“What is the matter, Antonuccio?”
“I am to do no work to-day, but this evening I am to have my head chopped off.”
“Is that all? Be of good cheer—sta allegro—I will see what can be done.”
She put the pot on the fire to boil, and began to make the macaroni. When she had cooked a great deal, they fed all the furniture, pots and pans, chairs and tables, to please them, and induce them to be silent—all except the hearth-brush, whom by oversight they forgot.
“And now,” said Marietta, “we must be off and away; it is time for us to go!”
So away they ran. After a while the wizard and his wife returned and knocked at the door. No answer. They rapped and called, but got no reply. At last the hearth-brush cried:
“Who’s there?”
“Marietta, open the door—it is I.”
“I’m not Marietta. She has run away with Antonuccio. First they fed everybody with ever so much macaroni, but gave me none.”
Then the witch cried to the wizard: