So off they all went, Master Jacob and the priest and the provost and the mayor, and after a while they came to Master Jacob’s house. Yes, sure enough, there was a black goat feeding in the front yard, and how should the priest and the provost and the mayor know that it was not the same one that they had seen at the market-place! And just then out came Master Jacob’s wife. “Come in, Jacob,” says she, “the cabbage and the meat are all ready. As for the beer, Neighbor Nicholas had none to spare, so I just borrowed a jugful of Neighbor Frederick, and it is as good as the other for certain and sure.” Dear, dear! how the three cronies did open their eyes when they heard all of this! They would like to have such a goat as that, indeed they would. Now, if Master Jacob had a mind to sell his goat, they would give as much as twenty dollars for it. Oh, no; Master Jacob could not think of selling his nice little, dear little black goat for twenty dollars. For thirty, then. No; Master Jacob would not sell his goat for thirty dollars, either. Well, they would give as much as forty. No; forty dollars was not enough for such a goat as that. So they bargained and bargained till the upshot of the matter was that they paid Master Jacob fifty dollars, and marched off with the goat as pleased as pleased could be. Well, the three rogues were not long in finding out what a trick had been played upon them, I can tell you. So, in a day or two, whom should Master Jacob see coming down the road but the priest, the provost, and the master mayor, and anybody could see with half an eye that they were in an awful fume. “Hi!” says Master Jacob, “there will be hot water boiling presently.” In he went to his good wife. “Here,” says he, “take this bladder of blood that we were going to make into pudding, and hide it under your apron, and then when I do this and that, you do thus and so.” Presently in came the priest, the provost, and the mayor, bubbling and sizzling like water on slake lime. “What kind of a goat was that that you sold us?” bawled they, as soon as they could catch their breaths. “My black goat,” says Master Jacob. Then look! He would run on no errands, and would do nothing that it was told. It was of no more use about the house than five wheels to a wagon. Now Master Jacob might just go and put his hat on and come along with them, for they were about to take him away to prison. “But stop a bit,” says Master Jacob. “Did you say ‘by the great horn spoon,’ when you told the goat to do this or that?” No; the cronies had done nothing of the kind, for Master Jacob had said nothing about a great horn spoon when he sold them the goat. “Why didn’t you remind me?” says Master Jacob to his good wife. “I didn’t think of it,” says she. “You didn’t?” says he. “No,” says she. “Then take that!” says he, and he out with a great sharp knife and jabbed it into the bladder under her apron, so that the blood ran out like everything.