There was once a woman who was always joyful, despite the fact that she was old, poor, and lonely. She lived in a shack and made a little living by doing errands for her neighbors, receiving a snack here and sup there in exchange for her services. So she moved to get on, and she always looked lively and cheerful, as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
What should she see but a giant black pot lying in the ditch one summer evening as she trotted along the high road to her hovel, full of smiles as customary?
“”Oh, my goodness!” she cried, “it would be perfect for me if I only had anything to put in it!” But I haven’t done so! Who could have possibly thrown it in the dump?”
And she looked around, expecting to see the owner nearby, but there was no one.
“”Maybe there’s a hole in it,” she continued, “and that’s why it’s been thrown away.” But placing a flower in my window would be OK, so I’ll just take it home with me.”
She then lifted the lid and took a look inside. “Mercy on me!” she cried, startled. “If it isn’t brimming with gold coins. Here’s hoping for the best!”
And so it was, filled with huge gold coins. She merely stood still at first, unsure if she was standing on her head or her heels. She then went on to say:
“Lawks! However, I do feel rich. I’m feeling quite wealthy!”
She began to wonder how she was able to get her treasure home after saying it so many times. She couldn’t carry it because it was too heavy, so she tied the end of her shawl to it and pulled it behind her like a go-cart.
“It’ll be dark soon,” she thought to herself as she raced along. “The more the merrier! The neighbours won’t notice what I’m carrying home, and I’ll have the entire night to myself to plan my next move! Maybe I’ll purchase a big house and live like a queen, lying by the fire with a cup of tea while doing nothing.”
She was tired of dragging such a heavy load by this point, so she took a break and turned to look at her prize.
And, lo and see! It wasn’t even close to being a pot of gold! It was just a chunk of silver.
She stared at it, wiped her eyes, and then stared at it some more.
“Well! I never do anything like that! “Finally, she said anything. “I was sure it was a gold pot, and there I was!! I must’ve been dreaming. But it’s a stroke of luck! Silver is far less bothersome it’s to keep track of and less easily stolen. Those gold pieces would have killed me, and with this big lump of silver—”
So she went out again, planning what she would do and feeling as rich as ever, when she became tired and stopped to rest, checking to see if her prize was safe; but all she saw was a huge lump of iron!
“Well! “I never!” she exclaims one more. “And I thought it was silver!” I must’ve been dreaming. But it’s a stroke of luck! It’s quite practical. For old iron, I can obtain penny pieces, which are a lot more efficient for me than your gold and silver. Why! For fear of being robbed, I should not have slept a wink.
But a cent coin comes in useful, and I’m going to sell that iron and make lots of money rich.”
So she trotted on, full of ideas for how she would spend her penny pieces, till she came to a halt and looked to see if her treasure was safe. And all she saw this time was a large stone.
“Well! “I never!” she cried, her face glowing. “And here I was thinking it was iron,” says the speaker. I must’ve been dreaming. But here’s luck, and I’m hungry for a stone to help me open the gate. Oh my goodness! move in the Exact direction! It’s wonderful to be lucky.”
So she trotted down the hill to her own cottage, all in a hurry to check how the stone would keep the gate open. She turned to unlatch her shawl from the stone on the path behind her after unfastening the gate. Aye! It was, without the need for a certainty, a stone. It was easy to see it lying there, calm and serene as a stone should be.
So she bent down to unravel the shawl end when—”Oh my!” she said. It suddenly moved, screamed, and shrunk to the size of a haystack in an instant.
Then it trounced away, kicking and squealing and whinnying and laughing like a naughty, naughty boy! It stretched out two long ears, nourished a great long tail, and romped aside, kicking and squealing and whinnying and laughing like a naughty, mischievous boy!
The old woman followed until it was almost out of sight, then burst out laughing as well.
“”Well, I’m in luck!” she laughed. Quite perhaps the luckiest person in the area. Imagine that having the Bogey-Beast all to myself, and being so at ease with it! What a shock! That uplifted starting to feel GRAND sensation!” —
So she went back to the house and laughed over her great luck for the rest of the evening.