"Give me the Sword of Light, or bad luck to you," cried the hag.
"Indeed, then, I will not; I will keep it, and bad luck to yourself," answered Smallhead.
On the following morning she walked up to the King's son and said:
"I have the Sword of Light; now will you marry my sister?"
The King's son married Smallhead's sister and got the Sword of Light. Smallhead stayed no longer in the kitchen--the sister didn't care to have her in kitchen or parlour.
The King's second son came home. He was not long in the castle when Smallhead said to herself, "Maybe he will marry my second sister."
She saw him one day in the garden, went toward him; he said something, she answered, then asked: "Is it not time for you to be getting married like your brother?"
"When my grandfather was dying," said the young man, "he bound my father not to let his second son marry till he had the Black Book. This book used to shine and give brighter light than ever the Sword of Light did, and I suppose it does yet. The old hag beyond the Bridge of Blood has the book, and no one dares to go near her, for many is the King's son killed or enchanted by that woman."
"Would you marry my second sister if you were to get the Black Book?"
"I would, indeed; I would marry any woman if I got the Black Book with her. The Sword of Light and the Black Book were in our family till my grandfather's time, then they were stolen by that cursed old hag."
"I will have the book," said Smallhead, "or die in the trial to get it."
Knowing that stirabout was the main food of the hag, Smallhead settled in her mind to play another trick. Taking a bag she scraped the chimney, gathered about a stone of soot, and took it with her. The night was dark and rainy. When she reached the hag's house, she climbed up the gable to the chimney and found that the son was making stirabout for his mother. She dropped the soot down by degrees till at last the whole stone of soot was in the pot; then she scraped around the top of the chimney till a lump of soot fell on the boy's hand.
"Oh, mother," said he, "the night is wet and soft, the soot is falling."
"Cover the pot," said the hag. "Be quick with that stirabout, I am starving."
"Bad luck to you," cried the hag the moment she tasted the stirabout, "this is full of soot; throw it out to the pig."