At the head of the bench, on the right of
the table, sat Will Sommers. The jester was not partaking of the repast,
but was chatting with Simon Quanden, the chief cook, a good-
humoured personage, round-bellied as a tun, and blessed with a
spouse, yclept Deborah, as fond of good cheer, as fat, and as good-
humoured as himself. Behind the cook stood the cellarman, known by
the appellation of Jack of the Bottles, and at his feet were two playful
little turnspits, with long backs, and short forelegs, as crooked almost
as sickles.
On seeing Mabel, Will Sommers immediately arose, and advancing
towards her with a mincing step, bowed with an air of mock
ceremony,and said in an affected tone," Welcome, fair mistress, to the
king's kitchen. We are all right glad to see you; are we not, mates?"
"Ay, that we are!" replied a chorus of voices.
"By my troth, the wench is wondrously beautiful!" said Kit Coo, one of
the yeomen of the guard.
"No wonder the king is smitten with her," said Launcelot Rutter, the
bladesmith; "her eyes shine like a dagger's point."
"And she carries herself like a wafter on the river," said the bargeman.
"Her complexion is as good as if I had given her some of my sovereign
balsam of beauty," said Domingo Lamelyn.
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