stood high above the tree tops, and there was the caldron in the middle
and round about sat the trolls and witches;--such gruesome company I'm
sure you were never in. Then came the Prince; he looked about from one
to the other, and he saw the lassie, and his face grew white, but he
said nothing.

"Now, let's begin," said a witch with a nose three ells long. She was
sure she was going to have the Prince, and she began to wash away as
hard as she could, but the more she rubbed and scrubbed, the bigger the
spots grew.

"Ah!" said an old hag, "you can't wash, let me try."

But she hadn't long taken the shirt in hand, before it was far worse
than ever, and with all her rubbing and scrubbing and wringing, the
spots grew bigger and blacker, and the darker and uglier was the shirt.

Then all the other trolls began to wash, but the longer it lasted, the
blacker and uglier the shirt grew, till at last it was as black all over
as if it had been up the chimney.

"Ah!" said the Prince, "you're none of you worth a straw, you can't
wash. Why there sits a beggar lassie, I'll be bound she knows how to
wash better than the whole lot of you. Come here, lassie," he shouted.

"Can you wash the shirt clean, lassie?" said he.

"I don't know," she said, "but I think I can."

And almost before she had taken it and dipped it in the water, it was as