“I understand thee,” said the King, “and the Holy Clerk shall have a grant of vert and venison in my woods of Warncliffe . Mark, however, I will but assign thee three bucks every season; but if that do not prove an apology for thy slaying thirty, I am no Christian knight nor true king.”

“Your Grace may be well assured,” said the Friar, “that, with the grace of Saint Dunstan, I shall find the way of multiplying your most bounteous gift.”

“I nothing doubt it, good brother,” said the King; “and as venison is but dry food, our cellarer shall have orders to deliver to thee a butt of sack, a runlet of Malvoisie, and three hogsheads of ale of the first strike, yearly⁠—If that will not quench thy thirst, thou must come to court, and become acquainted with my butler.”

“But for Saint Dunstan?” said the Friar⁠—