"'Tis a piece of the shoe of the ass that bore the Blessed Virgin into Egypt," quavered the woman.
"Nay, say not ''tis', but ''twas' told me," corrected the stranger. "Now, once again, whence comes this twisted clout?"
"A nail from the tree on which was crucified the blessed St. Edmund," replied the dame.
"That savours less of the lie," quoth her interrogator, "seeing that 'tis said that at the town of Bury the tree still stands. Answer me, did your friar also say 'twas the very nail that pierced the martyred King's limbs?"
"Ay, an' it please thee," replied the woman.
"Then there I have him," exclaimed the stranger. "How can a nail of this length pierce a man's palm and hold him to a tree? See for yourselves, my masters, that 'tis beyond reason. Tell me, dame, what price did'st thou pay for these baubles?"
"A silver groat."
"Then lest it be said that I despoiled the Church, I will reimburse thee. Now, friends, one more question; since when hath it been the custom to shoe an ass with a horseshoe?"
A roar of laughter from the crowd greeted this hit. Then with a rapid motion of his arm the stranger flung the fragments of iron far across an adjoining field.
"Hence," he thundered, relaxing his grasp on the terrified friar, and with a tremendous buffet on the ear he sent the wretched man reeling through a lane betwixt the amazed spectators.