SERVANTS' COOK. Oh, it's only a man.
Silence.
FIRST PEASANT. Well, and you too, as I noticed a while since when you were supping, have capital food to eat.
SERVANTS' COOK. We can't complain. She's not mean about the food. We have wheat bread every Sunday, and fish when a holiday happens to be a fast-day too, and those who like may eat meat.
SECOND PEASANT. And does any one tuck into flesh on fast-days?
SERVANTS' COOK. Oh, they nearly all do! Only the old coachman—not the one who was here just now but the old one—and Simon, and I and the housekeeper, fast—all the others eat meat.
SECOND PEASANT. And the master himself?
SERVANTS' COOK. Catch him! Why, I bet he's forgotten there is such a thing as fasting!
THIRD PEASANT. Oh Lord!
FIRST PEASANT. That's the gentlefolks' way: they have got it all out of their books. 'Cos of their intelex!