“It is well,” replied the knight. “Hairun, you had better bring your monkey to divert us.”
“Right willingly, worshipful sir,” replied the bearward; “and if you have a cast-off suit of clothes to spare, I will deck him in them for the occasion.”
“You will find my last suit at the By-ward Tower,” replied Sir Narcissus. “Og will give them to you; and you may, if you choose, confer upon him the name I have cast off with them.”
“I will not fail to adopt your worship’s suggestion,” returned Hairun, smothering a laugh. “Henceforth, I shall call my ape Xit, and who knows whether in due season he may not attain the dignity of knighthood?”
Sir Narcissus did not exactly relish this remark, which made many of the guests smile; but he thought it better not to notice it, and taking a courteous leave of the hospitable bearward, proceeded to the palace, where a lodging was now given him, and where he passed the remainder of the day with his friends in jollity and carousing. Nor was it until the clock had chimed midnight, that he was left alone with his spouse.
At what hour Sir Narcissus arose on the following morning does not appear. But at eight in the evening, attired as on the previous day, and accompanied by his dame in her wedding-dress, he repaired to the Stone Kitchen. He found the whole party assembled, including, besides those he had invited, Win-wike, and his son, a chubby youth of some ten years old, Mauger, Wolfytt, and Sorrocold. Sir Narcissus could have dispensed with the company of the three latter; but not desiring to quarrel with them, he put the best face he could upon the matter, and bade them heartily welcome. He found, too, that Hairun had literally obeyed his injunctions, and brought his monkey with him, dressed up in his old clothes.
“Allow me to present Xit, the ape, to your worship,” said the bearward.
“He is welcome,” replied Sir Narcissus, laughing, to conceal his vexation at the absurd resemblance which the animal bore to him.
Sir Narcissus was then conducted to a seat at the head of the table. On the right was placed his lady, on the left, Dame Placida; while the pantler, who, as usual, filled the office of carver, faced him. The giants were separated by the other guests, and Ribald sat between Dames Placida and Potentia, both of whom he contrived to keep in most excellent humour. Peter Trusbut did not assert too much when he declared that the entertainment should surpass all that had previously been given in the Stone Kitchen; and not to be behindhand, the giants exceeded all their former efforts in the eating line. They did not, it is true, trouble themselves much with the first course, which consisted of various kinds of pottage and fish; though Og spoke in terms of rapturous commendation of a sturgeon’s jowl, and Magog consumed the best part of a pickled tunny-fish.
But when these were removed, and the more substantial viands appeared, they set to work in earnest. Turning up their noses at the boiled capons, roasted bustards, stewed quails, and other light matters, they, by one consent, assailed a largo shield of brawn, and speedily demolished it. Their next incursion was upon a venison pasty—a soused pig followed,—and while Gog prepared himself for a copious draught of Rhenish by a dish of anchovies, Magog, who had just emptied a huge two-handed flagon of bragget, sharpened his appetite—the edge of which was a little taken off,—with a plate of pickled oysters. A fawn roasted, whole, with a pudding in its inside, now claimed their attention, and was pronounced delicious. Og, then, helped himself to a shoulder of mutton and olives; Gog to a couple of roasted ruffs; and Magog again revived his flagging powers with a dish of buttered crabs. At this juncture, the strong waters were introduced by the pantler, and proved highly acceptable to the labouring giants.