Fiona lived with her parents in their little croft at the edge of a marsh. Every morning she'd comb out the wool from their sheep. Every afternoon she'd spin the wool into thread. Every evening she'd weave the threads into good wool cloth.
One day the Laird came riding up to the gate.
"Hello," the Laird called out. "I am looking for a good wool cloak. Fiona came out from her work and brought cool water from the well.
"I am sure Fiona will weave her best for you." Her father smiled and shooed her back into the croft. "She can weave gold from straw."
Well, the Laird's ears perked up. He had money needs of his own to be sure.
"I do need a new cloak, but I need gold even more." The Laird stood. "Bring her by the castle and we will see." He fixed Fiona's father with a fierce glare. "Do not disappoint me, or it will be worse for you."