But Jack speedily burst it open with the iron bar. Who says that I am not Meysey Hill? I was trying to scare you. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. “Perhaps,” he said, “I have been to blame. "Farewell!" blubbered the executioner's wife, pressing his hand to her lips. I found him lying like this, the bleeding partly stopped by this scarf, else he had been dead by now. " "And you whipped the beast? I passed him.
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