"You are at the centre of all this, Meg. I know a love spell…" Pog said indignantly.

"Aye, ya do that, young Pog. How long was it since you came tripping to my door, full of admiration for a plough boy, and wanting him warmed?" The old woman chuckled as she pronounced 'warmed' with a long 'wahr'.

Both Pog and Tom blushed. The witch laughed again. "Not you, ya stupid ninny. HIM!" her pointed finger singled out Will, stood just inside the door.

The farmer gently turned his wife around. "What is all this?"

"The cake. The Apple cake I brought you the month we were betrothed…"

"I didn't eat it. The master's dog had it afore I could stop off the ploughing. I always wondered why he fussed after you so!"