ones, Dietel was very methodical. So he continued his occupation
undisturbed till an inexperienced merchant's clerk from Ulm, who wanted
to ride farther speedily, accosted him and asked for some special dish.
Dietel drew his belt farther down and promptly snubbed the young man with
the angry retort; "Everybody must wait for his meal. We make no
exceptions here."

Interrupted in his work, he also saw the newcomers, and then cast a
peevish glance at one corner of the room, where stood a table covered
with fine linen and set with silver dishes, among them a platter on which
early pears and juicy plums were spread invitingly. The landlady of The
Pike had arranged them daintily upon fresh vine leaves an hour before
with her own plump but nimble hands. Of course they were intended for the
gentlemen from Nuremberg and their guests. Dietel, too, now knew them,
and saw that the party numbered a person no less distinguished than the
far-famed and highly learned Doctor and Imperial Councillor, Conrad
Peutinger. They were riding to Cologne together under the same escort.
The citizens of Nuremberg were distinguished men, as well as their guest,
but Dietel had served distinguished personages by the dozen at The Blue
Pike for many years--among them even crowned heads--and they had wanted
for nothing. His skill, however, was not sufficient for these city
demigods; for the landlord of The Pike intended to look after their table
himself. Tomfoolery! There was more than enough for him to do that day
over yonder in the room occupied by the lansquenets and the city
soldiers, where he usually directed affairs in person. It roused Dietel's
ire. The cooking of The Blue Pike, which the landlady superintended,
could vie with any in the Frank country, on the Rhine, or in Swabia, yet,
forsooth, it wasn't good enough for the Nuremberg guests. The Council
cook, a fat, pompous fellow, accompanied them, and had already begun to
bustle about the hearth beside the hostess. They really would have