A-morrow, when the day began to spring, Up rose our host, and was our allër cock, 271 And gather’d us together in a flock, And forth we ridden all a little space, Unto the watering of Saint Thomas: 272 And there our host began his horse arrest, And saidë; “Lordës, hearken if you lest. Ye weet your forword, 273 and I it record. If evensong and morning-song accord, Let see now who shall tellë the first tale. As ever may I drinkë wine or ale, Whoso is rebel to my judgëment, Shall pay for all that by the way is spent. Now draw ye cuts, ere that ye farther twin. 274 He which that hath the shortest shall begin.”