Fairy Tales From Many Lands
Copyright© 2024 by Katharine Pyle
The Three Cows
From the Irish
THERE was once a poor widow who had one son named Barney, and some said he was as sharp a lad as one would care to meet, and some said he was not much better than a simpleton.
One day his mother said to him, “My son, bad luck is close after us these days. There is no food in the house, and soon the landlord will be coming for our rent. Take our white cow (for she is the poorest of the three), and drive her over to the fair, and sell her to the one who will give the best price for her.”
Barney was more than willing to do this, for it was better fun to go to the fair than to work. He brushed his clothes and cocked his hat, and off he started in a fine humor, driving the white cow before him.
The sun was not yet high and the dew lay thick on the hedgerows; birds sang on either side of the road, and Barney whistled to himself for very joy of life.
After a while he came to a stile, and sitting on the top of the stile was a little man scarce two feet high; he was dressed all in green and a red cap was lying beside him.
“Good morning to you, Barney,” said the little man.
Barney answered him politely as his mother had taught him, but he wondered how under the bright sun the stranger happened to know that his name was Barney.
“And how much do you think you’ll get for the white cow at the fair?”
Then Barney wondered still more that the little man should know his business as well as his name. “My mother told me to get the best price I could,” he answered.
“The best price may be neither gold nor silver. Wait a bit and I’ll show you a thing or two worth seeing.”
The little man reached down into a deep pocket in his coat, and drew out a tiny harp and a tiny stool. These he set upon the top step of the stile in the sunlight. Then he reached down in his pocket again and drew out a cockchafer. The cockchafer was dressed in a tiny long-tailed coat and breeches, and the moment the little man set him on the stile, he drew the stool up in front of the harp and began to try the strings and tune them up.
When Barney saw this he was so pleased that he let out a whoop of joy.
“Wait a bit, for the story is not yet half told,” said the little man in green. He then drew out a mouse dressed as a gentleman of quality, and a bumblebee in a flowered silk skirt and overdress. The cockchafer began to play a tune, the mouse bowed to the bumblebee, she courtesied to him and the brindled cow he was driving before him, and at sound of the gay music, Barney threw back his head and laughed and laughed; his feet began to jig it, the hat bounced on his head, and the very cow herself jumped about and waved her tail gayly.
After Barney had danced and laughed himself weak, the tune came to an end; the dancers stopped to rest, and Barney and the cow, too, stood still.
“Well, and what do you think of that?” asked the little man.
“I think it’s a better sight than any I’ll be after seeing at the fair.”
“Listen now,” the little man went on. “It’s needing a good cow I am. The truth is that those who live under the hill have sent me out to buy one, and if you like, I will give you the little harp and the musician for your white cow.”
Barney looked, and wished and scratched his head. “It’s not the sort of price my mother thought I’d be after getting,” he said.
“It’s a price that will be worth more than gold and silver to you in the end,” said the little man.
Well, the end of it was that Barney gave him the cow and received in exchange the harp, the stool, and the little cockchafer. He took out his handkerchief and wrapped them up in it very carefully, and when he looked about again the little man and Whitey had disappeared entirely. There was no sign of them anywhere.
“And that’s a curious thing, too,” said Barney to himself, and then he set out for home.
When he came within sight of the house, his mother was at the window watching for him, and she came out to meet him.
“I see you sold the cow,” she said. “And how much did you get for it?”
“Come inside and I’ll show you.”
They went into the house and Barney dusted off the table; then he untied his handkerchief and put the harp, the stool, and the little musician upon it. The cockchafer made a bow to Barney’s mother; then he seated himself and began to play, and if Barney had laughed before he roared with pleasure now. The old woman, too, began to laugh and that was what she had not done for many a year before. She laughed till the tears ran down her face, and then she dropped into a chair and laughed some more.
But, when at last the tune came to an end, the old woman wiped her eyes and began to come to herself. Then she remembered the cupboard was still bare, and the rent still due the landlord in spite of all the gay doings.
“You worthless lout!” she cried to her son. “Is that what you sold the cow for? How do you expect us to fill our stomachs and pay the landlord with such nonsense as that?”
Barney had no answer to make, for he did not know.
Well, the money must be had, and the next morning, Barney’s mother sent him off to the fair again, and this time it was the brindled cow he was driving before him and it was a much finer and larger cow than old Whitey had been.
When he came near the stile he kept looking and looking to see whether the little man in green was there, but it was not until the lad came quite close to it that he saw him. There sat the small one on the top step in the sunlight, with his red cap lying beside him.
“And how did your mother like the price you got for old Whitey?” asked the small man.
“Little enough; and the thanks are owing to you for the scolding I got.”
“Never mind! She’ll be thankful enough some day for the price I paid you. Is the brindled cow for sale, too?”
“Not to you,” answered Barney.
“Ah, Barney, Barney! I’m after thinking you must be the simpleton some folk call you. There’s no one can pay you such a good price as I offer. If you had but this gay gentleman of a mouse to dance to the music your mother would be fit to split her sides with laughter; and you may have him for your own in exchange for that cow.”
No, Barney would not listen to such a thing, but the little man coaxed and wheedled, until at last Barney gave him the cow, and took the little mouse in exchange for it.
When he reached home, his mother was on the lookout for him.
“How much money did you get for the cow?” she asked.
Barney made no answer to this, but he untied his handkerchief, and let the little mouse step out on the table. It had a cocked hat under its arm, and with its claws on its hip, he made a grand bow to the old woman. She could do nothing but stare and grin with admiration. Then Barney put the cockchafer and the harp on the table too, and as soon as it had tuned up, it began to play, and the tune was so gay that the very heart danced in the bosom. The mouse began to dance and twirl and jig up and down, and Barney and his mother stood and laughed until they almost split their sides.
But after the tune was all played out, the old woman came to herself again; an angry soul was she. She fell to crying just as hard as she had laughed before, for the white cow was gone, and the brindled cow was gone, and the landlord no nearer to being paid than he had been two days before.
But the money they must have, and there was nothing for it but that Barney must set off the next day for the fair with the red cow, and she was the finest of the three.
He trudged along, driving it before him, and after a while he came to the stile, and there was the little man in green seated on it.
“Good-day to you, Barney,” said he.
Barney answered never a word.
“That’s a fine cow you have there.”
Barney trudged along as though he had not heard him, and never so much as turned his head.
“Nay, but wait a bit, friend Barney,” went on the little man. “We have made two bargains, and now we ought to make the third, for there’s luck in odd numbers—or so people say.”
Barney would have walked on if he could, but when the little man said, “Wait a bit,” it seemed as though he were rooted to the ground, and he could not stir a step, however he tried.
Then the small one began to beg and plead with him to let him have the cow in exchange for the bumblebee, and for a long time Barney said no. At last, however, he could refuse no longer; the trade was made, and no sooner had the lad agreed and taken the bumblebee in his handkerchief, than—pouff! whisk! the small man and the cow both disappeared like the breath from a window-pane.