It happened once that her father was going to the fair, and asked his wife’s daughters what he should bring to them. “Fine clothes,” said the first. “Pearls and diamonds,” said the second. “Now, child,” said he to his own daughter, “what will you have?” “The first sprig, dear father, that rubs against your hat on your way home,” said she. Then he bought for the two first the fine clothes and pearls and diamonds they had asked for: and on his way home, as he rode through a green copse, a sprig of hazel brushed against him, so he broke it off and when he got