Shortly after my arrival in Uncle William's manor house I was assigned work in the kitchens. We had, at the time, a regular visitor to the kitchen in the person of Jenkin, the orchardman's son, a lad of 15. Jenkin helped his father tend the trees and fruit, and brought the produce from the orchard to the kitchen and stores when it was time. Jenkin was utterly besotted with love for Catherine, one of the prettiest of the dairymaids with skin as smooth and white as milk, hair pale as butter, and eyes the same blue as cowslips. Jenkin could quite forget what he was about should Catherine apprear of even be mentioned.

Jenkin would often find excuses to hang about the dairy in hopes of seeing Catherine until the maids laughed at him and shooed him off. Some days I thought I saw Jenkin in the bakery as I passed by. He would often sit in the kitchen and visit with the other lads and tell tales and tarry until Cook tired of him and sent him away. One of my jobs at the time was taking the kitchen scraps out to the hens; another was roaming the yard and finding the duck and hen nests and collecting eggs. Some weeks after I came I overheard Cook discussing the ongoing loss of loaves from the bakery and pies from the store and I wondered why this would be. Not two days later, on returning from my visit to the hens with a full basket of eggs, I came across Jenkin rounding the back corner of the bakeery. He did not see me, but I noticed he appeared to be carrying a basket with great care, although he was headed away from the manor and his basket ought to have been empty.

On my return to the kitchen I innocently inquired whether Jenkin had perchance seen Catherine, and so forgot himself that he had forgotten to leave his basket of strawberries, for it appeared that he was returning in the direction of the orchard with his load. "Is that so?" remarked Cook, as he indicated a large pile of strawberries on one of the tables. Then he immediately noticed that one of the pies he had set out was missing. "Drake," he told me, "run along and find Jenkin, and tell him I need him straightaway for an errand." "And," he cautioned me, "take particular note what he does with that basket, for if he sets it down or hides it anywhere, I shall need you to look inside it and note what is there." So off I ran, and found Jenkin leaving the dooryard of the dairy in a hurry, redfaced, and the sound of giggling and chuckling from the maids within. "Jenkin," I called, just as he nearly disappeared into a thick copse of hazel nearby, "Cook requires you for an errand straightaway!" Jenkin jumped, and appeared quite startled, and backed hastily away from the copse. I noticed he did not have his basket. "Come then, " he said to me, "let's go." I can not," said I, "I have been sent to find Mistress Margery's favourite hen, she has strayed from the flock and may be setting a nest." "Well, you won't find her around here!" said Jenkin, "for I saw her near the stable only this morning." "Thank you," I said, "I will go look there, " and I pretended to go in that direction which making sure I could Jenkin go to the kitchen.

As soon as Jenkin was out of site, I stepped into the hazel copse, and shortly found Jenkin's basket hidden in the dead center of a thick old clump of branches. Within the basket I found a meat pie, a lovely whole loaf from the bakery and a bit of cheese. I noted these and ran back to the kitchen, following the lovely maid Catherine who happened to be taking some cheese and butter there herself. When I arrived I did not see Jenkin, but Cook was there. As Catherine walked in she exclaimed,"Here Cook, is the butter you asked for, but a portion of the cheese you required was missing!" "Oh," said I", I believe I know where that is!" "Off you go lad, and show Maid Catherine where that would be," said Cook, "and bring it here, along with anything else there might be there." So I showed Catherine the basket in the hazel copse, and we brought it back to the kitchen. When we came through the door, there was Cook, with Jenkin and Walter, his father, explaining the mysterious disappearance of food from the kitchen, stores, and dairy the past few months. Jenkin was growing redder and redder, and looked about as guilty as it is possible to look. When Jenkin saw Catherine holding his basket, he suddenly went white and slumped right to the floor in a dead faint.

No one was ever accused or scolded for the missing food but, as it happened, no food ever went missing again after that. Jenkin made far fewer visits to the kitchen, and stayed only long enough to deliver his produce from the orchard. It was said that he no longer had hopes for Catherine, but had developed a sudden great attraction to a cottager's daughter.