The fat, flour-besprinkled baker at the Harp, in Bread Street, was in full tide of business. His shelves were occupied by the eight different kinds of bread in common use--wassel, used only by knights and squires; cocket, the kind in ordinary use by smaller folk; maslin, a mixture of wheat, oats, and barley; barley, rye, and brown bread, the fare of tradesmen and monks; oaten, the food of the poorest; and horse bread. There were two or three varieties finer and better than these, only used by the nobles, which were therefore made at home, and not commonly to be found at the baker's: simnel, manchet or chet, and paynemayne or _pain de main_ (a corruption of _panis dominicus_). We read also of _pain le Rei_, or the King's bread, but this may be paynemayne under another name. Even in the large towns, at that time, much of the baking was done at home; and the chief customers of the bakers were the cookshops or eating houses, with such private persons as had not time or convenience to prepare their own bread. The price of bread at this time does not appear to be on record; but about seventy years later, four loaves were sold for a penny. [Note 1.] The cooks, who lived mainly in Eastcheap and along the water-side, of course had to provide bread of various kinds, to suit their different customers; and a young man, armed with a huge basket, came to have it filled with all varieties. Another young man had entered after him, and now stood waiting by the wall till the former should have finished his business. "Now then," said the baker, turning to the man in waiting, as the other trudged forth with his basket: "what shall I serve you with?" "I don't want you to serve me; I want to serve you," was the answer. The baker looked him over with a good-natured but doubtful expression. "Want to serve me, do you? Whence come you?" "I'm an upland man." [From the country.] "Got any one to speak for you?" "A pair of eyes, a pair of hands, a fair wit, and a good will to work." The fat baker looked amused. "And an honest repute, eh?" said he. "I have it, but I can't give it you, except from my wife, and I scarcely suppose you'll be satisfied to go to her for my character." "I'm not so sure of that!" laughed the baker. "If she'd speak truth, she could give you the character best worth having of any." "She never yet spoke any thing else, nor did I." "_Ha, jolife_!--you must be a fine pair. Well, now, speak the truth, and tell me why a decent, tidy-seeming young fellow like you can't get a character to give me." "Because I should have to put my wife in peril, if I went back to do it," was the bold answer. "Ha, so!" Such a possibility, in those rough days, was only too apparent to the honest baker. "Well, well! Had to run from a bad master, eh? Ay, ay, I see." He did not see exactly the accurate details of the facts; but the applicant did not contradict him.