Good evening, children. It's Granny Madduff, ready with a story.

So make yourselves comfy, and I'll begin.

Once upon a time, there lived a husband and wife who had seven sons.

They loved their sons very much, but the husband longed for a daughter.

And no matter how much he wished for one, one had not come until finally their eighth child was born.

A girl. They called her Isabel.

She was very small and very weak.

Her parents worried.

They sent their seven sons to the stream,

which they believed to be a magical stream.

They thought perhaps it would take pity on them and make their baby strong.

The boys took the jug to the stream,

and because each of them wanted to be the one to fill it,

there was a tussle, and the jug ended up in the river.

Away it went, downstream until it disappeared from their sight.

They did not know what to do, but they dared not go home.

The man and his wife waited with their daughter for their sons to return with the water.

After some time, their father grew angry.

What could take them so long? Perhaps they abandoned their task for some silly game. Wicked boys,

he said, I wish they'd turn into ravens. And before he knew it,

seven ravens fluttered about over his head,

then went out the window and flew away.

...