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, pretty boy," quoth the Cook. "And hast thou e'er heard the
song of the Deserted Shepherdess?"