"See there!" says he, and set down by the road side and greets.
"I've lost the only two things as I cared for, and what else can I find to buy a pottle of brains with!" and he fair howled, till the tears ran down into his mouth. And up came a lass that lived near at hand, and looked at him.
"What's up with thee, fool?" says she.
"Oo, I've killed my pig, and lost my mother and I'm nobbut a fool myself," says he, sobbing.
"That's bad," says she; "and haven't thee anybody to look after thee?"
"No," says he, "and I canna buy my pottle of brains, for there's nothing I like best left!"
"What art talking about!" says she.
And down she sets by him, and he told her all about the wise woman and the pig, and his mother and the riddles, and that he was alone in the world.
"Well," says she, "I wouldn't mind looking after thee myself."
"Could thee do it?" says he.
"Ou, ay!" says she; folk says as fools make good husbands, and I reckon I'll have thee, if thou'rt willing."
"Can'st cook?" says he.
"Ay, I can," says she.
"And scrub?" says he.
"Surely," says she.
"And mend my clouts?" says he.
"I can that," says she.
"I reckon thou'lt do then as well as anybody," says he; "but what'll I do about this wise woman?"
"Oh, wait a bit," says she, "something may turn up,
