"Now, come," interrupted the cook, persuasively. "I am wearied out; I have no strength left in my arm. See you, here, here, and here, and the thing is done."
"I will do it an you will serve me a good turn, too?" he replied.
"Done, then," said the other; "what is it?"
"Show me the Hall; I have long wished to see the ballroom. 'Tis a fine room, Roger says."
"Fine!" exclaimed the cook. "I should think it is fine. There's not another in all Queen Elizabeth's land to equal it. I will show it thee afterwards."
"Help me with this sack of flour," exclaimed the baker, "and I will show it thee now."
Manners chopped the carcase up, for which he was promised a share of the pie, and quickly satisfied the baker. His strength, indeed, was wonderful, and what two bakers had failed to do together, he easily accomplished alone.
"Thou shalt have a cake to-night," exclaimed the baker, admiringly. "A milk-white cake hot off the hearthstone, such as my lord the baron loveth so well," and they passed through the stone-flagged passage into the banqueting-room beyond to see the wonders of the Hall.
"Nay," exclaimed the chamberlain, as they attempted to pass up the steps leading to the upper part of the Hall. "'tis against the rules, you know."
"All right, John, 'tis all right," replied the baker. "Hubert is going to help me, and you cannot stay me, I trow, or Lady Vernon will come upon thee about the cakes for the feast."