“That is the way birds are put in the cage.”
And the spell was broken.
Ulenspiegel, Lamme, and the butchers looked at one another.
“Now, then, will you pay me?” said the Stevenyne, “will you pay me, Messire Ulenspiegel, you that grow so fat on the flesh of preachers?”
Lamme would have spoken, but Ulenspiegel made him hold his tongue, and speaking to the Stevenyne:
“We shall not pay in advance,” said he.
“I will pay myself afterwards then out of your estate,” said the Stevenyne.
“Ghouls feed on corpses,” replied Ulenspiegel.
“Aye,” said one of the catchpolls, “those two have taken the preachers’ money; more than three hundred florins carolus. That makes a fine tithe for Gilline.”
Gilline sang: