The farm servants, both men and maids, came to the cries, in shirts and smocks. The men wishing to avenge their master, were bound. Soon the shamefaced women, and especially the younger, hid behind the men.
Then Lamme went forward and said:
“Traitor farmer, where are the keys of the cellar, the stables, the cowshed, and the sheep-pens?”
“Infamous pillagers,” said the baes, “ye shall be hanged until ye are dead.”
Ulenspiegel replied:
“It is the hour of God; give up the keys!”
“God will avenge me,” said the baes, handing them over to him.
Having emptied the farm, the Beggars departed skating towards the ships, those light dwelling places of freedom.
“Master cook am I,” said Lamme, guiding them; “Master cook am I. Push along the gallant sledges laden with wines and beer; drive on before you, by their horns, or by anything, horses, oxen, swine, sheep, and flocks singing their native songs. The pigeons coo in the baskets; the capons, stuffed with crumb, are astonied in their wooden cages wherein they cannot budge. I am master cook. The ice cries out beneath the steel of the skates. We are at the ships. To-morrow there will be kitchen music. Let down the pulleys; put girths on the horses, cows, and oxen. ’Tis a noble sight to see them thus pendent by their bellies; to-morrow we shall be hanging by the tongue to fat fricassees. The crane hoists them up into the ship. These be carbonadoes. Throw me them pell mell into the hold, hens, geese, ducks, capons. Who will wring their necks? The master cook. The door is locked, I have the key in my satchel. Praised be God in the kitchen! Long live the Beggar!”
Then Ulenspiegel went on board the admiral’s ship taking with him Dierick Slosse and the other prisoners, moaning and weeping for terror of the rope.