"Come, Martin," says she at last, "'tis dinner-time!"
"No matter!" quoth I.
"Will you not eat?"
"No!" says I, mighty determined. "Here sit I nor will I go eat till I can contrive you a pot worthy the name." And I bent to my work again; but missing her from beside me, turned to see her seated upon the grassy bank and with two roasted steaks set out upon two great green leaves, a delectable sight.
"Pray lend me your knife, Martin."
"What, have you brought dinner hither?" says I.
"To be sure, Martin."
"Why then--!" says I, and laving the clay from my hands came beside her and, using our knife alternately, a very pleasant meal we made of it.
All that afternoon I wrought at our pots until I had made a dozen or so of all sizes, and each and every furnished with one or more handles; and though I scowled at a crack here and there, they looked none the less serviceable on the whole, and hardening apace.
"And now, comrade," quoth I, rising, "now we will fire them." So having collected wood sufficient, I reached for my biggest pot (the which being made first was the hardest-set), and taking it up with infinite care off tumbled the handles. At this I was minded to dash the thing to pieces, but her touch restrained me and I set it down, staring at it mighty discomfited and downcast; whereat she laughs right merrily.
"O Martin," says she, "never gloom so, 'tis an excellent pot even without handles, indeed I do prefer it so!"
"No," says I, "handles you wanted and handles you shall have!" So taking a stick that lay handy, I sharpened it to a point and therewith bored me two holes beneath the lip of the pot and other two opposite. "This pot shall have iron handle," says I, "unless it perish in the fire." Then setting the pots as close as might be, I covered them with brushwood and thereupon (and with infinite caution) builded a fire and presently had it a-going. Now I would have stayed to tend the fire but my companion showed me the sun already low, vowed I had done enough, that I was tired, etc. So, having set upon the fire wood enough to burn good time, I turned away and found myself weary even as she said.
"Goat's-flesh," says I as we sat side by side after supper, "goat's-flesh is an excellent, wholesome diet and, as you cook it, delicious."
"'Tis kind of you to say so, Martin, but--"
"We have had it," says I, "we have had it boiled and baked--"