“Yes, that is so, and if it doesn’t turn out to be true you can have your cow back.” “Ah! you don’t know what these beans are,” said the man “if you plant them over-night, by morning they grow right up to the sky.” “Walker!” says Jack “wouldn’t you like it?” “As you are so sharp,” says he, “I don’t mind doing a swop with you-your cow for these beans.” “Right you are,” said the man, “and here they are the very beans themselves,” he went on pulling out of his pocket a number of strange- looking beans. “Two in each hand and one in your mouth,” says Jack, as sharp as a needle. “Oh, you look the proper sort of chap to sell cows,” said the man “I wonder if you know how many beans make five.” “I’m going to market to sell our cow here.” “Well, Jack, and where are you off to?” said the man. “Good morning to you,” said Jack, and wondered how he knew his name. He hadn’t gone far when he met a funny-looking old man who said to him: “Good morning, Jack.” So he took the cow’s halter in his hand, and off he starts. “All right, mother,” says Jack “it’s market-day today, and I’ll soon sell Milky-white, and then we’ll see what we can do.” “We’ve tried that before, and nobody would take you,” said his mother “we must sell Milky-white and with the money do something, start shop, or something.” “Cheer up, mother, I’ll go and get work somewhere,” said Jack. “What shall we do, what shall we do?” said the widow, wringing her hands. But one morning Milky-white gave no milk and they didn’t know what to do.
And all they had to live on was the milk the cow gave every morning which they carried to the market and sold. There was once upon a time a poor widow who had an only son named Jack, and a cow named Milky-white.
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