As she grew older , the little gypsy became much more remarkable for strength and cunning than for sense or beauty . She had a low forehead , a flat nose , thick lips , coarse hair , and a skin not golden like that of Zizi , but the colour of clay . As she was always being teased about her complexion , she got as noisy and cross as a titmouse . So they used to call her Titty . Titty was often sent by the bricklayer to fetch water from the fountain , and as she was very proud and lazy the gypsy disliked this very much . It was she who had frightened Zizi by appearing with her pitcher on her shoulder . Just as she was stooping to fill it , she saw reflected in the water the lovely image of the Princess . ` What a pretty face ! ' she exclaimed , ` Why , it must be mine ! How in the world can they call me ugly ? I am certainly much too pretty to be their water carrier ! ' So saying , she broke her pitcher and went home . ` Where is your pitcher ? ' asked the bricklayer . ` Well , what do you expect ? The pitcher may go many times to the well ... ' ` But at last it is broken . Well , here is a bucket that will not break . ' The gypsy returned to the fountain , and addressing once more the image of Zizi , she said : ` No ; I do n't mean to be a beast of burden any longer . ' And she flung the bucket so high in the air that it stuck in the branches of an oak . ' I met a wolf , ' she told the bricklayer , ` and I broke the bucket across his nose . '
The bricklayer asked her no more questions , but took down a broom and gave her such a beating XXXXX her pride was humbled a little .
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