The second hundred years came to an end.
‘Are you ready, Pret’ Olivo?’ said Death one morning, putting her head in at the door.
‘Pretty nearly,’ answered Pret’ Olivo. ‘Meantime, just take that basket, and gather me a couple of figs to eat before I go.’
As she went away he said, ‘Stick to the tree’ (but not so that she could hear it); for you remember he had power given him to make her do what he liked. She had therefore to stick to the tree.
‘Well, Lady Death, are you never going to bring those figs?’ cried Pret’ Olivo after a time.
‘How can I bring them, when you know I can’t get down from this tree? Instead of making game of me, come and take me down.’
‘Will you leave me alone another hundred years if I do?’
‘Yes, yes; anything you like. Only make haste and let me go.’
The third hundred years came to an end, and Death appeared again. ‘Are you ready this time, Pret’ Olivo?’ she cried out as she approached.
‘Yes, this time I’ll come with you,’ answered Pret’ Olivo. Then he vested himself in the Church vestments, and put a cope on, and took a pack of cards in his hand, and said to Death, ‘Now take me to the gate of Hell, for I want to play a game of cards with the Devil.’