“Fair greeting, comrade! If thou'rt for a little bickering and disputation with that goodly club o' thine, come thy ways for methinks I do smell the dawn.”
“Aha, thou naughty little one!” cried the Witch, shaking bony fist. “Art for fighting for rogue's life along of a Fool, then?”
Quoth LOBKYN:
Aye, grannam, though ye slap me, still,
Fight and aid this Fool I will—
“And talking o' Will,” quoth Will, “what o' me, for though I'm a tanner I'm a man, aye, verily, as I'm a tanner.”
“And methinks a better man than tanner!” said Jocelyn. “So here we stand three goodly wights and well armed. Let's away—”
“Nay, then, wild Madcap,” croaked the Witch, “an my Lobkyn go I go, and, though I be old and feeble, shalt find my craft more potent than sword or club—wait!”
Here the old woman, opening a dingy cupboard, took thence a small crock over which she muttered spells and incantations with look and gesture so evil that Lobkyn eyed her askance, Will the Tanner cowered and whispered fragments of prayers, and even Jocelyn crossed himself.
“Come!” croaked the Witch. “Now do I go to save rogue from gallows for sake of thee, tall Fool. Come ye, come and do as I bid ye in all things—come!”