DON QUIXOTE

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would have very gladly helped himself to a moderate pipkinful; then the
wine skins secured his affections; and lastly, the produce of the
frying-pans, if, indeed, such imposing cauldrons may be called
frying-pans; and unable to control himself or bear it any longer, he
approached one of the busy cooks and civilly but hungrily begged
permission to soak a scrap of bread in one of the pots; to which the cook
made answer, "Brother, this is not a day on which hunger is to have any
sway, thanks to the rich Camacho; get down and look about for a ladle and
skim off a hen or two, and much good may they do you."

"I don't see one," said Sancho.

"Wait a bit," said the cook; "sinner that I am! how particular and
bashful you are!" and so saying, he seized a bucket and plunging it into
one of the half jars took up three hens and a couple of geese, and said
to Sancho, "Fall to, friend, and take the edge off your appetite with
these skimmings until dinner-time comes."