The Abbot came with a goodly retinue, with his fifty knights-at-arms in velvet cloaks and gold chains.  The King went to meet him, and said to him, “How now, father Abbot?  I hear it of thee, thou keepest far greater state than I. This becomes not our royal dignity, and savours of treason in thee.”

“My liege,” quoth the Abbot, bending low, “I beg to say that all I spend has been freely given to the Abbey out of the piety of the folk.  I trust your Grace will not take it ill that I spend for the Abbey’s sake what is the Abbey’s.”

“Nay, proud prelate,” answered the King, “all that is in this fair realm of England is our own, and thou hast no right to put me to shame by holding such state.  However, of my clemency I will spare thee thy life and thy property if you can answer me but three questions.”

“I will do so, my liege,” said the Abbot, “so far as my poor wit can extend.”

“Well, then,” said the King, “tell me where is the centre of all the world round; then let me know how soon can I ride the whole world about; and, lastly, tell me what I think.”

“Your Majesty jesteth,” stammered the Abbot.

“Thou wilt find it no jest,” said the King.  “Unless thou canst answer me these questions three before a week is out, thy head will leave thy body;” and he turned away.

Well, the Abbot rode off in fear and trembling, and first he went to Oxford to see if any learned doctor could tell him the answer to those questions three; but none could help him, and he took his way to Canterbury, sad and sorrowful, to take leave of his monks.  But on his way he met his shepherd as he was going to the fold.

“Welcome home, Lord Abbot,” quoth the shepherd; “what news from good King John?”

“Sad news, sad news, my shepherd,” said the Abbot, and told him all that had happened.

“Now, cheer up, Sir Abbot,” said the shepherd.  “A fool may perhaps answer what a wise man knows not.  I will go to London in your stead; grant me only your apparel and your retinue of knights.  At the least I can die in your place.”

“Nay, shepherd, not so,” said the Abbot; “I must meet the danger in my own person.  And to that, thou canst not pass for me.”

“But I can and I will, Sir Abbot.  In a cowl, who will know me for what I am?”

So at last the Abbot consented, and sent him to London in his most splendid array, and he approached King John with all his retinue as before, but dressed in his simple monk’s dress and his cowl over his face.

“Now welcome, Sir Abbot,” said King John; “thou art prepared for thy doom, I see.”

“I am ready to answer your Majesty,” said he.

“Well, then, question first—­where is the centre of the round earth?” said the King.

“Here,” said the shepherd Abbot, planting his crozier in the ground; “an’ your Majesty believe me not, go measure it and see.”

“By St. Botolph,” said the King, “a merry answer and a shrewd; so to question the second.  How soon may I ride this round world about?”