rket-place." And when the man came into the market to
meet the cheeses, he stayed until the market was almost done, then went
and inquired of his neighbours and other men if they did see his cheeses
come to market. "Why, who should bring them?" said one of the
neighbours. "Marry, themselves," said the fellow; "they knew the way
well enough," said he: "a vengeance on them! For I was afraid to see my
cheeses run so fast, that they would run beyond the market. I am
persuaded that they are at this time almost as far as York." So he
immediately takes a horse and rides after them to York; but to this day
no man has ever heard of the cheeses.

In one Gaelic variant a woman is going to Inverness with a basket filled
with balls of worsted of her own spinning, and going down a hill, one of
the balls tumbles out and rolls along briskly, upon which she sends the
others after it, holding the ends of each in her hand; and when she
reaches the town, she finds a "ravelled hank" instead of her neat balls
of worsted. In another version a man goes to market with two bags of
cheese, and sends them downhill, like the Gothamite. After waiting at
the market all day in vain, he returns home, and tells his wife of his
misfortune. She goes to the foot of the hill and finds all the cheese.

The next Gothamite tale also finds its counterpart in the Gaelic
stories: There was a man of Gotham who bought at Nottingham a trivet, or
brandiron, and as he was going home his shoulders grew sore with the
carriage thereof, and he set it down; and seeing that it had three feet,
he said, "Ha! hast thou three feet, and I but two? Thou shalt bear me
home, if thou wilt," and set himself down thereupon, and said to the
trivet, "Bear me as long as I have borne thee; but if thou do not, thou
shalt stand still for me." The man of Gotham did see that his trivet
would not go farther. "Stand still, in the mayor's name," said he, "and
follow me if thou wilt. I will tell thee right the way to my home." When
he did come to his house, his wife said, "Where is my trivet?" The man
said, "He hath three legs, and I have but two; and I did teach him the
way to my house. Let him come home if he will." "Where left ye the
trivet?" said the woman. "At Gotham hill," said the man. His wife did
run and fetch home the trivet her own self, or else she had lost it
through her husband's wit.

In Campbell's version a man having been sent by his wife with her
spinning-wheel to get mended,