straggling line, picking our way carefully.

Being near the end of the party, I heard no more of the Cook's story,
nor of the tales that followed it that day.

When we at last reached the inn at Dartford, where we were to spend
the night, I heard that the craftsmen from the town had told their
tales that afternoon.



TALES OF THE SECOND DAY

The next day, the 18th of April, the Host suddenly turned his horse
about and faced the company. "Lordlings," said he, "what with
oversleeping and late starting we waste our precious time. It's ten
o'clock, by my faith, and no tale told yet this day. Come, you
learned Man of Law, begin and let's have no more dallying!" "Host,"
said the Lawyer, "I never break my agreements; a man must obey that
law which he himself has made. But it is difficult for me to find a
tale. Geoffrey Chaucer, our poet, has told them all in his rhymes.
There is not a love story left to tell, and I have no taste for rude
jests. You will make fun of my plain unpoetical speech, I have no
doubt, for a lawyer's language is none of the prettiest. Yet I will
do my best. This is my story." So, with his silver girdle jingling as
he rode, he began:



THE MAN OF LAW'S TALE OF THE MIRACULOUS JOURNEYINGS OF CONSTANCE