It was wonderful to see how quickly the heaped up trenchers were cleared, and how soon the tall tankard of ale was emptied. But the trenchers were filled again, and so was the tall tankard, though only to be emptied once more. Luckily, there was enough and to spare, for Joan knew the powers of her guests, and had provided accordingly. When the plain but plentiful repast was ended, and the horn cups were filled for the last time, the stalwart brethren arose, and drank the king's health and confusion to his enemies; after which, William Penderel asked pardon for the freedom they had taken, and declared the impulse was uncontrollable, adding that whenever it pleased his majesty to set forth they were ready to attend him. Charles sighed, for he was unwilling to depart. However, there was no help. So he took leave of Dame Joan, expressing his deep sense of the great services she and her husband had rendered him, and promising to reward them adequately, if he should ever be able to do so. "I have every belief that a time will come, when I shall be able to prove my gratitude to you, my good dame, and to your worthy husband--indeed, to all my good friends and servants whom I see around me, and then be sure that I will not forget you, one and all. Trust to my royal word." "We want no reward, my liege," said William Penderel. "What we have done has been from pure devotion to your majesty, and from no sordid motive." "That is quite true," cried the others, "and we entreat your majesty to believe what William says." "I firmly believe it," said the king. "Loyal and disinterested you must be, or you would never serve a fugitive king, who can reward you only with promises. But I shall not forget your services--yours, especially, my good dame. And now adieu," he added, taking Joan's hand, and preventing her from making the profound obeisance she meditated. "We shall meet again in happier days." So saying, he quitted the house by the back door, followed by William Penderel and his sturdy brothers and brother-in-law. The miller's horse--a short, well set, strong animal, which in these days would be described as a stout cob--was brought out of the barn by his master, who held the bridle while the king mounted. Meantime, Joan had come forth with a lantern, and its light showed a curious scene--all the stalwart brothers, armed with their bills and pikes, grouped around the king, who was now in the saddle--while William Penderel was arranging the order of march.