Tom Tit Tot

TOM TIT TOT

Once upon a time there was a woman, and she baked five pies. And when they

  came out of the oven, they were that overbaked the crusts were too hard to


  eat. So she says to her daughter:

“Darter,” says she, “put you them there pies on the shelf, and leave 'em

  there a little, and they'll come again.”—She meant, you know, the


  crust would get soft.

But the girl, she says to herself: “Well, if they'll come again, I'll eat

  'em now.” And she set to work and ate 'em all, first and last.

Well, come supper-time the woman said: “Go you, and get one o' them there

  pies. I dare say they've come again now.”

The girl went and she looked, and there was nothing but the dishes. So

  back she came and says she: “Noo, they ain't come again.”

“Not one of 'em?” says the mother.

“Not one of 'em,” says she.

“Well, come again, or not come again,” said the woman “I'll have one for

  supper.”

“But you can't, if they ain't come,” said the girl.

“But I can,” says she. “Go you, and bring the best of 'em.”

“Best or worst,” says the girl, “I've ate 'em all, and you can't have one

  till that's come again.”

Well, the woman she was done, and she took her spinning to the door to

  spin, and as she span she sang:

“My darter ha' ate five, five pies to-day.

My darter ha' ate five, five pies to-day.”

The king was coming down the street, and he heard her sing, but what she

  sang he couldn't hear, so he stopped and said:

“What was that you were singing, my good woman?”

The woman was ashamed to let him hear what her daughter had been doing, so

  she sang, instead of that:

“My darter ha' spun five, five skeins to-day.

My darter ha' spun five, five skeins to-day.”

“Stars o' mine!” said the king, “I never heard tell of any one that could

  do that.”

Then he said: “Look you here, I want a wife, and I'll marry your daughter.

  But look you here,” says he, “eleven months out of the year she shall have


  all she likes to eat, and all the gowns she likes to get, and all the


  company she likes to keep; but the last month of the year she'll have to


  spin five skeins every day, and if she don't I shall kill her.”

“All right,” says the woman; for she thought what a grand marriage that

  was. And as for the five skeins, when the time came, there'd be plenty of


  ways of getting out of it, and likeliest, he'd have forgotten all about


  it.

Well, so they were married. And for eleven months the girl had all she

  liked to eat, and all the gowns she liked to get, and all the company she


  liked to keep.

But when the time was getting over, she began to think about the skeins

  and to wonder if he had 'em in mind. But not one word did he say about


  'em, and she thought he'd wholly forgotten 'em.

However, the last day of the last month he takes her to a room she'd never

  set eyes on before. There was nothing in it but a spinning-wheel and a


  stool. And says he: “Now, my dear, here you'll be shut in to-morrow with


  some victuals and some flax, and if you haven't spun five skeins by the


  night, your head'll go off.”

And away he went about his business.

Well, she was that frightened, she'd always been such a gatless girl, that

  she didn't so much as know how to spin, and what was she to do to-morrow


  with no one to come nigh her to help her? She sat down on a stool in the


  kitchen, and law! how she did cry!

However, all of a sudden she heard a sort of a knocking low down on the

  door. She upped and oped it, and what should she see but a small little


  black thing with a long tail. That looked up at her right curious, and


  that said:

“What are you a-crying for?”

“What's that to you?” says she.

“Never you mind,” that said, “but tell me what you're a-crying for.”

“That won't do me no good if I do,” says she.

“You don't know that,” that said, and twirled that's tail round.

“Well,” says she, “that won't do no harm, if that don't do no good,” and

  she upped and told about the pies, and the skeins, and everything.

“This is what I'll do,” says the little black thing, “I'll come to your

  window every morning and take the flax and bring it spun at night.”

“What's your pay?” says she.

That looked out of the corner of that's eyes, and that said: “I'll give

  you three guesses every night to guess my name, and if you haven't guessed


  it before the month's up you shall be mine.”

Well, she thought she'd be sure to guess that's name before the month was

  up. “All right,” says she, “I agree.”

