"Very good," said his mother, "now thou canst get a wife."

"Ay," said he, "I'm going to marry so-an'-so."

"What!" said his mother, "_that_ lass? No, and that thou 'lt not. She's
nought but a brat, with ne'er a cow or a cabbage o' her own."

"But I gave her my luck penny," said the fool.

"Then thou 'rt a bigger fool than ever, for all thy coat o' clay!" said
his mother, and banged the door in his face.

"Dang it!" said the fool, and scratched his head, "that's not the right
sort o' clay sure-_ly_."

So back he went to the highroad and sat down on the bank of the river
close by, looking at the water, which was cool and clear.

By-and-by he fell asleep, and before he knew what he was
about--plump--he rolled off into the river with a splash, and scrambled
out, dripping like a drowned rat.

"Dear, dear," said he, "I'd better go and get dry in the sun." So up he
went to the highroad, and lay down in the dust, rolling about so that
the sun should get at him all over.

Presently, when he sat up and looked down at himself, he found that the
dust had caked into a sort of skin over his wet clothes till you could
not see an inch of them, they were so well covered. "Hi, yi!" said he,