"I have found a morsel of sausage on the table, but I cannot eat it all, for 'tis uncooked."
"No matter if it be uncooked, comrade. Give me a portion to sample."
"There is not much, friend, but take what is left and eat." And he gave him the cut-off yard.
The peasant fell to chewing the 'sausage' with fine appetite. He chewed and chewed, but could not swallow the morsel.
"What is wrong with it, comrade?" he asked. "'Tis impossible to eat it. Tis so tough."
"Put it in the frying-pan, roast it, and then thou wilt be able to eat it."
The peasant arose, went towards the fryingpan, and crammed the 'sausage' right 'twixt the teeth of the strolling player. He held it there; he held it there for a long while, making experiment with it.
"Nay," said he, at length. "The 'sausage' hath not grown tender. The fire hath done naught."
"Cease to wrestle with the thing," said the labourer. "The mistress of the house will hear and will scold us. Thou hast scattered the fire over the frying-pan. Look! sprinkle it with water that the woman may perceive naught."
"But where may I get the water?"
"Piss o'er it. Better extinguish the fire than have to go forth into the courtyard."
The peasant had great desire to piss, and he pissed forthwith upon the face of the strolling player. And when the strolling player felt the water, coming whence he knew not, fall right in his mouth, he said:
"The deluge hath arrived!"
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