“Nothing could be fairer,” said the Fool; and the Knave began to eat, and went on till he had eaten a third of the porridge.  The Fool, who had counted every spoonful, now took his turn, and ate precisely as much as his comrade.  The Knave then began again, and was exact to a mouthful; but it emptied the pot.  Thus the Knave had twice as much as the Fool, who could not see where he had been cheated.

They then set to work.

“As there is only one hammer,” said the Knave, “we must work, as we supped, by turns; and as I began last time, you shall begin this.  After you have worked awhile, I will take the hammer from you, and do as much myself whilst you rest.  Then you shall take it up again, and so on till the heap is finished.”

“It is not every one who is as just as you,” said the Fool; and taking up the hammer, he set to work with a will.

The Knave took care to let him go on till he had broken a third of the stones, and then he did as good a share himself; after which the Fool began again, and finished the heap.

By this means the Fool did twice as much work as the Knave, and yet he could not complain.

As they moved on again, the Fool perceived that the Knave was taking the can and the spoon with him.

“I am sorry to see you do that, friend,” said he.

“It’s a very small theft,” said the Knave.  “The can cannot have cost more than sixpence when new.”

“That was not what I meant,” said the Fool, “so much as that I fear the owner will find it out.”

“He will only think the things have been stolen by some vagrant,” said the Knave—­“which, indeed, they would be if we left them.  But as you seem to have a tender conscience, I will keep them myself.”

After a while they met with a farmer, who offered to give them supper and a night’s lodging, if they would scare the birds from a field of corn for him till sunset.

“I will go into the outlying fields,” said the Knave, “and as I see the birds coming, I will turn them back.  You, dear friend, remain in the corn, and scare away the few that may escape me.”

But whilst the Fool clapped and shouted till he was tired, the Knave went to the other side of the hedge, and lay down for a nap.

As they sat together at supper, the Fool said, “Dear friend, this is laborious work.  I propose that we ask the farmer to let us tend sheep, instead.  That is a very different affair.  One lies on the hillside all day.  The birds do not steal sheep; and all this shouting and clapping is saved.”

The Knave very willingly agreed, and next morning the two friends drove a flock of sheep on to the downs.  The sheep at once began to nibble, the dog sat with his tongue out, panting, and the Knave and Fool lay down on their backs, and covered their faces with their hats to shield them from the sun.

Thus they lay till evening, when, the sun being down, they uncovered their faces, and found that the sheep had all strayed away, and the dog after them.