Thanks for a crop, polyushko, the old man bowed. Thanks, kernels

Thanks for a crop, polyushko, the old man bowed. Thanks, kernels Unless the field hears the person?

the girl was surprised.

If kernels did not hear you, they on you not took offense, the old man noticed.

The girl sighed and gave to the grandfather a hand.

There were they long and, at last, approached the field earing gold wheat.

Thanks for a crop, polyushko, the old man bowed.

Thanks, kernels that you feed us with bread.

Forgive I, please, was asked by the girl.

Oh, the grandfather, look, some car on edge of a field zayekha la and cones crumpled, the girl exclaimed, having shown on the wide strip of the laindown ears.

.



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