She stole the heart and liver, and escaped, she believed. The one from whom she stole devised seamless revenge. The witch away in the woods spun a purple woolen thread, finger-thick, boiled it, and tied it in three knots. The witch away in the woods sat on the cushions, tummy rolling over, gurgling with hunger but full of fat, craving the stolen sweetbreads. The more she imagined the tastier they became. She would curse her stomach; too, make her stomach gurgle and bubble and fatty. She spoke the words over the tied thread, and the thief doubled over in pain.