The Fortunate Tailor
The old Foole acknowledged the polite round of applause that was his due and he accepted another full blackjack of the good inn-brewed light nutty ale. He drained it in one long pull down into his thirsty throat and with a twinkling smile returned it to the serving girl to refill. She nervously looked behind across the tap room but Mine Host was absent, in the kitchen loudly berating the spit boy to turn the handle faster on the large joint hung over the roaring kitchen fire. The coast being...