“Will Sommers speaks the truth,” rejoined Simon Quanden. “Hob and Nob, for so they are named, are fast friends. When Hob gets into the box to turn the spit, Nob will watch beside it till his brother is tired, and then he will take his place. They always eat out of the same platter, and drink out of the same cup. I once separated them for a few hours to see what would happen, but they howled so piteously, that I was forced to bring them together again. It would have done your heart good to witness their meeting, and to see how they leaped and rolled with delight. Here, Hob,” he added, taking a cake from his apron pocket, “divide this with thy brother.”
Placing his paws upon his master's knees, the nearest turnspit took the cake in his mouth, and proceeding towards Nob, broke it into two pieces, and pushed the larger portion towards him.
While Mabel was admiring this display of sagacity and affection a bustling step was heard behind her, and turning, she beheld a strange figure in a parti-coloured gown and hose, with a fool's cap and bells on his head, whom she immediately recognised as the cardinal's jester, Patch. The new-comer recognised her too, stared in astonishment, and gave a leering look at Will Sommers.
“What brings you here, gossip Patch?” cried Will Sommers. “I thought you were in attendance upon your master, at the court at Blackfriars.”
“So I have been,” replied Patch, “and I am only just arrived with his grace.”
“What! is the decision pronounced?” cried Will Sommers eagerly. “Is the queen divorced? Is the king single again? Let us hear the sentence.”
“Ay, the sentence!—the sentence!” resounded on all hands.
Stimulated by curiosity, the whole of the party rose from the table; Simon Quanden got out of his chair; the other cooks left their joints to scorch at the fire; the scullions suspended their work; and Hob and Nob fixed their large inquiring black eyes upon the jester.
“I never talk thirsting,” said Patch, marching to the table, and filling himself a flagon of mead. “Here's to you, fair maiden,” he added, kissing the cup to Mabel, and swallowing its contents at a draught. “And now be seated, my masters, and you shall hear all I have to relate, and it will be told in a few words. The court is adjourned for three days, Queen Catherine having demanded that time to prepare her allegations, and the delay has been granted her.”
“Pest on it!—the delay is some trick of your crafty and double-dealing master,” cried Will Sommers. “Were I the king, I know how I would deal with him.”