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"No," said Rhoda, "I ought to weed my flowers." "Ye must hurry," laughed the old broom-woman. "The rainbow won't stay for lazy folks." "I'm off!" cried Chrif; and away he went in search of the pot of gold. Rhoda watched him out of sight. Then she turned to weed the boat-garden. When her grandmother came from the berry pasture, Rhoda told her where Chrif had gone.
It was very pleasant. As they stood by the boat-garden, a voice called to them. The old broom-woman stood in the road. "Have ye found the pot of gold?" she asked. "No; but I have found something else far better!" said Chrif, "I have found home." The Frog-Tsarevna
"Are ye looking for a pot of gold, children?" said a voice behind them. It was the old broom-woman. She had a little house in the woods and sold brooms for a living. "A pot of gold!" cried Chrif. "Where is it?" "It's at the foot of the rainbow," said the broom-woman. "If ye get to the foot of the rainbow and then dig and dig, ye'll come to a pot of gold." "Rhoda! let's go quick!" said Chrif.
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