“It tastes very bitter,” said I. “Is there no chwerwlys [13] in it?”
“I do not know what chwerwlys is,” said the old woman.
“It is what the Saxons call wormwood,” said I.
“Oh, wermod. No, there is no wermod in my beer, at least not much.”
“Oh, then there is some; I thought there was. Why do you put such stuff into your ale?”
“We are glad to put it in sometimes when hops are dear, as they are this year. Moreover, wermod is not bad stuff, and some folks like the taste better than that of hops.”
“Well, I don’t. However, the ale is drinkable. What am I to give you for the pint?”
“You are to give me a groat.”
“That is a great deal,” said I, “for a groat I ought to have a pint of ale made of the best malt and hops.”
“I give you the best I can afford. One must live by what one sells. I do not find that easy work.”