THE KING AND THE ABBOT 137 



his stomach, too, for that matter. To him came one 

 day a hungry strauger, fresh from the appetizing 

 sport of hunting. He had lost his way, and craved 

 the hospitality of the Abbey. That hospitality was 

 extended to him, promptly enough, and he was seated 

 at the Abbot's own table. 



It will readily be guessed that tlus hungry stranger 

 was the King. He had wandered thus far, away 

 from Windsor Forest and his attendants, and was 

 genuinely famished. The Abbot, however, had no 

 notion who he was ; but he could see that this strayed 

 huntsman was a very prince among good trencher- 

 men, and envied him accordingly. " Well fare thy 

 heart," said he, as he saw the roast beef disappearing ; 

 " I would give an hundred pounds could I feed so 

 lustily on beef as you do. Alas ! my weak and 

 squeezie stomach will hardly digest the wing of a 

 small rabbit or chicken." 



The King took the compliment and more beef, and, 

 pledging his host, departed. Some weeks after, when 

 the Abbot had quite forgotten all about the matter, 

 he was sent for, clapped into the Tower, and kept, a 

 miserable prisoner — not knowing what his ofience 

 mio;ht be, or what would befall him next — on bread 

 and water. At length one day a sirloin of beef was 

 placed before him, and he made such short work of 

 it as to prove to the King, who was secretly watching 

 him, that his treatment for " squeezie stomach " had 

 succeeded admirably ; so, springing out of the cupboard 

 in which he had secreted himself, " My lord," says he, 

 " deposit presently your hundred pounds in gold, or 

 else you go not hence all the days of your life. 1 



