"By our Lady, I have never been so waited on before," he added, rising
and removing his stool towards the fire, while his companion took up a
position, with his back against the wall, near the fireplace. "And now,
my pretty Mabel, have you never a cup of ale to wash down the pie?"
"I can offer you a draught of right good mead, master," said Tristram;
"and that is the only liquor my cottage can furnish."
"Nothing can be better," replied Harry. "The mead, by all means,"
While Mabel went to draw the liquor, Tristram fixed his eyes on Harry,
whose features were now fully revealed by the light of the fire.
"Why do you look at me so hard, friend?" demanded Harry bluffly.
"I have seen some one very like you, master," replied Tristram, "and
one whom it is no light honour to resemble."
"You mean the king," returned Harry, laughing. "You are not the first
person who has thought me like him."
"You are vain of the likeness, I see, master," replied Tristram, joining in
the laugh. "How say you, Mab?" he added to his granddaughter, who at
that moment returned with a jug and a couple of drinking-horns. "Whom
does this gentleman resemble?"
"No one," returned Mabel, without raising her eyes.
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