One Holy Day Master Parson was officiating at Mass, and at the solemn moment when he says ‘Hoc est Corpus’ a loud burst of laughter interrupted him. Casting his eyes towards whence it came, he spied Simon seated between two fat wenches and laughing as though his sides would burst. Whereupon Master Parson closed his lips on that very blessed word ‘Corpus,’ and would not proceed with the Sacrament until Simon had ceased. After Mass was finished he had Simon sent for and brought to him in the vestry. Master Parson was a very devout man and a charitable, although somewhat simple, and was much loved therefore on all sides in the village. So Simon came without fear and stood before him cap in hand, humbly and gravely. The Parson gazing upon and noting his bowed head, downcast eyes and clasped hands, thought there was no more godly-looking young fellow in the whole village, and marvelled that the Lord should fashion so deceptively a church-brawler and a ribald. ‘Thou profane knave,’ quoth he, ‘how was it thou didst belch forth such a loud guffaw in the midst of the Blessed Sacrament?’ ‘“Belch”? “Guffaw”?’ said the young man in meek surprise. ‘Good Sir John, I wot full well I had laughed, but methinks it had not been so loud.’ ‘“Loud?”’ quoth Sir John. ‘“_Loud?_” ’Twas loud enough to set the steeple tumbling about our ears. If it had been a common vulgar laugh, it might have been pardoned, but a guffaw like a thunder-clap, why boy, ’tis an outrage, ’tis rank blasphemy!’ ‘Then I humbly and unfeignedly beseech pardon, good Sir John,’ said Simon in a gentle and subdued voice. ‘This shall not serve thy turn,’ cried Master Parson wrathfully, for he weened Simon played the hypocrite. ‘I will know what it was that made thee laugh like the Bull of Bashan in the middle of my Latinity. Why sattest thyself down between those fat and wanton wenches?’ ‘Fat and wanton wenches? “wenches,” Sir John?’ repeated Simon in great wonderment. ‘Yea, fat wenches, two fat wenches, wenches fat as Flanders mares, dost understand English?’ ‘If thou sayest so, Sir John, then indeed I must have sat between two fat wenches. But my mind was so on the matter of my devotion that I wot not of it.’ The pious Simon spoke in so quiet and humble a tone, and with such a grave face, that Master Parson was struck all of a heap. He bethought himself that he must have erred in his judgment of the young man, who stood so meekly and transparently sincere before him. ‘Come now,’ quoth he, ‘tell me why thou didst laugh. Happen thou hadst some reason that may excuse thee somewhat.’ ‘Dost thou command me to speak, good Sir John, for I had lief not for humility’s sake.’ ‘“Humility’s sake?” I do indeed command thee to speak.’ ‘Then,’ said Simon, ‘I will tell thee why I laughed, but, good Sir John, thou wilt bear witness for me if ever in the future question be made, that I told thee against my will and at thy express command?’ ‘Yea,’ quoth Sir John, much mystified, ‘I will bear witness.’