straight forth into the passageway, where there is good room to swing a
sword, and I will try to serve thee."

Then they both stepped forth into the broad passage that led to the
Steward's pantry, where each man drew his sword again and without more
ado fell upon the other as though he would hew his fellow limb from
limb. Then their swords clashed upon one another with great din, and
sparks flew from each blow in showers. So they fought up and down the
hall for an hour and more, neither striking the other a blow, though
they strove their best to do so; for both were skillful at the fence;
so nothing came of all their labor. Ever and anon they rested, panting;
then, after getting their wind, at it they would go again more fiercely
than ever. At last Little John cried aloud, "Hold, good Cook!" whereupon
each rested upon his sword, panting.

"Now will I make my vow," quoth Little John, "thou art the very best
swordsman that ever mine eyes beheld. Truly, I had thought to carve thee
ere now."

"And I had thought to do the same by thee," quoth the Cook, "but I have
missed the mark somehow."

"Now I have been thinking within myself," quoth Little John, "what we
are fighting for; but albeit I do not rightly know."

"Why, no more do I," said the Cook. "I bear no love for that pursy
Steward, but I thought that we had engaged to fight with one another and
that it must be done."

"Now," quoth Little John, "it doth seem to me that instead of striving