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It happened once that the father was going to the fair, and asked

his wife's daughters what he should bring them. 'Fine clothes,'

said the first; 'Pearls and diamonds,' cried the second. 'Now,

child,' said he to his own daughter, 'what will you have?' 'The

first twig, dear father, that brushes against your hat when you

turn your face to come homewards,' said she. Then he bought for

the first two the fine clothes and pearls and diamonds they had

asked for: and on his way home, as he rode through a green copse,

a hazel twig brushed against him, and almost pushed off his hat:

so he broke it off and brought it away; and when he got home he

gave it to his daughter. Then she took it, and went to her

mother's grave and planted it there; and cried so much that it

was watered with her tears; and there it grew and became a fine

tree.