ter of a king, and have been reared on dainties[1], and passed my life in plenty." And so saying, she began to cry like a little girl who sees her bread and butter taken away from her.
The old woman's heart was softened at this sight, and she said to Porziella, "Be of good heart, my pretty girl; do not spoil your beauty with crying, for you have fallen in with luck; I can help you to both saddle and trappings. Listen now, I have seven sons, who, you see, are seven oaks, seven giants,—Mase, Nardo, Cola, Micco, Petrullo, Ascaddeo and Ceccone[2],—who have more virtues than rosemary, especially Mase; for every time he lays his ear to the ground, he hears all that is passing within thirty miles around: Nardo, every time he spits, makes a great sea of soap-suds: every time that Cola throws a bit of iron on the ground, he makes a field of sharp razors: Micco, every time he flings down a little stick, makes a tangled wood spring up: Petrullo, whenever he throws on the ground a drop of water, makes a terrific river: Ascaddeo, every time he flings a stone, causes a strong tower to spring up; and Ceccone shoots so straight with a cross-bow, that he
