WICKED UNCLE. I persuaded him to watch with me the next night. Just at
midnight the queen came out. We followed her to the graveyard. "That is
enough," said his Majesty, "she is a witch and must die."

[_The_ CITIZENS _rush to the gates._]

CITIZENS (_calling_). See the witch!

GOODY. Is she coming?

WICKED UNCLE (_looking_). Yes, she is just within the gate. She rides in an
old cart drawn by an old horse--quite good enough for a witch.

[_Enter the_ KING _with servants and_ GUARDS. _Behind them is the cart. In
the cart sits_ ELIZA. _She is spinning and weaving, never once looking
up._]

GOODY. How pale she is! Bless me! She is spinning and weaving.

WICKED UNCLE. It is the eleventh coat and it will be the last.

GOODY. How she hurries to finish it!

[_The cart stops._]

KING (_to Eliza_). Once again I ask you,--Are you a witch?

(_Eliza shakes her head._)