If the woodman stared, the goodwife stared three times as much. "What's
all this?" says she.
Then all the morning's work came back to the woodman, and he told his
tale right out, from beginning to end, and as he told it the goodwife
glowered and glowered, and when he had made an end of it she burst out,
"Thou bee'st but a fool, Jan, thou bee'st but a fool; and I wish the
pudding were at thy nose, I do indeed."
And before you could say Jack Robinson, there the goodman sat and his
nose was the longer for a noble link of black pudding.
He gave a pull but it stuck, and she gave a pull but it stuck, and they
both pulled till they had nigh pulled the nose off, but it stuck and
stuck.
"What's to be done now?" said he.
"'T isn't so very unsightly," said she, looking hard at him.
Then the woodman saw that if he wished, he must need wish in a hurry;
and wish he did, that the black pudding might come off his nose. Well!
there it lay in a dish on the table, and if the goodman and goodwife
didn't ride in a golden coach, or dress in silk and satin, why, they had
at least as fine a black pudding for their supper as the heart of man
could desire.
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