On this fire a great cauldron bubbled and simmered, giving forth a rich and promising smell.

Seated round it were a dozen or so folk, of all ages and conditions, who set up such a shout as Alleyne entered that he stood peering at them through the smoke, uncertain what this riotous greeting might portend.
"A rouse! A rouse!" cried one rough looking fellow in a tattered jerkin.
"One more round of mead or ale and the score to the last comer." "'Tis the law of the 'Pied Merlin,'" shouted another.

"Ho there, Dame Eliza! Here is fresh custom come to the house, and not a drain for the company." "I will take your orders, gentles; I will assuredly take your orders," the landlady answered, bustling in with her hands full of leathern drinking-cups.

"What is it that you drink, then?
Beer for the lads of the forest, mead for the gleeman, strong waters for the tinker, and wine for the rest.

It is an old custom of the house, young sir.