pass, he came to where there was a
merry party of strolling minstrels gathered around about that bright and
cheerful fire. Some of these fellows were clad in blue and some in
yellow and some in red and some in green and some in raiment pied of
many colors. And all they were eating with great appetite a savory stew
of mutton and lentils seasoned with onions and washed down with lusty
draughts of ale and wine which they poured forth, ever and anon, from
big round-bellied skins into horns and cups that were held to catch it.

These jolly fellows, beholding Sir Launcelot coming to them through the
dusk, gave him welcome with loud voices of acclaim and besought him to
descend from horseback and to eat with them, and Sir Launcelot was right
glad to do so.

So he dismounted from his horse and eased it of its saddle and turned it
loose to browse as it listed upon the grass of the wayside. And he laid
aside his shield and his spear and his sword and his helmet and he sat
him down with those minstrels and fell to eating and drinking with might
and main. And the minstrels bade him to take good cheer and to eat and
drink all that he desired and Sir Launcelot did so.

[Sidenote: _The minstrels chaunt._]

Then, after Sir Launcelot and the minstrels had supped their fill, those
lusty fellows brought forth other skins of wine and filling again the
several cups and flagons they all fell to drinking and making merry. And
several of the minstrels brought forth lutes and others brought forth
viols, and anon he who was the chief minstrel called upon one to stand
forth and sing, and that fellow did so, chaunting a rondel in praise of
his sweetheart's eyes. After that, another sang of battle and still
another sang in praise of pleasant living; meantime the others
accompanied, with lute and viol, those who sang, and Sir Launcelot
listened to their music with great pleasure of heart.

All about them lay the deep silence of the moonlit night with only that
one red spot of fire and of cheerful mirth in the midst of it, and the
fire shone very bright upon the armor of the knight and lit up all those
quaint fellows in red and green and yellow and blue and pied so that
they stood forth against the blackness behind them as though they had
been carved out from it with a sharp knife.

Then he who was chief among the minstrels said to Sir Launcelot,
"Messire, will ye not also sing?" At this Sir Launcelot laughed, and
quoth he: "Nay, good fellows,