When the wolf ate cabbages and the cows mewed, there were houses where children dreamt of tables that, just by asking, were covered with delicacies; or donkeys that lifted their tails and shat gold by the bucketload if you knew what to say in their ears: Briclebrit, you silly little donkey!

Meanwhile, at the same kitchen table, and for a few cents each, their mothers sewed pockets and buttons, embroidered purses or made toys. And they told for the thousandth time that when frogs had hair and hens had beards, there was a tailor with three sons and only one goat....

The workers, mothers of the future workers, spread their bread with chocolate and filled themselves with telling them that they had to work to live and also that there was a king who had three princesses, locked them in three troughs and threw them into the sea. Shall I tell you again?
But what happens when work invades the kitchen table and domestic life like a greedy weevil and the table of delicacies is broken and the donkey runs away wagging its ears and has to be lured with tricks and carrots? Another story will have to be started...

Well, this is the tale of a Galician working class family in those days when it was easier to believe in the stories of grandmothers than in the promises of the bosses.