'I'm so stiff in the back', said the hag, 'you must creep into the
sack and fetch it out for yourself.'

But when Buttercup was well inside the sack, the old hag swung it
across her shoulders, and set off as fast as she could. This time she
did not turn aside to sleep by the way, but went straight home with
Buttercup in the sack, and when she reached her house it was Sunday.

So the old hag said to her daughter:

'Now you must take Buttercup and kill him, and boil him nicely till I
come back, for I'm off to church to bid my guests to dinner.'

So, when all in the house were gone to church the daughter was to
take Buttercup and kill him, but then she didn't know how to set
about it at all.

'Stop a bit', said Buttercup; 'I'll soon show you how to do it; just
lay your head on the chopping-block, and you'll soon see.'

So the poor silly thing laid her head down, and Buttercup took an axe
and chopped her head off, just as if she had been a chicken. Then he
laid her head in the bed, and popped her body into the pot, and
boiled it so nicely; and when he had done that, he climbed up on the
roof, and dragged up with him the fir-tree root and the stone, and
put the one over the door, and the other at the top of the chimney.

So when the household came back from church, and saw the head on the
bed, they thought it was the daughter who lay there asleep; and then
they thought they would just taste the broth.