“Beasts and birds o’ each degree,
   Clean me this stable for love o’ me.”

And, lo and behold! in a minute the beasts of the fields came trooping, and the sky was just dark with the wings of birds, and they carried away the muck, and the stable was clean as a new pin before the evening.

Now when the Magician saw this, he grew hot and angry, and he guessed it was his daughter’s magic that had wrought the miracle.  So he said:  “Shame on the wit that helped you; but I have a harder job for you to-morrow.  Yonder is a lake seven miles long, seven miles broad, and seven miles deep.  Drain it by nightfall, so that not one drop remains, or, of a certainty, I eat you for supper.”

So once again Nix Naught Nothing rose before dawn, and began his task; but though he baled out the water without ceasing, it ever ran back, so that though he sweated and laboured, by breakfast-time he was no nearer the end of his job.

But when the Magician’s daughter came with his breakfast she only laughed and said, “I’ll soon mend that!” Then she clapped her hands and called: 

  “Oh! all ye fish of river and sea,
   Drink me this water for love of me!”

And, lo and behold! the lake was thick with fishes.  And they drank and drank, till not one drop remained.

Now when the Magician returned in the morning and saw this he was as angry as angry.  And he knew it was his daughter’s magic, so he said:  “Double shame on the wit that helped you!  Yet it betters you not, for I will give you a yet harder task than the last.  If you do that, you may have my daughter.  See you, yonder is a tree, seven miles high, and no branch to it till the top, and there on the fork is a nest with some eggs in it.  Bring those eggs down without breaking one or, sure as fate, I’ll eat you for my supper.”

Then the Magician’s daughter was very sad; for with all her magic she could think of no way of helping her lover to fetch the eggs and bring them down unbroken.  So she sate with Nix Naught Nothing underneath the tree, and thought, and thought, and thought; until an idea came to her, and she clapped her hands and cried: 

  “Fingers of mine, for love of me,
   Help my true lover to climb the tree.”

Then her fingers dropped off her hands one by one and ranged themselves like the steps of a ladder up the tree; but they were not quite enough of them to reach the top, so she cried again: 

  “Oh! toes of mine, for love o’ me,
   Help my true lover to climb the tree.”

Then her toes began to drop off one by one and range themselves like the rungs of a ladder; but when the toes of one foot had gone to their places the ladder was tall enough.  So Nix Naught Nothing climbed up it, reached the nest, and got the seven eggs.  Now, as he was coming down with the last, he was so overjoyed at having finished his task, that he turned to see if the Magician’s daughter was overjoyed too:  and lo! the seventh egg slipped from his hand and fell