"And--and--the beasts is fattening," says he.

"They are," says she.

"And--and--" says he, and comes to a stop--"I reckon we'll tackle
business now, having done the polite like. Have you any brains for to
sell?"

"That depends," says she, "if thou wants king's brains, or soldier's
brains, or schoolmaster's brains, I dinna keep 'em."

"Hout no," says he, "jist ordinary brains--fit for any fool--same as
every one has about here; something clean common-like."

"Aye so," says the wise woman, "I might manage that, if so be thou 'lt
help thyself."

"How's that for, missis?" says he.

"Jest so," says she, looking in the pot; "bring me the heart of the
thing thou likest best of all, and I'll tell thee where to get thy
pottle o' brains."

"But," says he, scratching his head, "how can I do that?"

"That's no for me to say," says she, "find out for thyself, my lad! if
thou doesn't want to be a fool all thy days. But thou 'll have to read
me a riddle so as I can see thou 'st brought the right thing, and if thy
brains is about thee. And I've something else to see to," says she, "so