When at last John and Aleyn came back to the mill, they were wet and dirty.  It was too late for them to make their journey home that night.  A very crest-fallen couple humbly begged the miller to give them a night’s lodging.  “Mine is a poor house and small,” answered the miller.  “But you are scholars and doubtless have the power to turn a hovel into a palace by your arguments.  Be content with this, therefore, or enlarge it as you like.”  “You are a merry man,” replied John, “and we are contented with the house.  There is money to pay for our supper.”  So they all fell to and ate their meal and drank good strong ale, till the miller sat himself down in the corner of the settle and began to doze.

Aleyn had been looking at the daughter all through supper, and now, when the father was asleep and the mother gone about some household business, he went and sat by her side, and presently, before she knew what he was doing, put his arm round her and kissed her.  Just at this moment in came the mother.  “Sir,” she cried, “how dare you behave like that to my daughter!  Help, husband, help!  Wake up!  This wretched scholar is kissing my daughter.”  Up woke the miler in a fury and ran at Aleyn.  In a minute the two were fighting as hard as they could.  John looked round for a weapon with which to defend his friend, but the miller’s wife was quicker.  Up she took a heavy stick that stood in the corner and struck at Aleyn, but, as luck would have it, there came a gust of wind down the chimney so strong that it nearly blew the lamp out.  In the flickering light, the blow intended for Aleyn fell on the miller’s bald pate.  Down he went like a log, down beside him went his wife, wringing her hands and crying out that she had killed him.  “No,” said John, “he’s too tough to die like that.  Come, I’ll give you a hand and we will take him up to bed.”  Aleyn and the daughter were not sorry to be left alone.  “I like you very well” she said.  “Shall I tell you what father did with your meal?” “Do,” answered Aleyn eagerly, “and some day, when I’m rich, I will come back and marry you.”  “I shall be ready!” she answered.  So the next morning, when they rode away, John and Aleyn not only had all their meal, despite the miller’s knavery, but Aleyn had won a bride as well, while the miller had had a well-deserved beating and lost his daughter to a clerk!

* * * * *

While the Reeve was speaking, the Cook was chuckling to himself, and at the end of the tale he laughed loud and long.  He was as good a cook as you would find within the walls of London.  His pies, I have heard, were works of art.  “I’ll tell you my tale now,” he said, “a rollicking story of an apprentice in our town.”  “Well, say on, Roger!” answered the Host.  “You’re a fine lad, I’ll be bound.”

So the Cook began his tale; but I had only heard a few sentences when we came upon a bad stretch of road where the water from the previous week’s rains lay in great puddles, and in many places the soft mud gave under our horses’ feet.  We therefore had to ride slowly and in a straggling line, picking our way carefully.