lves into position, they came slowly together, with grim and angry
looks; but suddenly Little John lowered his point. "Hold, good Cook!"
said he. "Now, I bethink me it were ill of us to fight with good
victuals standing so nigh, and such a feast as would befit two stout
fellows such as we are. Marry, good friend, I think we should enjoy this
fair feast ere we fight. What sayest thou, jolly Cook?"

At this speech the Cook looked up and down, scratching his head in
doubt, for he loved good feasting. At last he drew a long breath and
said to Little John, "Well, good friend, I like thy plan right well; so,
pretty boy, say I, let us feast, with all my heart, for one of us may
sup in Paradise before nightfall."

So each thrust his sword back into the scabbard and entered the pantry.
Then, after they had seated themselves, Little John drew his dagger and
thrust it into the pie. "A hungry man must be fed," quoth he, "so,
sweet chuck, I help myself without leave." But the Cook did not lag far
behind, for straightway his hands also were deeply thrust within the
goodly pasty. After this, neither of them spoke further, but used their
teeth to better purpose. But though neither spoke, they looked at one
another, each thinking within himself that he had never seen a more
lusty fellow than the one across the board.

At last, after a long time had passed, the Cook drew a full, deep
breath, as though of much regret, and wiped his hands upon the napkin,
for he could eat no more. Little John, also, had enough, for he pushed
the pasty aside, as though he would say, "I want thee by me no more,
good friend." Then he took the pottle of sack, and said he, "Now,
good fellow, I swear by all that is bright, that thou art the stoutest
companion at eating that ever I had. Lo! I drink thy health." So saying,
he clapped the flask to his lips and cast his eyes aloft, while the good
wine flooded his throat. Then he passed the pottle to the Cook, who also
said, "Lo, I drink thy health, sweet fellow!" Nor was he behind Little
John in drinking any more than in eating.

"Now," quoth Little John, "thy voice is right round and sweet, jolly
lad. I doubt not thou canst sing a ballad most blithely; canst thou
not?"

"Truly, I have trolled one now and then," quoth the Cook, "yet I would
not sing alone."

"Nay, truly," said Little John, "that were but ill courtesy. Strike up
thy ditty, and I will afterward sing one to match it, if I can.

"So be it, prett