"Now, whom have we here?" cried he. "A pedlar, a donkey, a raven, and a hedge-sparrow. A set of worthless vagabonds, I'll be bound! Let us hear what they have to say for themselves."
On this the pedlar began to complain of the hedge-sparrow, and the hedge-sparrow of the raven, and the raven of the donkey, and the donkey of the pedlar.
The mayor did not heed them much, but he eyed the pedlar's pack, and at length interrupted them, and said,
"I am convinced that you are a set of good-for-nothing fellows, and one is quite as bad as the other, so I order that the pedlar be locked up in the prison, that the donkey be soundly well thrashed, and that the raven and the hedge-sparrow both have their tail-feathers pulled out, and then be turned out of the town. As for the blanket, it seems to me to be the only good thing in the whole matter, and as I cannot allow you to keep the cause of such a disturbance, I will take it for myself. Beadle, lead the prisoners away."
So the beadle did as he was told, and the pedlar was locked up for many days in the prison.
"It is very sad to think to what straits an honest man may be brought," he sighed to himself as he sat lamenting his hard fate. "In future this will be a warning to me to keep clear of hedge-sparrows. If the hedge-sparrow had paid me as he ought, I should not be here now."
Meantime the donkey was being soundly well thrashed, and after each blow he cried,
"Alas! alas! See what comes to an innocent quadruped for having to do with human beings. Had the pedlar given me the money he owed, I should not now be beaten thus. In future I will never make a bargain with men."
The raven and the hedge-sparrow hopped out of the town by different roads, and both were very sad, for they had lost all their tail feathers, which the beadle had pulled out.
"Alas!" croaked the raven, "my fate is indeed a hard one. But it serves me right for trusting a donkey who goes on his feet and cannot fly. It is truly a warning to me never again to trust anything without a beak."