Aye! A witch-pricker’s finger can be pointed at any one of us. It chose me. There is a hangman’s noose. There are cells and locked doors. We all know it. They belong to the people who own all of us. It’s true the witch-pricker picked us out one by one, but he did not point with his finger. It is a chicken bone (boiled clean) that pokes out from his shirt-sleeves.
