"How so?" he questioned, his bright eyes all of a twinkle. "How so, my bully boy?"
"That pannikin of water."
"Which you didn't get, my cock's-body lad!"
"Which you were man enough to bring me."
"Which Tom Button did ye out of!"
"Which you knocked him down for!"
"Which is Gospel-true, Roger and Cicely, 'twas a neat throw. Tom bumped heavy—aye, uncommon flat were Tom, let me eat worms else!"
"For all of the which," says I, cutting more beef, "I ask you now to drink a stoup of ale with me."
"Wi' all my heart!" cries the peddler.
"Then," says I, laying my money on the table, "let us all drink in fellowship, for ale, like fellowship, is a goodly thing and good things be rare in this world!"