“And this is mine,” said James.
“And this is mine,” said John.
“And this is mine,” said James.
“And where is mine?” says Caspar. But neither of the others thought of him because he was so simple.
Just then who should come along but the rogue of a landlord. “Hi! and where did you get all that?” says he.
“Oh,” says Caspar, “the little old man in the willow-tree paid it to me for my little black hen.”
Yes, yes, the landlord knew how much of that cake to eat. He was not to have the wool pulled over his eyes so easily. See, now, he knew very well that thieving had been done, and he would have them all up before the master mayor for it. So the upshot of the matter was that they had to take him in to share with them.
“This is mine,” says the landlord.
“And this is mine,” says John.