spit with the roast still upon it. Meanwhile the Steward had gathered
his wits about him and risen to his feet, so that when the Cook came to
the Steward's pantry he saw him glowering through the broken door at
Little John, who was making ready for a good repast, as one dog glowers
at another that has a bone. When the Steward saw the Cook, he came to
him, and, putting one arm over his shoulder, "Alas, sweet friend!" quoth
he--for the Cook was a tall, stout man--"seest thou what that vile knave
Reynold Greenleaf hath done? He hath broken in upon our master's goods,
and hath smitten me a buffet upon the ear, so that I thought I was dead.
Good Cook, I love thee well, and thou shalt have a good pottle of our
master's best wine every day, for thou art an old and faithful servant.
Also, good Cook, I have ten shillings that I mean to give as a gift to
thee. But hatest thou not to see a vile upstart like this Reynold
Greenleaf taking it upon him so bravely?"

"Ay, marry, that do I," quoth the Cook boldly, for he liked the Steward
because of his talk of the wine and of the ten shillings. "Get thee
gone straightway to thy room, and I will bring out this knave by his
ears." So saying, he laid aside his spit and drew the sword that hung by
his side; whereupon the Steward left as quickly as he could, for he
hated the sight of naked steel.

Then the Cook walked straightway to the broken pantry door, through
which he saw Little John tucking a napkin beneath his chin and preparing
to make himself merry.

"Why, how now, Reynold Greenleaf?" said the Cook, "thou art no better
than a thief, I wot. Come thou straight forth, man, or I will carve
thee as I would carve a sucking pig."