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He does not object to furmety or junket, or indeed to custards, if they are eaten at the proper seasons, and in the middle or at the end of meals. But he dislikes mushrooms, and advises you to wash out your mouth, and rub your teeth and gums with a dry cloth, after drinking milk.
"Bless your life, no! Nothing half so pleasant! And not another word would the hot-tempered gentleman say on the subject. In the course of a few hours Mr. and Mrs. Skratdj recovered their equanimity. The punch was brewed in a jug, and tasted quite as good as usual. The evening was very lively. There were a Christmas tree, Yule cakes, log, and candles, furmety, and snap-dragon after supper.
We have given the worthy farmer and his family a good while to sit down to supper, which that night included a kettle of furmety, a mermaid pie, and a taffaty tart. What were they? A very reasonable question, especially as to the mermaid pie, since mermaids are rather scarce articles in the market.
A fresh log was then thrown upon the fire, the yule cakes and furmety were put upon the table, and everybody drew round to supper; and Paterfamilias announced that, although he could not give the materials to play with, he had no objection now to a bowl of moderate punch for all, and that Richard might compound it.
When the company were tired of the tree, and had gained an appetite by the hard exercise of stretching to high branches, blowing out "dangerous" tapers, and cutting ribbon and pack-threads in all directions, supper came, with its welcome cakes, and furmety, and punch.
Well, a mermaid pie was made of pork and eels, and was terribly rich and indigestible; a taffaty tart was an apple-pie, seasoned with lemon-peel and fennel-seed; and the receipt for furmety a very famous and favourite dish with our forefathers I give as it stands in a curious little book, entitled, The Compleat Cook, printed in 1683.
Thus, under these circumstances, his love for Margery, his love for furmety, and his utter ignorance, combined to dispose him to let her off easily. Sir Geoffrey took the book from his chaplain with a sort of growl, and threw it into Margery's lap. "There! take it, damsel!" said he. "I account it Andrew's business to take care of thy soul, and he saith it will not hurt thee.
He would rise at six of the clock both in winter and summer, and apply himself with great ardour to his private devotions and to good studies until eight, when his breakfast, a tankard of furmety and a small measure of wine, was brought him. And from nine until noon he would again be at his studies, and then have dinner of such meats as were in season.
I was dreaming of a kettle of furmety of Madge's making." "I trow here is a pretty kettle of furmety of Madge's making!" was the irate response. "I conceive you not, good master," said the friar. "The book is a good book enough, trow." "Thou art an ass!" was the civil answer.
So let the damsel alone, good master, and give her book back. I trow it will never harm her." Margery was exceedingly surprised at the turn which affairs were taking. The truth was, that Friar Andrew was very fond of her; he had been Sir Geoffrey's chaplain before she was born, she had grown up under his eye, and she made, moreover, such a kettle of furmety as he declared no one else could make.
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