"Ah, ah!" laughed the squire, "whoever heard of a wise man lying in the middle of the highroad to be ridden over? Lad, take my word for it, you are a bigger fool than ever," and he rode on laughing.
"Dang it!" said the fool, as he scratched his head. "I've not got the right sort of coat yet, then." And he choked and spluttered in the dust that the squire's horse had raised.
So on he went in a melancholy mood till he came to an inn, and the landlord at his door smoking.
"Well, fool," said he, "thou 'rt fine and dirty."
"Ay," said the fool, "I be dirty outside an' dusty in, but it's not the right thing yet."
And he told the landlord all about the wise woman and the coat o' clay.
"Hout-tout!" said the landlord, with a wink. "I know what's wrong. Thou 'st got a skin o' dirt outside and all dry dust inside. Thou must moisten it, lad, with a good drink, and then thou 'lt have a real all-over coat o' clay."
"Hi," said the fool, "that's a good word."
So down he sat and began to drink. But it was wonderful how much liquor it took to moisten so much dust; and each time he got to the bottom of the pot he found he was still dry. At last he began to feel very merry and pleased with himself.
"Hi, yi!" said he. "I've got a real coat o' clay now outside and in—what a difference it do make, to be sure. I feel another man now—so smart."