At sunset Frog-eye Fearsome opened the door again to thrust in another crust and some water and say, "In the morning you shall be drowned; drowned in the Witch's mill-pond with a great stone tied to your heels." Again the croaking creature stood and gloated over his victim, then left him to the silence of another long day in the dungeon.

The third day he opened the door and hopped in, rubbing his webbed hands together with fiendish pleasure, saying, "You are to have no food and drink to-night, for the Witch has thought of a far more horrible punishment for you.

In the morning I shall surely come again, and then--beware!" Now as he stopped to grin once more at the poor Prince, a Fly darted in, and, blinded by the darkness of the dungeon, flew straight into a spider's web, above the head of Ethelried.
"Poor creature!" thought Ethelried.

"Thou shalt not be left a prisoner in this dismal spot while I have the power to help thee." He lifted the scissors and with one stroke destroyed the web, and gave the Fly its freedom.
As soon as the dungeon had ceased to echo with the noise that Frog-eye Fearsome made in banging shut the heavy door, Ethelried heard a low buzzing near his ear.

It was the Fly, which had alighted on his shoulder.
"Let an insect in its gratitude teach you this," buzzed the Fly.
"To-morrow, if you remain here, you must certainly meet your doom, for the Witch never keeps a prisoner past the third night.