This I refused to do, and therefore it is that he puts me on my trial, because, as I am told, those who are found guilty of witchcraft are stripped of all their possessions, which those take who are strong enough to keep them.

Lastly, I deny the authority of this Court, and appeal to the King, who soon or late will hear my cry and avenge my wrongs, and maybe my murder, upon those who wrought them.

Good people all, hear my words.

I appeal to the King, and to him under God above I entrust my cause, and, should I die, the guardianship of my orphan son, whom the Abbot sent his creature to murder--his vile creature, upon whose head fell the Almighty's justice, as it will fall on yours, you slaughterers of the innocent." So spoke Cicely, and, having spoken, worn out with fatigue and misery, sank to the floor--for all these hours there had been no stool for her to sit on--and crouched there, still holding her child in her arms--a piteous sight indeed, which touched even the superstitious hearts of the crowd who watched her.
Now this appeal of hers to the King seemed to scare the fierce Old Bishop, who turned and began to argue with the Abbot.

Cicely, listening, caught some of his words, such as-- "On your head be it, then.