haste to a tavern with his crony, to whom he said--

"Our breakfast has been paid for at the cost of that varlet."

When he was come to the tavern he called for good bread, good wine and
good meat, for he thought that he had wherewith to pay. But whilst he
was eating, as he began to grow warm, his sugar-loaf in its turn began
to thaw and melt, and filled the whole room with the smell peculiar
to it, whereupon he, who carried it in his bosom, grew wroth with the
waiting-woman, and said to her--

"You are the filthiest folks that ever I knew in this town, for either
you or your children have strewn all this room with filth."

"By St. Peter!" replied the woman, "there is no filth here unless you
have brought it in yourselves."

Thereupon they rose, by reason of the great stench that they smelt,
and went up to the fire, where the gentleman drew out of his bosom a
handkerchief all dyed with the melted sugar, and on opening his robe,
lined with fox-skin, found it to be quite spoiled.

And all that he was able to say to his crony was this--

"The rogue whom we thought to deceive has deceived us instead."

Then they paid their reckoning and went away as vexed as they had
been merry on their arrival, when they fancied they had tricked the
apothecary's varlet. (5)