“I am hungry and thirsty,” said the Prince, “and perhaps we can get some refreshments at yonder house.  So far, this has not been a very fine hunt.”

“No,” cried the Jolly-cum-pop, “not yet.  But what a joyful thing to see a hospitable mansion just at the moment when we begin to feel a little tired and hungry!”

The building they were approaching belonged to a Potentate, who lived at a great distance.  In some of his travels he had seen this massive house, and thought it would make a good prison.  He accordingly bought it, fitted it up as a jail, and appointed a jailer and three myrmidons to take charge of it.  This had occurred years before, but no prisoners had ever been sent to this jail.  A few days preceding the Jolly-cum-pop’s hunt, the Potentate had journeyed this way and had stopped at his jail.  After inquiring into its condition, he had said to the jailer: 

“It is now fourteen years since I appointed you to this place, and in all that time there have been no prisoners, and you and your men have been drawing your wages without doing any thing.  I shall return this way in a few days, and if I still find you idle I shall discharge you all and close the jail.”

This filled the jailer with great dismay, for he did not wish to lose his good situation.  When he saw the Prince and his party approaching, the thought struck him that perhaps he might make prisoners of them, and so not be found idle when the Potentate returned.  He came out to meet the hunters, and when they asked if they could here find refreshment, he gave them a most cordial welcome.  His men took their horses, and, inviting them to enter, he showed each member of the party into a small bedroom, of which there seemed to be a great many.

“Here are water and towels,” he said to each one, “and when you have washed your face and hands, your refreshments will be ready.”  Then, going out, he locked the door on the outside.

The party numbered seventeen:  the Prince, three courtiers, five boys, five girls, the course-marker, the map-maker, and the Jolly-cum-pop.  The heart of the jailer was joyful; seventeen inmates was something to be proud of.  He ordered his myrmidons to give the prisoners a meal of bread and water through the holes in their cell-doors, and then he sat down to make out his report to the Potentate.

“They must all be guilty of crimes,” he said to himself, “which are punished by long imprisonment.  I don’t want any of them executed.”

So he numbered his prisoners from one to seventeen, according to the cell each happened to be in, and he wrote a crime opposite each number.  The first was highway robbery, the next forgery, and after that followed treason, smuggling, barn-burning, bribery, poaching, usury, piracy, witchcraft, assault and battery, using false weights and measures, burglary, counterfeiting, robbing hen-roosts, conspiracy, and poisoning his grandmother by proxy.