"And 'tis none so ill though I had no yeast, is it, Martin?"
"Delicious!" says I, my mouth full.
And now, all our recent woes and sorrows clean forgotten, a right joyous meal had we; our hearts light as the sweet air that breathed around us, and untroubled as the placid ocean and broad serenity of heaven, with no dark shadow anywhere to warn us of those evils to come. Thus we ate and talked, finding joy in everything. Often my fingers must go to feel my smooth cheeks and chin, and she, catching me, must needs laugh and vow a smooth face suited me well, and that I should be handsome were my nose another shape and my eyes a different colour. Thus (as I say) brooding sorrow seemed clean vanished from my world, so that my heart swelled with gratitude for that I should live to breathe the air she made sweet.
Breakfast done, I fetched my saw, and despite her remonstrances and my resplendent breeches, forthwith set about making a cupboard; vowing I was well again, that I never felt better, etc. Hereupon, finding me set on it, she presently brings me the following, viz., an excellent new saw, divers chisels of goodly edge, a plane, a hammer, an auger and an adze; the which rejoiced me greatly, more especially the adze, the which is an exceeding useful tool in skilled hands. All these she had brought from the secret store and I mighty grateful therefor, and told her so.
"Why then, Martin," says she, "if your gratitude be real and true, you shall do somewhat for me—"
"What you will!" says I eagerly.
"Nay," she laughed, "'tis no more than this—keep you shaved—henceforth."
And so it was agreed.