In Suffolk the fairies are called ‘farisees’. Not many years ago, a butcher near Woodbridge went to a farmer’s to buy a calf, and finding, as he expressed it, that ‘the cratur was all o’ a muck,’ he desired the farmer to hang a flint by a string in the crib, so as to be just clear of the calf’s head. ‘Becaze,’ said he, ‘the calf is rid every night by the farisees, and the stone will brush them off.’ (Keightley 306, borrowed from Brand)