But she would have none of them, because she was always waiting and longing for the day when her bird-husband would come back to her in man’s form.

Now one of the men who wanted her was the stout butler, and one day as he was coming back from the cider-house he chanced to stop by the laundry, and he heard a voice say, “By virtue of these three feathers from over my true love’s heart may the copper be lit, the clothes sorted, boiled, dried, folded, mangled, and ironed.”

He thought this very queer, so he peeped through the keyhole.  And there was the girl sitting at her ease in a chair, while all the clothes came flying to the table ready and fit to put away.

Well, that night he went to the girl and said that if she turned up her nose at him and his proposal any longer, he would up and tell the mistress that her fine laundress was nothing but a witch; and then, even if she were not burnt alive, she would lose her place.

Now the girl was in great distress what to do, since if she were not faithful to her bird-husband, or if she failed to serve her seven years and a day in one service, he would alike fail to return; so she made an excuse by saying she could think of no one who did not give her enough money to satisfy her.

At this the stout butler laughed.  “Money?” said he.  “I have seventy pounds laid by with master.  Won’t that satisfy thee?”

“Happen it would,” she replied.

So the very next night the butler came to her with the seventy pounds in golden sovereigns, and she held out her apron and took them, saying she was content; for she had thought of a plan.  Now as they were going upstairs together she stopped and said: 

“Mr. Butler, excuse me for a minute.  I have left the shutters of the wash-house open, and I must shut them, or they will be banging all night and disturb master and missus!”

Now though the butler was stout and beginning to grow old, he was anxious to seem young and gallant; so he said at once: 

“Excuse me, my beauty, you shall not go.  I will go and shut them.  I shan’t be a moment!”

So off he set, and no sooner had he gone than she out with her three feathers, and putting them on her hand, said in a hurry: 

“By virtue of the three feathers from over my true love’s heart may the shutters never cease banging till morning, and may Mr. Butler’s hands be busy trying to shut them.”

And so it happened.

Mr. Butler shut the shutters, but—­bru-u-u! there they were hanging open again.  Then he shut them once more, and this time they hit him on the face as they flew open.  Yet he couldn’t stop; he had to go on.  So there he was the whole livelong night.  Such a cursing, and banging, and swearing, and shutting, never was, until dawn came, and, too tired to be really angry, he crept back to his bed, resolving that come what might he would not tell what had happened to him and thus get the laugh on him.  So he kept his own counsel, and the girl kept the seventy pounds, and laughed in her sleeve at her would-be lover.