Once upon a time there was a little woman who lived in Drumcarbit whose name was Jane Prib. She was a stout little woman but she was only two feet high and lived all alone in a little house. She churned weekly and it was very wonderful because she had neither cow nor calf. The neighbour boys went in often to she what was she doing and she was up standing on a chair churning. On one occasion at the unexpected arrival of the boy she turned headlong into the churn, and the boy pulled her out. Another evening at sunset a boy went in to see. She told him to come up and sit down at the fire. He was not long in till the door opened and in came a little man resembling herself. The young boy ran out and told his neighbours and and his father what he saw. They told him that it was her father that was dead long years ago, and none of the boys went in near it again.