“It is long since I saw such a fine grain,” said he, and he bit a piece off and tasted it.
“It’s the very same kind,” he added.
“Tell me, grandfather,” said the King, “when and where was such corn grown? Have you ever bought any like it, or sown any in your fields?”
And the old man replied:
“Corn like this used to grow everywhere in my time. I lived on corn like this in my young days, and fed others on it. It was grain like this that we used to sow and reap and thrash.”
And the King asked:
“Tell me, grandfather, did you buy it anywhere, or did you grow it all yourself?”
The old man smiled.
“In my time,” he answered, “no one ever thought of such a sin as buying or selling bread; and we knew nothing of money. Each man had corn enough of his own.”
“Then tell me, grandfather,” asked the King, “where was your field, where did you grow corn like this?”
And the grandfather answered:
“My field was God’s earth. Wherever I ploughed, there was my field. Land was free. It was a thing no man called his own. Labour was the only thing men called their own.”
“Answer me two more questions,” said the King. “The first is, Why did the earth bear such grain then, and has ceased to do so now? And the