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Updated: May 3, 2025
"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.
And as he uttered the words, he quitted the kitchen. "Who is that archer?" demanded Cutbeard, looking after him. But no one could answer the question, nor could any one tell when he had entered the kitchen. "Strange!" exclaimed Simon Quanden, crossing himself. "Have you ever seen him before, Mabel?" "I almost think I have," she replied, with a slight shudder.
"Here is an emblem of the Cardinal of York," he cried, pointing to it. A roar of laughter from the company followed this sally, and Hob and Nob looked up in placid wonderment. "I shall die with laughing," cried Simon Quanden, holding his fat sides, and addressing his spouse, who was leaning upon his shoulder.
"Excuse my getting up to receive you, fair mistress," cried Simon Quanden, who seemed fixed to his chair; "I have been bustling about all day, and am sore fatigued sore fatigued. But will you not take something? A sugared cate, and a glass of hypocras jelly, or a slice of capon? Go to the damsel, dame, and prevail on her to eat." "That will I," replied Deborah. "What shall it be, sweetheart?
"Is he a friend of Sir Thomas Wyat?" asked Mabel quickly. "His close friend," replied Deborah; "except the Duke of Richmond, now his rival, he had none closer. Have you ever seen Sir Thomas, sweetheart?" "Yes, for a few moments," replied Mabel confusedly. "I heard that he lingered for a short time in the forest before his departure for Paris," said Dame Quanden.
But as soon as the supper was served, and all his duties were fully discharged, Simon Quanden, who had been bustling about, sat down in his easy-chair, and recruited himself with a toast and a sack posset.
The jester was not partaking of the repast, but was chatting with Simon Quanden, the chief cook, a good-humoured personage, round-bellied as a tun, and blessed with a spouse, yclept Deborah, as fond of good cheer, as fat, and as good-humoured as himself.
But how came you to know she resembled Mabel Lyndwood?" "Ay, I was thinking of that myself," said Simon Quanden. "How do you know that, master?" "Because I have seen her picture," replied the tall archer. "Painted by Satan's chief limner, I suppose?" rejoined Cutbeard. "He who painted it had seen her," replied the tall archer sternly. "But, as I have said, it was the very image of this damsel."
"Dame Quanden will take charge of you till to-morrow," rejoined the king, "when you will enter upon the service of one of our dames." "Your majesty is very considerate," said Mabel, "but I would rather go back at early dawn to my grandsire." "That is needless," rejoined the king sternly. "Your grandsire is in the castle." "I am glad to hear it!" exclaimed Mabel.
"And I for Patch," said Simon Quanden. "Latterly he hath seemed to me to have the advantage." "It is decided!" cried the king, rising, as one of the combatants was knocked off the table, and fell to the floor with a great noise. "Who is it?" "Patch," replied a faint voice.
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