“What’s the matter, friend?” said Spare. “Did you never see a man coming down from a back window before?”
“Why,” said the woodman, “the last morning I passed here a leathern doublet came out of that window, and I’ll be bound you are the owner of it.”
“That I am, friend,” said the cobbler with great eagerness. “Can you tell me which way that doublet went?”
“As I walked on,” the woodman said, “a dwarf called Spy, bundled it up and ran off into the forest.”
Determined to find his doublet, Spare went on his way, and was soon among the tall trees; but neither hut nor dwarf could he see. At last the red light of a fire, gleaming through a thicket, led him to the door of a low hut. It stood half open, as if there was nothing to fear, and within he saw his brother Scrub snoring loudly on a bed of grass, at the foot of which lay his own leathern doublet; while Fairfeather, in a kirtle made of plaited rushes, sat roasting pheasants’ eggs by the fire.
“Good evening, mistress!” said Spare.
The blaze shone on him, but so changed was her brother-in-law with his court life that Fairfeather did not know him, and she answered far more courteously than was her wont.
“Good evening, master! Whence come ye so late? But speak low, for my good man has sorely tired himself cleaving wood, and is taking a sleep, as you see, before supper.”
“A good rest to him,” said Spare, perceiving he was not known. “I come from the court for a day’s hunting, and have lost my way in the forest.”
“Sit down and have a share of our supper,” said Fairfeather; “I will put some more eggs in the ashes; and tell me the news of court.”