"Saturday is still far away," shrugged the hermit, ignoring Frosty-Eye Kate's ominous words.
It was still Thursday, one of the happiest days of the week for Frosty Ivan.
He continued cheerfully on his way to fetch water from the magical spring, now knowing that something strange had happened with the Saturday and Wednesday witches.
His day had started well. Frosty-Eye Kate and Grumpy Enciana had been struck by a curse. They had woken up in their nightgowns in a haystack.
There was no need to turn back three times in front of Kate's house to ruin the Saturday witch's early-morning sleep with the creaking wheels.
A Thursday couldn't have started more beautifully!
He looked back with glee. The two witches were already on their brooms. They were heading to confront Bubble-Bib Purple, who had presided over yesterday's witch meeting, about the curse or hex that had befallen them.
"Something happened on the Hill last night," rejoiced the hermit. "I'll pick strawberries and wildflowers on the way home. I'll reward the Wednesday witches for that."
Frosty Ivan quickened his pace to get home from the spring as soon as possible. He didn't want to miss how strange events were unfolding around Frosty-Eye Kate and Grumpy Enciana. And fortunately, they were bad events.
"If they sent Grumpy Enciana home from the Hill, and she was so mad she got off her broom to kick my door, why should I mind having been awakened in the night?" he thought.
The wheelbarrow's wheels spun faster, squeaking louder, though the cheerful whistling was missing, because Frosty Ivan's thoughts weren't on singing, humming, or whistling—they were on the two unlucky witches.
Only his soul sang happy tunes. How could it not? Something bad had happened to those two wretched witches.
The hermit kept looking back until his wheelbarrow tripped over a stone, a bump.
"Curse that four-percent, two-ounce, soured wine of the cliff hermit!" he muttered to himself.
Mentioning the cliff hermit's bad-tasting wine didn't stop the empty water barrels from rolling again toward the ditch from the overturned wheelbarrow. First the green, then the white, in proper order.
He was glad he hadn't fallen on his knees when his wheelbarrow hit the stone and bump this time.
He blamed the witches. If he didn't have to keep an eye on them, the wheelbarrow wouldn't have tripped over stones and bumps.
He headed toward the water barrels. Their lids fell off, thumping loudly into the roadside ditch.
"I'll wash them properly at the spring," he reassured himself.
Now he had to watch the road more carefully. He put the water barrels back on the wheelbarrow, green in front, white behind, as usual.
He glanced back again. He suspected the two naughty witches were laughing at him.
Those two cheeky ones! Those two wretched witches!
Neither witch was laughing. Their brooms lay motionless on the ground, their feet tangled. They couldn't take a single step forward. They shuffled and stamped in place. They couldn't move their feet ahead.
Frosty-Eye Kate was angry.
Grumpy Enciana was just mad.
It didn't cheer them up that Frosty Ivan's wheelbarrow had tripped again.
"Hey, Kate! Maybe the hermit was cursed along with us during last night's meeting on the Hill," Grumpy Enciana suggested, voicing her worst suspicion.
Frosty-Eye Kate glared back at the hermit, hands on her hips, brow furrowed, nose pointed forward. This posture was reserved for him alone.
Frosty Ivan just stood there, watching the two shameless, wretched witches.
"Hey, Kate! I'm going back to the hermit…" began Enciana.
Frosty-Eye Kate now mirrored the same posture toward the Wednesday witch that she had previously reserved only for the hermit.
"I'm not. If necessary, I'll sit here all day. All week, the entire century, and I won't ask Frosty Ivan for anything!"
She emphasized her decision. As she was, in her nightgown, she sat on a roadside stone and remained strictly silent. She didn't even pick up her broom from the ground.
Let that disobedient, lazy thing lie there in the dust.
The Wednesday witch shrugged.
"I'm not sitting here all day, all week, the entire century. I'll turn back and ask the hermit to take us to Bubble-Bib Purple. I see we won't get there without him."
Frosty-Eye Kate didn't answer, just turned her head away. She sat motionless on the stone, as if glued there.
Grumpy Enciana watched the hermit. Frosty Ivan had grown tired of gloating over the witches' misfortune. He wanted to move on, but he couldn't. He shuffled in place. The wheelbarrow's wheels were still, no longer spinning, no longer squeaking.
"See, Kate?" the Wednesday witch said, pointing at the hermit. "Frosty Ivan was cursed and hexed along with us. We can only reach Bubble-Bib Purple together."
Frosty-Eye Kate didn't even turn her head toward the hermit.
"Then I'm not going," she whispered softly.
Grumpy Enciana shrugged again.
"Then I'll go to Bubble-Bib Purple with the hermit, Kate!"