to knight him, and all the obstacles would have been removed; the dairyman would have been quite rich and noble enough for his son-in-law.  But he never thought of that, and his daughter was disinherited.  However, he made all the amends to her that he could, and fitted her out royally for her humble station in life.  He caused this beautiful dairy to be built for her, and gave her the silver milk-pans, and the carved stone churn.

“My daughter shall not churn in a common wooden churn, or skim the cream from wooden pans,” he had said.

The dairyman had been dead a good many years now, and Dame Clementina managed the dairy alone.  She never saw anything of her father, although he lived in his castle not far off, on a neighboring height.  When the sky was clear, she could see its stone towers against it.  She had four beautiful white cows, and Nan drove them to pasture; they were very gentle.

When Dame Clementina had finished churning, she went into the cottage.  As she stepped through the little door with clumps of sweet peas on each side, she looked up.  There was the sprig of dill, and the magic verse she had written under it.

Nan was sitting at the window inside, knitting her stent on a blue stocking.  “Ah, Sweetheart,” said her mother, laughing, “you have little cause to pin the dill and the verse over our door.  None is likely to envy us, or to be ill-disposed toward us.”

“O, mother!” said Nan, “I know it, but I thought it would be so nice to feel sure.  Oh, there is Dame Golding coming after some milk.  Do you suppose she will have to stop?”

“What nonsense!” said her mother.  They both of them watched Dame Golding coming.  All of a sudden, she stopped short, just outside.  She could go no further.  She tried to lift her feet, but could not.

“O, mother!” cried Nan, “she has stopped!”

The poor woman began to scream.  She was frightened almost to death.  Nan and her mother were not much less frightened, but they did not know what to do.  They ran out, and tried to comfort her, and gave her some cream to drink; but it did not amount to much.  Dame Golding had secretly envied Dame Clementina for her silver milk-pans.  Nan and her mother knew why their visitor was so suddenly rooted to the spot, of course, but she did not.  She thought her feet were paralyzed, and she kept begging them to send for her husband.

“Perhaps he can pull her away,” said Nan, crying.  How she wished she had never pinned the dill and the verse over the door!  So she set off for Dame Golding’s husband.  He came running in a great hurry; but when he had nearly reached his wife, and had his arms reached out to grasp her, he, too, stopped short.  He had envied Dame Clementina for her beautiful white cows, and there he was fast, also.

He began to groan and scream too.  Nan and her mother ran into the house and shut the door.  They could not bear it.  “What shall we do, if any one else comes?” sobbed Nan.  “O, mother! there is Dame Dorothy coming.  And—­yes—­Oh! she has stopped too.”  Poor Dame Dorothy had envied Dame Clementina a little for her flower-garden, which was finer than hers, so she had to join Dame Golding and her husband.