“What will you take for your cow?” he asked.

And the owner of the cow, seeing he was a simpleton, said, “What you’ve got in your pocket.”

“Done!” said Mr. Vinegar, handed over the forty guineas, and led off the cow, marching her up and down the market, much against her will, to show off his bargain.

Now, as he drove it about, proud as Punch, he noticed a man who was playing the bagpipes.  He was followed about by a crowd of children who danced to the music, and a perfect shower of pennies fell into his cap every time he held it out.

“Ho, ho!” thought Mr. Vinegar.  “That is an easier way of earning a livelihood than by driving about a beast of a cow!  Then the feeding, and the milking, and the churning!  Ah, I should be the happiest man alive if I had those bagpipes!”

So he went up to the musician and said, “What will you take for your bagpipes?”

“Well,” replied the musician, seeing he was a simpleton, “it is a beautiful instrument, and I make so much money by it, that I cannot take anything less than that red cow.”

“Done!” cried Mr. Vinegar in a hurry, lest the man should repent of his offer.

So the musician walked off with the red cow, and Mr. Vinegar tried to play the bagpipes.  But, alas and alack! though he blew till he almost burst, not a sound could he make at first, and when he did at last, it was such a terrific squeal and screech that all the children ran away frightened, and the people stopped their ears.

But he went on and on, trying to play a tune, and never earning anything, save hootings and peltings, until his fingers were almost frozen with the cold, when of course the noise he made on the bagpipes was worse than ever.

Then he noticed a man who had on a pair of warm gloves, and he said to himself, “Music is impossible when one’s fingers are frozen.  I believe I should be the happiest man alive if I had those gloves.”

So he went up to the owner and said, “You seem, sir, to have a very good pair of gloves.”  And the man replied, “Truly, sir, my hands are as warm as toast this bitter November day.”

That quite decided Mr. Vinegar, and he asked at once what the owner would take for them; and the owner, seeing he was a simpleton, said, “As your hands seem frozen, sir, I will, as a favour, let you have them for your bagpipes.”

“Done!” cried Mr. Vinegar, delighted, and made the exchange.

Then he set off to find his wife, quite pleased with himself.  “Warm hands, warm heart!” he thought.  “I’m the happiest man alive!”

But as he trudged he grew very, very tired, and at last began to limp.  Then he saw a man coming along the road with a stout stick.

“I should be the happiest man alive if I had that stick,” he thought.  “What is the use of warm hands if your feet ache!” So he said to the man with the stick, “What will you take for your stick?” and the man, seeing he was a simpleton, replied: