holy sort of a man that a god would like well."

"Why would I be that?" said the Philosopher. "The
gods like a man whether he's holy or not if he's only
decent."

"Ah, well, there's plenty of that sort," said the first
man. "What do you happen to have in your bag,
stranger?"

"Nothing," replied the Philosopher, "but a cake and
a half that was baked for my journey."

"Give me a bit of your cake, Mister Honey," said the
woman. "I like to have a taste of everybody's cake."

"I will, and welcome," said the Philosopher.

"You may as well give us all a bit while you are about
it," said the second man. "That woman hasn't got all
the hunger of the world."

"Why not," said the Philosopher, and he divided the
cake.

"There's a sup of water up yonder," said the first
man, "and it will do to moisten the cake--Whoh, you
devil," he roared at the ass, and the ass stood stock still
on the minute.