“That’ll be rare and nasty,” replied the cook; but because she prided herself on having let Caporushes stir the gruel and so saved the young master’s life, she did as she was asked, and dressed every dish for the wedding breakfast without one mite of salt.

Now when the company sate down to table their faces were full of smiles and content, for all the dishes looked so nice and tasty; but no sooner had the guests begun to eat than their faces fell; for nothing can be tasty without salt.

Then Caporushes’ blind father, whom his daughter had seated next to her, burst out crying.

“What is the matter?” she asked.

Then the old man sobbed, “I had a daughter whom I loved dearly, dearly.  And I asked her how much she loved me, and she replied, ’As fresh meat loves salt.’  And I was angry with her and turned her out of house and home, for I thought she didn’t love me at all.  But now I see she loved me best of all.”

And as he said the words his eyes were opened, and there beside him was his daughter lovelier than ever.

And she gave him one hand, and her husband, the young master, the other, and laughed saying, “I love you both as fresh meat loves salt.”  And after that they were all happy for evermore.

[Illustration:  She sate down and plaited herself an overall of rushes and a cap to match]

THE BABES IN THE WOOD

    Now ponder well, you parents dear,
      These words which I shall write;
    A doleful story you shall hear,
      In time brought forth to light. 
    A gentleman of good account
      In Norfolk dwelt of late,
    Who did in honour far surmount
      Most men of his estate.

    Sore sick he was and like to die,
      No help his life could save;
    His wife by him as sick did lie,
      And both possest one grave. 
    No love between these two was lost,
      Each was to other kind;
    In love they lived, in love they died,
      And left two babes behind: 

    The one a fine and pretty boy
      Not passing three years old,
    The other a girl more young than he,
      And framed in beauty’s mould. 
    The father left his little son,
      As plainly did appear,
    When he to perfect age should come,
      Three hundred pounds a year;

    And to his little daughter Jane
      Five hundred pounds in gold,
    To be paid down on marriage-day,
      Which might not be controlled. 
    But if the children chanced to die
      Ere they to age should come,
    Their uncle should possess their wealth;
      For so the will did run.

    “Now, brother,” said the dying man,
      “Look to my children dear;
    Be good unto my boy and girl,
      No friends else have they here;
    To God and you I recommend
      My children dear this day;
    But little while be sure we have
      Within this world to stay.