"Oh, tell me, only tell me," said the Princess, "how can it be done, and
I'll do it, whatever it be." And as she begged and pleaded for them to
tell her, the youngest brother said at last, "You must pick thistledown,
and you must card it, and spin it, and weave it. After you have done
that, you must cut out and make twelve shirts, one for each of us, and
while you do that, you must neither talk, nor laugh, nor weep. If you
can do that we are free."
"But where shall I ever get thistledown enough for so many shirts?"
asked the sister.
"Well, that is the hardest thing of all," said the eldest brother. "You
must go to the witches' moor at midnight and gather it there," and big
tears stood in his eyes, "and you must go alone, all alone."
But the sister smiled and nodded her head, and when midnight came, and
the moon was high in the sky she said good-bye to her brothers, and went
to the great, wide moor, where the witches lived. There stood a great
crop of thistles, all nodding and nodding in the breeze, while the down
floated and glistened like gossamer through the air in the moonbeams.
The Princess began to pluck and gather it as fast as she could, but she
saw long skinny arms outstretched toward her, and, among the thistles,
she saw a host of wicked faces all looking at her. Her heart stood still
then and she grew icy cold, but never a sound did she utter, only
plucked and gathered until her bag was full; and when she got home at
break of day she set to work carding and spinning yarn from the down.
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