“All right,” that says, and law! how that twirled that's tail.

Well, the next day, her husband took her into the room, and there was the

  flax and the day's food.

“Now there's the flax,” says he, “and if that ain't spun up this night,

  off goes your head.” And then he went out and locked the door.

He'd hardly gone, when there was a knocking against the window.

She upped and she oped it, and there sure enough was the little old thing

  sitting on the ledge.

“Where's the flax?” says he.

“Here it be,” says she. And she gave it to him.

Well, come the evening a knocking came again to the window. She upped and

  she oped it, and there was the little old thing with five skeins of flax


  on his arm.

“Here it be,” says he, and he gave it to her.

“Now, what's my name?” says he.

“What, is that Bill?” says she.

“Noo, that ain't,” says he, and he twirled his tail.

“Is that Ned?” says she.

“Noo, that ain't,” says he, and he twirled his tail.

“Well, is that Mark?” says she.

“Noo, that ain't,” says he, and he twirled his tail harder, and away he

  flew.

Well, when her husband came in, there were the five skeins ready for him.

  “I see I shan't have to kill you to-night, my dear,” says he; “you'll have


  your food and your flax in the morning,” says he, and away he goes.

Well, every day the flax and the food were brought, and every day that

  there little black impet used to come mornings and evenings. And all the


  day the girl sat trying to think of names to say to it when it came at


  night. But she never hit on the right one. And as it got towards the end


  of the month, the impet began to look so maliceful, and that twirled


  that's tail faster and faster each time she gave a guess.

At last it came to the last day but one. The impet came at night along

  with the five skeins, and that said,

“What, ain't you got my name yet?”

“Is that Nicodemus?” says she.

“Noo, t'ain't,” that says.

“Is that Sammle?” says she.

“Noo, t'ain't,” that says.

“A-well, is that Methusalem?” says she.

“Noo, t'ain't that neither,” that says.

Then that looks at her with that's eyes like a coal o' fire, and that

  says: “Woman, there's only to-morrow night, and then you'll be mine!” And


  away it flew.

Well, she felt that horrid. However, she heard the king coming along the

  passage. In he came, and when he sees the five skeins, he says, says he,

“Well, my dear,” says he, “I don't see but what you'll have your skeins

  ready to-morrow night as well, and as I reckon I shan't have to kill you,


  I'll have supper in here to-night.” So they brought supper, and another


  stool for him, and down the two sat.

Well, he hadn't eaten but a mouthful or so, when he stops and begins to

  laugh.

“What is it?” says she.

“A-why,” says he, “I was out a-hunting to-day, and I got away to a place

  in the wood I'd never seen before And there was an old chalk-pit. And I


  heard a kind of a sort of a humming. So I got off my hobby, and I went


  right quiet to the pit, and I looked down. Well, what should there be but


  the funniest little black thing you ever set eyes on. And what was that


  doing, but that had a little spinning-wheel, and that was spinning


  wonderful fast, and twirling that's tail. And as that span that sang:

“Nimmy nimmy not

My name's Tom Tit Tot.”

Well, when the girl heard this, she felt as if she could have jumped out

  of her skin for joy, but she didn't say a word.

Next day that there little thing looked so maliceful when he came for the

  flax. And when night came, she heard that knocking against the window


  panes. She oped the window, and that come right in on the ledge. That was


  grinning from ear to ear, and Oo! that's tail was twirling round so fast.

“What's my name?” that says, as that gave her the skeins.

“Is that Solomon?” she says, pretending to be afeard.

“Noo, t'ain't,” that says, and that came further into the room.

“Well, is that Zebedee?” says she again.

“Noo, t'ain't,” says the impet. And then that laughed and twirled that's

  tail till you couldn't hardly see it.

“Take time, woman,” that says; “next guess, and you're mine.” And that

  stretched out that's black hands at her.

Well, she backed a step or two, and she looked at it, and then she laughed

  out, and says she, pointing her finger at it: