The oldest witch sent word round the village: Plague is coming.

Witches lie, said some.

She was right, though: plague did come. It was bad. Many fell ill. Some died.

To each house she sent round a flask of potion, with the message: Here, drink this.

The witch-folk all drank, of course, and some of the others too; but some would not.

Worse 'n' plague, they said, anything comes from a witch.

Of those that drank, nearly all lived, and in this way, many were saved. But among those who refused the potion, many, many died.

On their own heads be it, said the oldest witch.