And I knew we all felt mean, eating and drinking Marget's fine things along with those companies of spies, and petting her and complimenting her with the rest, and seeing with self-reproach how foolishly happy she was, and never saying a word to put her on her guard.

And, indeed, she was happy, and as proud as a princess, and so grateful to have friends again.

And all the time these people were watching with all their eyes and reporting all they saw to Father Adolf.
But he couldn't make head or tail of the situation.

There must be an enchanter somewhere on the premises, but who was it?
Marget was not seen to do any jugglery, nor was Ursula, nor yet Gottfried; and still the wines and dainties never ran short, and a guest could not call for a thing and not get it.

To produce these effects was usual enough with witches and enchanters--that part of it was not new; but to do it without any incantations, or even any rumblings or earthquakes or lightnings or apparitions--that was new, novel, wholly irregular.