The prince's pavilion was set up, and drink brought him. As he quaffed it, he asked if any one had tidings of the French king. "He is dead or taken," was the answer. "He has not left the field." Two knights were thereupon sent to look for him, and had not got far before they saw a troop of men-at-arms wearily approaching. In their midst was King John, afoot and in peril, for they had taken him from Sir Denis, and were quarrelling as to who owned him. "Strive not about my taking," said the king. "Lead me to the prince. I am rich enough to make you all rich." The brawling went on, however, until the lords who had been sent to seek him came near. "What means all this, good sirs?" they asked. "Why do you quarrel?" "We have the French king prisoner," was the answer; "and there are more than ten knights and squires who claim to have taken him and his son." The envoys at this bade them halt and cease their clamor, on pain of their heads, and taking the king and his son from their midst they brought him to the tent of the prince of Wales, where the exalted captives were received with all courtesy. The battle, begun at dawn, was ended by noon. In that time was slain "all the flower of France; and there was taken, with the king and the Lord Philip his son, seventeen earls, besides barons, knights, and squires." The men returning from the pursuit brought in twice as many prisoners as their own army numbered in all. So great was the host of captives that many of them were ransomed on the spot, and set free on their word of honor to return to Bordeaux with their ransom before Christmas. The prince and his comrades had breakfasted that morning in dread; they supped that night in triumph. The supper party, as described by Froissart, is a true picture of the days of chivalry,--in war all cruelty, in peace all courtesy; ruthless in the field, gentle and ceremonious at the feast. Thus the picturesque old chronicler limns it,--