When they were jolting about with the pigs in the poke as the Ogre strode homewards, the five spiteful children were as sorry as you please; and as the pigs were always fighting and struggling to get to the top, they did not escape without some scratches.  And their screams, and the squealing of the little pigs made such a noise that the Ogre’s wife heard it a mile and a half away in the depths of the wood; and she lighted a fire under the copper, and filled it with water, ready to cook whatever her husband brought home.

As for the widow’s little daughter she pulled her needle-book from her pocket, and every now and then she pushed a needle through the sack, that it might fall on the ground, and serve as a guide if she should ever have the chance of finding her way home again.

When the Ogre arrived, he emptied the sack, and sent the six little girls and the five little pigs all sprawling on to the floor, saying: 

“These will last us some time.  Cook the fattest, and put the rest into the cellar.  And whilst you get dinner ready, I will take another stroll with the bag.  Luck seldom comes singly.”

When he had gone, the Ogress looked over the children, and picked out the widow’s daughter, saying: 

“You look the most good-humoured.  And the best-tempered always make the best eating.”

So she set her down on a stool by the fire till the water should boil, and locked the others up in the cellar.

“Tears won’t put the fire out,” thought the little maid.  So instead of crying she pulled out the old stocking, and went on with her darning.  When the Ogress came back from the cellar she went up to her and looked at her work.

“How you darn!” she cried.  “Now that’s a sort of thing I hate.  And the Ogre does wear such big holes in his stockings, and his feet are so large, that, though my hand is not a small one, I cannot fill out the heel with my fist, and then who’s to darn it neatly I should like to know?”

“If I had a basin big enough to fill out the heel, I think I could do it,” said the little maid.

The Ogress scratched her big ear thoughtfully for a minute, and then she said: 

“To lose a chance is to cheat oneself.  Why shouldn’t this one darn while the others boil?  Yes, I think you shall try.  Six days ought to serve for mending all the stockings, though the Ogre hasn’t a whole pair left, and angry enough he’ll be.  And when household matters are not to his mind he puts that big sack over my head, and ties it round my neck.  And if you had ever done housework with your head in a poke, you’d know what it is!  So you shall darn the stockings, and if you do them well, I’ll cook one of the others first instead of you.”

Saying which, the Ogress fetched one of the Ogre’s stockings, and the widow’s child put a big basin into the heel to stretch it, and began to darn.  The Ogress watched her till she had put all the threads one way, and when she began to run the cross threads, interlacing them with the utmost exactness, the old creature was delighted, and went to fetch another child to be cooked instead of the widow’s.