the Thursday before Whitsun, at Vespers
My copper jug has been missing since Martinmas. I know exactly where it is, wrapped in a dirty sack under a certain housemaid's cot. I will not stoop to drag it out myself. She will hand it to me and confess, or the whole house will eat cold cabbage.
Nota scribaeThe woman spoke very quietly, but her eyes were like flint.

I never took it. The sack has nothing but old linen in it, I swear by the saints.
Then fetch it out and unfold it in the yard for all to see.