Cousin Lizzie was besieged by the children, and had to promise to do the singing, so I commenced my story.
"There was, once upon a time,--I almost think it was in Hallingdal,--a lassie who was sent up into the hay-loft with the cream porridge for the brownie,--I cannot recollect if it was on a Thursday or on a Christmas Eve, but I think it was a Christmas Eve. Well, she thought it was a great pity to give the brownie such a dainty dish, so she ate the porridge herself, and the melted butter in the bargain, and went up into the hay-loft with the plain oatmeal porridge and sour milk, in a pig's trough instead. 'There, that's good enough for you, Master Brownie,' she said. But no sooner had she spoken the words than the brownie stood right before her, seized her round the waist, and danced about with her, which he kept up till she lay gasping for breath, and when the people came up into the hay-loft in the morning, she was more dead than alive. But as long as they danced, the brownie sang,"