“Into the kitchen with you, and don’t stand glowering after lads”, he said.
So she had to go in and mind her fish-kettle, and she dared not treat Boots, for she was afraid of her old man; but as she stood there making up the fire, she made an excuse for running out into the yard, and then and there she gave Boots a table-cloth, which was such that it covered itself with the best dishes you could think of, as soon as it was spread out.
“This you shall have”, she said, “because you’re so handsome.”
So when the two brothers had eaten and drank of all that was in the house, and had paid the bill in hard cash, they set off again, and Boots stood up behind their carriage. But when they had gone so far that they grew hungry again, they turned into a third inn, and called for the best and dearest they could think of.
“For”, said they, “we are two kings on our travels, and as for our money, it grows like grass.”
Well, when the innkeeper heard that, there was such a roasting, and baking, and boiling; why! you might smell the dinner at the next neighbour’s house, though it wasn’t so very near; and the innkeeper was at his wits’ end to find all he wished to put before the two kings. But Boots, he had to stand outside here too, and look after the things in the carriage.
So it was the same story over again. The innkeeper’s wife came to the window and peeped out, and there she saw the servant standing by the carriage. Such a handsome chap she had never set eyes on before; so she looked and looked, and the more she stared the handsomer he seemed to the innkeeper’s wife. Then out came the innkeeper, scampering through the room, with some dainty which the travelling kings had ordered, and he wasn’t very soft-tongued when he saw his old dame standing and glowering out of the window.
“Don’t you know better than to stand gaping and staring there, when we have such great folk in the house”, he said; “back into the kitchen with you this minute, to your custards.”
“Well! well!” she said, “as for them, I don’t care a pin. If they can’t wait till the custards are baked, they may go without—that’s all. But do, pray, come here, and you’ll see such a lovely lad standing out here in the yard. Why I never saw such a pretty fellow in my life. Shan’t we ask him in now, and treat him a little, for he looks as if it would do him good. Oh! what a darling! What a darling!”
“A wanton gadabout you’ve been all your days, and so you are still”, said her husband, who was in such a rage he scarce knew which leg to stand on; “but if you don’t be off to your custards this minute, I’ll soon find out how to make you stir your stumps; see if I don’t.”