"But I'm not a pig," said Robin. "I want some bread and milk.
Where can I get some?"

The boy shook his head.

"Where do you live?" asked Robin.

"Along o' master."

"Where's that?"

The boy shook his head and stared at the cap and feather, one of
his hands opening and shutting.

"Will you show me the way home, then?"

The boy shook his head again, and now stared at the velvet jerkin,
then at his own garb, which consisted of a piece of sack with slits
in it for his head and arms to come through, and a strip of
cow-skin for a belt to hold it in.

"I could show you where to get something," he said at last.

"Well, show me," cried Robin.

"You give me that jacket and cap, then," cried the boy, in a husky,
low voice.

"Give you my clothes?" said Robin, wonderingly. "I can't do that."