“And were their heads out?” asked Phronsie.
“Yes, their heads were all out, the bags were tied in ruffles, you know, around their necks; and they tried to get on their knees to beg the judge not to kill them; but instead, they flopped over, and the servants had to go around among them and set them up straight again. Well, oh! I forgot to tell you that the wise old cat sat up on the platform,—the judge invited her, you know. And the judge whispered something to the man with the big bell, and he ran out, and came racing back with a long knife; and after him came another man, wheeling and trundling a big grindstone”—
“Oh!” screamed Joel, in the greatest glee; “they’re going to chop off all the robbers’ heads, I know.”
“O Polly!” began Phronsie, just ready to cry.
“Wait, and you’ll see, Pet,” said Polly reassuringly. Old Mr. King put his hand over Phronsie’s small ones, and whispered something in her ear, so she snuggled up against his breast once more.
“Well, oh, let me see! where was I—oh”—
“You are going to chop off all those robbers’ heads,” howled Joel and Van together.
“‘Now,’ said the judge, in a perfectly awful voice, and looking at all those dozen robbers, ‘you’ve got to promise to show the way to your cave, or off go your heads!’ and he pointed to the man sharpening up the long knife on the grindstone.
“The robbers shook so in their bags they all flopped over again, and rolled on the floor. So somebody had to go and set them all straight in a row once more. ‘Hurry up,’ cried the judge, ‘and say “Yes,” for the knife is ready.’
“The man sharpening up the long knife began to brandish it in the air over the head stuck out of the bag of the robber first in the line.