“‘But where shall I find a wife?’ asked the wizard.
“‘I’ll find you one,’ said Tom.
“‘Will you?’
“‘To be sure. Tear up that contract, though, to begin with.’
“The wizard, not without grumbling, drew from his pocket the fatal paper, which Tom no sooner perceived than he pounced on it and swallowed it whole, making at the same time the reflection that he had never before tasted so delicious a morsel in his life.
“In the neighbourhood dwelt an old woman, who was a witch—one of the ugliest old women you ever saw, who every night flew up the chimney on a broom-stick, and played Meg’s diversions by the light of the moon. This lady had an owl, who was a bird of loose principles, and had been an associate of Tom’s in his gay days. This bright couple consulted together how they should persuade the ancient maiden to marry the old man.
“‘She never will,’ said the owl.
“‘Then we must make her; but how?’
“‘We must catch her first, and take her prisoner, and that is to be done easily enough, with a net, spun by a man of sixty years old, who has never set eyes on the face of woman.’
“‘Where are we to find him?’