"To-morrow is the last evening; make me a present of it!"
There was a general outcry:
"No, no, no presents! You got your Ascension cake!"
Even the goats bleated their approval.
The next day, I went about like a lost sheep. Then the thought suddenly came to me: "Deceive them! Invent something!"
But my conscience at once stepped in and cried aloud:
"What you tell must be real! You really had the cake!"
Nevertheless, an event occurred in the course of that day which made me hope that, in the heat of the excitement, it would release me from my duty.
My brother Jakoberle lost his Zeitzerl. He went this way and that over the heath, he went into the wood and, crying and calling, hunted for the goat. But, at last, he brought her home, late in the evening. We ate our porridge quietly and went to our cribs; and a story was expected of me.
All was silent. The listeners waited eagerly. The goats clashed their teeth together as they chewed the cud.