“See, now,” says Master Jacob, “I will drive the fat pig to the market to-morrow; who knows but that I might strike a bit of a sale.”
“Do,” says Master Jacob’s wife, for she was of the good sort, and always nodded when he said “yes,” as the saying goes.
Now there were three rogues in the town over the hill, who lived in plenty; one was the priest, one was the provost, and one was the master mayor; and which was the greatest rogue of the three it would be a hard matter to tell, but perhaps it was the priest.
“See, now,” says the priest to the other two, “Master Jacob, who lives over yonder way, is going to bring his fat pig to market to-morrow. If you have a mind for a trick, we will go snacks in what we win, and each of us will have a rib or two of bacon hanging in the pantry, and a string or so of sausages back in the chimney without paying so much as a brass button for them.”
Well, of course that was a tune to which the others were willing to dance. So the rogue of a priest told them to do thus and so, and to say this and that, and they would cheat Master Jacob out of his good fat pig as easily as a beggar eats buttered parsnips.
So the next morning off starts Master Jacob to the market, driving his fat pig before him with a bit of string around the leg of it. Down he comes into the town, and the first one whom he meets is the master priest.
“How do you find yourself, Master Jacob?” says the priest, “and where are you going with that fine, fat dog?”
“Dog!” says Master Jacob, opening his eyes till they were as big and as round as saucers. “Dog! Prut! It is as fine a pig as ever came into this town, I would have you know.”
“What!” says the priest. “Do you try to tell me that that is a pig, when I can see with both of my ears and all of my eyes that it is a great, fat dog?”
“I say it is a pig!” says Master Jacob.