“Nor have I,” said the Count. “I have been making inquiries in all directions, but not a person has been able to give me the wished-for information.”
While the Vrouw went off to prepare supper for the Count and Baron, they seated themselves at a table in the neat little guest room to wait for it. Directly afterwards in came one of the bakers’ boys, demanding payment for the pies and tarts, the puddings and flour, injured and scattered by the Baron.
“Pay you for getting in my way and causing me to fall over your abominable basket, to the great injury of my waistcoat and shirt-front, breeches and coat; not to speak of the undignified position I was compelled to assume amid the jeers and laughter of the surrounding populace!” exclaimed the Baron, eyeing the small baker’s boy.
“I am told by my master to demand payment, and payment he says he must have,” answered the small baker’s boy.
“Our wisest course will be to pay the demand made on us, and I would advise you in future not to tumble into a baker’s basket if you can help it,” said the Count.
The Count, who was always open-handed, paid the demand made on the Baron, to the infinite satisfaction of the small baker’s boy. The Baron’s spirits revived after he had done justice to the supper prepared by the kind-hearted Vrouw.
“In what direction shall we next bend our steps?” asked the Count.
“I have a fancy to visit the province of Guelderland, the region of roses; and afterwards Friesland, celebrated throughout Holland for the beauty of its fair dames and its ancient and interesting cities,” answered the Baron.
“How shall we travel?” asked the Count.
“I have been giving the matter my earnest consideration,” answered the Baron, “and I have