‘But I am quite sure,’ said Cechato, ‘that my head will never go into our corn measure.’ ‘I am sure it will,’ replied Thia; ‘just look here!’ And with these words she took the measure, which happened to be close at hand, and put it over his head, saying, ‘Nothing in God’s world could be a better fit than this. And now you must keep yourself quite still, neither moving a limb nor saying a word, otherwise we shall be able to do nothing. Then I will take our tamis sieve in my hand, and will begin to jump and dance around you, and whilst I am thus dancing I will speak the incantation which the old man taught me. And in this fashion the spell may be well and truly worked. But again I tell you that you must on no account stir a finger until I shall have repeated the incantation thrice, for it must be said three times over you in order that it may have any effect. After this we shall see whether the kite gives us any more trouble, or comes to steal our chicken.’ To this Cechato replied: ‘Would to God that what you say might be true, so that we might have a little rest and breathing space. You know well enough how hard we find it to bring up any chicken at all, on account of that fiend of a kite which devours every one we hatch. Never have we been able to rear enough chicken to sell, and with the money gained thereby to pay our landlord and the tax-gatherer, and to buy oil and salt and any other stores we may want for housekeeping.’ ‘Let us begin quickly then,’ said Thia, ‘for in this fashion we shall be able to do ourselves a good turn. Now, Cechato, lie down quickly.’ And Cechato straightway laid himself down on the floor. ‘Now stretch yourself out well to your full length,’ said Thia. And Cechato at once did his best to stretch himself out as far as ever he could. ‘That is right,’ said Thia, and hereupon she took a cloth of thick white linen and shrouded his face therewith. Next she took the corn measure and rammed it down on his head, and then caught up the tamis sieve and began to dance and skip around him and to repeat in the following wise the incantation which she said had been taught her by the old beggar: Thievish bird, I charge you well, Hearken to my mystic spell. While I dance and wave my sieve, All my tender chicks shall live. Not a bird from all my hatch, Thievish rascal, shall you snatch. Wolf nor rat his prey shall seek, Nor bird with sharp and crooked beak. Thieves who stand behind the door, Hearken, fly, and come no more. If my speech you cannot read, Surely you are fools indeed.