Two widows lived in a hut, and one had two sons and the other had one—or a single widow had three sons. One day the eldest son was told by his mother to fetch water for a cake, because it was time for him to seek his fortune, and the cake was all she could give him. The can was broken, the water he brought back little, and so the cake was small. The mother offered him all of it with her curse, or half with her blessing, and he took the whole. He left behind a knife, and said if the blade grew rusty, he was dead.