“A likely story that,” says the old woman.  “A cow can cut grass for herself.  And the foolish thing will be quite safe up there, for I’ll tie a rope round her neck, pass the rope down the chimney, and fasten t’other end to my wrist, so as when I’m doing my bit o’ washing, she can’t fall off the roof without my knowing it.  So mind your own business, young sir.”

Well, after a while the old woman coaxed and codgered and bullied and badgered the cow up the ladder, and when she got it on to the roof she tied a rope round its neck, passed the rope down the chimney, and fastened t’other end to her wrist.  Then she went about her bit of washing, and young squire he went on his way.

But he hadn’t gone but a bit when he heard the awfullest hullabaloo.  He galloped back, and found that the cow had fallen off the roof and got strangled by the rope round its neck, while the weight of the cow had pulled the old woman by her wrist up the chimney, where she had got stuck half-way and been smothered by the soot!

“That is one bigger silly,” quoth the young squire as he journeyed on.  “So now for two more!”

He did not find any, however, till late one night he arrived at a little inn.  And the inn was so full that he had to share a room with another traveller.  Now his room-fellow proved quite a pleasant fellow, and they forgathered, and each slept well in his bed.

But next morning, when they were dressing, what does the stranger do but carefully hang his breeches on the knobs of the tallboy!

“What are you doing?” asks young squire.

“I’m putting on my breeches,” says the stranger; and with that he goes to the other end of the room, takes a little run, and tried to jump into the breeches.

But he didn’t succeed, so he took another run and another try, and another and another and another, until he got quite hot and flustered, as the old woman had got over her cow that wouldn’t go up the ladder.  And all the time young squire was laughing fit to split, for never in his life did he see anything so comical.

Then the stranger stopped a while and mopped his face with his handkerchief, for he was all in a sweat.  “It’s very well laughing,” says he, “but breeches are the most awkwardest things to get into that ever were.  It takes me the best part of an hour every morning before I get them on.  How do you manage yours?”

Then young squire showed him, as well as he could for laughing, how to put on his breeches, and the stranger was ever so grateful and said he never should have thought of that way.

“So that,” quoth young squire to himself, “is a second bigger silly.”  But he travelled far and he travelled fast without finding the third, until one bright night when the moon was shining right overhead he came upon a village.  And outside the village was a pond, and round about the pond was a great crowd of villagers.  And some had got rakes, and some had got pitchforks, and some had got brooms.  And they were as busy as busy, shouting out, and raking, and forking, and sweeping away at the pond.