He climbed down off his horse, and left it to graze, and sat down by the gipsy, and did sums on his fingers, and at last he said, “A shilling a leg? Why, that comes to exactly four shillings, and no more. O, no; I could not think of accepting four shillings for this beautiful young horse of mine.”

“Well,” said the gipsy, “I’ll tell you what I will do. I’ll make it five shillings, and that’s three-and-sixpence more than the animal’s worth. And that’s my last word.”