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But the old man said nothing, and the miller chose a pair of boots which he thought likely to fit, and put them on. But no sooner were they on his feet than they crumbled and fell to pieces as if they had been burnt to ashes. At this the miller stared, but the little old man turned paler than before, and he began to shake with fear.

“Why, man,” cried the miller, “what ails the boots? They are as rotten as an old potato. Give me another pair.” So he chose another pair, and put them on, but the same thing happened again. The moment they were upon his feet they crumbled and fell away like dry ashes. At this the miller flew into a violent rage.

“What do you mean by selling such things?” he cried. “Give me another pair, and be sure that this time they are sound, for if they go like the last I'll beat you black and blue. No man shall serve me such a trick three times.”

But now the old man. began to tremble in every limb, and his teeth chattered in his head with fear, whilst every moment he looked thinner and smaller, for he knew now that his wicked charms had been broken.

The miller took the third pair of boots, but