the better man." And he drew his own sword and crossed weapons with the
cook.

Then back and forth they clashed with sullen sound. The old ballad which
tells of their fight says that they thought nothing for to flee, but
stiffly for to stand. There they fought sore together, two miles away
and more, but neither might the other harm for the space of a full hour.

"I make my vow!" cried Little John, "you are the best swordsman that
ever yet I saw. What say you to resting a space and eating and drinking
good health with me. Then we may fall to again with the swords."

"Agreed!" said the cook, who loved good fare as well as a good fight;
and they both laid by their swords and fell to the food with hearty
will. The venison pasty soon disappeared, and the roast pheasant flew
at as lively a rate as ever the bird itself had sped. Then the warriors
rested a space and patted their stomachs, and smiled across at
each other like bosom friends; for a man when he as dined looks out
pleasantly upon the world.

"And now good Reynold Greenleaf," said the cook, "we may as well settle
this brave fight we have in hand."

"A true saying," rejoined the other, "but first tell me, friend--for
I protest you are my friend henceforth--what is the score we have to
settle?"

"Naught save who can handle the sword best," said the cook. "By my troth
I had thought to carve you like a capon ere now."