Quoth she:
“Thou ravest, Vannka, who art sprung from the devil. My little father hath futtered me, and he hath so scorched my coynte that for three months I have not been able to piss.”
“Fear not, simpleton. My yard is cold.”
“Thou liest, Vannka, devil’s offspring. Let me touch it.”
“Take it, then.”
She took his yard in her hand and cried:
“Ah! wretched devil! thou seest well ‘tis warm! Dip it in the water!”
Vannka dipped his yard in the water and whistled with pain.
“See!” quoth the girl. “It hisseth! I told thee ‘twas burning, and thou didst deceive me, thief!”
And she would not let herself be futtered by Vannka.