“I wasn’t there,” rejoined Ulenspiegel.
“Will you eat with us, pilgrim?” said the prettiest of the archers.
“I will gladly eat with you,” said he, “and eat you, and all the others turn about, for you are titbits for a king, more delicious than ortolans or thrushes or woodcocks.”
“God give you food,” said they, “this is game beyond price.”
“Like all of you, dear ones,” he answered.
“Aye, verily,” said they, “but we are not for sale.”
“And for the giving?” he asked.
“Ay,” said they, “of blows to the overbold. And if you need it, we will thrash you like a sheaf of corn.”
“I abstain therefrom,” said he.
“Come eat,” said they.