says she. "You
don't know what to ask. I am tired of being a peasant woman and a
moujik's wife. I was made for something better. I want to be a lady,
and have good people to do the work, and see folk bow and curtsy to me
when I meet them walking abroad. Go back at once to the fish, you old
fool, and ask him for that, instead of bothering him for little
trifles like bread troughs and moujiks' huts. Off with you."

The old fisherman went back to the shore with a sad heart; but he was
afraid of his wife, and he dared not disobey her. He stood on the
shore, and called out in his windy old voice,--

"Head in air and tail in sea,
Fish, fish, listen to me."

Instantly there was the golden fish looking at him with its wise eyes.

"Well?" says the fish.

"My old woman won't give me a moment's peace," says the old man; "and
since she has the new hut--which is a fine one, I must say; as good a
hut as ever I saw--she won't be content at all. She is tired of being
a peasant's wife, and wants to be a lady with a house and servants,
and to see the good folk curtsy to her when she meets them walking
abroad."

"Go home," says the fish.