Now the Sorcerer having seven heads--Greed, Envy, Spite, Malice, Passion, Jealousy, and Despair, each of which would have instantly sprung forth again had Fiola been able to chop it off--he had naturally fourteen ears, and these were so extraordinarily sensitive to noise that he had destroyed all the woodpeckers in the forest that he might not hear their tap-tap on the trees as they searched the bark for insects. You can judge, then, of his disgust when on his refusal to obey Lucretia's command, and break the bonds which held Fiorita, this host of crickets swarmed round his head, and filled the air with discord. Each pitched his voice in a different key, and the din of battle was as nothing to that which now pervaded the castle. These were the words of the witch-song: '_Cree-cree-cree-cree_ Set Fiola's Princess free. Sorcerer thou, but Witches we-- Cricket-Witches, from grass and ditches. _Cree-cree-cree-cree!_ Peace thine ears no more shall know Till thou bidst the lady go. _Cree-cree-cree-cree!_ Sorcerer, set the lady free!'[3] [Footnote 3: Crane's Italian Fairy Tales] Over and over again they chanted this lay, and every cricket, far and near, joined in the maddening chorus. They sang until the Sorcerer with the Seven Heads felt that his senses were leaving him; pallid with rage, he severed the White Princess's chains. By the power of Lucretia, who had clearly foreseen his discomforture, the moment that the chains fell from her Fiorita immediately became a cricket also, and gladly did she fly to the side of the Prince, who greeted her with rapture. All would now have been well had they straightway left the castle, for Lucretia waited outside to restore to them their human form. As Fiorita passed the great cauldron which still swung over the lamp, she could not resist the temptation to lean over and peep inside, and the fumes from the potion being very strong, she straightway fainted, falling into the midst of the blood-red liquid. Before it could wholly cover her, the Cricket King seized her wings in his mouth; he carried her thus into the open air, where she speedily revived. Great was Lucretia's concern, however, when she heard from Fiola what had happened. 'Alas,' she sighed, 'not even I, who am mistress of spells and enchantments, can avert from Fiorita the consequences of her delay. Since the Sorcerer's potion touched her, for six months each year she must be a cricket, even as now; for the rest, she will be the White Princess, to dwell with you where you will.' Then Fiorita was sad indeed, for she had lost her longing to see the land Beyond, and desired nothing better than to wed the Prince. But now that he knew she loved him, no spell could dampen Fiola's joy. 'While you are a cricket,' he said, 'I will be one too, for so long as you are beside me--what matters else?' And the Fays and Witches, who reverence all true love, elected to share their banishment.