laughed the Priest, "and here is my tale."



THE NUN'S PRIEST'S TALE OF CHANTICLEER

Once upon a time there lived in a cottage an old widow with her two
daughters. She made her living as best she could by keeping pigs and
a cow, and by growing a few vegetables. Her cottage was small, and
all sooty from the smoke of the fire. The cocks and hens roosted for
the night on the rafters.

Now among the fowls was a wonderful cock whose name was Chanticleer.
The whole country-side admired him. His comb was so red, his bill so
black, his plumage such a magnificent colour, that his like had never
been seen; and, moreover, he was a very wise bird. One might almost
say that he was an expert astronomer. Every morning, just as the sun
rose, he crowed, never making the least mistake whatever the time of
year. He had seven hens who walked behind him in the yard. The
fairest of them, and the one he loved best, was called Pertelot. She
was so beautiful that Chanticleer had loved her ever since she was a
week old, and now every night he roosted by her side. Every morning
when it was time to go out he sang her a little song beginning, "My
love is to the meadows gone."

One morning, as Pertelot slept by Chanticleer's side, she heard him
begin to sigh and groan and murmur in his sleep. "What is it?" she
asked. "In truth you seem to groan like a man in pain." "Alas!" said
Chanticleer, waking up; "may fortune guard me. I have had a horrible
dream. Never in all my life was I so frightened. I dreamed that I saw