“You may go home the same way you came, for you aren’t wanted here.”
“Now,” croaked Joan, hoarse with passion, “as true as I tell you so, if you don’t sell me some eggs, you will wish your cakes dough.”
As the old witch said this, she perched herself on the stile, shaking her finger and “nodling” her head.
Madam Noy was a bit of a virago herself, so she took up a stone and flung it at Joan; it hit her in the face, and made her jaws rattle.
As soon as she recovered, she spinned forth:—
“Madam Noy, you ugly old bitch,
You shall have the gout, the palsy, and itch;
All the eggs your hens lay henceforth shall be addle;
All your hens have the pip, and die with the straddle;
And ere I with the mighty fine madam have done,