We boys wanted to warn them, but we backed down when it came to the pinch, being afraid Father Adolf would find it out. We found that we were not manly enough nor brave enough to do a generous action when there was a chance that it could get us into trouble. Neither of us confessed this poor spirit to the others, but did as other people would have done – dropped the subject and talked about something else. And I know we all felt mean, eating and drinking Marget's fine things along with those companies of spies, and petting her and complimenting her with the rest, and seeing with self-reproach how foolishly happy she was, and never saying a word to put her on her guard. And indeed she was happy, and as proud as a princess, and so grateful to have friends again. And all the time those people were watching with all their eyes and reporting all they saw to Father Adolf.

But he couldn't make head nor tail of the situation. There must be an enchanter somewhere on the premises, but who was it? Marget was not seen to do any jugglery, nor was Ursula, nor yet Gottfried; and still the wines and dainties never ran short, and a guest could not call for a thing and not get it. To produce these effects was usual enough with witches and enchanters – that part of it was not new; but to do it without any incantations, or even any rumblings or earthquakes or lightnings or apparitions – that was new, novel, wholly irregular. There was nothing in the books like this. Enchanted things were always unreal: gold turned to dirt in an unenchanted atmosphere, food withered away and vanished. But this test failed, in the present case. The spies brought samples: Father Adolf prayed over them, exorcised them, swore at them, but it did no good; they remained sound and real, they yielded to natural decay only, and took the usual time to it.

Father Adolf was not merely puzzled, he was also exasperated; for these evidences very nearly convinced him – privately – that there was no witchcraft in the matter. It did not wholly convince him, for this could be a new kind of witchcraft. There was a way to find out, as to this: if this prodigal abundance of provender was not brought in from the outside but produced on the premises, there was witchcraft, sure.

Marget announced a party, and invited forty people; the date for it was seven days away. This was Father Adolf's opportunity. Marget's house stood by itself, and could be easily watched. All the week it was watched night and day. Marget's household went out and in as usual, but they carried nothing in their hands, and neither they nor others brought anything to the house. This was ascertained. Evidently rations for forty people were not being fetched. If they were furnished any sustenance it would have to be made on the premises. It was true that Marget went out with a basket every evening, but the spies ascertained that she always brought it back empty.

The guests arrived at noon, and filled the place. Father Adolf followed, after a little, without an invitation. His spies informed him that neither at the back nor the front had any parcels been brought in. He entered, and found the eating and drinking going on finely, and everything going on in a lively and festive way. He glanced around and perceived that many of the cooked delicacies and all of the native and foreign fruits were of a perishable character, and he also recognised that these were fresh and perfect. No apparitions, no incantations, no thunder. That settled it. This was witchcraft. And not only that, but of a new kind – a kind never dreamed of before.