"
At these words the Cobbler's eyes opened big and wide, and his mouth
grew round with wonder, like a knothole in a board fence. "Slack-a-day,"
quoth he, "look ye, now! I ha' never seen those same golden birds. And
dost thou in sooth find them in these hedges, good fellow? Prythee,
tell me, are there many of them? I would fain find them mine own self."
"Ay, truly," quoth Robin, "they are as thick here as fresh herring in
Cannock Chase."
"Look ye, now!" said the Cobbler, all drowned in wonder. "And dost thou
in sooth catch them by dropping salt on their pretty tails?"
"Yea," quoth Robin, "but this salt is of an odd kind, let me tell thee,
for it can only be gotten by boiling down a quart of moonbeams in a
wooden platter, and then one hath but a pinch. But tell me, now, thou
witty man, what hast thou gotten there in that pouch by thy side and in
that pottle?"
At these words the Cobbler looked down at those things of which merry
Robin spoke, for the thoughts of the golden bird had driven them from
his mind, and it took him some time to scrape the memory of them back
again.
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