and now only one,
Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!'
then he looked up and the last one had left off work.
'Bird,' he said, 'what a beautiful song that is you sing! Let me hear it
too; sing it again.'
'Nay,' answered the bird, 'I do not sing twice for nothing; give me that
millstone, and I will sing it again.'
'If it belonged to me alone,' said the man, 'you should have it.'
'Yes, yes,' said the others: 'if he will sing again, he can have it.'
The bird came down, and all the twenty millers set to and lifted up the
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