about midday
`` Holy Mother ! '' cries Jack at length , springing up in a passion , `` we can not sit here and starve of cold and hunger . Cuddle up to my arm , Moll , and do you bring your fiddle , Kit , and let us try our luck a-begging in alehouses . '' And so we trudged out into the driving snow , that blinded us as we walked , bow our heads as we might , and tried one alehouse after the other , but all to no purpose , the parlours being empty because of the early hour , and the snow keeping folks within doors ; only , about midday , some carters , who had pulled up at an inn , took pity on us , and gave us a mug of penny ale and half a loaf , and that was all the food we had the whole miserable day . Then at dusk , wet-footed and fagged out in mind and body , we trudged back to the Bell , thinking to get back into the loft and bury ourselves in the sweet hay for warmth and comfort . But coming hither , we found our nag turned out of the stable and the door locked , so that we were thrown quite into despair by the loss of this last poor hope , and poor Moll , turning her face away from us , burst out a-crying -- she who all day had set us a brave example by her cheerful merry spirit . _ Of our first acquaintance with the Señor Don Sanchez del Castillo de Castelaña , and his brave entertaining of us .