sharp he kept the blade--a poignard in his pouch and a dirk in his
stocking. It would be a brave man that dare touch him. In looks he
had a round face and a snub nose, and his head was as bald as an
ape's. He was a swaggerer in the market-place, a practised thief in
the corn and meal that came to be ground, and he was called proud
Simpkin. His wife was gentry-born and her father chief man in the
town. She had been reared in a nunnery. A shrewish woman she was and
proud. 'Twas a fine sight to see the two of them wending their way to
church on Sundays. Simpkin walked first in his cape and red
stockings, and she came behind in a dress of the same hue. To have
made a jest to her would have been to court death at Simpkin's hands,
for Simpkin was jealous of his honour. They bad two children, a
daughter aged twenty and a baby son. The girl was a fine strapping
wench, taking after her father in looks. Some day she was to inherit
all the property and be married to a lord.

The miller had no lack of customers. From all around, grist came to
his mill. One of his chief customers was the great college Soler Hall
at Cambridge. He ground their wheat and their malt too. One day it
chanced that the bursar fell ill and was like to die. The miller did
not let this opportunity slip, but stole a hundred times more than
before, changing from cautious pilfering to barefaced robbery. When
the head of the college accused him he was impudent and denied the
charge lustily.

There were at the college two poor scholars, John and Aleyn. In sheer
joy at a chance to trick the miller, they went to the warden and
asked to be allowed to take the corn to be ground. "We wager," they
said, "that the miller shall not steal a grain while we are there to
watch." At last they persuaded the warden to let them pit their wits