“There is,” said the peasant.

“Well, we will go to your well and brew the beer. Bring your sack and follow me.”

So they went out to the courtyard up to the well.

“Pour it all in there,” the old man said.

“Why should we hurl all this good stuff into the well?” the master replied, “for there are only three pecks, and it will all be thrown away for nothing.”

“It is the best thing you can do.”

“We shall not do any good⁠—we shall only sully the water.”

“Listen to me, and do what I say: there is nothing to fear.”

So what could he do? He simply had to pour all his malt into the well.