Some said that the King of Ireland’s Son was there too. The play was “The Unicorn from the Stars.” The mummers did it very well although they had no one to take the part of the Unicorn. They were in the middle of the play when Gilly of the Goatskin rushed into the barn. “Master, master,” he shouted, “your mill--your mill is on fire.” The Churl stood up, and then put his glass to his head and drained what was in it. “Make way for me, good people,” said he. “Let me out of this, good people.” Some people near the door began to talk of what Gilly held in his hands. “What have you there, my servant?” said the Churl. “A pair of horse’s legs, Master. I could only carry two of them.” The Churl caught Gilly by the throat. “A pair of horse’s legs,” said he. “Where did you get a pair of horse’s legs?” “Off a horse,” said Gilly. “I had trouble in cutting them off. Bad cess to you for telling me to come here with horse’s legs.” “And whose horse did you cut the legs off?” “Your own, Master. You wouldn’t have liked me to cut the legs off any other person’s horse. And I thought your race-horse’s legs would be the most suitable to cut off.” The mummers and the people were gathered round them and they saw the Churl’s face get black with vexation. “O my misfortune, that ever I met with you,” said the Churl. “Are you sorry for your bargain, Master?” said Gilly. “Sorry--I’ll be sorry every day and night of my life for it,” said the Churl. “You hear what my Master says, good people,” said Gilly. “Aye, sure. He says he’s sorry for the bargain he made with you,” said some of the people. “Then,” said Gilly, “strip him and put him across the bench until I cut a strip of his skin an inch wide from his neck to his heel.” None of the people would consent to do that. “Well, I’ll tell you something that will make you consent,” said Gilly. “This man made two poor servant-boys work for him, paid them no wages, and took a strip of their skin, so that they are sick and sore to this day. Will that make you strip him and put him across the bench?” “No,” said some of the people. “He ordered me to come here to-night and to shout ‘Master, master, your mill is on fire,’ so that he might be able to leave without paying the mummers their dues. His mill is not on fire at all.” “Strip him,” said the first mummer. “Put him across the bench,” said another. “Here’s a skinner’s knife for you,” said a third. The mummers seized the Churl, stripped him and put him across the bench. Gilly took the knife and began to sharpen it on the ground. “Have mercy on me,” said the Churl. “You did not have mercy on the other two poor servant-boys,” said Gilly. “I’ll give you your wages in full.” “That’s not enough.” “I’ll give you double wages to give to the other servant-boys.” “And will you pay the mummers’ dues for all the people here?” “No, no, no. I can’t do that.” “Stretch out your neck then until I mark the place where I shall begin to cut the skin.”